Sweeties

1.  Drumming Down

2.  Splashing Round

3.  Switching On

Kept awake from 2am by thundering rain pelleting down on the velux window.  In the end I went down to the Big Bed. Still couldn’t sleep. Went downstairs. Made a cup of tea. Read paper. Hung washing out. Made another cup of tea. Went back to Double Bed. Still couldn’t sleep.  Son 2 aged 2y 2m wailed “Mummeee!” and I went and got him. “Where are you taking him?” asked a sleepy Son 1 aged 5y 2m. “Next door,” I said. “You can come if you want.” It was past 5am, and I figured I was so tired that I’d fall asleep deeply, they’d fall asleep deeply and then we’d all get a lie in.  I lay in the middle. Son 2 was lightly asleep. Son 1 eyebrowed me madly.   And still I couldn’t sleep. I must have in the end, because Son 2’s chatter woke me. “Get me out!” I couldn’t lift my head from the pillow. “Son 1, go and unzip Son 2’s sleeping bag.” “I can’t. I can’t do the zip.” “You can do zips. Go and let him out.” Son 1 tried. He couldn’t. “Oh just leave him then.” “Waaaaaaaa!”  I unzipped it. Son 2 reached for the light switch. “No! If you want the light on, go somewhere else.” They both slid away. I heard them unwrapping plastic on the landing. The Sweet Shop.

The Man did the Sweet Shop, and I stayed in bed. He brought me coffee at 0845. The Sweet Shop – full of jelly tots, dolly mixtures and wine gums – had been removed and put away.  Son 1 stomped up and down with the box. “We want our Sweet Shop back.”  We did a deal. I took out the sweets, and replaced them with Cheerios,  pine nuts, cubes of cheese, cubes of apple and hula hoops.  I put raisins and Coco Pop balls in the little jars. This was the new sweet shop.  It all went. Except the pine nuts.  On the phone to Granny, Son 1 laughed. “We’ve got a new sweet shop only we haven’t sold any sweets. We just eated them up.”  The rain hammered down. I put on my New York Marathon 2002 gilet and went running. Wet and splashy. I am now running 5 mins, walking 2.5 mins, four times.  One of my walking sections took me to the Rock Pool Beach, so down I went. The waves were loud, the rain was falling, there were piles of sodden, sopping seaweed everywhere. Just a few dog walkers and me. 

When I came back The Man had made a stew for tea and the children were still watching telly. We took them out for a walk and some air, came back, had lunch, watched more telly. Then we went into The Town for the Christmas Lights switch on.  Lanterns, children, street hawkers, Santa, and rain. Lots of rain. Son 1 went shyly up to Santa, who gave him a sweet. “Can I have one for Son 2 please? He’s my little brother.” He was given another. Son 2 was asleep. Son 1 ate it. At the end of the evening, when Son 2 was awake, we saw Santa again and again, he dished out chocolates. ”I daw Nan Ta,” Son 2 said over and over. “What do you want Santa to bring you, Son 2?” I asked. ”An An”  “Animals?” “Yes.” ”What sort of animals?” “Tye Tye. I like Tye Tye.”  Pity. Santa’s already  bought him a farm.

[Via http://smileandwaveboys.wordpress.com]

3 weeks

Flying in 3 weeks time with my girls to spend Christmas with my parents and brother on the Gold Coast.

I’ve never flown on my own with both girls. Generally one or the other will meltdown during a flight, usually I have another adult with me so it is easy to deal with… well easy for inflight meltdown.

I’m pondering making up some little business cards explaining my kids are on the spectrum and asking for patience and understanding….. and some packets of disposable earplugs. Then if a meltdown does occur I can just hand the card and earplugs over to anyone sitting near us.

Not sure how to word the card, I don’t want to give too much info but want to give enough so the people understand. I wouldn’t hand them out unless meltdowns were in progress, I don’t think random strangers need to know about my kids being on the spectrum unless it is impacting on them.

See meltdowns are a bad time to be talking to the girls, Heidi in particular needs me to be quiet and just provide her with the right sensory input, darkness, silence, squishes, whatever. Annie usually has to cry herself out without physical contact until she has calmed enough for hugs and logical discussion.

I remember reading somewhere about traveling with kids who are melting down inflight, one suggestion was that you will get more sympathy from fellow travelers if you appear to be trying to calm your child. It doesn’t matter if what you are doing is effective or not – and frankly how is a stranger going to know – so long as you look like you are trying to fix the problem. That makes sense and if it diverts antagonism away from my girls I’m happy to play that game.

But I’m also thinking of ways I can educate fellow travelers and make them feel more at ease. Particularly those in the seats close to us.

Which reminds me I had a brilliant idea of getting sleeping mask for Heidi’s eyes something that could block out all visual sensory input.

Should I be asking the Qantas people for assistance? Word up the flight crew before hand?

[Via http://leechbabe.wordpress.com]

Fact #2 RM wants six children

I realised today, only one day in, what the potential pitfalls of blogging about what you learn every day could be, when what you’ve learned is really dull.

For example:

Today I learned…

… that Garratt Lane runs all the way from Tooting Broadway, through Earlsfield all the way to the Southside Shopping Centre in Wandsworth

… that the number 44 bus will take you all the way there

… that if you hang out washing on a clear and breezy day, it’s guaranteed to throw it down as soon as you are too far away to bring it in

Essentially, spending a day doing washing and wandering round the shops is not conducive to expanding one’s mind.

However, I did learn this evening that my friend, RM, wants to have six children. Although this isn’t a particularly useful fact to me, it could be of some use to someone in the hopefully not too distant future.

And so I’m putting it forward as today’s entry for the Fact of the Week shortlist.

[Via http://factoftheweek.wordpress.com]

CONVOCAN UNA CONCENTRACION INDEFINIDA EN MADRID EN APOYO A HAIDAR

Convocan una “concentración indefinida” en la Plaza de España de Madrid “en apoyo a Haidar

Madrid/ Distintas asociaciones y entidades de apoyo a la autodeterminación del Sáhara Occidental han convocado a partir de este sábado en Madrid una “concentración indefinida” para “acompañar a Aminatu Haidar en la defensa de sus derechos y libertades”.

De la Vega pide a Haidar que deje su huelga de hambre y facilite una salida

Enviados de la Fundación Robert F.Kennedy visitan a Haidar en Lanzarote

Bardem ve a España una nación “injusta y cobarde” con el Sáhara

Según la convocatoria encabezada por la Federación Madrileña de Asociaciones del Sáhara (FEMA) y la Coordinadora Estatal (CEAS), la concentración irá acompañada de ayunos de 24 horas que llevarán a cabo los activistas “como denuncia al Gobierno de España y a la Ejecutiva del partido que lo integra” por “el secuestro que han llevado a cabo” de la activista saharaui.

Según los firmantes, el Gobierno y la Ejecutiva del PSOE son “directamente responsables” del “estado crítico de salud” en que se encuentra la activista saharaui a causa de la huelga de hambre y Haidar “no interrumpirá” dicha acción de protesta “hasta que se le devuelva su derecho a la libre circulación”.

En este sentido, el comunicado se refiere a la denuncia efectuada por el Consejo General de la Abogacía Española (CGAE) y, tras indicar que dicho derecho ha sido “torticeramente conculcado”, se indica que está protegido por la Constitución Española, el Convenio para la protección de los Derechos Humanos del Consejo de Europa y la Convención Internacional de Derechos Civiles y Políticos firmada por España y Marruecos.

Junto a las dos entidades mencionadas, firman también el comunicado la Plataforma Universitaria de Apoyo al Sahara (PUAS), el Festival de Cine del Sáhara- FISAHARA, Jóvenes por una Causa, Poemario por un Sahara Libre, Colectivo Ezkharit, Generación de la Amistad, Mujeres conectando luchas, y Western Sahara Resource Watch España.

Fuente original: http://canarias24horas.com/index.php/2009112769168/lanzarote/convocan-una-concentracion-indefinida-en-la-plaza-de-espana-de-madrid-en-apoyo-a-haidar.html

[Via http://boicotmarruecos.wordpress.com]

No matter how hard it gets, stick your chest out, keep your head up.... and handle it.

I’m horrified by the source of this quote.  I mean absolutely horrified. So much so I refuse to quote it’s source, you’ll just have to look it up. But today, it works:

“I know it seems hard sometimes but remember one thing. Through every dark night, theres a bright day after that. So no matter how hard it gets, stick your chest out, keep your head up…. and handle it.”

If I was making an attempt at being intellectual, I might have instead called this post, Aequam memento rebus in arduis servare mentem – (Remember when life’s path is steep to keep your mind even). It’s just today, words need to be as they are, no pretence, just what they are.

I’ve spent the day at the less enjoyable job. I wonder if today I have actually made a difference. Interviewing people today, I have seen several people who had already been drainking pre-lunch (to the point of making my eyes water), people who’s hope of finding work has all but vanished and one person who has not lost hope, but gave me a sharp shock back to remembering that teaching can knock you off your feet. We were discussing child protection, a major part of one of the courses I teach, by opening up this subject it became the catalyst for them to talk about their own experience of disclosure from the child’s perspective. During the discussion, this person’s face changed from the strong adult person to the confused child who was only able to make partial disclosures for fear of hurting those around them. I remembered at that exact moment why being a social worker had been such a tough career choice. I had loved that job, knowing I made a difference daily, but the pain that I felt knowing what children were dealing with was just too much once I became a mother (tbh, even before that I would come home in tears daily knowing that I had walked away from kids that needed help that I couldn’t offer). I theoretically knew that as a teacher disclosures were possible, but when working with adults you tend to think about it less. The situation which this person described was one a child should never have to live through and has left me very grateful for my sheltered childhood. Yes, I played big boys games before I really understood what they meant, but that was partially me rebelling and being led astray outside the home. Not the same. Nowhere near. 

So I’m left in this weird numb state. I came home and couldn’t talk about it. There’s something that I need to get closure on, except when I have a moment where someone points out just how pointless my issues are compared to what they could be I feel terrible for finding them so hard to deal with. Then I just fold up like a telescope (thank you Alice).  So, for now I’m capable of screaming lots of words in my head that will come streaming from my fingers on the keyboard, but I’m unable to communicate any of this verbally.

So what issues is it at all possible to not have covered in the masses of posts I’ve done? Well nothing actually. And that’s what’s so frustrating. It’s no longer a disclosure for me, it’s become picking to pieces the things that bother me most. Like daily whining about my useless uterus (in fact I may just call it that from now… ), the general longing for it to work rather than require donantion and medical coaxing out of  my eggs. And for those of a nervous disposition look away now, and the magnifying glass to this whole thing still all boils down to me having locked away things for such a long time, and working on the basis that having disclosed everything in the blog (going back a year) everything should have found closure. Except it hasn’t really. Probably because once I’d said it, I put it all back neatly in it’s box to rot when in fact I probably hould have thrown some dettol on it. I am aware at this point I’m totally beating around the bush and no-one actually knows what I’m talking about. I’m not so good at getting this nasty little skeleton out of the closet – it bites. I think what has been getting to me is the question, how is it that I’m ok with the whole sex thing (more than ok if we’re being honest here) having experienced the less nice side of it? The ex, the revolting excuse for a man that I’ve mentioned before, I’ve used the big R word here too. Combine the two and that’s where I’m going with this. Nasty period of time in my life and therein followed some serious body issues. To this day I am utterly convinced of my uselessness in that department (despite evidence to the contrary), I remember being informed of my uselessness, I believe the term ’sack of potatoes’ was used, with hindsight having said no before then not being totally happy with the whole act happening in the first place probably didn’t help. So now, in the moment is very very different. However, there are occasions when I continue to wonder if he had a point which is a dangerous road to walk down.

So there, weird stuff in my head. Other people have it far worse, but for tonight I am null. Blank girl.

 

 

[Via http://thegeekwithin.wordpress.com]

Amy Alkon was a perfect child, apparently

Shorter Amy Alkon: I didn’t get to scream in public when I was a child, so neither should anyone else.

SRSLY.

Of course, Ms Alkon is basing this on her recollection. I’m sure that, like most people, she doesn’t remember very much before the ages of 4 or 5, probably not daily events even after those ages, and I’d be fairly surprised if she didn’t do her share of screaming in public at age approximately 2. But even if she’s right and she never did, she clearly doesn’t understand the concepts of “community” and “family” and “parents having a life even when they have small children”.

[Via http://jotamar.wordpress.com]

I say potato, you say spreadsheets...

I’ve just come from visiting a friend who’s 4 months pregnant with her first baby.  Having been made redundant in her first few weeks, she was expressing some concern about her unhirability…ness, and fretting over her lack of future income. My other friend pointed out that she has savings plus rent money coming in from a flat she owns, however this to me wasn’t the crux of the issue.  I don’t believe the drifting apart arises from one party bringing in the bacon and the other not. The problem is that while we’re at home with the kids - whether as a working mum on maternity like me, or a stay-at-home mum – we’re knocking our pans in from the early hours of every day: running around like  blue-arsed flies, starved of adult conversation unrelated to our or other people’s children; sick of the sight of the local park; cooking, washing, and tidying endlessly; cutting, pasting, colouring, baking, playing, organising and never finishing a single bloody cup of tea off and certainly never in peace.  And this doesn’t stop at 6pm.  It is ceaseless till we fall into bed and often continues through the night, depending on the ages of our children.  He, on the other hand, goes to work and yes, no doubt he deals with stressful and taxing situations but at least with other grown-ups (largely) and with a hot, fulfilling Starbucks in hand.

His take on the above however, is as follows.  He works. You don’t.

And that’s where the drifting of parental continents begins.  We are so many, many miles apart in what we’re experiencing on a daily basis that communication breaks down. Let’s face it, I don’t care if Sally in Marketing is incapable of operating her opposable thumbs to run a  basic report and H doesn’t care if B dragged dog shit into the front porch (provided it’s cleaned up before H gets home).

All the financial independence in the world would make no difference to our separation, if I was still spending it on soft play and groceries.

[Via http://ehmummy.wordpress.com]

Helping other people lose their fear of dogs!

As dog owners I believe we all have a responsibility to help members of the public that are afraid of dogs, not by pushing our dogs at them, but by demonstrating the dog is under control and therefor no threat!

Never dismiss anyone’s fear of dogs, it is real and respect of another’s feelings is the first step to helping them get passed their fear.

I was out with one of my dogs one day near the beach, I stood by the car changing my boots, my dog Teddy, was running round nearby, when someone walked into the car park, Teddy was near the entrance and though not taking any notice of the person was obviously to close for comfort for this person, I saw the  scared look and the person freeze, my first instinct was to call out “it’s okay he won’t hurt you” but immediately realised that was irrelevant for this person and instead shouted “down” to Teddy, who hit the deck immediately and I called him to me, once I had him with me I apologised for the scare they had had, and put Teddy on the lead to further reassure them that they were safe.

I knew they were safe with Teddy on or off the lead, but this person did not, I could see the surprise on the persons face and the relaxed look that soon replaced the scared look. Teddy and I did more in that moment he obeyed me than any verbal reassurance from me could ever have done!

[Via http://avrilmunson.wordpress.com]

Another Jeezus Take the Wheel Moment: Dad Strips and Shoots Son Execution-Style After Son Confesses to Mom That He Acted Inappropriately With His Three-Year-Old Sister

Hat tip to The Field Negro:

Lazette Cherry, Jamar Jr.’s mother, said she wanted to get her 15-year-old son help when he came to her and said he had acted inappropriately with his 3-year-old half-sister.

There wasn’t a rape, Cherry said her son told her. But he confessed to his mother that he knew lying on top of the baby was wrong, she said.

So she called her son’s father and told him what she believed happened in his home on Newport on Detroit’s east side.

“I called and told his father this isn’t something you sweep under the rug,” the devastated mother said today.

His father showed up at the house Monday afternoon with a gun, she said.

“He started beating him right here,” Cherry said from her living room. “I said, ‘No, please stop!’ ”

But the father marched Jamar Jr., a sophomore at Martin Luther King High School, outside.

“He got on his knees and begged, ‘No, Daddy! No!’ and he pulled the trigger,” she said. “There wasn’t nothing that my son wouldn’t do for his father. He loved his father so much.”

The Wayne County Prosecutor’s Office charged Pinkney Sr. with first-degree murder, punishable by up to life in prison. He’s also been charged with three counts of felonious assault for pointing the gun at Cherry and two other people at her home before the shooting.

Follow up story click here.

There are hardly any words to say. The boy did not deserve this. A talking to, yes. But not this. He needed to be talked to about what was right and wrong about sex. That you don’t use your younger sister to experiment on. Instead, the father tore the boy’s clothes off, drove him out of the house onto the front lawn, and shot him in the head.

The mother cannot blamed if this is what she told the father. Now she is a bereaved mother. Her son is gone. She has to take up a collection to bury him. All she wanted was the father to be responsible for his son.

Our children need help, but not this kind of help.

[Via http://thisblksistaspage.wordpress.com]

Five Years Old

Lia is five years old today.

(Well, actually tomorrow, if you take the international date line into consideration.  But we’ll pretend it’s today.)

Five years ago I was in the throes of first-time labor…which is different from subsequent labors in that everything is new and not familiar.

Five years ago I saw her sweet little face for the first time.  It seems impossible that it took me several days to get used to her face.

Five years ago I was experiencing my first day as a mother.

The morning after she was born, she heard me walk into the room and smiled.

And now she’s five.  She’s my smallest best friend.  My grocery list reminder.  My great experiment.  My sous chef.  My wide-eyed wonder, reintroducing me to this great big world.

This year I aim to give her space.  Space to be herself.  Space to be a child.  Space to learn and grow and change.  And lots of space for daydreaming.

I’m thinking of it as the difference between taking a clump of clay and molding every surface with my hands…and letting the wheel spin while just guiding things along.

Happy Birthday, sweet girl.

[Via http://spinninginmyteacup.wordpress.com]

Worn Out, Shattered

I worked all yesterday evening on something that was bugging me, and I’ve worked all day today (and into the evening) on freelance work. I’m going to be working on paid overtime for my regular job all day tomorrow.

I’m knackered. Worn out. Shattered. Tired. I keep going though.

Our house has been strangely quiet today; little miss 5, who could quite plausibly become a town cryer when she grows up, is staying at her grandparents for the night – a sleepover of sorts. She has been looking forward to it for weeks, and repeatedly asked us if “this is the weekend I stay at Nanny’s”.

We were of course waiting for the phonecall to go and fetch her, but it never came. Now we’re waiting for her younger sister to forget everything by the morning, and start screaming the house down when she discovers her sister is missing (their beds are opposite each other).

Conversation of the day (which occurred after little miss 4 started screaming)…

Mum : What’s wrong?

Little Miss 4 : Blub blub hurt me gurgle

Mum : (aimed at Miss 9) Did you hurt her?

Miss 9 : No!

Mum : why is she crying then?

Miss 9 : I don’t know

Mum : (aimed at Little Miss 4) Did she bash you?

Little Miss 4 : blub blub Yeah…

Mum : Did you bash her!

Miss 9 : I might have bumped her a bit

Mum : I asked if you bashed her, and you said NO! Why did you lie!?

Miss 9 : I didn’t bash her – bash is a different word

(we both looked at each other, and started laying the law down while Miss 9 looked very guilty indeed)

[Via http://cheeseandbeans.wordpress.com]

Prayer Boots - Part 2

This post is a continuation of last week’s, Prayer Boots – Part 1, a chapter from my book, Letters from the Holy Ground.

This summer a friend and I had a yard sale.  For a week I hauled boxes from attic and basement.  The children and I lugged baby clothes and infant swings to the dining room, where the kids promptly set up house.  “Remember this?  O Mom, look!  I remember this cute little dress.  I really looked so sweet in it, didn’t I?” they chirped sounding like they were eighty years old.  Cicelia spent two hours playing with the Johnson and Johnson baby blocks.  They had a tea party with the chipped china sitting at the little red table with their knees up to their chins.  Each box held wonder.  “Look mom, these beautiful curtains.  Can I have them in my room?”  Diana crowed, pulling out the tattered remains of the drapes that hung in our first apartment.

 Later that evening she came to me.  Holding a tiny blue sock to her lip and tucking her head under my arm, she said softly, eyes glowing with the rapt smile of one who has seen a vision of angels, “Oh Mommie, I remember me.”

Something forgotten, something precious, tender and pure that Diana called me had been recovered for her in that tiny sock.  When I asked what she meant, she said, “Well I just remember myself when I was a baby.”  That tiny sock I could never keep on her foot took her back to a pre-verbal time where she was held, rocked, nursed, sung to. It was a place where me dwelled, the essence of her being in the holy ground of the womb.  And she stilled her non-stop seven year old inquisitive mind to forget herself, to pay attention, and remember who she is: a child cradled in the loving bliss of One who is larger, kinder and more beautiful than she, and in whom she lives and moves and has her being.

She still crawls in bed with me in the mornings, her coltish long legs and arms poking, thrashing around, giggling, telling me jokes and that she loves me so much. She seeks herself in that safe place, before she bolts into her day of dolls and math and spelling and exuberant surprises. I wish we could all come to our prayer with her trust, playfulness and devotion.

I stared in shock whenever I passed the dining room with all those cartons brimming over with my past.  This is the room where we gather to pray, to recount our salvation history, to remember and receive the Eucharist.  Boxes lined the walls.  Infant seats and infant carriers and infant bottles and infant sleepers, undershirts and socks spilled all over the space where we sing songs of love to Mary’s baby.

My daughters poked about in their past, where we come to poke in our past, holding it to the light, turning it over in our palms, wondering what sort of price it would bring, praying God to be merciful.

The sale was one day only.  My friend and I sweated it out, swilling ice tea, tallying our profits and losses. During lulls in business, stricken with visions of having to haul all the stuff to the dump, we rushed about with markers slashing our prices.  “Everything must go,” we resolved, as we paused to fold one last time the sleeper we had laundered and folded so many occasions we had lost count.  We smoothed tiny collars and wrote $.10 on the stickers.

The Age of Aquarius macrame went, along with the tires, decrepit lounger, ice crusher, and malt maker.  We carted off my friend’s wedding gown, the fondue pot and five or six boxes of baby clothes to the thrift shop.

It was afterwards as I was picking up hangers and empty boxes from the floor of the room where we, breaking the bread and lifting the cup, do as he asked. Gathering up scraps of newspaper and tags, I saw the little nightie on the table.  It was then, forgetting myself in the mystery that rocks us all, and holding the soft worn flannel, sweet with baby scent to my cheek, that I remembered me.

One of the deepest mysteries of holy ground is the mystery of identity.  When God meets Moses at the burning bush, the two exchange their identities.  God calls, “Moses, Moses.”  The call is unique, distinct.  There can be no mistaking who is being summoned.

Moses’ response is the classic prophetic response to a call from God:  Henanni, or Here I Am.  After Moses receives his mission, he presses this burning Reality for its identity.  “Who shall I say sent me?” he asks.  And God responds, “Tell them that I Am.”

Holy ground is the place of exchange where I Am meets Here I Am, where What I Have Been will be transformed by Who I Am Becoming, where I forget what I thought I was and remember I am.

On just about every communion table I have ever seen are carved the words:  “Do this in remembrance.”  The little sacraments of our lives are those graced moments of holy communion when we do something prayerfully and in remembrance.  We release our grasping and coping. Then bread is transformed into the body of Christ, a blue sock into an angel’s wing, and a mortal being into a being in God.

God instructed Moses on Mt. Sinai to make holy garments for Aaron and his sons, including a plate of gold engraved with the words “Holy to the Lord,” which Aaron was to wear on his forehead, apparently to help everyone keep their parts straight.  My boots came with a tag that read: “Genuine Leather, Ozark Trail.”  They didn’t have any with gold plates.  I’ll try to remember my part anyway.

These days you can buy all kinds of prayer paraphernalia:  crystals, incense, podcasts of famous pray-ers, cds of words of power, icons, statues, pictures of Jesus in a startling array of poses, holy bells and whistles, oils and unguents.  My hunch is that it’s best to travel light, and you could do a lot worse than to get a good pair of boots.

Why not do it in remembrance?  Maybe we’ll meet on the trail.

Read more about prayer at
www.fromholyground.org

Contact Loretta at
lross@fromholyground.org, www.fbook.me/sanctuary

 Follow at http://twitter.com/lfross

Arsenal boys get Silly!

As we mentioned in our previous post, we are loving the gunners (aka the Arsenal football team) as they have named Great Ormond Street Hospital as their “charity of the season”.

We think all the players are amazing as they all donating a days wages to us (which will help to make incredible improvements at the hospital as well as funding life-saving research – find out more at our “Why we need your help page”)!

As if that wasn’t brilliant enough, some of the boys have been kind enough to make a very funny fundraising video for us. We are so grateful to the lads for taking the time to make this video, it really is a lot of fun and will hopefully help us raise even more money. Take a look now at the guys running around in their silly outfits; what a hoot!

You too can show your support by donating at the “be a gooner, be a giver” website.

Creative Cooking!

After my freezer clear-out yesterday I was left with a number of unusual ingredients to use up. This included some scallops and prawns, that rather embarrassingly have probably been there since last Christmas! So I typed in the ingredients I had into google for some recipe inspiration and a risotto seemed like a winning idea. So I had a go at it and wow, it was delicious! I should be clearing out my freezer more!

I am going to try and find some more chestnuts this afternoon to make some homemade chestnut stuffing for christmas (I freeze the mix and then defrost and cook on the day). I imagine most of the chestnuts will have gone by now but I thought it might be worth a shot!

Helping your Child - Naturally

If you are a parent living with a child who has been diagnosed with ADHD or ADD – you know how frustrating it can be to try to help them be all they can be.

Maybe your child is on pharmaceutical drugs and maybe they are working – for some kids it does work and with no side effects.

For many more of us though – pharmaceutical drugs are not our first option and they also don’t always work as planned. With so little known about the long term effects of these drugs on developing minds – it is no wonder more parents and trying to seek alternative treatments.

As a mother, I also tried alternative methods: from Omega 3 fish oils to dietary changes and while they had a slight impact – they did not give the results we desired and needed.  With all of my first attempts at natural healing unsuccessful – I had no choice but to try the pharmaceutical offerings by our pediatrician. Time to face facts – our son was struggling in school, not making friends and losing self esteem due to his own realization that he was not where he should be academically and socially.

Our Pharmaceutical Drugs:

Up to bat first was Strattera – scary side effects after 5 months and we ended that option. Next – Concerta – worked a bit, then faded. Upped the dose and was WAY to high – poor kid was running a mile a minute with his mouth!

Adderral was next and it did seem to work for six months – and then…just seemed to work off & on – nothing consistent.

Native Remedies gets Recommended:

Just at this time, another mom in my community was saying how much her son had improved on something called “Focus Formula” by Native Remedies.  I checked out their site and products and read more customer reviews than I ever had before. All good feedback – all good responses so I decided to give it a try.

Our Mix:

Judging my son’s behavior I first tried the BrightSpark to help with his hyperactivity & impulsiveness. I also started the Focus Formula at the same time. He was doing great after only a week – less hyper and fidgety but still had his mood swings, anger issues and emotional flare ups.

So we tried Mindsoothe Jr and his own words on Day 2 were ” I feel calm inside – not as crazy as before.” Now, lucky for me he is almost 11 so he can vocalize his feelings.

I played with the meds a little – if he ran out of focus I let him stay off for a week or so to see if there was a change -there was. We tried variations of the meds and have decided to keep him on all 3 for now and yes, they work well for him.

The results:

More controlled, able to focus, less fidgety and in general: more rounded out as a person. This combined with good diet: no milk (only soy), limited refined sugar, 2 bananas a day, LOTS of water to flush the system – and also with exercise to help run off some energy & be part of a team group – we find this solution doing wonders!

I brought this product in as part of my store line up so I could offer the products at a nice low cost. It only makes sense if it can help others – why shouldn’t I bring it in and help others save money? Heck, if I’m ordering it for my boy – may as well bring lots in and help others try it to! So Natural E GREEN in Canada now carries these products from Native Remedies.

So I keep in stock:

Mindsoothe Jr

Focus Formula

Brightspark

Everything else can be ordered in and if something is ordered often enough I will keep it in stock too. I have ordered other formulas (ADD for adults, Vertigo treatments, PMS soother, digestive) and delivery time is quite fast.

A note:

My son was NOT on his pharmaceutical drugs when we tried Native Remedies. Although he could have taken them while on Adderral, I wanted a real comparison and since the Adderral was inconsistent anyways – decided to take him off and give the Native Remedies a real try.

This post is about my own personal experience with Native Remedies and does not, like any other drug (pharmaceutical or herbal), give any guarantees that your results will be the same.  There are many, many testimonials out there – and at least 5 from people I know personally that do give reason to try this product and see for yourself if it is a good fit for your child.

You can buy Native Remedies in Canada here: shop.NaturalEgreen.ca

Feel free to research them and their product line ups as well. Testimonials always welcome and best of luck with your trials. Living with ADHD / ADD is not easy and is challenging and you should be congratulated if you are trying to help your child live with ADHD / ADD. It is not easy and patience with perseverance will help put them on the right path.

Learn more at the Native Remedies website here

Mommy, Draw Stars on My Tummy

Author: Martine Groeneveld
Illustrator: Brad Kunkle
Publisher: PT Book Publishing
Genre: Children / Touch therapy
ISBN: 978-0-9822959-0-8
Pages: 48
Price: $19.95

Author’s website
Buy it at Amazon

One of the best things a mother can do for her child is to touch her. Hugs and kisses go a long way in the parent-child bonding process, but children can also benefit from other forms of touching. In Mommy, Draw Stars on My Tummy, registered nurse and licensed massage therapist Martine Groeneveld shows us other fun ways to connect with our children.

Kids love rhymes, games, songs and stories, and all of these are provided, along with some special touch techniques. Ants play while mom touches and rubs the child’s ear. “Guess the letter or number” can be played by touching the child’s back and drawing the symbol with your finger. And the itsy-bitsy spider can crawl up legs or arms while mom and child sing.

Touching children in a loving and appropriate manner has been proven to have many health benefits, including stimulating weight gain in babies, improving alertness and responsiveness, improving cognitive performance and brain development, and reducing aggression.

If you’re looking to help your child through touch therapy, or you’re simply looking to bond more closely with your child while having fun, Mommy, Draw Stars on My Tummy will be a valuable resource. I highly recommend it.

Reviewer: Alice Berger

Group Games for Thanksgiving

Keep your relatives occupied this Thanksgiving to prevent behavior problems and keep the peace. Structured activity is just as important for children as for those unruly adults. Try these activities that kids and grown-ups can enjoy together.

WHO’S THE TURKEY?  One person leaves the room while a designated secret “turkey” is chosen from the group. Set a timer for three to four minutes, and bring the person back. Don’t tell who was chosen. The “turkey” starts make subtle turkey movements: scratching the floor with the foot, wobbling the head, flapping arms, etc. All players, who are watching for the subtle movements, start doing the same movement at the same time. The person who left the room and came back must figure out who is starting it in order to figure out who is the turkey. If he figures it out before the timer goes off, he gets to chose the next player to leave the room. If he doesn’t figure it out, the turkey gets the next turn.

THIS YEAR FOR THANKSGIVING  The whole family will have fun with this game, but small children will be delighted! Stand together, where everybody can see everybody else. The first player says, “This year for Thanksgiving, I…” and fills in the blank. For example, “This year for Thanksgiving, I visited relatives,” then walks in place, as if traveling. The whole group does the movement. The second player says, for example, “This year for Thanksgiving, I set the table,” and makes the movements for setting a table, while still walking in place. The third person says something like, “…I put on my shoes ” and motions as if putting on shoes, while still walking in place and motioning like making the table.  See how many actions you can add.

WHAT’S YOUR FAVORITE?  Before your guests arrive, prepare a beach ball (or sturdy balloon) with questions written on it in permanent marker. Questions can include holiday things like What’s your favorite pie? What’s your favorite holiday movie? White meat or dark? Add general questions, too, like What’s your favorite color? Guests toss ball from person to person. Whatever question the person’s right thumb lands on, that is the question they must answer.

For more Thanksgiving ideas, including craft ideas, menu planning, and Biblically kosher recipes, visit http://www.preciousholidays.net/Thanksgiving.html

 

Central Florida Future - More H1N1 vaccines available

Central Florida Future – More H1N1 vaccines available.

 

24,000 vaccines requested last week

By Cassie Turner

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Published: Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Updated: Wednesday, November 11, 2009

John Choi

Danny Demoraes’ brother died of pneumonia, a complication of the H1N1 virus. Demorae, a senior at UCF, received his H1N1 vaccine last Thursday.

John Choi

A month after he watched his 27-year-old brother die of complications caused by the H1N1 virus, UCF senior Danny Demoraes entered the second-floor conference room at Health Services to receive the flu vaccine.

David Demoraes was two weeks away from becoming a firefighter in August when he began complaining of a cough, vomiting and body aches. By the end of the month he had been admitted to a hospital suffering from pneumonia, a complication of H1N1.

On Oct. 3, after a month-long battle, a blood clot blocked one of his arteries, causing his blood pressure to drop to zero, Demoraes said.

“I felt his heart take its last couple beats,” Demoraes said. “My brother and I used to do everything together. Now everything has changed.”

Danny Demoraes received his vaccine Thursday — one of the 1,500 doses available to students, faculty and staff delivered to UCF Health Services, 24,000 had been requested.

“It’s worth getting the vaccine because you just don’t know who it’s going to hospitalize…who it’s going to kill,” Demoraes said. “If the school is offering free vaccines why not prevent it beforehand?”

Chad Binette of UCF News & Information said that there have been 35 cases of H1N1 confirmed at UCF. According to data from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention

in Atlanta, college-aged people are within a more at-risk category.

“For instance, between ages 5 and 24, the CDC estimates 2,196 cases per 100,000, but only 107 per 100,000 in the 65 and older age group,” Binette said. “UCF is one of the first Florida universities to receive vaccines and getting the vaccine is the best way to stay healthy and protect yourself from the H1N1 virus. The vaccine is safe and effective, and students can get it for free.”

Thomas Sutton, a UCF freshman micro & molecular biology major, agrees. Sutton said he gets his vaccine as a “force of habit” every year, but his grandmother nearly dying of the virus raised his awareness about H1N1.

Claudia Witcher, nursing director for UCF Health Services, began each session with a short presentation explaining to attendees the differences between the two vaccines. The shot is made of dead viral particles, whereas the attenuated nasal vaccine is a live virus that replicates only in the nostril, Witcher said.

“For homework, go out and tell your friends how easy it is, because we need all students to be immunized,” said Pharmacy Manager Sheryl Gamble.  

Anne Schuchat, director of the National Center for Immunization and Respiratory Diseases, reported Friday that 129 children have died from H1N1.

According to the CDC, Novel influenza A, H1N1, is a new flu virus of swine origin that first caused illness in Mexico and the United States in March and April 2009. It was determined that the virus was spreading from person to person with the infection causing a wide range of flu-like symptoms, including fever, cough, sore throat, body aches, headache, chills and fatigue. In addition, many people also have reported nausea, vomiting and/or diarrhea. On June 11, 2009, the World Health Organization raised the worldwide pandemic alert level to Phase 6 in response to H1N1.

As of Nov. 1, the WHO reported the pandemic has infected 199 countries and overseas territories and caused more than 6,000 deaths.

According to a health alert put out by the CDC on Nov. 6, most people who get H1N1 will have a mild illness and recover in fewer than two weeks. Others, however, are more likely to get flu complications that result in hospitalization and, occasionally, death. Complications can include pneumonia, bronchitis, sinus infections and ear infections, or worsen chronic health problems such as asthma or congestive heart failure. The CDC urges clinicians to begin antiviral treatment of suspected persons based on direct observation as opposed to relying on rapid influenza tests or laboratory confirmation.

It takes about two weeks for the vaccine to become effective in the system, Witcher said.

She recommends maintaining good hand washing practices, not sharing food or drink with others and employing good coughing and sneezing etiquette in the interim.

“My brother was all about helping people,” Demoraes said. “If anything, he would be happy that at least this message can get out there and help other people. That’s what he would have wanted.”

Santa Monica Pier Now Terminus of Route 66

Santa Monica is getting the moniker of the West Terminus of Historic Route 66. From the LA Times article: “The highway’s original end point in 1926 was at 7th Street and Broadway in downtown Los Angeles, according to Glen Duncan, president of the California Route 66 Preservation Foundation. A decade later, the road was extended to Olympic and Lincoln boulevards in Santa Monica.”

Here’s some fun stuff on Route 66.

More info on http://mygrandmasue.wordpress.com

Bye Bye Bears!

My bears are packed and ready to leave home.

They’ve got their little For Sale tags around their necks,

and are just waiting to be bought.

They are going a few yards up the road to the village coffee shop.

They will be on display with lots of other local handmade gifts.

But I’m worried.

Little children frequent that coffee shop.

That coffee shop sells very sticky chocolate cake.

Little children who go there end up looking like this…

and this…

but more worryingly, like this…

(ok, so this is mud, but you get the idea!)

My poor bears.

I do hope they get put up high out of reach!

When life gives you lemons, utilize the citric acid to rub in the wounds

When things trip you up, pick yourself up because God hasn’t quite finished, sometimes you have to stand up becuase he wants to kneecap you. I knew kitty was also in the throws of ttc, except for some insane reason I though I might be first. Except I’m not and now she’s got the bfp that I’ve been praying for since before her third arrived. She deserves it, it’s what she wants, but right now my reaction is reactive and unfair to certain people. I feel terrible for even writing it here, but this is my blog and is meant to be total honesty. My reaction? That was MY bfp. It’s not fair. And overall it’s just made this underlying anger at Mr T bubble up – why the hell did he not pay attention when I asked him not to go for the op post mini midget. I know that right now he feels terrible about it, and that me resenting him does nothing to help the situation, but I need to let it out and here is the place. Maybe I didn’t make myself clear back then, but I thought I told him quite clearly at the time that it felt wrong, in fact I clearly remember the night before being in tears and telling him it felt like we were doing something awful and akin to a termination. I resent having to go through this. I really resent the fact that the doctors are happy to send a man in his early 20s to have the op but when they see a distressed couple begging for them to reverse what they did their response is tough. There’s no money for that. Find a friend with a turkey baster. I resent that having found a donor, we can’t make it work because my body is stupid and refuses to do the job it’s made for.

I found a load of distraction this evening playing with the cameras with a friend. But we’re heading towards night time and I’m going back to the joys of laying in the dark with these thoughts in my head. Sometimes I wish the drugs did work and I could just be stoned out of my tree and not be aware of anything for a while.

Pekan Seni Anak Yogyakarta

Yup.

These four days, Cultural Bureau of Yogyakarta Special Province is holding Pekan Seni Anak “Children Art Week”  from November 8-12, 2009 in Taman Budaya Yogyakarta. There are various activities under this program, such as children dancing performance, workshop on making children traditional toys, exhibition of children artwork and many other.

I was just so curious with the exhibition that I just visited it before practicing dancing. It was totally great for me to see their painting hanging on the wall. I was tought that they are definitely creative and brave making those pictures. Adult often thinking too much before doing something that everything they do seems not “totally free” and couldn’t express their self and their true feeling. It was so much different from Children. I can see clearly their expression through their painting. They never hesitate too much and only do what they want to do. They dont care whether fish has blue, pink or purple skin. They would coose any colour they want to. I was sure that I would be so confused deciding what picture I want to paint, and Im sure it only would be house, beach or mountain, and even confused recalling what color this thing should have.haha.

Beside various amazing painting, there are still many other artwork such as robots from rubbish, human pupet, paper clothes, paper car, lamp, gigantic doll and many other as you can see below.

New citizenship resource for schools

A new educational resource kit on citizenship will provide school children across the country with a greater understanding of our civic responsibilities and what it means to be an Australian citizen.

The school resource book – I am Australian: Exploring Australian Citizenship – is designed to assist teachers to deliver more in-depth lessons on Australian citizenship and civics to upper primary and lower secondary school students.

The Minister for Immigration and Citizenship, Senator Chris Evans, said the school resource book will help students better understand the meaning and significance of Australian citizenship.

‘Knowledge of Australian citizenship and civic responsibilities is important for all Australians, no matter how they became citizens,’ Senator Evans said.

‘This will be a valuable learning tool for all students, not only for those who have come here from other countries, but also for those who have lived all their lives in Australia.

‘It will also help students appreciate the contribution made to Australia by people from diverse backgrounds, whose journey to Australia was completed when they became citizens.’

The school resource book contains classroom activities which are linked to the curricula of each state and territory and are specifically designed for upper primary and lower secondary school students. The activities relate to Australia’s democratic beliefs, Australian citizen case studies and what it means to be an Australian citizen.

The Department of Immigration and Citizenship (DIAC) has been producing citizenship resources for schools since 2001. The updated school resource book coincides with the 60th anniversary of Australian citizenship.

Since the first citizenship ceremony in 1949, more than four million people from more than 200 countries have become Australian citizens.

Senator Evans launched the new school resource book with Hindmarsh MP Steve Georganas at the Plympton Primary School in Adelaide, where the Minister conducted a citizenship ceremony for a student and his father.

Zhenguo (Ken) Yang, 43, and his son Pengyu (Kevin), 11, from the People’s Republic of China, became Australian citizens after migrating to Australia in 2005. Mr Yang, a network engineer, came to Australia with his wife Qihong (Linda) Ling, who is studying nursing, to pursue better educational and career opportunities for the family.

‘I congratulate Mr Yang and his son Kevin on their decision to become Australian citizens,’ Mr Georganas said.

‘Citizenship represents a commitment to Australia and its people, the values we share and our common future. It also symbolises our sense of belonging to the country where we have been born or have decided to make our home.’

Source  :  http://www.minister.immi.gov.au/media/media-releases/2009/ce09100.htm

Can't Cook, Won't Cook

1.  Dough

2.  Bread

3.  Darkness and Hail

They wanted to play with the Playdoh, and like a fool I let them.  Son 2 aged 2y 1m plays with it during the week, under Wonder Nanny’s gentle supervision.  Son 1 aged 5y 1m plays with it at school, charming teachers and Tea Club Helpers with the delight he takes in it.  Together, on the little yellow table, they were murderous.  If Son 1 rolled, Son 2 wanted the roller.  If Son 2 squodged, it was the blob Son 1 was going to use. There was snatching and scrapping and shrieking.  And finally there was a lump of blue, trod into the bottom of Son 2’s shoes… and then into the stairs, and the hall carpet, and the lino.  While we were away, the carpet cleaner came and did the lounge, which was looking a bit Jackson Pollock.  ”If one bit of Playdoh gets on the carpet upstairs, I’m throwing it all out,” I said.  We went shopping. “Is it pocket money day?” said Son 1, as I counted out coins in the fishmonger’s. I gave him a £2 coin. We had to go to the toyshop. The only thing he wanted for £2 was a Playdoh toy.  And like a fool, I let him.

We met the Vicar in M and S.  We were trying to control a tantrumming Son 2… he was wandering round with a basket, peering at the ready meals. “Is it your turn to cook?” I asked.   No. The Vicar’s Wife is going on a trip, helping one of their sons move to a town many hundreds of miles away.  “But The Church is full of great cooks,” I said. “Can’t you just work it into a conversation so that someone will arrive carrying a casserole?” “I haven’t told anyone she’s going,” he said. “I don’t like to impose.”  That’s why I like the Vicar.  One of the most imposed-upon people I have ever met… whose flock includes scores of ladies of a certain generation who would rain pies upon him if he asked… but he doesn’t like to impose. He headed off to the check out with a bottle of wine on top of his shopping, so I liked him even more.   I simply don’t have enough life to cook for The Vicar.  But I know someone who might.   I think I’ll mention it…

Son 2 finally fell asleep in The Big Pram; Son 1 and I went to change the library books; The Man strode off home with the shopping.  Son 2 woke up just as we were leaving the library, and picked up his tantrum where he left off. ”I wan’  ge’ ou’!”  “No. It takes too long to get you back in.”  I pushed him up the hill, Son 1 trailing behind us looking at his Playdoh toy.  I suddenly noticed the sky, very, very low, and very, very dark. “Son 1! Will you please hurry! There’s an enormous black cloud up there and I want to get us home now!”  He walked slowly on.  “Son 1, MOVE! That big black cloud is just about to dump everything it has on our heads.” He got the message, but he couldn’t move fast enough.  It started to rain, so I swept him under the handle of the Big Pram onto his nappy bag seat, and pushed them both up the hill so fast my heartbeat pounded in my ears.  We were 300 yards from home when the hail started machine-gunning down on us, hammering onto the road so hard it bounced back hip high.  Son 1 and Son 2 screamed.  The Big Pram is a Big Pram because it’s a three-wheeled, heavy-axled, jogging buggy, bought in the days when I thought I would still run 30 miles a week. Son 1 and I went running with it seven whole times, but Son 2’s reflux meant we never tried.  Until today.  I RAN.  It still does its stuff. We crammed ourselves into the porch, soaking.  “I wet,” said Son 2. “Big back cowd.”  It stopped his tantrum.  But I can’t quite work out if it means I’m supposed to cook something for The Vicar.

O Absalom, My Son, My Son!

O Absalom, My Son, My Son!

No matter what their age, children are always in the hearts of their parents.     Parental love does not just “go away”.     Whether the children are good and loving or wayward and rebellious, the parents’ love and concern is always foremost in their hearts.

It was that way with King David and his son, Absalom.     The whole series of events leading to Absalom’s death are recorded in 2 Samuel chapters 13 through 19.     Surely, they are stories of sin unchecked in many of the characters.     Feelings were hurt — hatred seethed for years — jealousy and arrogance purposely ignored the given will of God —  and so, life goes on, even as it does in the people of today.

Despite the goodness and faith in many of the characters, there was horrific sadness in the end — a sadness that would never really go away, even though it was masked over.     The gist of the story in the end is that Absalom was planning to kill his own father, King David, and take over as king of Israel.     King David, in his desire to save as many lives as possible, fled Jerusalem.     In the battle between Absalom’s soldiers and King David’s soldiers, Absalom got his head stuck in a large oak tree while riding his donkey.     The donkey left him hanging in the tree, and one of David’s men killed him — even though David had given orders to protect the rebellious Absalom.

When King David learned that Absalom was dead, he could do nothing but cry, and cry, and cry for his beloved son.     2 Samuel 19:4 records,

The king covered his face and cried out with a loud voice,  “O my son Absalom,  O Absalom, my son, my son!”

Even though Absalom had become totally evil in his intent, his father loved him and had great sorrow over his downfall.     Nobody wants to see their son fall into such evil ways and face such consequences.

But, God experiences the same depths of sorrow over His children.     When Jesus was preaching, He faced many hateful and rebellious religious leaders, who were out to kill Him — just as Absalom was out to kill his loving father.     The depths of God’s love for each of us caused Him to send Jesus to be our Savior from all sin.     That awesome love of God did not move the evil hearts of the religious leaders, who had no intention of repenting of any of their sins.

Jesus — God Almighty — mourned in deep sadness over His rebellious children.     His mourning was not only for the Israelites of that day, but for everyone in the world today, who refuses to repent.    In Matthew 23:37  Jesus grieved saying,

O Jerusalem,  Jerusalem,  who kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to her!     How often I wanted to gather your children together,  the way a hen gathers her chicks under her wings,  and you were unwilling.

God loves even the people who kill the preachers He has sent to save them from their sins.     Yes, God’s love gets totally wasted — like David’s love was wasted on Absalom.     Those “unwilling” people will have to face their own judgment in the end, as poor Absalom had to face his.     But, God’s love will go on

The question remains.     What will we do with God’s extended love for us?     Will it be wasted on us?

As we humbly turn to our heavenly Father in repentance, asking for His forgiveness, we can be very sure of His love enfolding us to His breast.     Realizing the depths of God’s love for us in Jesus Christ,  we say,  “Hallelujah!     Lord Jesus, blessed be Your name for Your love, and faithfulness, and mercy.     Lead me to live for You.”

Love,  
Margaret

A devotional to glorify the LORD of lords and King of kings…

**************

 

Home Stress

I am struggling with home life. I am much more comfortable at work, in the backyard, any place away from the house. All the things I have tried seem to not be working any more. I have a few things I have fun with right now; our dog, Hapkido and hunting. Life around the house is too stressed. The “ME” mentality the kids exhibit is driving me nuts. I don’t want to be around it, it seems they mostly just want and have no clue they need to give some. I am just about out of “give”.

I’m going hunting tomorrow and will be gone for 4 to 6 days, may be I will be able to make peace in my head and deal with home life better. I hate leaving my wife home alone, the kids will be with their Dad, and she will have a weekend alone. If the drive wasn’t so far I would get her to come with me for at least a day but that would mean she would be driving home alone and I don’t like that idea nor does she.

I’ll try to do a lot of thinking while I’m in the woods, may be some writing also. I’ve been wanting to start working on the “Questions For My Father” book may be I can do that. I imagine it will help open some emotions while trying to answer the questions it has. I’m going to take a book also, one I started a while back. It’s pure pleasure reading. nothing to learn or think about. It’s a suspense, counter terrorism type book, stuff I like.

I hope I can find a way to cope with the stress. Hapkido is tonight, I usually feel pretty good after the exercise so that is good.

Give the gift of warmth and love to someone special

Looking for a unique seasonal gift idea, unique baby gifts or unique get well gifts?. Give the gift of warmth with the revolutionary ‘Pajama Warmer’ or ‘Baby Clothing Warmer’. With a Pajama Warmer you can experience the feeling of going from “chill to thrill” with warm sleepwear pajamas, socks, towels, lingerie, gloves, hats, baby clothes, wipes, massage oils, lotions and more. This temperature controlled electric warming fleece bag heats pajamas or any item placed inside it in 10 to 15 minutes. Never put on cold pajamas again. Always “feel as snug as a bug in a rug!!”.

Now if it’s winter where you are, or the temperatures at night are dropping then you are going to be cold. You want to cuddle up under a warm blanket but it’s as cold as an igloo everywhere!. What do you do?. Now if you’re one of the lucky ones who has a Pajama Warmer, you heat up your blanket, sleepwear pajamas and even socks then snuggle up for a night of restful sleep. The Pajama Warmer is a fleece warming bag that heats sleepwear pajama’s, baby clothes, bedding and many other materials to a toasty warm temperature. It’s large enough to evenly heat blankets and small enough to not be cumbersome and the best part is it’s perfect for keeping anything warm. With a Pajama Warmer not only can they warm sleepwear pajamas, socks and slippers in the bag, you can also enjoy a warm towel after a bath or shower, warm massage oils and lotions that are easier to apply and more soothing because of the warmth, and warm hats, gloves or mittens to put on if you need to venture out on a chilly day.

 Babies need warmth which is why they’re constantly swaddled in comfy clothes and wrapped in a blanket. Putting chilly clothes or a cold blanket on a baby could be very dangerous as it could cause colds and chills. There is a quick and simple way to keep baby blankets warm, baby clothes cuddly and baby socks toasty. The Pajama Warmer or Baby Clothing Warmer takes almost no time to warm all of these things plus it even keeps baby wipes warm!. There is no easier way to wrap babies in warmth and keep a healthy smile on their faces. Plain and simple, the Pajama Warmer is one of the most useful and helpful baby gifts that can be given. Any parent that lives in a climate with real winters will appreciate the Pajama Warmer.

It’s great to snuggle up a warm baby inside a freshly warmed baby blanket. While baby is napping in a toasty cocoon, blankets for the parent’s can be warming too!. When chilly fall or winter mornings strike, a parent can warm their baby’s clothes inside the Pajama Warmer in the time it takes to change a diaper and get the bottle ready!. If you’re looking for baby gifts for your friends, look to the Pajama Warmer. It’s helpful, easy to use, and a great tool for parents who want to keep their babies in tiptop health. If your customers want a baby gift that is both practical and helpful, turn their eyes toward the Pajama Warmer. The most precious thing in the world to new parents is their newborn child and naturally they want to do everything they can to keep their baby happy, healthy and comfortable. With the unique new baby gift of a Baby Clothing Warmer, parents can keep their baby warm and comfortable when the temperature starts to turn cold.

This attractive temperature controlled electric warming fleece bag heats items placed inside it in 10 – 15 minutes. They are new to the market, so you will be giving one of the most unique baby shower gifts you could find, something the mom to be won’t be receiving from anyone else, and a baby gift she is sure to appreciate. Young mothers love using the Baby Clothing Warmer to warm all types of baby clothing, including pajamas, socks, mittens, hats and more, along with warming lotion to sooth on baby’s delicate skin. It gives them an added feeling of security and nurturing as they tend to their child, and they can also enjoy warming items for themselves too, using it as a pajama warmer or for other items such as socks, slippers, lingerie, towels, massage lotions and oils. Never put cold clothes on your newborn again. Ideal for keeping baby wipes warm

 When she pulls a warm towel out of the Warmer to wrap around her baby after a bath it will be just like giving a comforting hug, and putting on warm pajamas, diapers and clothes will be a soothing and comforting sensation for her young child. Baby wipes are notoriously cold when pulled out of the package, but they too can be kept warm in a Baby Clothing Warmer, putting an end to the sudden chill when attending to the little one’s diapering. A warm blanket feels wonderful to wrap around the newborn in chilly weather. When your friend or relative receives a Baby Clothing Warmer from you there will be no more trying to warm items in the microwave or dryer, a costly and inefficient way to try and warm items. With this unique baby gift they can easily have any item warm and ready for their baby in minutes. Just put the item to be warmed in the Warming Bag, turn on the switch and soon the items are toasty warm.

If you are looking for unique get well gifts, one of the most thoughtful presents you can give is a gift of warmth. Especially for someone recovering from illness or injury, keeping warm can be of great benefit to the healing process. For someone recovering from an injury or illness, nurturing themselves with warmth can be a vital and nurturing part of the healing process. With the gift of a Pajama Warmer you can give your friend or loved one the enjoyment of being able to have warm sleepwear pajamas, socks and slippers to put on while they are healing their body, mind and spirit. The Pajama Warmer is an attractive satin lined fleece bag with a heating source inside that heats sleepwear pajamas or any other item placed inside within 10 – 15 minutes. The items that can be warmed in a Pajama Warmer are varied and many, essentially, whatever you can fit in the bag that can be warmed. It’s a gift that no one has, and is one of the most unique and practical get well gifts that you can give.

With a Pajama Warmer you will be giving a most thoughtful and loving gift, sure to be appreciated and in constant use!

When it rains...

1)  you get to keep your drain.  Really bad rhyme.   I know.  Drain stays till Friday.  I’m back on Levaquin (which the doc stopped a while back to put me on Bactrim) because my infection is resistant to Bactrim now.   Yippee.  I get the overachiever bug.  Anyway, Levaquin is scary expensive, even with insurance (For instance, I’m lucky it *only* costs me $50.) with even scarier side effects (like your Achilles tendon detaching somehow…)  Anyway, I’ve just got to keep in mind I’ve taken more toxic things in my life, like chemo and some really bad stuffed green peppers I made long ago.  I still have 8 pills of Levaquin left from a previous prescription and I’m hoping I can take those (I think he only wanted me on it for 5), so cross your fingers for me that the goddess of cheapness smiles on me and I can use it.

2) Pray for a friend’s mother (who is also my friend) whose Mom is dying.  You are never too old to miss your mother.  Or your grandma.  Or your great-grandma.

3)  Pray for my sister and her husband, for his mother passed away unexpectedly last night.  Death is never easy, expected or otherwise.

4) Pray a bit for me, because tomorrow all their children will be at my house.  I can handle it and it will be fine.  But a little prayer never did anybody any harm.  

Shehzad Noorani

by Shehzad Noorani from his “Children of Black Dust” flickr set

// “Treating it as an ordinary balloon, a young boy blows a used condom by blowing air into it, outside a battery recycling workshop near Tanki Ghat by river Buriganga on the outskirts of Dhaka in Dhaka district. The environment in and around the workshop is full of carbon dust and other waste. Children play in the factory area until they are tired and ready to sleep. Most children have chest and eyes infection. Environment is so polluted, most children suffers from one or the other kind of infections all the time. Some even have streaks of blood coming out of their noses all the time. There are hundreds of other informal factories and workshops inside and on the outskirts of the city of Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh. The industry employs thousands of women and children. All day long women and children break used batteries to get reusable parts and tiny pieces of metal out of them. Once separated, these materials are sent to battery manufacturing factories and workshops that either reuse them or melt them to make other useful materials. While breaking used batteries or even playing, children inhale millions of fine carbon dust particles from the batteries throughout the day. Depending on how much work they do, each of them get between 5-15 Taka per day (US$ 1.00 = Taka 60). It takes a young child 4-12 days to earn just one US dollar. Women and children in these workshops face some of the worst condition of life anywhere in the world. None of the children go to school. Although they work hard and need nutritious food, they hardly eat much. It’s amazing that they still look happy and manage to crack a smile every now and then”

- Shehzad Noorani

Children of Black Dust (Set)

living history

In Paris, history is alive.  You can feel the buzz of vitality as you walk her streets and enter her squares.  As you walk into a square, the streets reverberate with the noises of 18th century life.  You can imagine courtesan women with their coachmen, dukes on their horses, members of clergy visiting families and intrigue all around.

Living in Saint Germain des Pres, we can’t walk out our door without experiencing history on a daily basis.  On these beautiful autumn days with our french windows open, we hear the bells of Saint-German eglise, the oldest church in Paris; walk past la petite chaise, the oldest restaurant in Paris, opened as an inn in 1680, Dumas wrote here, rue du Bac was the 18th century hub of artistic life as was St Germain in the early 20th century.  We sit at les Deux Margots or Cafe Flore and feel the creative vibes of some of greatest figures in modern literature.

People want to know what to do with children in Paris?  The answer simple–anything.  A recent Wednesday afternoon, little dude, little buddha, and i went to musee d’Orsay.  Sketch pads in hand, their instructions were simple: pick an artist or piece of art to research.  Within no time, they had both found a painting and a sculpture they wanted to research.  We sat for a while and they sketched taking in the atmosphere of this gargantuan, history filled place.  We bought postcards of the pieces they chose to investigate and walked home with the Parisian commuters on a beautiful Wednesday evening in awe of the amount of history and art and culture one city holds.

Little Dude chose le chat noir as his painting, so we set out later in the week to Montmarte to see the village where Théophile Alexandre Steinlen painted and the cabarets, Moulin Rouge, etc after reading about Steinlen and the scene on Montmartre at the turn of the last century.  While there, we went to the Montmartre cemetary and saw Dumas’ grave (which is now actually in the Pantheon) because Fishy has been reading Count of Monte Cristo and doing a project on Dumas.

Little Dude and little buddha are also doing a project on a french car and for that there is the Cite des Sciences et de l’Industrie where you can investigate french auto design.

Your choices are really endless and all you really need is a bit of imagination and patience and history comes alive.  You don’t need to take a side trip to Disneyland Paris when real life history is so colorful and exciting.