Dolly stands listless in her stable, her head low and doesn't respond to my call. Her distended belly probably full of worms, and no food up until now.
Her teeth are ground down. Worn away from eating dirt and stones, trying to find food to survive. The vet said she was only two years old. She is lanky and hairy, black and white patchy, with her ribs showing through her furry coat.
She has no flight. Just a little bit of fight, for she eats and eats.
Keep eating little Dolly. There is love all around you now.
Friday, 11 March 2016
Wednesday, 9 March 2016
#RideForOlivia
It was a day of two sides. A day of two halves. A day which told me to be brave, which told me I should teach my girls to be brave.
But not too brave.
On International Women's Day I enjoyed a TED talk by Reshma Saujani. She spoke clearly that we should teach our girls not to be perfect, when they can let go of perfection and take risks they become brave and courageous. It was an interesting talk about how boys will have a go, take risks and put their hands up even if they are not sure of an answer - and girls, well, they usually have to get it 100% right before they are confident to speak out. P is like this, her crippling sense of perfection stops her from doing things, from drawing even, for fear of it not being good, perfect.
Right, I'm going to teach my children to be wild and free, to have a go, to make mistakes, to be imperfect and to take risks.
And then my newsfeed flooded with #RideForOlivia. Olivia was only 17 when she died on Sunday, she was riding her horse at a competition when the horse clipped a solid fence and fell on top of her. Her parents saw it happen.
I cannot imagine this horror - and as we were asked to post our favourite riding pictures as a tribute to Olivia with the hashtag #RideForOlivia, I wanted to never let my children near a horse again. I wanted to wrap them up and shield them from dangers and risks.
But not too brave.
On International Women's Day I enjoyed a TED talk by Reshma Saujani. She spoke clearly that we should teach our girls not to be perfect, when they can let go of perfection and take risks they become brave and courageous. It was an interesting talk about how boys will have a go, take risks and put their hands up even if they are not sure of an answer - and girls, well, they usually have to get it 100% right before they are confident to speak out. P is like this, her crippling sense of perfection stops her from doing things, from drawing even, for fear of it not being good, perfect.
Right, I'm going to teach my children to be wild and free, to have a go, to make mistakes, to be imperfect and to take risks.
And then my newsfeed flooded with #RideForOlivia. Olivia was only 17 when she died on Sunday, she was riding her horse at a competition when the horse clipped a solid fence and fell on top of her. Her parents saw it happen.
I cannot imagine this horror - and as we were asked to post our favourite riding pictures as a tribute to Olivia with the hashtag #RideForOlivia, I wanted to never let my children near a horse again. I wanted to wrap them up and shield them from dangers and risks.
I am reminded of the joy A feels when she rides a pony, the risks she is willing to take, the difficulties she has overcome, the frustration, the falls, the tears and the laughter. And then I realise this is making her brave, courageous and willing to take risks for a passion. For that, my darling daughters, I am very proud.
Tuesday, 1 March 2016
Carving out a new life
The mud is less filthy and the rain less bothersome, knowing we are to leave for Mallorca very soon. The whining wind and grey, gritty drizzle failed to get me down this morning. The irony being that it is easier to live in the 'now' when a new life lays glistening up ahead. I can wait to move to Mallorca, because it will happen in it's own good time - but for now, I am enjoying the present as well as reflecting on all that has been good about our time in Sussex.
We have just returned from a week on the Balearic Isle, a week of appointments and school searching, of trying to find a house and dragging up Spanish I thought had long been forgotten. We travelled from East to West from South to nearly-North. We discovered mountains, snowy-white sands and gentle landscapes dotted with the leftover blossoming, almond trees. Lemons and oranges shone brightly, lambs and piglets scurried across fields and the warm stone of the traditional Mallorcan farmhouse left us feeling welcomed. As though this was the right place to be for the next few years.
We are just waiting to hear if the girls are to be accepted into the school of our choice, and whether the house we really love is to be our home
We have just returned from a week on the Balearic Isle, a week of appointments and school searching, of trying to find a house and dragging up Spanish I thought had long been forgotten. We travelled from East to West from South to nearly-North. We discovered mountains, snowy-white sands and gentle landscapes dotted with the leftover blossoming, almond trees. Lemons and oranges shone brightly, lambs and piglets scurried across fields and the warm stone of the traditional Mallorcan farmhouse left us feeling welcomed. As though this was the right place to be for the next few years.
We are just waiting to hear if the girls are to be accepted into the school of our choice, and whether the house we really love is to be our home
Friday, 12 February 2016
The Fly
"Why couldn't you have just opened the window?" she wailed, hot tears of real sadness and empathy rolling down her face.
Because flies are dirty darling, and it would have died outside anyway as it's freezing out there.
"Ohhhhh, why did he have to die Mummy, why couldn't we have caught the fly and made him a little house?" she sobbed, her chest convulsing, struggling to catch her breath.
P was distraught. He had got the fly exterminator, a tennis racket-shaped fly zapper and electrocuted the rogue fly which was looking pretty ill and lazy stuck to the kids bedroom wall.
I don't think he would want to live in a jam jar, I explained.
"We could have made him little windows and a door!" she reasoned, dramatically sobbing over the fly's demise all over again.
I soothed her and explained that flies don't have the same feelings as us. How did I know that? Good question.
"Being dead is horrible Mummy, it must have hurt the fly and now he's dead...." cue more streams of tears.
She had a point, I don't know what flies feel and I have no idea if being dead is OK or pretty boring. I did learn that we have to be more careful around sensitive, little P - and just let flies out of the window.
Because flies are dirty darling, and it would have died outside anyway as it's freezing out there.
"Ohhhhh, why did he have to die Mummy, why couldn't we have caught the fly and made him a little house?" she sobbed, her chest convulsing, struggling to catch her breath.
P was distraught. He had got the fly exterminator, a tennis racket-shaped fly zapper and electrocuted the rogue fly which was looking pretty ill and lazy stuck to the kids bedroom wall.
I don't think he would want to live in a jam jar, I explained.
"We could have made him little windows and a door!" she reasoned, dramatically sobbing over the fly's demise all over again.
I soothed her and explained that flies don't have the same feelings as us. How did I know that? Good question.
"Being dead is horrible Mummy, it must have hurt the fly and now he's dead...." cue more streams of tears.
She had a point, I don't know what flies feel and I have no idea if being dead is OK or pretty boring. I did learn that we have to be more careful around sensitive, little P - and just let flies out of the window.
Tuesday, 9 February 2016
Ten
Ten years ago I pored over her moses basket, checking her breathing and hardly believing she was ours. And here to stay.
I did the same ten years later, watching over her and stroking her poorly forehead as she finally found sleep after a violent episode of vomiting - on her 10th birthday - how completely unfair.
I wonder where the next ten years will take her?
Happy birthday big girl, double figures forever. I love you very much, get better soon and we will celebrate all over again at the weekend.
I did the same ten years later, watching over her and stroking her poorly forehead as she finally found sleep after a violent episode of vomiting - on her 10th birthday - how completely unfair.
I wonder where the next ten years will take her?
Happy birthday big girl, double figures forever. I love you very much, get better soon and we will celebrate all over again at the weekend.
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