Welcome to these ramblings about the adventures of family life - with a co-parenting twist. So, who's Ju? Mum of two boys - The Eleven Year Old and The Four Year Old. Married to The Husband. Only child of The Mother. Friend to a selection of random lovelies collected along the way, aka The Friends.
The prompt for this weeks 100 word challenge is this:- '...the extreme weather meant...'.
Along with these words, and a timely reminder from a friend on Facebook to put out food for our feathered friends in the snowy conditions, I came up with this little story...
Singing for his supper
The extreme weather meant that
the tiny bird found himself to be in a bit of a quandary.His favourite hunting haunts had been
adversely affected by the cold white stuff that now surrounded him. At almost every turn, he found himself face
to face with cold wet surfaces that covered up, or frightened away, the food that was usually so readily
He had no choice but to sit and
wait – curled up as tightly as he could, his brown speckled feathers plumped out,
he perched on the tip of a snow covered branch and sang as sweetly as he ever
... is the prompt for this weeks 100 Word Challenge For Grown Ups - week#73.
Here is my entry:-
He was expecting her.A gentle push at the already slightly ajar door allowed her to enter in
to the hallway silently.The bitter-sweet
aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloped her senses, inviting her further in to the
Itwas as if he knew her already.Knew how she would respond.She stepped carefully out of her shoes and
slipped off her heavy winter coat before tip-toe-ing along the parquet floor of
the corridor that lay before her.As yet,
unwilling to announce her arrival.
All the while, the notes from the piano rose in
to the air and danced around her head.
It's been a while since i took part in the 100WC. I've missed it. I like the challenge of having to stick to a strict word count with the prompts pushing me to write stories that I wouln't usually put my mind to.
Find links to more 'grown up'entries at Julia's Place and take a look at the 100WC for young people. I've recently become a member of the Team100WC which means I'm part of a group of people who regularly read and comment on entries on 100WC for young people - I am hugely impressed by what I have read so far on the school blogs I have looked at. So impressed that I want to encourage The Nine Year Old's school to take part. Please go and have a look at the great creative writing that children from all over the UK and beyond are doing and if you have time to leave a comment please do so as it provides so much encouragement to our young writers.
Of all the slippers in all the world, what, I wonder, is it about these slippers that screams to The Female Parent (aka my Mum and usually very good present choosing generous woman who is both loved and appreciated) "BUY THESE FOR YOUR DAUGHTER"!!!!!
The call seems to be so loud and clear that I have received almost identical pairs of these slippers for at least the last three Christmases.
I know it sounds ungrateful. I don't mean to be. Not at all. But...they are not only lilac, they also come complete with ribbon bows - pink and MORE lilac, topped off with tiny teeny weeny pink and LILAC buttons. They are fancy. Some would say, fussy.
Now. Don't get me wrong. The comfort is all there. Snugly warm feet when encased in said slippers? Check!
But they are sooooooooooooo very very very extremely very girly. And that's just not me. I admit to liking some prettiness in some things, but mostly when it comes to clothes and shoes and SLIPPERS, I'm more of a simple lines, tomboy type of a gal - albeit one that likes to wear dresses, mainly worn with clumpy boots and a long chunky cardigan. Obviously.
And so it begs the question:- What is behind the lilac slipper buying, present giving, shenanigans of The Female Parent?
I have two leading theories:-
1) This is a last ditch attempt at making me more girly. Having realised that at the grand old age of 41 I probably will not be growing long flowing locks like those from circa 1979 and that yes, I will insist on keeping on having the hair chopped off and will do so even more when I am told "what a shame it is".
2) These are the slippers The Female Parent would choose for herself. Hell yes. Moreover, these are the slippers I would choose to give to The Female Parent who loves to wear lilac - and why not, she wears it very well - and who is far more appreciative than I of the prettiness in a clothing or footwear item .
So there we have it. Another year of lilac slipper wearing.
It's that time of year isn't it. The time when we are encouraged to make resolutions for improvement over the next twelve months.
Whilst I do feel a sense of reflection on the year that has passed and a feeling of another year bringing with it a fresh new chapter, I'm not fully onboard with the "let's get healthy/fit/more intellectual/more skilled/more cultural". More more more more more! Unless of course it's less. Less food. Less alchohol. Less telly. Less lounging. Less of the things you enjoy one might say. I'm all for a sense of regrouping but I'm not ready to resolve that 'less is more' or, 'more is less'. As it were.
I'm not the only one it would seem. Increasingly, rather than referring to 'New Year resolutions', which can be perceived as unrealistic and all too often, short lived, there is instead reference to 'intentions', 'goals', 'aims'.
I'm not convinced this mild dilution of resolving goes far enough for me. I don't think the cold grey days of January are quite the thing to encourage me to even 'aim' to eat less and exercise more. I'm preferring the idea of continuing for a little longer with the hibernation of Winter, fueled by comforting stews washed down by a glass of red. Of getting wrapped up warm for a gentle stroll. Of more evenings snuggled up in front of the fire watching TV.
I'm thinking of this as making peace with January rather than fighting against it. As a way of slowly gathering myself and building up energy stores for the awakening of Spring in the months ahead.
How about you? Are you a New Year resolution maker this year?
New Years Eve 2012... it all went a bit like this...
10am - me and The Husband talk about how we may spend this particular New Year's Eve and come up with a BOLD PLAN.
12noon - we collect The (now) Nine Year Old who celebrated his birthday at his Dad's the previous day. As The Husband and The Nine Year Old share a 30th December birthday we are having small scale belated birthday celebration at home today.
12.30pm - The Nine Year Old opens his birthday presents which include - to The Husbands horror - a Chelsea Football shirt. The Nine Year Old is delighted and proceeds to put the shirt on and starts tugging at the tags whilst me and The Husband are looking at him trying to decide whether or not the top fits him. Too late, the tags are off - the top, therefore, it is decided, does indeed fit.
2pm - I decorate the Nine Year Old and The Husbands birthday cakes - one each as The Nine Year Old prefers to keep it simple with a good old Victoria Sponge whilst The Husband is more of a Speckled Mocha man.
3pm - The Parents (my Mum and Dad) arrive to join us for a birthday tea. I say tea but rather than traditional tea party style fodder, The Nine Year Old has requested his favourite meal of Roast Chicken. Roast Chicken it is then.
4pm - The Husband unveils the evenings BOLD PLAN to The Nine Year Old. The Nine Year Old is delighted.
6pm - The Parents - having declined our invitation to be involved in the BOLD PLAN - leave for home packed up with a lot of cake.
8pm - Stage one of the BOLD PLAN is operational! We throw caution to wind and don't even give our usual routine (I use the word 'routine' very lightly) a look in. Instead we decide which films we will watch to keep us going unitl midnight. Yes. Midnight. We have - in a stroke of questionable parenting - decided that we will see the New Year in all together this this year. We will watch TV, nap if we need to, and eat as many snacks as we desire.
What can I say? It seemed like a good idea at the time.
10.30pm - The Husband, who doesn't often drink more than a singular beer or glass of wine with dinner, is working his way through a 9% giant bottle of Trader Joe beer that was a present to him at Christmas 2011 - he has a daft grin on his face. The Nine Year Old is laying on the sofa blinking lots and claiming not to be tired. I am struggling to keep my eyes open and beginning to wish I was in bed. The Husband makes me a cup of tea in a bid to get me back on track with the BOLD PLAN. The One Year Old is running around the room giggling, despite having started with a cold, and is showing no signs of giving in to sleep any time soon.
11.25pm - I'm back in the game and back on the wine for the build up to midnight. The Husband is still drinking the Trader Joe. The One Year Old is (finally) asleep on my knee. The Nine Year Old is just about to fall asleep...yup. There he goes....Zzzzzzzzzz.....
11.50pm - We (me and The Husband) are watching the BBC live coverage from fancy London following my rant about my beloved Jools pre-recorded Hootenanny which we are recording but which I refuse to watch for the big countdown due to the big fake pre-recorded falseness of it all. Of course, all those years I've watched it before, I knew 'deep down that no-one who appeared would ever actually give up their New Years Eve to be on the telly. Least of all, I imagine, Jools. Despite knowing this, when I actually accepted this truth it was like finding out Santa didn't exist. Not good.
11.55pm - We decide to wake The Nine Year Old for the big moment. Are we bad parents? The Nine Year Old wakes and then promptly falls back to sleep. Me and The Husband see in the New Year. We then rewind the 'live' coverage so that we can attempt to wake The Nine Year Old again to welcome in the New Year. Success! Through sleepy eyes The Nine Year Old sees the countdown followed by the fireworks over the Thames. Me and The Husband exchange complicit smiles. And I feel like a hypocrite for letting The Nine Year Old watch a pre-recordered New Year!
Then we all trundle off to bed. Tired but very happy. Until The One Year Old wakes up an hour later, coughing and crying with a fever, in need of medicine and completely overtired!! "Happy ****** New Year" I mumble under my breath.
Perhaps next year we may need to rethink the BOLD PLAN.
Happy New Year one and all! Here's wishing you and yours a wonderful 2013, may it be filled with fun and laughter and happiness.