tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57336050703894569282024-03-05T17:26:47.964-08:00A London Girl in BostonStill living in Boston and loving every moment. I'll continue to share my encounters with American life, which will now include snippets of being a mom, but won't blither on too much about it. Here's hopin' my blog continues to bring you some happiness!Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.comBlogger82125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-28846025581958602162019-04-11T08:29:00.001-07:002019-04-11T08:29:34.353-07:00Wait, What?<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I recently entered a short story competition. I didn't get past the first round but did get some valuable feedback from the judges. A critique on one's writing is always difficult to digest, but as a writer, a thick skin is a necessity along with a good dictionary and copious amounts of tea.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">However, one comment irked me somewhat.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">One of the characters where I described her anatomy was criticized: <i>"The line about "Kathy's small pert breasts" feels a bit problematic for 2019."</i></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">I was a little puzzled. Why should it be problematic? I'm just describing a character. It's difficult to fully convey the various personalities of people in stories in less than 2,500 words and perhaps that is a shortfall of me as a writer, but it's still only a description. A means of describing a person.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">With the current 'MeToo' climate, there is certainly more sensitivity and as an advocate of this movement, I do understand the need to be hyper-aware of causing offence. And yet, why should it affect how I write, what words I use?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Surely a writer is 'allowed' to describe its characters using what ever words it deems appropriate? Would I have got the same reaction/comment if I had said 'Kathy's sagging breasts'? Am I not 'allowed' to sexualize a woman? Believe it or not, there are women out in the world who like being seen as 'sexy'. And isn't a follow on from 'Me Too' also advocating that a woman has the freedom to be whom they choose to be?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">As a writer, my words should engage my readers. Better still if I make them think and want to discuss what they've read. Not being able to write whether a woman's breasts are pert or not shouldn't cause offence to anyone, it shouldn't be 'problematic'. Obviously this judge has completely forgotten the popularity of 'Fifty Shades' and the hundreds of authors who write steamy romances. If you're easily offended (by sexual references), then don't read the book.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Perhaps I'm reading too much in to the judge's comment. All they want me to know is to be aware of how things are perceived. After all, the written word is a powerful thing (I'm old enough to remember the fatwa being placed on Salmon Rushdie), but I don't see (refuse to see?) how this description is problematic. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">It also begs me to ask: is this comment akin to censorship?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;">Creating an image of a character with words is what my role of an author is all about. So, whilst I appreciate the critique, I will continue to describe my characters breasts <span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; color: black; font-family: "times","times new roman",serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"><span style="background-color: white;">(<span style="-webkit-text-stroke-width: 0px; background-color: white; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times","times new roman",serif; font-size: 16px; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; orphans: 2; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">pert, heaving, drooping...) </span></span></span>as I see fit.</span>Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-11102819778567842602019-01-30T07:19:00.001-08:002019-04-05T08:13:32.790-07:00It's that day again...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span>I'm a hopeless romantic. I'll admit it. But, I'm that rare kind that is also prone to cynicism. Not a positive combination with the inevitable Valentine's Day fast approaching. So, I know I'm going to get some backlash on writing this post. But, here goes. </div>
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Every year I get a Valentine's card from Hubby and I get him one. I'll get a bouquet of roses and even a gift. The first year we were married I was over the moon with it. But, as time passes, I</div>
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</a>told Hubby to stop buying flowers because they're just too expensive. A $5 rose becomes $10. And, yes you can argue it's the sentiment behind the giving of roses but I'm lucky enough that Hubby buys me flowers regardless of what day it is. And, yes, the gifts given have been particularly nice - surely that's what birthdays, wedding anniversary's and Christmas is for, yes?</div>
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I say, leave Valentine's Day for the singles. Isn't that the point of the day? To get a card signed with a question mark or flowers arriving with a note attached saying: "you're a bit of all right!" Where the woman or man in question will ponder who finds them attractive. It will give them a buzz, make 'em stand taller, brush a little more mascara on (some blokes may...) until they realize it's that dodgy looking guy from the post room, or the woman who always seems wear the same cardigan, regardless of the weather.</div>
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For those who are single it's probably the worst day of their lives. Another reminder they're not with someone. That they're outstanding wit and charm ain't that attractive, that as much as they primp and preen, they still can't meet that special someone. A day they hate knowing that whilst some are being swept of their feet, they'll be popping into the local supermarket, picking up a meal for one and a magnum bottle of champagne to deaden the neglect. </div>
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It's hard being single on Valentine's Day and it's a slap on the face watching those in a relationship buying a card. Some grabbing the first thing they see, others choosing with a lot of care, or those buying one only because they think it will score them brownie points (and a bit of 'ow's your father). In the recess of a singleton's mind are they secretly hoping a card is being bought for them? When I was single, I hated Valentines Day. I knew no one was going to send me a card or flowers. The day just sucked <b>and</b> I had to work...</div>
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February 14th is certainly not a day to buy a pack of cards and give them to all your friends in school. Does a first grader truly know about love? Some will argue it's an opportunity to celebrate the love of friendship. Great, wonderful, <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">pick another day to acknowledge that <span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;"> - Valentines Day is about fancying the pants of someone, n</span></span><span style="background-color: transparent; color: black; display: inline; float: none; font-family: "times new roman"; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: 400; letter-spacing: normal; text-align: left; text-decoration: none; text-indent: 0px; text-transform: none; white-space: normal; word-spacing: 0px;">ot having to give a card to a kid who's nose just won't stop running. It's not a day to be inclusive.</span></div>
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I'll be the first one to admit that I've been taken in with the commercialism. The hopes of buying a cuddly teddy bear holding a heart, the heart shaped boxed of chocolates, the romantic songs. All of it. I still find some of things quite sweet...some...</div>
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Truth is, it's become too commercialized and expensive. Should a business make a profit on emotions? And, that says it all really. Are we not exploiting love? Are we not making it an obligation to declare our love for someone on one particular day, when in fact, the declaration of love would be just as amazing if it happened on March 14 as it would February 14. </div>
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Love is love - we don't need a day to show it, wax lyrical about it and/or to celebrate it. But...um, Happy Valentine's Day people...enjoy! Ahem...</div>
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<br />Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-28677438413701186562017-08-24T19:41:00.002-07:002017-08-24T19:41:15.045-07:00Welcome to Hahvard!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I love the start of Fresher's Week. Sad as it may sound, I'm excited to see all these (young, boy, are they young) faces arrive at the hallowed gates of Harvard, and begin to settle in. Parents and students alike, are in a mad dash to get into their dorms, buy a fridge, a mat, and get their bearings amid the sprawling mass of buildings. <br />
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As a Cambridge resident for the last eight years, I've been privy to this crazy rush every August. But, this year was a little more special. <br />
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Malia Obama is on campus. She moved into the halls of residence at the same time the eclipse was taking place. (Good move on part of the Obama's. Whilst folks were busy looking to the heaven's, they moved their little girl in with little fuss).<br />
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However, I do wonder, actually, I hope, she manages to enjoy college life. I would imagine there is a greater burden, on her shoulders, than most students, to do well. Although, I'm sure the Obama's would protest loudly, will professors, ever so slightly, give her special treatment? Will she make real friends? I think it's important that her experiences, here at Harvard, are without falsehood. <br />
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It's a nerve-wracking time for all, (which starts with being given just twenty minutes to off-load all of your stuff to your dorm building!) But, I'm sure Malia has been well schooled (pardon the pun) in how to handle all of this. <br />
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I certainly hope she can pop down to Staples, grab a slice of pizza from Pinocchio's, pick up a bottle of water from CVS, and even get a Curious George t-shirt, without fear of being stopped, photographed or just stared at. Now that she's arrived, I wonder if all the business'/places she visits will replace the "Mark Zuckerberg was here", with Malia's name? Hmm...<br />
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Regardless, to the class of 2021, welcome - but please don't hog all the tables at Starbucks with your books!<br />
<br />Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-16286737673440384002017-07-01T04:58:00.001-07:002017-07-01T04:58:59.837-07:00As Time Goes Bye<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Unbelievably, it’s been four years since Mum passed away. </div>
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July first had started out happily, and then it came crashing down around me, when Hubby had the unfortunate job of breaking the devastating news to me.</div>
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Yet, it still seems like it happened just a few weeks ago.</div>
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I always thought the notion of time healing or easing the loss would be a thing to cling to. The brutal truth is, it hasn’t, not really.</div>
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A lot of that has to do with the little miss. As her 4th birthday approaches, it’s a sad reminder that I no longer have neither mum or dad around to tell them all about the lots of little things which are sweet, frustrating or funny, that she has done. They would have loved to have been told about every single moment, as any grandparent would. </div>
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Possibly the hardest part of mum not being here, is not being able to talk to her about when I was young. Granted, she wouldn’t have remembered everything, but, it would have been nice to pass on stories and memories of me, to my daughter, when I was her age. </div>
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I endeavor not be melancholy. So, each year, I listen to the music mum enjoyed, and try to do something to honor her memory. I miss her advice, her hugs, even her silly jokes. I just miss her.</div>
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<i>“There is no death, daughter. People die only when we forget them,' my mother explained shortly before she left me. 'If you can remember me, I will be with you always.” </i><i>Isabel Allende</i></div>
Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-61927157769034172802017-04-20T09:20:00.000-07:002017-08-24T19:44:56.595-07:00Brown Like Mommy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The other day whilst using Mommy as a climbing post, the little miss, stops, and looks at me. She then pipes up that she wants to be 'brown like mommy'. I smiled and said, 'you're beautiful just as you are.'<br />
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But my mind was screaming 'no!' <br />
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Initially I was going to respond, that she would need to spend time in the sun (to get this dark) and then I thought best not to say that as putting sunscreen on her would be a nightmare and not to mention skin cancer etc..<br />
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Regardless, the real reason for not wanting her to be brown like me is simple. <br />
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People still make judgements (about me) based on the color of my skin. And living in America, I want to ensure her life to be as free from prejudice and hate as much as is possible. <br />
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With Trump in power, the racial tensions that have been hidden behind political correctness and politeness is now allowed to roam freely. Visiting the state of New Hampshire recently, I was slightly perturbed to see huge signs of support for Trump. And from that point on, when we stopped in a restaurant, shop etc. I made sure I spoke, so they would hear my very British accent. <br />
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Wrong on all levels as I should be accepted as I am and I shouldn't tar everyone with the same racist brush - but I have to be realistic. <br />
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I live in a place where, as I'm darker than my daughter, I'm seen as a nanny. (Thankfully, there is a community here in Cambridge, so people see me day in day out and the majority know who I am and who is my daughter.) Yet step outside of this cocoon and I'm made aware that I'm different color. Something that I didn't have to think about whilst living/working in London/Croydon.<br />
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Summer is never my season (hate the heat, the humidity) but I'm definitely not looking forward to it because I don't want my daughter to get a tan. Yes, she doesn't have the, as Hubby calls it, 'northern paleness', he has, but she has enough color.<br />
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I know and have seen the struggles to apply for a job, walk into a bar when the first thing people see is your color. I don't want the little miss to be the token employee (employers have to ensure they have recruited a diverse number of people.) I don't want her to feel a hundred pairs of eyes stare at her when she enters a room. When she's older, I will of course, have to discuss the intricacies of having a parent of color. But for now, I let sleeping dogs lie.<br />
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Instead of being happy that she wants to be like me, I'm quietly discouraging her from something that is part of who I am. I'm this color because of where my ancestors were originally from - pigmentation shouldn't define me, yet each day I'm reminded that it is. <br />
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Her innocence of a simple want of being 'brown like mommy' is sadly tarnished.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-3971056352409852642017-01-18T09:21:00.003-08:002017-01-18T09:21:36.387-08:00Inauguration 2017<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88nZamdDGOQCkIfaOCLKxxIUMwYntz8AZCGBLb46wJqiMcvuuIC-GLyFDzOnpDr7_X1SIssn6d535MnkxWL4iDhTq5-QleJoRGPrwbe8nII0_usTAB2VCfV9MMERZsYCaqqlann9MsY3l/s1600/inaug.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="157" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh88nZamdDGOQCkIfaOCLKxxIUMwYntz8AZCGBLb46wJqiMcvuuIC-GLyFDzOnpDr7_X1SIssn6d535MnkxWL4iDhTq5-QleJoRGPrwbe8nII0_usTAB2VCfV9MMERZsYCaqqlann9MsY3l/s200/inaug.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
Everything about Trump's presidency is set to be unique and it seems that his inauguration is following suit. <br />
<br />
With recent, scathing, comments made by notable Democrat, John Lewis, it looks like Mr. Lewis and forty plus of his peers will not attend the swearing in of the 45th President. Is this correct? Reading some of the tweets, they are not attending because they won't support a man who is derisive and happy to ignore any Russian involvement in the US elections, amongst other reasons.<br />
<br />
I understand this, but it's a ceremony that shows the peaceful transition of office. Should they not promote this ethos? Rather than staying away, stand strong in front of the man and say "you may be there, but we are here, we will fight for the American public, we will stand strong and united and show you, bullies can't win."<br />
<br />
It's a worrying time and also a confusing one. I'm the first to admit that even after seven years of living stateside, I'm still some what bewildered by American politics. And, it makes me wonder what the forefathers would think of his presidency, the inflammatory words he used to gain the highest seat in the land. Which leads to the question some have asked, what will his speech contain? It's a chance for him to inform the public of his intentions - but what exactly are they? So far all I've seen is his tweeting prowess and lack of propriety when it comes to international relations, as well as employing people with questionable backgrounds.<br />
<br />
Trump's disdain of the press also has people concerned. He hates them, calls them dishonest. But he's fine with them when they're promoting him. Can't have your cake and eat it. Obama, Clinton and Bush on average, held 15 press conferences when they were president elect's. Trump has held one. He may think he's showing the press who's the boss and if he wants to say something to the world, he can through his tweets. But it shows complete disrespect for journalists throughout the world and how unprepared he is for the job. He can't handle press conferences because he just doesn't know how to answer tough questions. He needs to learn quickly that he has to answer the hard questions as well as the soft, fluffy ones. It's going to be a very quiet Correspondent's Dinner next year.<br />
<br />
When a President should be using his 'power' to unite a torn, hurt country, it's frightening to see he puts his own wants and desires before the people. With all this criticism of Trump and his 'unprecedented' ways, we as a nation, have accepted this man as the next leader of the USA. What does that say about us?<br />
<br />Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-59820550725987212832016-12-31T15:01:00.000-08:002016-12-31T15:01:22.337-08:00What a Year<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozGcE5QtzxHDNeeEcZYhP4cEN-MR-XWejD-nyJ4j9MVYL25quCxscz1p1OihQlpwghxzaVGWtAaQeBryTTwI7jFoHresaEMMeE8mrOJ9UVfqSWrmPmQ66v5NDll4Pdoak1iI0Nma1Cuf2/s1600/new-year-2017-wishes-messages.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="190" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiozGcE5QtzxHDNeeEcZYhP4cEN-MR-XWejD-nyJ4j9MVYL25quCxscz1p1OihQlpwghxzaVGWtAaQeBryTTwI7jFoHresaEMMeE8mrOJ9UVfqSWrmPmQ66v5NDll4Pdoak1iI0Nma1Cuf2/s200/new-year-2017-wishes-messages.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
I appreciate that this post won't be the first or the last to lament on how 2016 will be an unforgettable year. And unfortunately, not in a good way. <br />
<br />
From the untimely deaths of so many talented, kind, generous artists - the musicians, the writers, the producers, the comedians, the actors, the thinkers - the list seems somewhat endless. As someone on Twitter said, "2016 has officially killed the 80s".<br />
<br />
Perhaps the most shocking was the political turmoil that gripped both here and across the pond. Brexit was, in my mind, straight out of a Monty Python farce, just not funny; and Trump gaining power? Someone needs to take his phone off him. I could wax lyrical on the matter but a good friend of mine eloquently wrote: <i>"...He hasn't even taken power yet but since the election he has publicly dismissed the CIA and the UN while happy to align himself to Putin's Russia and support Israeli encroachment on Palestinian land. He is a racist, misogynistic, egotistical, power mad man with far less intelligence than he credits himself with. He has always considered himself #1 & put himself first and I don't believe he will change when he takes office..."</i><br />
<br />
Time will and can only tell what his presidency will be like. I'm also hoping for an impeachment. This is a man who loves money. And he as to give up all links to his company - can he do it? Will he?<br />
<br />
With all of these surprises of death, political controversy, continuing war, an onslaught of fake news, and pain, it's been difficult to remember the good times. And I have had quite a few...<br />
<br />
The little miss starting, and loving every minute, of pre-school, how much she has grown both physically and mentally, receiving useful, encouraging criticism from three literary agents on my novel, chats with my nephew (even if he is 2 and a bit) sister and brother in law, my brother spending Christmas with us, catching up with friends and family. So much love and support from Hubby. <br />
<br />
I suppose there has to be a balance, the Yin and Yang. It doesn't have to be amazing and earth shattering all the time. <br />
<br />
So I'll take this opportunity to thank you for reading my posts. For letting me know your thoughts. I'm looking to next year to travel a bit more and make more of a mark in the literary world, so watch this space. I sincerely wish and hope that 2017 is a year that brings everyone more love, laughter and lots of sparkle. <br />
<br />
Happy New Year everyone!Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-50381193236025805572016-11-14T19:08:00.002-08:002016-11-14T19:08:36.519-08:00Christmas and the Toddler
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjstn76C6gNsQhOaEYMX5ANJemcIhCbkJdicdZjcsL91JQ4iyz2snp-Rou8aAsfjuMQ4r41GpmLmAsw9FGRrreaJ9D7QxzniacCUojlhFbtFot6fVF8gPMcSzPI-SgPMlvZbZT5CuXbNK2/s1600/santa-claus-rein-deer-cartoon-kids-christmas-wallpaper.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="116" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjstn76C6gNsQhOaEYMX5ANJemcIhCbkJdicdZjcsL91JQ4iyz2snp-Rou8aAsfjuMQ4r41GpmLmAsw9FGRrreaJ9D7QxzniacCUojlhFbtFot6fVF8gPMcSzPI-SgPMlvZbZT5CuXbNK2/s200/santa-claus-rein-deer-cartoon-kids-christmas-wallpaper.jpg" width="200" /></a></div>
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With a toddler, Christmas becomes (even) more exciting or perhaps more worrisome?</div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
As one of my favorite holidays, it’s certainly exciting. The tree, the decorations, the fairy lights – all will prove to be an enjoyable (and dare I mention possibly expensive) time ahead. </div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
And even though the Christmas season is not quite with us, I’ve so far noted the following things…</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
Santa exists. Especially when you feed the line of “let’s get rid of some of your toys so Santa can consider leaving you a new one, maybe two.” The response? “Okay!”</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
Invariably the introduction of the jolly Saint Nick leads to the repetition of; “so Santa will come to my house?” and “Santa leave me presents?” every few hours.</div>
</li>
<li><div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
Ideas on how to get on the ‘Nice List’ can come from films. Inspired by <i>Arthur Christmas</i> I said to the little miss, “see how the elves scan to see if the child is good, well, that’s what will happen come Christmas Eve.” It was only afterwards did I wonder if she would become freaked out by a bunch of small people with weird ears rolling into the bedroom armed with scanners. Ah well…</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
How the myth continues: I’m either a genius or very good at being deceptive…</div>
<ul>
<li><div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
Whilst out and about the other day, I noticed some Christmas wrapping paper and so did the little miss. I asked her “which one do you like? Frozen or Minions?” “hmm, Frozen. I love Frozen.” “Okay, I’ll let Santa know so he can wrap your presents in it.” (I'm going with genius.)</div>
</li>
</ul>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
From my withering on about the fat (sorry, weight challenged) bloke in the red and white suit and how I'll let him know what's going on, I'm certainly giving the impression that I have a direct hotline to the man. Not a bad idea I suppose. I'm just wondering what will be my bargaining chip come December 26th!</div>
<div style="margin: 0px 0px 11px;">
Oh and a final point...erm, teach (your) toddler the CORRECT words for Christmas songs. I'm regretting singing "Jingle Bells, Santa smells, Rudolph did a pooh...!" Whilst we had a real belly laugh over it, she is now repeating the lines rather a lot. Thankfully, her pronunciation isn't great...</div>
Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-3979569741452183942016-10-20T09:21:00.000-07:002016-10-20T09:21:22.773-07:00And the 45th President is...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUSl_ltF3a-PFOf89Dl14DGUp8IeefkWTYPXUzcYWDvkEGB5dHGNtjWAgGBjIXeQaLsK0w4NIQZi8LedOD0G0VGcf6RKEDb0YvgwshNaj1tUPr03vOUZFgXOm8lQT-lpv0uYAeUVPkOrN/s1600/th.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnUSl_ltF3a-PFOf89Dl14DGUp8IeefkWTYPXUzcYWDvkEGB5dHGNtjWAgGBjIXeQaLsK0w4NIQZi8LedOD0G0VGcf6RKEDb0YvgwshNaj1tUPr03vOUZFgXOm8lQT-lpv0uYAeUVPkOrN/s320/th.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I can see why people like what Trump is saying. <br />
<br />
In the final presidential debate he was not necessarily eloquent, but he said the right words and phrases that appeal to the people who feel downtrodden by an economy that only seems to help the already rich, believe immigrants are better off then they are, a failing police force and don't like the US involvement in various wars.<br />
<br />
Listening to the CNN political commentators, two of whom are Trump supporters, give their feedback afterwards was fascinating. Fascinating because they all heard the same talk but received it differently. The majority of the panel were up in arms that he did not (and would not?) accept the election results. And comments of 'hombres' and 'nasty woman' were also banded around. These were regarded as a slap in the face to the democratic process and the American way.<br />
<br />
But one thing I heard and was an interesting point. They all commended Trump on how he presented himself at the beginning of the debate. He was calm, he answered questions and then towards the end, he interrupted Hillary, talking over her (yes, she did the same..) he used offensive language (and I'm not just talking 'hombres', I'm referencing the part where he said 'babies are ripped out from the woman'...) and behaved like a little boy who has been told he won't be getting ice-cream. <br />
<br />
His rhetoric has to be applauded - how else did he become the presidential candidate? Yet it has incited violence, intolerance and uncertainty. Are these really the qualities (the American) people want from their president? <br />
<br />
Does America really want a President - a person who will represent one of the largest economies in the western world, who will represent all its citizens regardless of class, color, or creed - who can only be civil for 40 minutes? <br />
<br />
If Trump wins, I foresee a huge drop in the dollar, Putin rubbing his hands in glee and the rest of the world hanging their in head in dismay. If he doesn't win, then there will be angry, violent outbursts against immigrants and people of color and general disobedience.<br />
<br />
The mud slinging, the insults, the lies, the back tracking, the lack of clear polices and how they will be executed/introduced has made this presidential campaign an ugly and dreadful one. Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-37066432667622887952016-05-13T18:17:00.000-07:002016-05-13T18:17:03.703-07:00Conversations with a toddler...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtN6itMNwpcWXatlxH9XTW3Re3a4Qs4Op9h2s_kIQW29qw2FILbRvfh0mvyoepGpu4l93Zi7D3Hs45TMSC_SwuFdehOFKu5Ae9k7C6Ddklywlyd1eneSbnoJCJr7JUAYFljMk9ADERJA6/s1600/musing-2.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="180" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTtN6itMNwpcWXatlxH9XTW3Re3a4Qs4Op9h2s_kIQW29qw2FILbRvfh0mvyoepGpu4l93Zi7D3Hs45TMSC_SwuFdehOFKu5Ae9k7C6Ddklywlyd1eneSbnoJCJr7JUAYFljMk9ADERJA6/s200/musing-2.png" width="200" /></a></div>
...and other such musings.<br />
<br />
<strong>Overheard</strong><br />
<br />
The Little Miss:"ow!"<br />
Daddy: "well, if you run your yellow car across your toes like that, it will hurt."<br />
<br />
<strong>An Affair?</strong><br />
<br />
When Dolly (Parton) released the song "Jolene" back in the 70s, I'm pretty sure there was little speculation about her husband having an affair. So how come when Beyoncé releases her album and the track "Don't Hurt Yourself", there is so many theories and dire warnings of an impending divorce? Practically every celebrity has some drama attached to them. Getting quite bored of it.<br />
<br />
<strong>Political Powers</strong><br />
<br />
I can't believe that Donald Trump will be the Republican nominee. There is so much to say yet I don't know where to begin. However, one thing that really irks me is how much attention the media (read: CNN) give to him. There are no concrete policies, viewpoints or ideas that warrant this much air time, yet guaranteed, he will be discussed the most. The man has no political background and yet he's expected to speak to the Senate, Congress, other world leaders in a professional manner, should he succeed? As one interviewee said, "...and this is the man we should give the nuclear codes to?" I'm scared for me, my daughter (an American citizen), for America and the world should he be voted in as President of the United States. <a href="http://www.ontheissues.org/Donald_Trump.htm" target="_blank">http://www.ontheissues.org/Donald_Trump.htm</a><br />
<br />
<strong>Coffee</strong><br />
<br />
Starbucks' new membership has caused some furor. And I can understand why if you're a casual drinker of this particular brand. Before you could come in and get a star for each drink. Get 12 (stars), your 'gold' status was renewed and you got a free drink. Now you have to get 125 stars to get that free drink but every time you get a coffee, you get two stars for every $1 spent. Unless I've calculated it incorrectly, and I may well have as maths was not one of my best subjects, I don't think it's too bad a deal for a regular customer...<br />
<br />
<strong>A Bit of TV</strong><br />
<br />
I've discovered the final series of Haven (a sci-fi program) is now on Netflix. But then reality sets in. The only way I can watch it in peace is if I set my alarm for about 1am because the Little Miss will definitely not wake up for another few hours. As it is I can't watch Jeopardy without her muttering, "I don't like Jep-dee Mommy, I don't like it." Why? When the program ends, it's her bed time...supposedly...Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-18557622599964732282016-05-03T08:33:00.001-07:002016-05-03T08:33:43.872-07:00Not Quite the Birthday Blues<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: right;">
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">As I celebrate my birthday, it is tinged with sadness. <o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Whilst I’m more than happy to spend the day with Hubby and
the Little Miss, I can’t help but reflect that this is my first birthday
without Dad and my third without Mum. Without fail I would get a card from them
and a phone call. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">I was tempted to get an old card out but realized that would
just be silly. Yet, perhaps understandable? I don’t know. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Birthday’s growing up were always such fun for everyone in
our home. When that special day arrived, they would come downstairs to find the
living room filled with bunches of balloons and streamers. Mum started the
tradition and it never stopped. The only changes were how many balloons were
put up and where the banner would be placed. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">One year we almost gave Mum a heart attack. It was her 50<sup>th</sup>
and my sister and I waited for her to come down, when she opened the door we
pulled the string on a couple of poppers shouting ‘Happy Birthday!’ In her
unique way of expressing things, she gasped, ‘she stupid girls, y’all almos’
kill’ me!’ but with a huge grin on her face. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">As we got older, we would take over the inflating of the
balloons and under Mum’s direction where to place them. Including Dad, who
rarely showed he was happy to have these decorations, looked forward to seeing
them – okay maybe that was me?</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 8pt;">
<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">My desire to do anything creative soon took over as I
made banners – a train for Dad one year, roses for Mum another – all with just
the sheer pleasure of making my family happy. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So whilst I am a little sad, I know that I will certainly
carry on this tradition. Hubby had a Batman theme and as soon as the little Miss’s
birthday finished last year I was planning what theme to have for her third
(birthday). I’m still thinking. At the moment she’s into Spiderman (I know…),
Bubble Guppies and Octonauts. I’m thinking we’ll forgo the webbed wonder and
combine the guppies and Captain Barnacles et al…they are, after all, under the
sea…oh, The Little Mermaid – hmm…<o:p></o:p></span></span></div>
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Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-67627725639937735262016-02-04T04:53:00.000-08:002016-02-04T04:53:54.205-08:00They've Gone<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfuNMh6VFYT52z_RD0kKiJjBYGGLofQLN8rXBPjUrBzoQGkRuEZuffmLN4g9IKWo9jTYN7FvSUCKSnjaH4jGXuhG0ttVfgDB7HNlTVz8lsJp6Ry8t-AR8a69DTOS8hWOTULdEVJh3AXct/s1600/OscarWilde.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOfuNMh6VFYT52z_RD0kKiJjBYGGLofQLN8rXBPjUrBzoQGkRuEZuffmLN4g9IKWo9jTYN7FvSUCKSnjaH4jGXuhG0ttVfgDB7HNlTVz8lsJp6Ry8t-AR8a69DTOS8hWOTULdEVJh3AXct/s200/OscarWilde.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><div align="center">
Let laughter be the light in all this </div>
<div align="center">
dark and sadness.</div>
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</tbody></table>
The pilot announced that we had landed at Boston Logan and I cried. <br />
<br />
Cried because it was really real that Dad was no longer here. And he was always there. Each time I left for the US he would give me money for the taxi (no arguments) and he'd send me off with a smile and a 'call me when you get there'. I got 'there' and <em>he</em> <em>wasn't there</em> for me to call. <br />
<br />
How do I feel now that both Mum and Dad have knocked on the pearly gates? Lost, empty, grateful. When I say 'grateful' I simply mean all that they did for me; providing a warm, loving home, an education, teaching right from wrong.<br />
<br />
I know many will say with kindness and good intention that I have a wonderful husband, a beautiful daughter. And I'm not unappreciative of what is mine - a roof over my head and food on the table - it's a lot more than some have; but the fact of the matter is, they/it won't replace my parents. There is a void in my heart that no-one can fill. <br />
<br />
I know many have lost their parents, I'm not the first and I won't be the last. However, I feel a particular wrench because it's only been two years since Mum passed away. I was more accepting of Dad's passing, especially when the consultant said "we'll see how he is over the next 48hours." I acknowledged the statement as he wasn't expecting Dad to last much longer.<br />
<br />
As I emptied the house of their clothes, mementos, paperwork (oh Lord the paperwork), the home that I grew up in, quickly became a house. I shed tears as I locked the front door as I remembered when I left the UK back in November, I looked at Dad from the car. He sat in his chair and was smiling. And the thought fleeted through my mind, it was the last time I would be seeing him.<br />
<br />
So there it is, they've gone. My mind is beginning to come around to the idea of getting on with living. I have to for the sake of their grandchild otherwise they'd come back and have words with me!<br />
<br />
I miss them.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-77956342037170596462015-06-30T06:40:00.001-07:002015-07-01T14:37:40.300-07:00In short<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxj5q9ctOI0ujOZggp1siAPL9an5J7voDWHAsiq4_LOoAWQ5OVoTAfDqYOkC4ex6Pq3CxBZPIdzFFOExdIOlRpc4QS7K2ZWGzxsv_pslxj48oZh1ku2F1NRwUxjFG3M3vcofEr_uaftHRZ/s1600/lmb.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="179" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxj5q9ctOI0ujOZggp1siAPL9an5J7voDWHAsiq4_LOoAWQ5OVoTAfDqYOkC4ex6Pq3CxBZPIdzFFOExdIOlRpc4QS7K2ZWGzxsv_pslxj48oZh1ku2F1NRwUxjFG3M3vcofEr_uaftHRZ/s200/lmb.jpg" width="200" /></a>I've been pretty busy but a few things happened over the last couple of months...<br />
<br />
<b><i>Pretty Woman</i></b><br />
I popped into a local clothes store in Harvard. They have a lovely window display and the clothes are classic and stylish, plus they have beautiful scarves. Having admired the display from the outside for a while I decided to see what other treasures lay inside.<br />
<br />
The sales assistant said hello and possibly gave a nervous glance at the Little Miss in the stroller. I took a dress off a rail - shift style, in a dark beige color with several embroidered lines crossing each other over it in shades of beige, orange and brown. It was stunning. The lady started spouting it was made in Italy, hand finished etc. I asked how much - $1,500.<br />
<br />
Admittedly my response was somewhat of shock. A $1500 dress in Harvard where the main clientele are students? But who am I to think every student is hard up when each has a Mac laptop and there is a Clinique in the COOP (a clothes/text book specifically for Harvard students)?<br />
<br />
Upon hearing my response ("oh wow"), she proceeded to take the dress from my hand and put it back on the rail.<br />
<br />
I was quite shocked by her behavior/attitude - especially as I was the only one in the store and didn't see anyone else breaking down the door to get in. There will be a day when I walk back in that store loaded with bags from Gucci, Tiffany and MK and ask "you work on commission right? Big mistake, huge...I have to go now."<br />
<br />
<b>Update:</b> The above situation happened a few months ago. Passing by the shop yesterday (June 29) I'm pleased to see the dress in the window - sell many? No? Shocker...<br />
<br />
<b><i>Sing Along</i></b><br />
Our library does several free events for toddlers. One of which is to sing various songs - If You're Happy, Baa Baa Black Sheep etc - which I endeavor to take the Little Miss to. It's a great 20 minutes program.<br />
<br />
But what bothers/irks me is the small number of parents/caregivers that sit down and look at their phone or take it out during this time. You're the adult who is supposed to be showing the child in your care what movement to make, teach the words of the songs etc. What are they to think when they look at you and see you staring at your phone? Just very sad when we can't seem to spend even a short time interacting with our children.<br />
<br />
(If you need to know, I'm normally stood at the back dancing and singing along whilst Missy is running to the front and back (of the room), occasionally joining in with clapping and stomping her feet.)<br />
<br />
<b><i>Crafts</i></b><br />
I'm obsessed with knitting and crocheting.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Reading and then reading</i></b><br />
I've fallen back in love with the library. I've discovered some great authors and have been reading and just reading. And because I've read so many books (at least 25 in the last few months) I've not even blogged about them. But I'll do a synopsis and share my thoughts 'cause you know, everyone is entitled to hear my opinion.<br />
<br />
<b><i>Pedicures and Toddlers</i></b><br />
Just don't mix. (I'll just say that Missy thought the man was attacking mommy which was sweet but not so for the other customers who came in for a relaxing treatment. Thank God I had the i-pad...)Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-37528661811798899062015-03-03T09:14:00.003-08:002015-03-03T09:14:47.794-08:00Snow Snow Snow/Now is the winter of our discontent...November, December even early January the weather was cold, crisp, but no snow. Hubby and I had a conversation where in I said, "ooh, we've been lucky with not having any snow this winter." To which Hubby responded, "you say this every year, we always get some snow around now."<br />
<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9blbbsT9NbC2M7t3otFyqhe9Y_dy9vMinADuHolyzdxlmgQ9Kgxxc2jb7pQgc7WPZOXezsaoutfcSm6zlh2ov8pnshkiKlHKaNXwJ6HyJCztDFs9xTr9z2Ax-LmMdBoVG_G6_QKAh42U4/s1600/Storm_Warning.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9blbbsT9NbC2M7t3otFyqhe9Y_dy9vMinADuHolyzdxlmgQ9Kgxxc2jb7pQgc7WPZOXezsaoutfcSm6zlh2ov8pnshkiKlHKaNXwJ6HyJCztDFs9xTr9z2Ax-LmMdBoVG_G6_QKAh42U4/s1600/Storm_Warning.jpg" height="108" width="200" /></a></div>
And then the first winter storm headed towards us. I forget the name, let's call it Bob and it dumped a whole load of the white stuff. Before long another one came along, Cousin Sue, and deposited even more. Within two weeks Boston, heck the state of Massachusetts, got a year's worth of snow in that time span.<br />
<br />
Two more storms on top of Bob and Cousin Sue, and it's the city's third biggest winter snowfall. And I haven't even mentioned the wind chill. At times stepping out with exposed skin for ten minutes would result in frostbite. That's cold.<br />
<br />
Of course there is the usual travel bans and MBTA (tube) stopping services. Can you believe that people have complained? The Governor complained that it was unacceptable that the tube services stopped. Now I get they have a commitment to have some sort of transportation going - people need to get to work - nurses, doctors etc. but surely people have some sort of understanding that just sometimes it's not possible to get things working the way you expect them to be. How can you control the weather?<br />
<br />
And then you have the runners. They still get out and about which you either think is admirable or just stupid. I'm erring on the side of stupid; it's icy and paths are cleared but narrow because of the snow banks. I was out with the little miss. She's happily wondering around; I did hear the thuds of a runner behind us, I moved to get said little miss out of the way. Lo and behold, the runner slipped and fell because she wanted to get around us. I was sorry that we may have caused the fall and felt sorry for her but then thought why not just slow down, or stop. Or here's a thought, don't run. Everyone is taking their time getting around mindful of ice and black ice. Having to avoid runners shouldn't be part of the list.<br />
<br />
I won't even mention the people who think dress shoes are appropriate footwear, those with hoods on their coats who look frozen to the core yet won't put them up...<br />
<br />
Yes I've had enough of the white stuff, Yet I can't help but feel a little bit of excitement when those fluffy flakes flutter silently down to the ground. There is still something quite magical about it, the silence, its beauty. So as much as I'm waiting somewhat impatiently for Spring to arrive, I haven't quite fallen out of love with snow.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-31575618990770273782014-10-08T20:33:00.000-07:002014-10-08T20:33:38.110-07:00The C WordI'm talking caffeine.<br />
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-zOF7YTN8Obe_KHRvtdtVYfgqYlsnG5teSDhhUzG-VRUQxr76fEyNS1EbZMPrbqR6OvzdVLReiwyGDTQIjmQzclPRcAWnl6UmshubDSp7st119jxKQCfoAhklQzzIvY3XuFApbJ9P2rI/s1600/how-caffeine-2-360x240.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiI-zOF7YTN8Obe_KHRvtdtVYfgqYlsnG5teSDhhUzG-VRUQxr76fEyNS1EbZMPrbqR6OvzdVLReiwyGDTQIjmQzclPRcAWnl6UmshubDSp7st119jxKQCfoAhklQzzIvY3XuFApbJ9P2rI/s1600/how-caffeine-2-360x240.jpg" height="133" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Image: HowStuffWorks.com</td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<br />
Before pregnancy I'd dabble in the stuff - be it a macchiato from Starbucks or a cuppa at home. During, I just ordered a decaf and got decaf teabags. Reading various books on how to have a healthy pregnancy I was disappointed to read that chocolate had the devilish compound and therefore to be eaten moderately (I would like to point out that I'm not a big chocolate fan but hormones etc I had a big craving).<br />
<br />
Moving on, the decaffeinate-tion process continued (i.e. consuming as little caffeine as possible) as I breastfed and even when I moved onto only bottles, I continued to have decaf this that and the other.<br />
<br />
And then the nights became too much. The seemingly constant waking of a restless, teething, had a bad dream, 'I've got trapped gas' child started to take its toll. I looked in my cupboard at the primrose yellow box before me. Hmm, the Twinings Everyday tea (read: caffeine) was calling to me..."it's only one cup. It will keep you awake for a little longer...just...one...cup..."<br />
<br />
I gave in.<br />
<br />
Not completely mind you. I still had coffee a la mode so to speak. And I was fine, just fine. Yes I'll admit I was certainly more alert. At the four o'clock lull when my body normally started to shut down and I stared at my precious daughter willing her to take a nap, I was attentive. With a long absence you can certainly notice the difference this substance can have.<br />
<br />
I was amazed to find myself happy to read 'Mr. Brown Can Moo, Can You?' for the fourth time within half an hour, say calmly for the 50th time, 'don't eat that' and for the 60th time 'leave the remote alone my love'. None of it phased me. Eleven o'clock (pm) rolls around and I haven't fallen asleep on the couch. Wow, that's some stimulant.<br />
<br />
And that's when I realize that caffeine is a necessary evil. If I'm to avoid falling asleep whilst still standing up, I need it. I've tried to keep away from it. But in my excitement over the return of Pumpkin Spice lattes, I forgot to mention 'decaf' in my list of 'tall, extra hot, non-fat blah, blah, blah' requirements and upped my intake. 'Oh bother' as Pooh says.<br />
<br />
So I'm up to two cups of caffeine a day now and I'm glad to say it's no more than that, so far. I'm staying strong to sticking to only those two cups...and awake...very awake...Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-60759393096631690232014-07-15T20:37:00.000-07:002014-07-15T22:01:21.160-07:00Advice to My Daughter<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N8UbmRsn0lT882bpjLpN_vjtC3SWo1gBu_TmFRB2ctXVCscYnFnIZxBrKuGLMhUHimS0Se7haCaia6Qy5Nl78bZs-VT_OnuyKzab_f4HDFlzsbhSNQyNjy-_4R-iPoUnb3mPeEbn1bQu/s1600/atmyd.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8N8UbmRsn0lT882bpjLpN_vjtC3SWo1gBu_TmFRB2ctXVCscYnFnIZxBrKuGLMhUHimS0Se7haCaia6Qy5Nl78bZs-VT_OnuyKzab_f4HDFlzsbhSNQyNjy-_4R-iPoUnb3mPeEbn1bQu/s1600/atmyd.jpg" height="200" width="200" /></a></div>
An article in The Times (London) made me stop and think. It asked four different women what advice they would give to their daughter and it made me ask the same question of myself. What pieces of knowledge would I pass on to the Little Miss? There is the usual get a good education, decent job and a nice man etc but then there's also...<br />
<br />
To my sweet girl<br />
<br />
My advice is plentiful. Take it and make with it what you will. After all, the world and your own experiences of it will give you lots to think about and what I'm saying here right now may not have any bearing on how your life is going. But nonetheless, it's a mother's right to divulge her opinions...<br />
<br />
I could mention all those things that you should say on subjects such as relationships, work, being zen, etc etc but I'm far too practical. So here goes:<br />
<b><i>1</i></b>. <i style="font-weight: bold;">Clean your face</i> of make-up each night (should you wear the stuff) and smooth moisturiser on in an upwards movement. No need to intentionally drag your face down, gravity is doing that already.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">2. Listen to music</i> everyday and any kind. I'm going to stop at thrash though...Be it Debussy or Eminem music can make you feel better, less sad/angry, a lot happier and calmer. With the right song the problem you faced is a little more bearable, the love you feel greater.<br />
<b><i>3. R</i></b><i style="font-weight: bold;">ead, read, read. </i>From the <i>'get your vaccination here' </i>sign at the pharmacy to Homer's <i>The Iliad</i>. You never know when it will come in handy.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">4. Scream, cry or hug it out</i> any or all of these things when the situation calls for them - they help cleanse the soul.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">5. Laughter really is the best medicine. </i>There are moments to take things seriously otherwise, always try and have a giggle.<br />
<b style="font-style: italic;">6. It's okay to judge others,</b> just know that you'll be judged too. Whether for the color of your skin, your gender or how you wear your hair, there's someone who will have something to say about it.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">7. Wear perfume</i> everyday - the real stuff.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">8. Take a moment</i> to sit and just be. Right now we're living in a technology fuelled world, with one eye on a screen. Only the Lord knows what it will be like when you're in your teens and older. So, every now and then, just switch everything off, breathe and listen to the silence.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">9. Always keep a little of your childhood innocence </i>with you as you get older. It's okay to still love your pop idol that you had when you were a teenager, enjoy a Disney film (or two), crunch leaves and splash in puddles. I still do and it reminds me that the world is actually a great place.<br />
<i style="font-weight: bold;">10. Never be afraid to ask a question</i> even if you feel embarrassed to do it, no-one has all the answers and there will be a few that are grateful you stood up and said, "Can I just ask..?"<br />
<br />
And so before I go any further (you know how I can ramble) just remember that wherever the path you take leads, I'm here (and your father) no matter what; but if you need a handout, I'd stick to the Bank of Dad...I'm more the Bank of Crafts, Cake and Cuddles - although your Dad gives fantastic hugs too!<br />
<br />
I love you (even when/if you go through a Goth and 'I hate you..you don't understand me (sob)!' phase).Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-51100582340701448422014-06-30T19:44:00.001-07:002014-06-30T19:44:42.357-07:00A Year Later...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I still can't believe that Mum got her wings a year ago.<br />
<br />
When I started to make notes about my post I realized that it was all a bit sad, bordering on depressing. Don't get me wrong, I am incredibly sad about Mum not being here. I still long to hear her voice, to get the call where she has to share her latest joke.<br />
<br />
And that's when I reminded myself that Mum loved to laugh and have a laugh. In the last few years her life was really quite unhappy with being so ill and jokes, yes even the naff ones, made her giggle and gave some light relief.<br />
<br />
So I figured, I could lament about the feeling of loss and how I don't really look at the picture of Mum that is on my coffee table too much because it causes my heart to ache. No, instead I figured July 1st is not just a day of remembrance but a chance to celebrate the life of a woman who:<br />
<ul>
<li>made me laugh</li>
<li>made me appreciate the written word</li>
<li>told me to use my common-sense</li>
<li>wound me up</li>
<li>tried my patience</li>
<li>made me cry </li>
<li>I enjoyed hugging</li>
<li>strive and achieve to become a published author</li>
<li>taught me the Beatitudes</li>
<li>I envied and admired her natural artistic abilities</li>
<li>who ultimately pushed me to be a better person and achieve more than she did</li>
</ul>
So as much as her absence has left a hole in my heart, I'll always be grateful for what she taught me...as well as not being able to teach the Little Miss bad habits and then hand her back to me (something she promised to do with her grandchildren)!<br />
<br />
Thanks Mum xxShalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-79187369746480003322014-05-27T20:30:00.001-07:002014-05-27T20:30:13.596-07:00"Before the merriment of commencement commences..."<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The spring rain had watered the hallowed grounds of Harvard and up sprang marquees of various sizes. Ah yes Commencement was here once again.<br />
<br />
Taking an alternative route through Harvard Law campus, as they were busy setting up cameras and podiums, we squeezed past the growing line of students with their mortar boards and gowns chattering eagerly to each other.<br />
<br />
I was very excited for them, I have no idea why. It was lovely seeing their faces of anticipation, family members clicking away, friends chatting and posing for yet more photographs before they were called up to shake the Dean's hand and take their seat and listen to Mr. <a href="http://www.harvard.edu/commencement-day-speakers" target="_blank">Bloomberg</a> give an inspiring speech.<br />
<br />
As we ambled along I said to Hubby that I would love to attend a commencement even it's just to heckle a "woo-hoo, well done!" Hubby said they send out tickets they'd know I didn't belong. But I argued, what if I were to wear a professors hat and gown? I'd fit in no problem. I'd just shake their hands saying "congratulations, now the hard work starts." or I'd quote Four Weddings and grasp the hands of the parents and gush, "congratulations, you must be so proud!"<br />
<br />
As Hubby hurried me away from the throngs lest I tap one of the students and give them a congratulatory hug, I'm reminded (by Hubby dearest) that that so called 'hard work' they're destined for is softened by the six figure salary they'll all be starting on. Hmm, good point...Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-34834272273159011532014-05-06T19:40:00.004-07:002014-05-06T19:40:35.111-07:00Finally a Posting<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Seems that I haven't written a blog post for the 'new' year - I apologize. I suspect having a child will do that. Ah yes, my thoughts of life continuing as 'normal' dissolved pretty soon as I bought the little miss home. Where I used to read a book (to review) in a couple of days, it now takes me a week to finish it and even longer to write the critique. And whilst my head is swirling with feeds, diaper changes and <i>'the wheels on the bus'</i> I still have time to observe the outside life...<br />
<br />
...even if it is to occasionally gripe:<br />
<br />
<b>Let the Mocking Begin..</b>.<br />
I was stopped in the street and asked where the nearest Starbucks was...<br />
<br />
<b>All Dressed Up</b><br />
Various students were seen around the Cambridge area sporting tuxes, suits and pretty frocks. Lovely, nice to see. However, why would you get all dressed up to the nines and carry an everyday handbag - even if it is a Michael Kors? Completely ruined the look.<br />
<br />
<b>Take 'em Off</b><br />
The clouds darkened, the wind swirled the leaves endlessly around, whipping them intermittently into a frenzy. Yet you wear your shades as if there is bright sunshine blinding you. No, just no...<br />
<br />
<b>I'm the Mother</b><br />
Took the little miss to a sing-a-long at the library. Had an elevator chat with a fellow mom who actually thought I was the nanny...<br />
<br />
Ah yes, even if I am encased in my warm home (for most of the day) surrounded by a giggling sometimes wailing child, Sesame Street tunes in the background, dribble and milk stains on a 'clean-on this morning' top, it's good to know that the world still turns and I can still wonder at it's inhabitants.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-90101412961875559902013-12-23T21:14:00.000-08:002013-12-23T21:25:50.149-08:00What a Year...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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...one that has been filled with happiness, optimism and yes sadness.<br />
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I was nearly three months pregnant in January and Hubby and I couldn't wait to let our parents, brothers, sister and heck just about anyone who listened, that we were expecting.<br />
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February and morning sickness had taken a gentle but strong enough hold to make me feel 'off' most evenings. My sister made a surprise (and very welcome) visit and I felt the first flutter of our little one - a movement that over the coming months would increase to turns and rolls and the start of 'Bump Watch' where I'd spend a few hours each evening just waiting to see movement.<br />
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March, April and May saw us celebrate birthday's, what seemed as never-ending visits to the OB and lots of planning. Oh boy the planning! Which crib to buy, stroller, car seat and what name. Choosing a name is the reason why it takes 9/10 months to bring a child into this world...and it took us practically the whole of my pregnancy to find a name.<br />
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June was a hot month and the hottest day of the year was when we had to move from our 4th floor apartment to the 1st floor (that's the ground floor in English). I held the illusion of being able to help Hubby. I insisted, he insisted we move the dining table and chairs where I would sit and take it easy. The fact that I had to stop half way up the stairs only carrying our little one wasn't a deterrent. Hubby was right...yes I've admitted I was wrong!<br />
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And then July. A devastating month, one which at times I still can't believe. I was nearing the end of my third trimester and whilst my thoughts flitted from names to strollers to wondering which Disney princess our girl would prefer; throughout I thought Mom would be there giving me advice, laughing at my worries and then calming them down. And even though I have an amazing set of people that I can speak with and friends have said talk to your Mom anyway, she'll hear you, there are times that I<i> </i>just need to <i>hear </i>what she has to say.<br />
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When we came back, August became a blur of activity - car seat arrived, crib chosen, confirmation of a pediatrician and the minor issue of finalizing a name for our little miss. D-Day arrived (that's delivery day) and my main concern was I had to have breakfast at 6.30 in the morning as there was a likelihood that I wouldn't be eating for a while. I could only have ice pops? Hardly filling eh... The anesthetist came in giving me advice on having an epidural. I was all, 'thanks, but I'll be okay.' His return look was 'a-ha sure I'll see you later.' After enduring nearly 4 hours of waving pain (they don't do 'gas & air') boy did I need it. Oh and one other thing, I became a published author.<br />
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The following months have been emotional to say the least. Joy, fear, worry, laughter...and the pure bliss that I've felt has been (and is) bittersweet. There are very few moments when I don't think of Mom and whether she would think me a good mother and be proud of me. Whilst I wish she was still here, I remind myself that she is at peace, she's no longer tired or suffering. My little girl has a few things that remind me of Mom and that eases the pain to know there's a little part of her still (physically) around.<br />
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As the little miss grows and changes everyday, as Hubby continues to make me laugh, as my sister is on her journey to becoming a mother, I'm grateful for all that has happened...the good and the bad. Life is for experiencing what it has to offer. It doesn't mean it will be all rainbows and unicorns, but just taking each day as it comes.<br />
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So, I'll raise a glass on December 31st and share a hug and kiss with the two most important people in my life and look forward to 2014 and whatever it has in store for me, for us.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-33154221257078810132013-09-28T05:10:00.001-07:002013-09-28T05:10:19.012-07:00Nighttime Feeding in Six Easy Steps<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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It's a wondrous thing having to be fully alert at two in the morning. Just as I'm about to fall asleep, the little lady decides to wake up with a zealousness that would have been much more appreciated during the day. You know, my sweet girl, the time when normal people are up?<br />
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But having endured several nights of waking up at midnight and not actually getting back in to bed until 5am, I've perfected the steps that must be followed for me to attain some kip.<br />
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<b>1. The Hula Dance</b><br />
Once feeding has finished, I let bubs rest in my arms for a few minutes (read: half an hour or before I nod off and I hear a thud as the little one rolled out of my arms (NB. that has never happened, so step away from the phone to call NSPCC or Childline)). I walk to the crib in a swaying motion as if on the beaches of Hawaii and Israel Kamakawiwoʻole is strumming on the ukulele, so as to keep her lulled.<br />
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<b>2. The Friends</b><br />
This is taken from the episode when Ross gives advice on how to stop cuddling in bed. You're with me right...the hug and roll. Still swaying I slow down the rocking and then give her a quick hug and gently place her down on to the mattress.<br />
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<b>3. The Hover</b><br />
She's in the cot, still asleep - but no celebration just yet as there's a slight whimper. Thankfully, nothing more. Still I watch, hovering like a hummingbird just in case.<br />
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<b>4. Tip Toe Through the Tulips</b><br />
This is my walk from crib to bed. I place my feet on selected areas so as to avoid any creaking floorboards lest I wake her and Hubby up. Around 3.30 in the morning, the tip-toe may become a trample as I'm too tired to care.<br />
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<b>5. The Slide & Pull</b><br />
My maneuver of getting back into bed without waking Hubby; in one swift movement, I slide into bed and pull the duvet over me. A hint of a smile as I sink my head into my pillow...<br />
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<b>6. Ninja Stealth</b><br />
I'm finally in bed, yet can I fall asleep? No is the simple answer. Instead, like a martial arts expert on a mission, I lie awake waiting, expecting the beginnings of a whimper to turn into a cry and then a short shriek. At this point, I will leap from the bed, throwing the covers over Hubby, stomp over the tulips and lunge at the crying child to start soothing or more likely change her nappy.<br />
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The great thing about these 'steps' is that they can be repeated countless times of no detriment to the little one...only perhaps to my sanity but that's not important is it?<br />
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Oh and when I said 'perfected' it is - in my mind. The reality is I am a slave to her demands and sometimes none of these techniques work. Ah who needs eight hours of sleep a night? Not me, I'd be happy with just two...Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-91218053598546562902013-09-03T21:19:00.001-07:002013-09-03T21:19:24.336-07:00Mum<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As I enter the world of motherhood, I find myself missing Mum more and more - she was the one that I would have called and asked 'am I doing this right?' Having said that, when I had to asked Mum a question (some months ago) she responded, 'how old are you Shalini? Well, that's the last time I looked after a baby, I can't remember...' but that didn't stop her from passing on a few words of wisdom.<br />
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It's been a couple of months since I heard the phrase, 'Mum has died'. Three words I, perhaps naively, didn't think I'd hear for a very long time.<br />
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A calmness surrounded me when I heard. Yes tears were shed, but essentially I was calm. Did I think I would be hysterical, beat my chest wailing if and when I would hear the terrible news? Perhaps, but I'm rarely that demonstrative and the truth be known, I was more at peace with Mum going than I thought I would be. On that day, having been told that Mum had gone into hospital, I didn't panic or start to fret like I normally do but I simply said to myself, 'she's in your hands now God'.<br />
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So many ordinary things make me think of her and it's amazing that despite the tantrums I threw and the arguments we had, all I remember are the times we had a laugh, when we would just share a hug or work quietly together in the kitchen preparing dinner. As I think about how I will be as a mother, I hope to pass on a few things that Mum taught me such as how to treat other people, having faith, a good sense of humor - as well as my own little nuances...<br />
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Some people call their mum/dad their best friend, but I never saw mine like that, she was just Mum. And it would be easy to be upset at not being her best friend, but I'm proud to be just her daughter. She knew everything about me even when I said nothing. She knew what made me tick, how I would react to a situation. As I got older, got married, our conversations changed and she talked to me as a grown woman - but still as her youngest.<br />
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A stylish, hard working woman who could make the most delicate sugar-paste flower to wallpapering an entire room single-handed, what ever she turned her hand to, it worked. She had a great sense of fashion, loved her 'bling' (her middle name should have been Swarovski) and wherever Mum went, she made a friend and had a smile for a stranger.<br />
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So as I tend to my daughters needs, I'm both excited and sad. There have been many little things I know I would have called Mum to tell her about for me to hear how she would have handled it or her experiences with raising me, my brother and sister; it's very bittersweet.<br />
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But as Hubby said, our daughter wouldn't be here if it wasn't for Mum because she had me - so there's a little bit of her in our little girl. It's a comforting thought and I can't wait to tell our little one about her remarkable Grandma.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-86404029936565318932013-06-22T10:00:00.000-07:002013-06-22T10:00:07.622-07:00A Rose By Any Other Name...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The recent news of Kanye and Kim calling their daughter North West, highlighted the difficulty of choosing a name and well, the stupidity of some parents.<br />
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With our little one on her way we have that important/arduous task of choosing a name that will be with her for life (obviously). They say a name makes the man or woman - why else would Norma Jean become Marilyn Monroe, Maurice Joseph Micklewhite, Michael Caine or Marion Robert Morrison be better know as John Wayne?<br />
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But they're celebrities, you understand why they changed their names. Yet why is it that certain celebrities, who have 'normal' names choose a name that the child may feel compelled to change? Or is it because they are born into a world of money and status that it's of little consequence what these children have to 'suffer' because of the choice of their parents?<br />
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What would you say if you knew a Peaches Honeyblossom (Bob Geldof/Paula Yates' daughter), Blue Ivy (Beyonce and Jay-Z's daughter) or Moon Unit (Franks Zappa's daughter) in your primary school? Admittedly, children are very accepting of what's put before them. There may be the slight 'huh?' when they hear the name but as long as you're willing to pitch in a game of baseball, who cares.<br />
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I spent last weekend looking at 1500 names. Yes there are that many and then some...I've amended the list of names we've put together, looked at them, coupled them with our surname and revised it (again and again) crossing off the ones that SO won't work. Hopefully we'll find something that we agree on...no Hubby and I haven't quite seen eye-to-eye on some names. We both have at one time or the other given each other looks of <i>"are you serious?" </i>Once we've chosen a name, I'm planning on having a couple on standby as she may not 'look' like the name we've chosen. Regardless, the search continues...<br />
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However, what I am sure on is that we won't be calling the little one Beetle. Yes that's the name of this boy in the UK somewhere. Can you imagine being in the playground - "hey, bug boy - pass us the football!" And when he's older, sitting at an all important interview; <i>"Hi my name is Beetle,"... </i>poor child.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-56298182769276108922013-05-20T13:28:00.001-07:002013-05-20T13:28:37.951-07:00The Birds<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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A post for the feathered creatures of the world, or at least the ones outside my apartment.<br />
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I love hearing a good dawn chorus. It's uplifting, brings the promise of a new day filled with sunshine and laughter. It's also noisy.<br />
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I have no intention of stopping your morning song, but could you perhaps lose one two of the chorus line? Perhaps even drop a few lines of the song, a little less tweeting and chirping more of allowing a tired pregnant woman another hour of sleep?<br />
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And what's with carrying on in the evening? I figured a three hour performance first thing (in the morning) would be pretty tiring...no? Ah well, I can only ask.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5733605070389456928.post-77579777326275624542013-05-02T10:31:00.002-07:002013-05-02T10:31:09.478-07:00Prom Night<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The headline on CNN caught my attention the other day. It stated that Georgia was having it's first racially integrated prom: <a href="http://www.digitaljournal.com/article/349069" target="_blank">read article</a>. I took a double take - first racially integrated prom? Are you serious? It's 2013, segregation ended about sixty odd years ago...?<br />
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It's things like this that makes me just sad. America claims to be this great, forward thinking nation and I agree in terms of science, technology and medicine. But in aspects of life which are just as important - race, gender, sexual orientation and money - the divide doesn't seem to get any smaller.<br />
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I could write all day about the injustice of this world but I'm not going to go there - narrow-mindedness annoys me. I'll move on to the lighter side of life. Thestory did remind me of my own prom.<br />
<br />As a fairly new concept to the UK, I remember being pretty excited about going but then the realization that I didn't actually think anyone would take me to the prom dawned. Lord how embarrassing! But I had a group of friends who didn't seem bothered by this concept. And me being me was deep in the background getting the snacks and drinks sorted out, a vague memory of decorations...<br />
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So imagine my surprise when this guy I was friends with asked me to go with him. I said 'yeah alright' to find out that the guy I kinda fancied wanted to ask me too. Talk about the proverbial bus, no dates for the entire five years and then two blokes want to take me to the high school prom. Ah well.<br />
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The big night arrived and I wore a red two-piece with diamante's thrown around the top. I felt stunning, but to be honest wouldn't have looked out of place at a Carrington (Dynasty) soiree - not really hip. But my date arrived looking very handsome and off we went.<br />
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All was going well until he decided to dedicate a song to me. As we stood at the back of the hall waiting for the DJ to play the song, my heart pounded. What was the song going to be? I smiled politely waiting and then it came on. As the opening bars of<i> Color Me Bad's 'I wanna Sex You Up' </i>boomed, I closed my eyes and...well, I can't actually remember me saying anything (to him) or how I ended up in the girls bathroom praying that the song would finish.<br />
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My friend came in to find me, I believe struggling to keep the smile off her face, and said that I couldn't stay in here all night. I thought why not? The rest of the evening was a blur, I can't remember if I said anything to my date for the dedication. It was a lovely gesture but...And yes, I still cringe when I think of that moment.<br />
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Well, even if they had to campaign for it, I'm glad these teenagers enjoyed their prom together. It's a time to vote for prom King and Queen and have a dance and a laugh with your friends, before entering the new world of work or college.Shalinihttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16857418518565377961noreply@blogger.com0