This child is freaking adorable

Why the light just might win

I was feeling pretty dark yesterday. Sorry for myself, resentful, black.  Feeling like I wasn't worth the trouble it must take to love me.  There are too many issues - physical, emotional, financial for the benefit to outweigh the nuisance factor.

But my husband came home not ten minutes later. Full of concern and forgiveness for my terse attitude an hour earlier. With an offering of chocolate and cuddles before he had to rush off to work.  A phone call in the middle of the day, just to tell me he loved me and was hoping I wasn't in too much pain.

Words from thousands of miles away, a motherly voice wishing me well.  Words written about me by another of my beautiful internet friends, words I didnt' find until a day later, when I really needed them.

My son, snuggled on the couch with me as we watched the State of Origin and talked about my mother and the tradition the two of us had of watching the games together.  The adoring look in his eyes as he whispered "You're my mother", in a way that showed he found this to be the most wonderful thing in the world.  Words uttered with such awe and love.  Tears that spilled down my cheeks as I told him that to me, it realy was.  That there was nothing more amazing to me than getting to be his mother.  The grip of his little arms as he told me he was so glad he was my son.

Chubby arms that held me as my little one kissed and hugged me to death.  A chuckle as upon my suggestion he transfer the hugs to his brother (anything to catch my breath) he yelled he would EAT his "Brubba".  The resulting squeals, hugs and giggles from my boys.  The warmth that filled my heart and seeped through my bones as my husband and I held hands and smiled over them.

The loving hands of two of the best friends a girl could ever have.  Gently stroking my arms, holding my hands when I didn't even realise I'd started to scratch.  Feeling the love they were sending my way.  More warmth.  And such gratitude.

Mostly, mentally I'm doing much better.  As evidenced yesterday, there are still bad days.  But I'm finding it harder and harder to retreat into myself as these people refuse to allow it.  The people I love, both online and here, in my day  to day life seem to be working on my heart, warming it up and making me smile far more than I cry.

Things are really getting better.

Battle

Blue skies mock me, flaunting their perfection, stirring the storm in my head.  They seem utterly incongruous to me and I glare back, unwilling to let its peacefulness seep under my skin.

Muscles twitch and spasm, rolling waves of thunder.  Taunted by fluffy white pillows lazily drifting across the sky.

Blackness in my heart glowers at the light of a clear Autumn day.

I stand at my clothesline, towels fluttering in the slightest breeze while a whirlwind of bitterness builds, threatening to bubble out of me in hateful words and vile looks. 

A battle rages between the peace this day offers and the resentment and self pity swirling in me, and I don't yet know which will win.

Finally

I have a bit of a crush on this judge.

Could she possibly look more bored?

As much as I'm loathe to get into too much celebrity gossip on here, this girl infuriates me.  Her constant disdain for the law, and her unwillingness to get the help she needs, combined with the enabling from those around her make me thrilled to see a judge refuse to take more of her crap.

What I'm grateful for today

A boy, excited to be back at school and with his friends, after a happy weekend.

With Lisa's boys.

With Zane and Jayden, Pam's son.

Being silly with Pam.

With his posse

Good friends.  Laughs.  He excelled in his new reading group.  He was happy today.

What more could a mother want?

 

All that Jazz

I'm being all girlie and crushing on this guy.  I discovered him in Sting's band, and have since been YouTubing my little heart out.

 




If you ever ask me what my favourite type of music is, it's this.  Jazz club, tinkling piano, blaring trumpets, a soft, gravelly voice. Soft lights, a glass of something, a hand to hold.  It's not just the music, it's an experience.  My eyes close of their own accord and I'm in a Chicago jazz club in the middle of the night.  My mother said it's where I belonged.

This is how my Sunday evening has been spent.  Joel and I on our laptops.  Chris Botti (and friends) playing to us.  Dreamy, relaxed Lissa.

Put your sympathy where it belongs and END this.

Browsing the newsites tonight I found that many of them are carrying the same story, and the same graphic pictures and video footage.  It seems that one of Spain's most popular matadors has been critically wounded in his fight today.  He was gored through the throat by the bull, and has undergone 2 surgeries already. 

I've seen the photos, and yet, it looks appalling.  But I found myself far, far more upset by the state of the bull.  He is bleeding, clearly wounded more than once.

I know it's stating the obvious.  But what, in the name of all things holy, do people expect?  What do you think a bull is going to do when you repeatedly thrust a sword into it? 

How on earth is it that this 'sport' is still supported?  Not just supported, but publicly funded!  In Spain, bullfighting is exempt from laws banning other bloodsports.

This is a 'sport' where the animal suffers a long, drawn out, torturous death.  How on earth are we still supporting something like this?

I'm afraid I feel little sympathy in this case, for anyone but the poor bull (who was killed by the other matadors immediately after he gored the first).

My favourite 5 books

Kylie over at A Study in Contradictions is doing a series of "My Favourite 5 Books" on her blog, getting guest posts from other bloggers.

Mine went up yesterday.  Pop on over and tell her what your favourite are.

Mine, in no particular order:

Head on over to Kylie's blog to find out why.

Colours of Friday

Inspired by Melissa over at Sugar Coat it, I'm participating in Colours of Friday.  I've been drawn lately to the crisp, clean feeling of white.

As the mother of two young boys, I'm afraid white is something waaaaaay off in my future, but one day, I'd love a little bit of white in my home.

Is there anything more indulgent than crisp white bedding?

I'd love to have a white bathroom.

Or maybe clean lines in my white kitchen.

Though I've always dreamed of a more rustic look..

I love white flowers.  I definitely need to indulge my love of flowers more often.  Nothing cheers up a house so much as lovely floral touches.

I love these two wedding settings, soft white petals leading her down to meet the love of her life.

I know it's a cliche, but I love white weddings. (Though my dress was not white).

If I didn't have 2 messy boys with sticky fingers, I'd love to wear white, dressed up with just a little colour in the spring.

I love the way that white works with other colours, compimenting, supporting.  Just a dash of colour added to white can make such a statement.

What colour do you like?