Tag Archives: inner child

“Lost for words” by Stephanie Butland

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“A book is a match in the smoking second between strike and flame” – a marvelous opening line. One can say the same about the human life on Earth.

“Lost for words » is a story of a long path to self-love and empathy. Loveday – the name of the main character – moves in the blink of an eye from a carefree childhood into the world of a child in foster care, as a result of domestic violence.

The story line is nonlinear and the flashbacks are moving as they are narrated through the eyes of a 10 year old caught in a family drama, which keeps reverberating in her adult’s life through the choices she makes. The story ends a bit abruptly to my taste, as if letting you wonder about what’s next. There is a charm in that, I think.

Gaming parenting

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– Let’s go for a walk.

– Mom, it’s 2020! Who does this anymore?!

What we did instead was to play and hang out in Adopt me.

I played the baby and Sofia played the mom. A very good mom to a very spoiled brat. My personality online could be quite opposite to the one in real life. I wonder what Freud would say about it… Not that I care.

I chose my outfit – urban romantic glamour, in case you need to know. I decorated my room for a budget of 100 Gamedollars.

We had ice cream and pizza with Ramsay – in this precise order. Oh, Heaven!

We spent time on the playground and by the camp fire. I only had 50 gamedollars on my game account and I spent the time of my life. Because it was time spent with my treasure.

Kids grow. So do parents. When was the last time you played with your kid?

Teleworking week 4: view from home – serendipity

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By the end of this week, I developed an interest in Kardashians. I know everything about Stormie. I do not keep up yet with the entire klan (k – on purpose) of Kardashians. If this lasts, however, you never know.

My hubby trusted me with his haircut. I am not yet ready to reciprocicate.

I joined the diminishing trend of the blond population, estimated to go down by 70-80 percent. We, blondes, need to remain trendy.

My succulent is blossoming. Spring is in da house:

Teleworking week 3: view from home

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While teleworking, I discovered that routine is queen. Yet, I remember that it is a constitutional monarchy. Dancing and crying and hugging and feeling sad are not under her rule. I can do any or all of that, if I feel like. No permission from the queen-routine required.

At the first walk-around-the-block since this started: « Mom, I have an impression I am walking with a toddler…». I was beyond myself from the sun and air and river view. Never in my life the view of a swimming water rat excited me to levels I never knew. I promise, my child, I’ll grow swiftly back into your mom.

As we cannot go and greet the spring, the way we used to, we turn to art. Thank you Conny Famm for your “State of soul”.

My shopping patterns changed. I cancelled orders. That’s a first for me. Instead, I redirected the money to a local initiative of chefs cooking for hospitals’ staff in the region – Des repas pour les anges gardiens. And in my home country through Diaconia http://www.diaconia.md.

The fight for internal resources – the one and only laptop in the house – ended with a gentlemen agreement.

I “went” to a ballet performance. « LAC » by Jean-Christophe Maillot at Monte Carlo Opera, courtesy of Monaco plus.

I seriously upgraded my emoji use skills. From novice to intermediate. I am still very far from the emoji-master in my house. I’ve got something to aspire to.

We welcomed a new precious member into our family and thank him for reminding us of the gift of life. We wish him a happy and long life! And we promise to be more conscious of what we do to mother Earth and how we treat each other.

Teleworking week 2: view from home, part 2

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I clearly distinguish now by voice the neighbours’ kids: baby, toddler 1, toddler 2, just kid, teenager 1, teenager 2.

My average weekly walking distance is a joke. I turned off the counting. Walking with the phone in the pocket does not help.

I am glad I can cook and bake. These skills are priceless. Thank you, grandmother. I know you are smiling with satisfaction now.

I am disappointed that there was no funny incident during my kid’s virtual classes this week. You know, like the ones facebook is flooded with. With the exception of a background noise of some plates reaching the floor and the teacher’s voice: “ Attention, la vaisselle!” I hope it was not too expensive.

I immersed myself in hand washing, stream-washing style. Excellent for shoulders. Some of my wash-by-hand cloths are having a pool party. At least someone does.

And, my succulent is a text book example of resilience: and it shall bloom no matter what.

To mother. To all mothers

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ddef8f5f5acf2cfbcca081d7147d25dd--mommy-quotes-mother-quotes“Mother is a verb. It is something you do. Not who you are”: it made me think of all those who mothered me.

My hubby who got me water when I collapsed from dehydration.

My kid who places her hand on my forehead to check whether I have fever.

My baker, who slides into my bag a little sweet surprise.

My swimming trainer who helped me overcome a childhood fear with just two words: “trust me”.

My cat waiting for me by the door to come back from my first trip abroad twenty years ago… His mothering ended at that, as stealing my breakfast remained his favourite game 🙂

Here is to all beings who mother each day, with gentle gestures, words of kindness and touches of love.

I’ll go now and mother someone.

Happy mothers day!

Past lives

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Eva picked up the phone and said “yes”. It was the first time in three years she answered her mother’s call. She needed three years to heal her inner child of past abuses. Her mother called once a year, usually before her birthday, usually with new demands on top of usual demands. Eva was calm. Her heart rates – stable. Her mother was hysterical. “Come to me” she pleaded in a command-control emotional tone. “Do you think this will make me want to come?”, answered her daughter. “I do not know what else to do”, said her mother. “Maybe if you see that this is not working, you should stop pursuing it?”, Eva responded. Whining followed. “You can call me back when you calm down”, said Eva calmly and respectfully. Her mother called back in 30 minutes to say that she was fired and lost the case in court and wants her lawyer daughter to look into the case and remedy it. Eva said she will find a lawyer to help her, the same way she did it for any of her friends in legal trouble. And she did find a good lawyer. To Eva this conversation was an echo from a past life. A life she left behind through a rebirth. She healed her bleeding childhood through homeopathy, counseling, yoga, meditation, books and research, ups and downs until she reached the bliss of forgiveness and inner peace. Psychologists use the term “post-traumatic growth” to describe people who are changed for the better by a traumatic event, and it is both an outcome and a process, as explained by Richard Tedeschi, a professor of psychology at the University of North Carolina at Charlotte for Huffington Post http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/12/16/parental-estrangement_n_4317550.html . We go through life creating new families, learning from them and moving on ( “The Power of No: Because One Little Word Can Bring Health, Abundance, and Happiness” by James Altucher and Claudia Azula Altucher). Eva is christian and the story of Jesus attending a wedding resonates with her: Jesus’ s mother and brother waited outside to see him. He let them wait and made it clear to the apostles that “you are my family now”. Eva congratulated herself for such a mature reaction. Her role of a mindful parent now was more important than succumbing to traps of a life, which is in the past. A past put to rest. For good. Everyone’s good. “It’s never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.” Regina Brett