A different spin on the same old number

Well, when I created the pages about Ellanor and expanded on them as the demand became apparent, I never expected to receive a request to use her story as inspiration for a young girl's interpretive dance number.

But that is exactly what we received today.

In part, she wrote

i would jsut like to say that what you have done is beautiful, and im sure people say this all the time but i guarantee you that your website and contribution is helping people every day. I am only a young adult so have never had a child or lost a child for that matter, so i cannot even begin to think about what that would be like.

And nor do you really want to, my dear.

my other reason for writing to you is because i am a dancer at university and am currently in a project of choreographing a dance piece. The idea that i have chosen to explore is a mother losing a child. I know that i haven't ever felt the pain of a mother who has gone through this, but it is something that i want to explore because i feel it is such a tragic subject that people (both men and women) can be faced with and at times is totally unexpected. As teenagers and young adults we often think about what our families will be like in the future and how our children will be, yet we never really think about what it would be like to actually lose one of these children. I want to explore my feelings on this and put them towards others.
I found your website to be very inspirational and as i have not experienced motherhood yet, i would like to use your stories and poems etc as inspiration for my piece, in terms of your loss, your grief and also ellanor's gift.

What this has done is drop a penny in my head. A long time ago, I wanted to touch children. No wait.... that sounds SO wrong. I wanted to reach children. That's better. I wanted to reach them, reach out to them, not necessarily open them up to things but more... keep them open? If that makes any sense? My father has said to me on more than one occasion, 'We are born coming into this world knowing all'. It's the other way around to that which we are conditioned to think. I believe this thoroughly. Although, I am guilty of falling into the same trap with the LGBB; because those motor skills prevent her, we have to nurture her to the point of doing things for herself. But the underlying knowledge, it's there in every one of us. How many times have we heard "S/he's been here before" or "s/he has an 'old' face" when talking about newborns? It's not coincidental, I believe, but rather we're seeing echoes of what they have come in with, before it's gradually lost and they begin to wake up from where they've been and come into who they are now.

When this girl wrote to us today, I realised that all those times I've yearned to be a primary school teacher, a child care worker, a kindergarten teacher, I was looking for that hook. The powerpoint, if you like, that would enable me to plug in somewhere and experience that awesome time when children come into their own. And to be a contributor to the shaping of our future world. But I never realised any of those vocations. None of them sat well. It seemed futile, because my whole aim was to create awareness of how brilliant and fascinating they were - of, for lack of a better expression, touching them in such a way that they grew up full of pride in themselves, having a well developed understanding of their role in the bigger picture, how they can make a difference to the world and the way everybody lives. To take the blinkers off, I suppose.

But it just seemed such an exhaustive task and I let it go. Now, I am becoming wise to the prospect that if I want to truly help change, turn the juggernaut around, join the growing tide of people who are chipping away at making a difference, I can't do it myself. Not me, personally. But through people like this young girl. What better place to encourage young children to retain their innocence and awareness in order to heal the Earth than in the home?! From their parents? And even better, young adults who are yet to become parents. What a boon! For Mother Earth!

Little by little, awarenesses may begin to open up just that bit more. The possibility to name just one example that, hey yes, as absolutely crazy as it sounds, I did have conversations with my daughter before her conception and after her death. And that was only made possible because I was open to it. People she flitted to and dove in to open awareness that bit more were also only able to hear her because they too were open (if you want to read more on what I'm talking about, read Little Ella ... and take a box of tissues with you). The reason I use this as a good example is that that message, her message, was about expanding forgiveness in the self. Opening up others' compassion and consideration for others. In essence, not unlike that obscenely cheesy movie, Pay It Forward.

It's fascinating to me. And I am being gently pushed towards something that's forming in the outer reaches of my mind. I can feel it, but I can't tell what it is yet. It's bugging me! Not unlike a mozzie trapped in my bedclothes.

The bed bugs bit

Well, what a successful binge fest one lucky mozzie had last night, dining on my feet.

I hope he's pulled up sore this morning, little fat bastard. I have three bites on one little toe (excuse me, would you like a little toe with your mosquito bite, madam?), two on both big toes - right on the knuckles too, conveniently(not) for scratching - various others around my general feet area and one in the centre of my foot which, after a morning of scratching, now looks like a big red Play button.

And I'm going out of my FREAKING mind with the itching. I look like a mangey dog, scraping my feet along the carpet as I walk. Anything to tickle the itch away.

Oi said pet, oi said darl, oi said puh-LOISE

The LGBB tells it straight to the camera.

Perks of the job

Tell me what other kind of job in the WORLD has a clause that says:

"You will oft times be prioritising and in such demand that taking a dump will become a luxury."

Just wondering.

Harnessing her inner logic

Please Sir...

I want some more.

We're moving. Yes, I'd care to make it official

If only I could convince Steve that 16 baby huntsmen in one day (and waking not 5 minutes ago this morning to the big granddaddy of them all on my side of the bed half way down the wall near my head) is grounds for moving.

They may well be as nervous about approaching thunderstorms as me and turn indoors to escape the heat. But they should have built their own bigger houses if they wanted something to protect them from the goddamn weather. Coming in uninvited and unwelcome is just rude.

EEEEEUUUUGHHHHH!!

The baker's dozen

Twelve plus one.

Thirteen.

Baby huntsman spiders, all over the LGBB's bathroom.

A nest has exploded somewhere and my skin is crawling, people. Can I come over and sleep at your house?

I'm so hungy I could eat a sandwich from a gas station

Not unlike the scene from Vacation where Clarke Griswold is trying to find where to fill up the new family truckster with gas, I have just spent an infuriating few minutes pawing at the outside of the smart little arsed black box known as the video camera.

I turned it over and over and over. Like you'd do when you were a kid with those bloody annoying Rubiks cubes (c'mon, hands up who unstuck the coloured squares and restuck them perfectly in colour sequence then proudly declared you'd solved it? Just me?). I could not for the life of me where to stick the power cord to recharge the damn thing. And it had lost battery power right in the middle of the most delightful little "golly-golly-golly"ing by the LGBB. A moment, never to be captured again! Bastard technology! Damn thee to hellll.

I started trying to make the little jack fit in to various similarly sized holes, even the ones underneath that were so clearly not the power outlets, not unlike when Clarke is tapping down the side of his car with the gas nozzle in case there's some sort of hidden opening that will magically open sesame. So when I finally found the hidden flap, more secret than 'arry Potter's Chamber of Secrets, I heard Ellen in my head saying "Oh... Clarke? Isn't this the gas tank?"

Too smart for its own good, stupid video camera. Golly, golly, golly.

My drinking problem

"I need a drink, Roz. I'm takin' the rest of the day off." Best line of Nine To Five if you ask me. So fitting. I use it a lot.

An entire weekend of pets heads falling off is still in effect. Even though it's now Monday.

• Odd job that should have taken, well, as long as it takes to find and purchase a new appliance including delivery that's now turned into full blown structural renovations - tick.
• The "quick duck down to Bunnings" resulting in a huge renovation in itself - of the LGBB's
nappy, in the boot of the car - tick.
• Feeling like I'm living in squalor because I have an old washing machine, an old fridge, a clothes horse, a vacuum cleaner and the dryer all sitting in my living room (along with all the usual furniture, oh plus some stuff I need to sell on Ebay) - tick.

And now it seems I can't even take a swig of my water bottle without the contents going everywhere but my mouth. Stoopid damn drinking problem.

The Gods Must Be Crazy

And I don't mean in a Botswanian kinda way (you'd have to see the movie to believe me).

First off, for the past fortnight, Steve and I have been.... well I don't know where. Having decided we are going to move (for the first time since we built this place ten years ago), we've been up to *here* in house plans and land possibilities. Trying to fit a square peg in a round hole.

At the crucial point, night before The Big Bank Appointment and going down to sign on our first dotted line, Steve came home from a quick duck up to the local shops and declared, "It's too hard, it's not feeling right, so it's not the right time to move. We're not going anywhere." It was music to my ears. And I felt relief. Joy! So weird, as I had been keen on moving, getting away, having a fresh start (hey if a caterpillar can choose to metamorphose in front of me - show off - I thought it was a good sign that our itchy feet were moving in the right direction). But hearing him say that and take charge - it was almost as if my higher conscious went "Pheeeeeeeew that was close! Thank God one of you came to your senses at the 11th hour."

We just can't leave this house. Literally. I've wanted to. Plenty of times. With and without him, let me tell you *thumbs over shoulder at the husband* We've gone through a lot here. But even having the market appraisals done by the estate agents was a bit of a wake-up call. We have here not just a house (to quote Darryl Kerrigan), but a home. All that we want and need is right here at the moment. It's a nice feeling and I don't quite know why I got so worked up about having to move, but the urge that was quite forceful two weeks ago has simply vanished.

It happened once before, when I was pregnant with Ellanor. Remember clearly sitting at the kitchen table with some other real estate agent, saying we were just signing papers on a block of land (and we were and we did, we just never moved there after everything that ended up happening with Ella). And the upshot of that was creating the water feature in her memory and what we poured our efforts and emotions into at the time.

Now we've decided to stay, we have rolled up our sleeves and said there are certain things we're sick of pointing to and saying One day we've godda change that. Soooo, not wanting to miss riding the crest of this new impetus, we've upended the laundry. Actually, we didn't mean it to be a big job. It was fine as it was. But, uh.... seeing's we've purchased a new washing machine (comes tomorrow) and wanting a change of scene, Steve's ripped up half the floor already. He suddenly got all gung-ho (in his stripey "these must never leave the house with you in them" shorts, my request not his) and got tucked in to lifting the flooring and preparing it for a brand new 'do. He'll kill me for showing you (his shorts), but until he sees this here's the photo evidence. And the mould and grime (and grease and guts off the rod) we found on moving out the old appliances presented a previously unthought of bit o' extra work - a new skirting board to replace the one that's been rotting away merrily for the past 10 years. Ooops, that'd be my fault for overflowing the washing machine a few times and warping the floor, etc. Still, it's been a good "just as well then" excuse to get the new washer.

I was horrified, no make that absolutely mortified, at the state of the laundry. Particularly behind the washing machine. When we moved it out, we were taking a breather at the door with the back of the machine facing the tv (which was paused in the middle of something he'd been watching) and Steve said "Do you think Leo McGarry's just seen our washing machine?" I was furiously searching my mental names database for a Leo and coming up blank, until he pointed over at the telly. "Leo" is John Spencer's character from The West Wing and the screen was stilled on a rather unfortunate expression which did look for all the world like poor Leo had just seen a most disgraceful sight.

Other things have been happening during these past weeks. I don't know where to put all the work I've been getting (need to get a bottom drawer happening - an old co-worker who ended up being "let go" left behind an entire bottom drawer of unlodged paperwork that had been costing the company's clients thousands of dollars, whoopsy daisies, and ever since then it's been known as "The Bottom Drawer" policy around these parts).

And better yet, the LGBB is tucking right into her solids (and getting lovelier and funnier by the day). Tonight, she even smooshed a broccoli floret happily against her gums. And ear. And chest. Carrots can go bite the big one, but we're working on it.

She has also started gabbing on. Gabbin' with Lol. It would make a cute talk show. Mind you, don't get within a metre of her when she is "talking" or you'll cop a spray of baby spit in the face. Oi, milky-broccoli-breath, say it don't spray it. There are more "th"s in her sentences than Sylvester (the cat, not the Stallone... although....). Tonight, I was feeding her before bed in her room. Dimly lit by her teddy bear nightlight. She seemed to think that it was a spotlight. On her. As she stood at the mic.

All of a sudden, out of nowhere, she stops feeding, looks up at the light and does this straight-legged, wide-eyed, slapstick jerk, at the same time going "Dth! DTHTHTH! Duh-th-th-thbth!!", each "th!" punctuated with a sudden jerky stiff-bodied movement. She knew exactly what she was doing and that she had an audience (of one, stifling giggles in the back of her throat) 'Twas, I am sure, the first of one of many moments I shall have to bite down hard to avoid giggling and thereby encouraging her. As it turns out, she's our daughter alright. I am absolutely certain she was all smoke and mirrors up top, in the vain hopes of detracting from the business going on in her fat nappy. A regular Kenny Craig if ever I saw one - I even caught photo evidence of it one day (see for yourself, that goatee's a dead give-away if you ask me). After a few moments of this oh-so-cute-and-riveting comedy routine, the stuccato rumblings from deep within the folds of the bamboo fibres covering her bot-bot could not be mistaken. Cheeky minx.

None of this stopped me from crying big hot silent tears of happiness mere minutes later. I sat her up to burp her and the undeniable realisation that I was in the presence of her experience of being loved and enjoying herself was so strong that I started to cry while I watched her upturned face to that nightlight. While I poured tears, she blew raspberries and "chattered" away to her ted, then left her tongue out and turned into my cheek. Blergh! A mixture of sloppy kisses and salty tears on both our cheeks, I knew I was so lucky to have her here with us.

We commemorate tomorrow the third anniversary of the day Ellanor left us. And I know she's around here somewhere. It just dawned on me that it's no coincidence my deeper story of my experience with Ella is called 'The Parallel Story', because more and more I wonder if there is some sort of parallel plane where she walks alongside us and her sister.

I wonder a lot.

Lions and tigers and bears, oh my

We just had an interruption to our power service and it arked up the Foxtel IQ box.

He: *scrolling through Foxtel planner* Ahh, shit, it missed recording Fucking In Africa
Me: What the hell kind of program is that????
He: *ignoring me* All my favourite shows, see? It always stuffs up my shows.
Me: *picturing lerve Serengheti-style ... eww how gritty* What's it about? Is it a documentary? ... Comedy ...?

Then I caught a glimpse of the actual show title. That'd be Battlestar Galactica.

Note to self: if you're not going to pay full attention, don't listen at all.

Things I've learned in the last 24 hours

• There is a very over-dancing, over-acting, over-annoying blonde male (in the red jacket) on The Wiggles sometimes, with a lovely perfect row of pearly whites, who looks like a frustrated backup dancer for The Boy From Oz.
• When presented with the opportunity by way of ricotta and zucchini mash, the LGBB will choose gagging over breathing - hands down.
• I can move surprisingly fast when required (see previous point).
• A mug of skinny latte is sometimes not so skinny.
• Murray Wiggle's cartoon caricature is far better looking than the man himself.
• He needs to eat a burger.
• A mug of not so skinny latte and a slice of pear-and-something tart do not mix.
• It is not wise to attempt to make it home if you hear clunks and shudders that you aren't sure are coming from your nether region or from the lift you're standing in to get back to your car.
• Even if all cross-checks have been made to ensure all sphincters are air-tight. Just trust me.
• I say again, I can move surprisingly fast when required (see previous point).
• Don't blame the LGBB for any noises emitting from your person. Steve will always find you out.
• My mind may actually go places deemed sick - point in case, on Creature Features this morning (a kids show, and sorry Sparkcat, I couldn't get to the tv fast enough to change channels), they were showing how to care for hampsters. The next time I came back in the room, I saw a plate with a slice of some unidentified meat and three veg. Immediately my mind went straight to "Fuck, they slaughtered one of them, that's bit harsh for young kiddies!" I won't deny I'm a bit scared of what I think sometimes.
• The LGBB lurrrrrrves the cat from Creature Features and talks and squeals to him. Now I have a dilemma! (sorry again, Sparkcat, I've failed the 487th rule of early childhood parenting: never let your child grow attached to a snide, talk-it-up character they can learn bad manners from)

The Mother of all messages

You know when something unravels in your life and you only know it on reflection?

What began as a fairly innocent curiosity in (what I thought was) a dead flower on a stalk outside our ensuite window, turned into a full-fledged whammy of a message.

Something catalysed on Ella's third birthday for me. I began an unravelling. A shedding, if you will. I didn't realise it at that moment, but it was as if my higher conscious shifted up a gear and I have been hurtling (not out of control, but in complete command of the wheel) down life's highway ever since.

I received a piece of correspondence that, while not entirely well-received on the day nor completely responsible for my shift of what I believe is the last of my current lessons surrounding Ella coming into our lives, sat at the helm of a very noticeable chain of events. A couple of days after mulling over this letter and sorting through the gifts it presented me, if only I could be humble in accepting whatever was on offer in it, I noticed what looked to me like a yellowed, dead flowerhead standing straight up on a plant outside our window. Being in the ensuite, I had cause to pause and reflect on this fairly often throughout the course of my days. A week passed and then I noticed one evening that the 'flowerhead' was moving. Swivelling on its axis, in fact, and quite low down to the ground at right angles to it. I called out to Steve to tell him something was in there and reserved the right, in my mind, to freak out if it was going to turn into one of those Bogon moths we have down here - not because Bogon is utterly too much like Bogan, but because I had had more than one nasty run-in with a moth of mammoth mothy proportions as a child and have had a bizarre phobia of them ever since (even the little ones).

So for the next several days, I watched with great interest. It twisted and turned, it moved positions, sometimes it was still, but always it was there. I decided, or knew somewhere in me, that there was a reason I was witnessing this creature build a cocoon for itself right in front of my eyes. I thought about looking further into it, Googling "strange cocoon thing with pointy sticks" and seeing what came up. But, being the procrastinator I often am, I left it and decided simply to watch and not make anything of it. I almost berated myself for trying to turn it into something more meaningful than an insect turning into one of the flying kind.

It became almost like a sport. What would it emerge as? And Steve and I started mentioning it in conversations, it became affectionately referred to as my "Caterpillar Friend".

And then the most awful thing happened. The gardener came. And he sprayed the weeds while I wasn't here and did some cleaning up. And when I returned home, my Caterpillar Friend was gone. I was mortified. I felt soooo responsible for the death of this creature. Something I felt sure I could have avoided if I'd only mentioned, however crazy I sounded, to him that he needed to "leave that plant alone, there's something growing in there and it's cheaper and more interesting to watch than anything on cable right now."

So I called up my peeps at Peace Space. I thought surely they'd be able to point me in the direction of the learning that was meant for me with this caterpillar. When I spoke to Neri, she said to me "Well what a wonderful gift it has given you, it has made itself aware to you and then sacrificed itself in order for you to seek the lesson or the learning that is being offered here." I was certain she was just trying to make me feel better. I know it's only an insect, but it'd become so much more than that. And instinctively, I kinda knew she was right. It had become such a big deal to me and I wouldn't have sought out any deeper understanding of what I was witnessing if it had peacefully gone about its chrysalis and flown away.

Neri passed on the Animal Wisdom relating to Caterpillar for me this morning. And this is what it says:

Caterpillar

The life of Caterpillar is one of four stages through which butterflies and moths travel in their life cycle. Without their experience of the Caterpillar stage, butterfly and moth could not reveal their beauty. Caterpillar’s existence demonstrates many lessons to us mortals on the Earth plane. The first of these is the importance of going through a process so as to reach the final formation—that is, putting our dreams and goals in life into reality and taking flight. As with all stages of the butterflies’ and moths’ life cycle, the Caterpillar stage is a time of growth and change. It is a most important experience during which it sheds its skin four times in readiness for the formation of the chrysalis or cocoon stage. The humble Caterpillar reminds us of the need to follow rightful processes in all our life experiences in order to reach understanding and respect of our true selves. Caterpillar energy is about the importance of completing the process (or experiences) without shortcuts! Should we skip any part of the proper processes of change and growth (like the Caterpillar’s shedding of its skins), we could well end up falling short of our life expectations, suffering hardship, personal disappointment and dissatisfaction. Caterpillar asks, "are you too quick in demanding a realisation of your dreams and ideals? Could you perhaps be caught in what the material world or others dictate to you?"

As you prepare to go through the repetitive focus required by spiritual growth to reach a new form of personal perspective, conscious understanding and self-acceptance, become aware of the “three-plus-one experience” of the personal lesson. Just as Caterpillar does with it's four sheddings of old skin in the growth phases, we must be prepared to shed our skins. As we journey on for the sake of the Earth, we need to let go of the old, comfortable habits of past ways that no longer support us in our quest to embrace the beauty of our gifts. When Caterpillar appears, it reminds us that we are part of a wonderful process that is ever-evolving, like the progression from egg, caterpillar, chrysalis or cocoon to the beauty of the perfect winged form. Are you paying attention to the processes of new change and growth? Are you ready for the hard work of understanding the repetitive lesson of "practice makes perfect" to reveal your special gift and beauty. This is about getting better and better and attaining a point when you are ready to crystallise into a new form for yourself.

Caterpillar wisdom is being prepared for the repetitive focus of casting off our tough exterior to expose the gentleness and pliability of the true Self within. When we move with Caterpillar meditation, we release our humbleness which we usually hold within. Caterpillars grow from within and this is a call to you to carry this vital awareness on your life's journey. Caterpillars move with a quiet, gentle, wave-like motion and choose to feed from one type of plant or related group of plants as they taste with their feet. Caterpillar suggests to us to keep focus on what nourishes you most and not to run around trying to take in too much at this time. Make sure you choose correctly for yourself, as not all that is out in mainstream society will sustain you on your spiritual journey of growth and change. This could be a good time to "dip your toes in the water" and test what is correct for you and your future path.

The wisdom of the little Caterpillar's life span is huge in its symbolism for us. Not just about the final goal or the totality of the journey, Caterpillar represents respect for process within a greater process, and transit into transformation many times in one’s life. It is about the support and the energy needed to provide the foundation or baseline on which we may build or from which we may proceed. It is knowing how to experience the experience, to go with the flow, to bring in, and grow the formation of true self-acceptance to reveal our beauty and creativity for the good of the Earth and the All.


Lessons Repetitive Experience Humbleness Change & Growth Shedding the Old

Mandala 25, The Wave of Repetition, Pastel Blue, Blue Lace Agate, Caterpillar, Chord A minor

I cannot tell you how much this resonates with where I am walking right now. There is so much in here that feels EXACTLY like what I am doing. It further confirms to me, like the words of that Radiohead song, everything is in its right place. In good, correct time. For every time I've been (even lovingly) scolded for thinking this, or doing that, I've been coming round to this point in my life. All in good time, as they say. What a relief to know that despite what others have tried to rush me through, or "get" me to see, I have been treading at a pace that is perfect for me to get to here.

It's such a beautiful affirmation, I'm completely aghast. And possibly the nicest part of all this? My Caterpillar Friend is still there. He must have gone awol for a couple of days, hiding from the spraying perhaps, and is busily eating away at his chosen plant as if nothing had ever happened. But how amazing life is, that it would present this opportunity for me to read and have confirmed to me where I've come from and what's going on for me right now. If he hadn't have moved at the very moment he did, I wouldn't have gone further with finding out about him. It's sealed it for me that there are kingdoms within kingdoms on this planet that are just blaringly obvious with their wisdom. It's insane that we don't literally stop and smell the roses more often. I am quite sure the world would be better for it if more of us did.

Am I in trouble here?

Feeding the LGBB has become a thing of mystery. She's making all the right appreciative noises (interspersed with frustrated gruntings which I was taking to mean displeasure), leans in to the spoon.... and then tries to inhale what's on the spoon by opening her lips about as far as, well, let's say a credit card would have trouble swiping the space. What this means is, she gets just the hint of flavour from the food. There's no way anything's passing those lips unless it's by absorption. And she looks so frustrated about it.

She looks at me with such anticipation. Wide eyes. Bushy tail. Gets all fired up, wiggles and bounces. And then.... pursed lips and chin(s) to chest as that spoon comes. It's beautiful. And equally exasperating for me. I show her how to open her mouth by opening mine. She either grins at me or a look of disdain passes fleetingly across her unamused face. It's either one reaction or the other, and neither of them have resulted in the open mouth.

Then today, she reached for the spoon with one hand. Then flailed with the other to grab on as well. There we were, the LGBB and her two hands wrapped firmly around mine, which was trying to make its way to her clammed mouth and dodge pumpkin drips at the same time. Once that spoon hit her mouth, she opened up! And in it went! The key, it seems, has been for her to do it herself.

Is this wise, I ask, with a 6 month old? Should I just get out the orange paint right now and save myself the trouble of worrying about sprayed walls and floors (and ceilings and curtains, windows and light fixtures)? I have always expected I will be giving her her own spoon, and letting her dip it in and feed herself, but was thinking this would happen when it was developmentally a curious time for her. She almost elbowed me out of the way to scrape the bowl herself. Ok, so she didn't really and that's a minor exaggeration - she can't elbow yet - but man, oh, man if this is what her frustration has been (because after this point, she shovelled it in, or allowed me to "help" like there was no bottom to the bowl), I am battoning down the hatches for a rather head down, tail up young lady to share the house with.

Bit.... erm..... nervous? Yes, nervous is the word. And impressed.

Let Baygons be Baygons

Last night, as I was giving the LGBB her rollover feed, I heard spraying. Full on, aggressive sounding spraying of the can kind. PSHHHHHHHT! 'Far out', I thought, 'Steve's found something scary, probably with eight legs. How gallant that he's doing something about it before I get back out there.' Note I didn't use the word "kill"... just can't ask him to do it.

Then a few seconds later, PSSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHT!! again. Another 20 second burst of spray noise. 'Shit, the bastard must be huge, I thought, as I imagined a now-dizzy huntsman doing an Elaine Benis-type dance on the floor.

Poor thing, though. I don't like crawly things inside, as evidenced here, but I hate to kill them just because I don't like them in my house. It's something that causes me great internal turmoil.

So there I was, with sounds of insect repellant filling my ears, and by the sounds of it, Steve had now sprayed enough to stop a herd (do huntsmen travel in herds?? I bet they do, like wildebeast) of the things and I was actually starting to think 'Oh come ON, that's a bit of overkill' - boom-tish.

When I got out the door, I didn't find my husband climbing the breast of a hairy beast, Michael Douglas shirt-off-with-sword Romancing The Stone style. Instead, he was doing dishes, as per my earlier request to rinse off some of the LGBB's little cups before that rice cereal set like Plaster of Paris. PSHHHHHHHT went the tap as he added more hot water.

Oh.

INCOMINNNNNG!

At mothers group yesterday, there was some discussion over the most cringe-worthy reasons (in hindsight) why they've taken their young charges to the doctor.

One had gone, understandably when, her daughter was tugging at her ear. Turns out, she was just keen on discovering her appendage - much like the mum of the little boy at the end of the table whose father said "Easy, mate, you'll tug the thing off!" when he'd discovered an appendage at the other end of his body.

One mum went when her daughter was making gasping sounds. Was told by the GP she was just exercising her newly discovered sounds.

I had been considering going because the LGBB's latest is a succession of noises that sounds for all the world like whoop-whoop monkeys air raiding over the Channel with machine guns.

But now I think I'll just wait til the Battle of Dresden passes and look forward to her next epiglottal mastery.

Lazy bloggin'

Just something to keep the days ticking away. A recent Digg search turned up these pearlers:

What happens when you take a photo at the right angle
Upside-down-ternet (only the truly geeky would appreciate this one)
Too much time on their hands
Girl in human sling shot (come on, with a title like that I had to look!)
Oh be still my dorky heart
Just about one of the scaaaariest things I've ever seen (especially that section about the maps, oh dear God....)

Parks and Poppets

We went to the park yesterday - had a little lazy rug lolling overlooking the spot where we held Ella's memorial three years ago - and enjoyed the warm sun and the big breeze. The LGBB hasn't seen so many leaves blowing in one place in her life, she was most impressed with the nature.

When we arrived back home, she treated us to her very first sit on her own. SO special! So sweet. So assisted by her fat cloth nappy.

I love this photo. It has instantly become one of my favourites.


And now... I give you, Little Miss "I can sit on my own for 2.45 seconds!"

The clip, Mummy, the clip....

I think it's tugging at my eyebrow

It's Ella's 3rd birthday

And all I can think is, I should have been having a hard time tucking my excited girl into bed last night.

She should be playing with her sister.

I should know where she is.

But none of those things have happened. Just going to try and get through the day. Again.