When the stars align

We have three kids, and this week, the eldest and the youngest will be at camp, with, by coincidence, one night crossing over. Leaving the middle child at home alone with us.

This is a rare, rare thing for the middle child. He usually has to fall in around the plans of others, rarely getting undivided attention. 

So we have declared this 'Night of Didier' (Not his name but if I'm making up names I may as well make up something exotic). We have spent weeks discussing the pending celebratory night, and what we should do with it. Sushi train and a movie (we can no longer go to sushi train as it bankrupts us if all five of us are dining), bowling and dinner somewhere special, something else entirely? The options are pretty limitless at this stage, and thus nothing has been decided as yet.

I have already turned down 2 invitations to events, as it is Night of Didier, and I must attend!

It's sweet how much he is looking forward to it, and that in itself is a reminder of what a dud deal the middle child gets at times. I keep thinking I must make sure this happens a little more often, so we get the freedom to talk that one on one time together offers. At the moment it's usually just once a week when I drive him to an after school activity, while the other two are already at their own activities. A brief fifteen minutes, once every seven days. 

He doesn't complain but I know he's so excited to have his own room for the night, and to have us to himself. He even asked if I could drive him to school in the morning, as I won't have to drop off our youngest to hers. He is perfectly happy getting the bus, and on occasion his dad will drive him and the eldest if it is raining, but he actually just wants the car trip with me. I was so touched when he asked. A teen now, but there's still hints of the young boy he was still in there. A reminder again that I must make more effort before he vanishes completely into the moody, independent teen that would rather arrive sodden than be seen in the car with his mum.

These moments are fleeting and yet so special. I will treasure it more than him, I suspect. So the planning continues until the night of celebration begins.

What would you do?

Do you have a regular one-on-one with each child? 

Does your middle child miss out?

Lnking with #FortheloveofBLOG and read what we did on the Night of Didi here

I didn't pay to listen to you!

Last week we went to see the extremely cool Leon Bridges, as I discussed awhile back. He was fabulous, however the woman in front of me decided she was entitled to talk loudly throughout the concert. She was oblivious to the glares from the people along side her, and the loud 'shhhh's hissed at her from the people in front of her. Finally the guy next to me leaned over my legs and said something angrily. He then apologised to me, insisting it had to be done. I smiled in agreement.

And still she talked on.

The woman she'd been talking to had taken it on board so the self-absorbed narcissist turned to the guy on the other side of her and started chatting to him. Later she returned to the woman and their conversation continued.

Finally I leaned forward and asked them politely to take their chat outside because they were ruining it for everyone. At this, she seemed affronted! I did not scream "WILL YOU SHUT THE F%&$ UP!" which was what I wanted to do, and frankly was entitled to do to someone with such a blatant disregard for other people.

After that, she did occasionally shut her big mouth, but never for very long. She did ruin the concert for me and a number of other people.

Why did she even go? When I went to Nelly, there was a bunch of drunken buffoons throwing popcorn and swearing (and I suspect trying to shock me, the out of place old lady). Even they stopped talking when the performers came on. They listened to the music. This woman wasn't drunk. She was selfish, inconsiderate and rude.

When you buy a ticket to something, as Nick Offerman pointed out at his show, you enter into a social contract with the performer and all the other people in the audience. (This woman's friend was a barrister, so maybe he can explain it to her. How do I know this? An indication of how loudly she was blathering on.) You are there to share an experience. You should be mindful of how your behaviour impacts on the experience of others. Put away your phone and experience what's happening on stage. Stop idle conversations. Listen to the music. Mainly, don't be a total dick. Or reimburse the ticket price to all the people sitting around you if you really can't keep your mouth shut.

I never thought I'd say this, but give me the drunken, popcorn throwing morons anyday!!

Linking with #OpenSlather

Expressions of Love in Art and Nature

I've done a couple in this series and thought I'd add some more. Nothing makes me smile more than seeing this little romantic prods around town. So to all the random artists that decide to share the love, thank you!

“Practicing an art, no matter how well or badly, is a way to make your soul grow, for heaven’s sake. Sing in the shower. Dance to the radio. Tell stories. Write a poem to a friend, even a lousy poem. Do it as well as you possibly can. You will get an enormous reward. You will have created something.” — A Man Without a Country, Kurt Vonnegut

I know the roo is an odd choice but there's something about a mother carrying her child that screams love. Human or otherwise.

It is these little treasures that make me love life!

Linking  this old post with#MakroTex on Love

First of the Month Fiction - August

Already it's time for short stories - newbies, write a story that's either 100 words exactly or one less than 30 words. Put it in the comments and then link your blog. You have until about the 10th of August to do so.

This story came from a funny conversation I had where someone explained what she did on her scrapbooking weekends (I didn't really know what a scrapbook was). The last line was what she said as to the reason why it was so enjoyable...it just seemed so kooky to me. So mine is in the 100 catagory...

She looked at the photos, faces smiling at her on beaches and mountains. The arm causally draped over her shoulder. She could cut out his head, and he would cease to exist in the recorded history. Except the hand left on her shoulder. A ghost hand in an image mounted on a carefully decorated page in an album of her life to be filed away as a mistake. D for disaster.

As if reading her mind, the woman next to her moved the scissors away. Raising her glass of wine in a toast she grinned "You don't scrap book angry!"

Linking with #MummyMondays #FortheloveofBlog and #KCACOLS

An InLinkz Link-up

Proud moments round 2

Since I wrote this post in 2014, I've had a number of short stories published in Grieve (obviously that's my specialty ;), had a travel post translated into German (and I'm very pleased that it is a post promoting many NGO's in Siem Reap, so it is more than just flattery, it is extending my reach in helping people in need).

I've been published on a number of commercial sites and written for a major hotel chain.

I am small but I'm growing, and more importantly, my writing is improving.

Best of all, I'm not compromising on what interests me, nor on how I write. I suspect that is the key to longevity.  It's not being the bright burning star, it's the continued enjoyment and desire to write.

My photography is also improving (on occasion) and has been published in HuffPost and I won a fancy camera in #SnapSydney. I really need to do a course so I actually know how to use said camera, but for now I get a great deal of delight in playing around with photo ideas.

I may not be an economic success, but I am helping and defending people, and that means a lot to me.

I want to see change in the world, and let's face it, we desperately need it, and it starts with me.

I saw this on the internet with no name attached (sorry): 'Don't wait until you reach your goal to be proud of yourself. Be proud of every step you take to reach that goal'. There is no better advice.

What are you proud of?

Linking with #IMustConfess

Conversations with disappointment

Disappointment:
Noun. sadness or displeasure caused by the non-fulfillment of one's hopes or expectations.

When we think of disappointment, we think of a momentary feeling in reaction to an event. You quickly forget and move on. However as you age, these feelings weigh a little more heavily. It's the building up of the non-fulfillment of dreams, of not living the life you wanted, pressured by the realisation you are running out of time. The small prick will rise up from time to time, reminding you of what you missed, what might have been.

In the daily machinations of life, you merrily float along but sometimes, out of surprising places, an urgency takes hold. You are disappointed, not in others, not in what life has given you, but in yourself. You have allowed the non-fulfillment of dreams. You have put everyone else first only to wake up and discover you've put yourself last. Your needs are last, your feelings matter least, your desires are inconvenient but only because you have prioritised them that way. You have become the afterthought in your own life.

All those missed opportunities. All those unfulfilled dreams. Piling up around you.

Ellen Hopkins wrote this poem in which she sums up the outcome of disappointment perfectly (and I'm embarrassed to say I found it on Good Reads).

“Disappointment

Can do a couple things.
It can drop you into a giant
sucking sinkhole of

depression,

a place you have to fight
to climb out of. Or it
can trigger an epic

mania

to overcome the odds
and transform failure
into success. "

I have woken up to realise my hourglass is emptying and it is time for the mania. I need to make things happen. I need to make sure I'm attending to some of my dreams  Obviously with kids, there are certain things that have to take precedence. Some things are unavoidable. Time is limited and plans often have to be cancelled. However I can insist I allocate more attention to what I need to do, or at least attempting it. I am the culprit. I am the one who needs to change. I am the one who has created the disappointment if I feel it.

And I will no longer do so.

To quote the wonderful Kurt Vonnegut "Maturity is a bitter disappointment for which no remedy exists, unless laughter could be said to remedy anything.” or in short, it sucks to be old, you run out of excuses.

Linking with #OpenSlather

A whale of a time

On the weekend we decided to book ourselves in for a whale watching cruise. We'd never done it before, though I have been lucky enough to see them by chance both in Hawaii and Culburra.

We booked a morning cruise on Captain Cook Cruises because they were very affordable and got me back in time for my afternoon theatre date. They're also in the Entertainment book for those that have that.

We set out in fog but the sun soon came out and so did the whales. There were about 6 in the first pod, that were a little distance from us, but still clearly visible.

After awhile, the number of spectator boats became too many (to be kind to the whales) so we moved on. This proved to be a blessing for us. As we settled into our solitary new spot, two whales that had been in the distance came over to check us out. If the boat didn't have glass on the windows you could have touched them. It was AMAZING! They frolicked near us for a good twenty minutes or so before heading back out to sea.

And as none of my crew were seasick, I can say it was an awesome day! I was absolutely loving life!

Linking with #DND