A shot at peace

BW tranquil


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An Age Old Fragrance

BW adolescence229


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Barbara’s Blog Carnival -Childhood Expressions

Which “childhood expression” to “pick” I wonder?

So I thought I’d change the focus from my typical topic to an atypical one.

The first comes from my elder daughter, back in the days when I was a single parent when everything was overwhelming. [hindsight really is a gift!]

Back then she was growing up much too fast just like many children of divorced parents. We read a great deal together, from the board books, baby books, picture books, onwards and upwards to independence. I had never liked ‘baby talk’ and so I used the same words and style of language that I do with everyone else. She had a great vocabulary as is so often the case when children are surrounded by adults: my parents, my siblings, my friends.

The details are hazy, so many years later but I remember that feeling of cozy harmony, the intimacy between parent and child when a family consists of only two units. If a parent is solely responsible for a single child a devotion develops such that communication is instinctive, words are hardly necessary – a separate world of understanding.

Madonna and child – perfection.

Maybe it was bedtime, perhaps we were at the beach, or playing hang-man? Yes! Hangman, all those years ago…

“That can’t be right dear?”
“It is.”
“I think you’ve left the ‘h’ out by mistake.”
“It doesn’t have an ‘h’.”
“Weren’t you trying to spell Bahamas?”
“Bahamas? No, it’s bajamas.”
“What’s bajamas?”
“Bajamas… you know… you wear them when you go to bed at night.”

Now if we’d lived in America then, no such confusion would have arisen, that’s why we stick to PJ’s now.

A few decades prior to this exchange, I had my own mishap with my mother, along quite similar lines. Being the dunce of the family I progressed from comic books, to Enid Blyton, to Agatha Christie and I’ve been stuck in ‘whodunnit’ mode ever since. On one particularly balmy summer’s day, [in England!] I was lying on the grass at my mother’s feet, devotional dog that I was, as I read the latest blood curling thriller some 45 years after it was first written. My mother sat in a deck chair, knitting, as only mother’s can, as she fought with a particularly complicated lacy pattern, which involved a great deal of counting and under breath cursing. Yards of fine yarn were testament to the unraveling of mistakes.

“Mum?” [I was then English]
“Hmm?”
“Can you tell me what this word means? I see it on nearly every page.”
“What is it?”
“Determinded.”
“Determinded? I’ve never heard of it.”
“Oh.”
“Can’t you guess from the context?”
“No.”
“Read me a sentence.”
“Hermione Herringbone was determinded to defeat her tormentors.”
“Are you sure it isn’t…Spell it for me.”
“D.E.T.E.R.M.I.N.D.E.D.”
“Really? How odd. Here, pass it over, let me take a peek, hmm, lets see…’Daphne Dalrymple was …’ that’s not ‘determinded’ that’s ‘determined.'”

What can I say? It’s genetic.


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Wordless special Exposure Wednesday

5 Minutes for Special Needs

A small snippet:-

“Mom?”
“Yes dear?”
“What letter is come after M?”
“N.”
“No.”
“No?”
“Er…..what letter is come after the letter M in………the word bom?”
“B.”
“Is it a centipede?”
“Er……yes, you're right it is a silent B.”

Enough of these word games! If you enjoy caption competitions and photographs, you may wish to nip along to“DJ Kirkby” over at “Chez Aspie” and test your brain power.


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Sing your heart out Peggy Lee

 

It's tempting just to shriek.

 

It's a simple enough question afterall; “will you be home for supper?”

 

This is information I need in advance, from all six of us. Everyone has plans but no-one can be nailed down to a time table even if a hammer was available.

No-one understands.

You can't take two sick children to the supermarket. You can't announce to everyone “we still have to eat you know!”

It's one of those annoying illnesses, the kind that lingers for day upon day. The predominant symptom is a temperature, a fever. It's the kind of fever that hovers around 99 degrees for a blink or two, but then reverts to normal. Each child needs one full fever free day before returning to school. After the 99 degree temperature is duly noted, each child proceeds to swing from the rafters with glee for the remainder of the day, well within the confines of 'normal.'

Two little boys celebrate the semi permanent status of 'no school.' Other people scowl with discontent, indefinite menus and outstanding chores, as the efficiency standards plummet.

My primary concern is to guard the safety of the 5 laundry hampers at the top of the stairs. Hours of work, carefully folded and ready for return to their destination, should time allow. Without due diligence, the contents will be tossed so that the hampers can be requisitioned as 'boats.' Wooden spoons will be stolen as 'oars.'

My secondary concern is to produce a dinner for an indeterminate number of bodies by 7 in the evening.

Whilst it would be true to report that two smallish people don't eat much whilst under the influence, theoretically, nutritious meals should be provided regardless, if only to aid recovery. It is difficult to prepare nutritious meals in the company of two small people in need of entertainment and distraction, even if you have all day within which to prepare.

No one period of 3 or 5 minutes appears to be sufficient for efficient brain function from the chef. The half peeled potato seems lonely and irrelevant. What was the melted butter for again? Why did I chop an onion? Why did I leave the soup out to thaw? Do any of these things fit together? How do they fit together? Why is that greased casserole dish sitting there so guilty?

When he phones to warn me of his imminent return home, I'm tempted to tell him to stay at work.
“What's up?”
“What's up? I haven't managed to do anything today, let alone make supper!” I dislike my nervy tone.
“Pull something out of the freezer. The fridge is overflowing!” I endure a pause, pregnant with festering vitriol. I am uncomfortably aware of the truth of these two facts.
“Well……. how about I pick up a take out on the way home?”

Horray! Now why didn't I think of that?

I climb the stairs and gently tip out the laundry. I lean each pile against the wall. They look a little unstable so I tilt them back a bit in my favour and stack the five empty hampers together. I skip downstairs with my hoard of treasure, grab a handful of wooden spoons to a chorus of “Chips Ahoy!” from two land bound potential sailors.


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Know your onions

The campaign to increase food intake and variety is wearing me out.

I foolishly decided that if we never eat the same thing twice, then everything will always be new, then there will be no safe harbour.

It is now a given that every mealtime results in collective squalks of horror.

He takes one glance at his dinner plate, clutches his throat and makes retching noises. I nudge the plate towards him, Asparagus spears, caramelized onions with crumbled bacon and a side of Dauphinoise potatoes. This child has to eat some, that child has to eat more and the other child just has to tolerate the food being on the table.

“I am hate!”
“You've never had it before so you don't know if you hate it yet.”
“I hate celery!”
“It's not celery dear.”
“What it is den?”
“Asparagus.”
“I hate Aspergers.”
“Not Aspergers, Asparagus. It's going cheap this time of year.”
“Going? Where it is go?”
“Sold. The shops are selling it cheaply at this time of the year.”
“Cheaply? What it is dah 'cheaply?'”
“Less dollars. More dollars is dear, less dollars is cheap, or cheaper or cheaply.”
“Why are dollars be dear?”
“Oh,….er…. 'dear' means expensive too. Asparagus is cheap because it's seasonal. Remember?”
“Sneezenal?”
“Seasonal. In season. The new rule that we eat food that is in season.”
“What season we are?”
“Winter.”
“But it is sun.”
“That's because we're in California.”
“Asp…….is being a Winter vegetable?”
“Yes.”
“What it is?”
“What is what dear?”
“Um the other…….the next season is being.”
“Spring.”
“Yuk! I am hate Spring moorer.”
“Why?”
“I am hate Spring vegetables moorer than Winter vegetables.”
“Which vegetables?”
“Spring rolls.”

Pass me the compost bin please.

Today, I’m also over here at “Trusera.”

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