our birthday boy

Someone has just turned one!

A friend of mine once told me of a birthday idea (I think it may have originally been one of Ian Grant's): a cot full of balloons for some special birthday fun! Plus, a great opportunity to take photos.

We celebrated our William with a few special loved ones...because let's face it, this little boy of ours is just worth celebrating. It really doesn't seem like a year ago since this post.

What started off as a simple pompom and balloon decoration idea ended up having a bit of a circus feel. It was so fun planning this.

What a year! Happy birthday darling Will, we love you!

xx

between the teeth

For about three years now my husband and I (to varying levels of success) have been working on something. We go through stages of letting it slip, and stages of being pretty on top of it. But we are both convinced that it's worth the effort to attempt to control it.

It's that innocent looking pink thing between our teeth. That slippery weapon. The one that can just as easily get us into sticky situations as it can lift the atmosphere in the room and let some laughter in.

The tongue. And I don't mean swearing (although we could probably do with controlling that a bit more--at least I could anyway), but the tenor of the words that we speak. In any given situation do I use my tongue to make things better? Or to make them worse.

I read about this dart throwing experiment recently, where the people in one group were made to speak out negative statements about their abilities before they threw the darts, and the other to speak positive words. It probably doesn't come as a surprise to hear that the upbeat group scored higher.

I also read about studies where positive words were shown to increase confidence, performance and health in individuals. Children included.

Words make a difference.

I have noticed how grumbling can turn molehills into mountains. When I complain about something I can so easily begin to stew about it. And let it build upon itself. And then I can get into this negative frame of mind where bad things happen to me more frequently. They just do. And I notice each additional little bad thing and soon...everything sucks. (In that pessimistic and irritating 'grumpy bum' kind of way.)

And then I have noticed times when I have chosen to 'let it go'. Look for the good. Speak hopefully instead of pessimistically. Choose to think about and talk about the things that I am grateful for. And there are always many. And yes, when I head in this direction the world is sunnier. As cliched as that sounds, it just is.

Words are so powerful. I know of numerous people who were told as children (or heard it spoken about them) that they were shy. Consequently they became so cripplingly shy that it took years, in each case, to break out of the rut.

I want to be so careful what I say about my kids. I find myself, too often, labelling my children based on my frustrations with their behaviour. Loud. Explosive. Full on. I read somewhere (Ian & Mary Grant's Growing Great Girls I think) that children don't strive to better themselves, they strive to prove themselves. Or to prove what has been said about them. As in, if they are told that they are 'naughty', for example, they won't try to be good, but try to prove that they are, in fact, naughty.

I personally believe that there is value in speaking things that aren't as though they are. For example, I know that my daughter is compassionate. I have seen her display the most adorable compassion. And I have seen her display the complete opposite. Many times.

I can also 'see' in my mind's eye, her growing to become a beautifully compassionate woman...

So when I find myself repeating all too often "don't be rough", "stop taking things off your brother", "that's very rude", "stop hurting William" I find her fulfilling those very statements more and more, and I am getting better at reminding myself to tell Sophia that she IS a gentle girl. And a compassionate girl. Which she absolutely is. I just need to say it more. Because--surprise surprise--when I say it more she acts it more.

I need to let her OVERHEAR me telling others (telling my friends) how compassionate she is. How loving she is. How kind she is to her little bro. I need to speak over her what isn't (fully) as though it is. Because when I use my little pink weapon in this way I just know that it is powerful.

Call it positive self talk if you will. I believe in it and there are many studies and books that will back me up on that count. But I personally believe that there is more to it than that. As the proverb goes: life and death are in the power of the tongue.

And if that is true, which I believe it is, I want to be careful what I do with this little tongue of mine.

No, more than that, I want to use this tongue to create life. And to, as much as I can, make good out of (or in spite of) the hard stuff and the crappy stuff.


Any thoughts on the topic? I have been dwelling on it so much recently...



:)

x

calves (big ones) and the confessions of a naive city girl

Photography Challenge, Day 24 of 30: 'Animal'.

Is it just me or does this calf have a crazy look in its eye?

I know they're the lunch, but they were making me a little nervous.

Normally when we pass the cows on this paddock they back away as we walk. We try to inch closer to them. Today the herd consisted mostly of curious little big calves who don't know the rules yet.

They were walking over and checking us out. They had us cornered in three directions at one point. (There is no zoom on this lens.)

Has anyone ever been mauled by a calf? This thought may have popped into my head as I stood a little taller and shuffled a little further in front of my babies. Anyone from the country is probably laughing. Debs, I imagine you are rolling your eyes at me right now. ;)

I was very cool and collected. If I was a little more used to cows I would have let Sophia pet them. (She was begging me.) But they started scraping the dirt with their back feet like bulls do and it was making me unsure.

Eventually they got bored of us and walked away. No food here sorry girls!

Do any of you know much about cows? I know it sounds completely naive but...has anyone ever been bitten by one? What was with that dust scraping action? I'm just curious because next time I'll let them come even closer if I know it's safe. Sophia was in heaven.

You see, as much as I wish I lived in the country I really am just a curious city girl.

I secretly wish I was a horse whisperer. Or an animal whisperer of any kind. (The larger the beast the cooler.) I wish I was the one who could read the animal's mind and put everyone else at ease.

I used to pretend I owned horses and had pet lion cubs as a girl and a part of me (the little girl part that has never left) still wishes I did. :)

Sophia adores animals and is completely confident around them, which thrills me. There is a paddock right next to our local coffee shop and we often stop to pet the horses. One of the best parts of Sophia's day. I like to hang back and let her go for it. She runs off and climbs up on the fence and giggles when the horse lets her pat its nose. She is very gentle.

In the back of my mind I know that horses can bite. The mum next to me held her children back. Is this what I should be doing also? Is patting a horse too much of a risk for my girl? We've chatted with the owners and they were pretty confident that their horses are safe. But it is a risk, right?

It's that tension between wanting to keep your kids safe and wanting to let them experience life. I have been thinking regularly of this post by the lovely Simone from GreatFun4Kids. A brilliant post about allowing your kids some good old fashioned freedom in this world of cotton wool anxiety and controlled activities. I guess what I am saying is that I have weighed the risks and I choose to let my daughter experience the thrill of this simple thing--going up and petting the horse by herself--because I think that what this gentle risk is doing for her character outweighs the possible danger. Something about that feels right to me.

I just want to continually be wise enough to judge when to allow my kids more freedom and when to gently loosen off the reigns (in spite of measured risk). I want to eventually be able to teach her to weigh up her own risks and make the right choices by herself after all. Don't I?

So maybe next time we'll pat the cows. Baby steps, baby steps. (I'll just wait for your instruction on bovine antics first.) ;)

Back tomorrow with 'something pink'.

Happy Friday all!

:)

x

a case of the mistaken cluckies?

Photography Challenge, Day 22 of 30: 'Hands'.

Someone found his sister's butterfly stickers.

These pics are more for the photo album--memories captured--than anything. I had a plan for the 'hands' shot and then I found Will with Sophia's stickers all over him and siezed the moment. I am glad I did. Love these shots.

Love this boy.

He is delicious. Plain and simple.

A week or so ago, whilst cuddling this bundle, I found myself feeling unusually clucky. The desire to start trying for more children nearly overwhelmed me. These feelings were as confusing as they were strong. I know that I am not ready for another little one any time soon. I hugely admire those who have a lot of children close together (or just a lot of children) I really do, but I suspect that they might be of a different breed to the likes of me. If I am to have any more children--if--I need space between them at least.

I just seriously doubt my ability to be the best mother I can be, the mother I want to be, with the added demands of an extra little one. To be honest, my head has really only just come up above water in the last few months after having my second and he is now eight months old.

I love the idea of a big bustling kind of family, in many ways, but I think we might all be better suited to the little kind of family. At least for now anyway. So what were these feelings about? This overwhelming desire to have more babies so that I can cuddle them and smile at their chuckles and run my lips over the soft downy hair on the back of their little heads?

It soon dawned on me that I had possibly misdiagnosed this feeling. I don't think it was actually 'the cluckies'. You know that feeling that used to come before. That unsatisfied craving in the pit of my stomach that I knew only little people of my own would satiate. Well this deep pang, so similar that I initially mistook it, was something else altogether...

It was, I believe, a feeling of overwhelming, stomach twisting love for this little man. For his sweet chubby cheeks and his dimpled smiles and his chuckling delight at seeing me and having me talk to him. (Seriously, he's that kind of baby, he goes looking for things to delight in and laugh at.)

On a side note: do you like the super long pj pants? I have this tendency to buy clothes 100 sizes too big because they last longer. The children then swim in them for a year and once they finally fit they are practically worn out. Self defeating? Probably. I just can't face the thought of new clothes being outgrown in a couple of months. So my children are well used to rocking the baggy look. :)

Gosh, they are ridiculously long pants aren't they...

Where was I? Oh yeah, I just realised that instead of continuing to wish for other things that I don't have (like in this case, another baby) what I really needed to do was devote myself to cherishing and soaking up the goodness of this little baby. I wasn't feeling clucky, I was feeling some sort of overwhelming baby smitten-ness. My baby smitten-ness. Of the 'I don't ever want you to grow up' kind.

And I still feel it. Every day. And when I do I take photos and I kiss him and cuddle him and soak him up. Because right in this moment he will always be 8 months old.

And I am going to do my darnedest to make this moment last.

Can any of you relate to the mistaken cluckies? Do any of you also feel the need to space your children out or keep your family size small and cozy? Or is it just me? Bad mummy, you should never have admitted that.

;)

x

p.s back tomorrow with 'sunflare'. Let's hope it's a sunflarie kind of day...