THAT’S IT FROM ME FOLKS

Hello everyone, today marks one year since the inception of this blog. It’s been a journey of self-reflection, discipline and creativity. I’ve met loads of inspiring, supportive and talented writers. And I’m richer in spirit and mind from being a part of this blogging world.

This post is to let you know that I’m taking some time away from blogging. I’m struggling with lack of sleep (3yo poor sleeper), which is wreaking havoc on my mental and physical health.

I would rather write nothing than submit posts that are half-arsed and uninspiring. And because I am suffering from major writer’s block and lack of sleep, it’s better for me to take a break.

I don’t know when I’ll be back but I’ll still be lurking about, reading other people’s posts on the odd occasion.

See you all on the flip side 🤗

LEASHING THE BLACK DOG

Note: Life is hectic. I barely have time to scrape together a decent post for my blog, so it’s rare for me to enter writing competitions. However, upon seeing this month’s writing prompts for Furious Fiction, a story immediately came to mind and I wanted to write it. I share this story with you.


Thunder rumbles. Grey clouds blocks out the sun’s golden rays, darkening the sky and bringing forth a coldness that seeps to the bone. The wind picks up, blowing through tree branches, howling its warning. My eyes scan upwards, noting the turn of the tide. The hair on my neck stands up, prickles in fear. A cold sweat dampens my brow and my stomach churns with apprehension. It’s here. I can sense its foreboding presence.

Scanning the horizon, my eyes land on the ferocious beast as it stalks forward, taking calculated steps, eyes pinned on its prey. As it closes the gap, I can see his snarl, revealing razor-sharp teeth. The Black Dog emits a low and menacing growl. I know he wants to lunge and sink his teeth into me, to subdue and control me.

My heart races, my palms sweat, fear threatens to flood my mind. “Stop!” I force myself to take deep breaths. I won’t let my anxiety overcome and send me into a foetal position. I have trained for the next attack. Standing still in front of the door, I guard my post. A lone sentinel. The only protector to my precious soul, tucked safely behind that door.

Did I miss the warning signs? Did I become complacent? What triggered his advance? I rack my brain for the answers, but it matters little as the beast breaches all of my defences. One by one, the Black Dog smashes through, its leathery skin immune to the surrounding destruction.

I have a choice. To run and be resigned as its victim once more or grab the leash and regain control of this wayward Black Dog. As my eyes narrow on the reason I am constantly on guard, I decide this Dog’s reign of terror has run its course. I am stronger. I am healthier. I am wiser.

Keeping a tight grip on the leash, I approach the beast with a plan in mind. With each step forward, I feel myself growing braver as the Black Dog starts to cower. I stand tall, face him with unwavering eyes, and with the full force of my strength, I snap the leash on his collar. He struggles against my hold and I strain to contain the weight of his pull. Eventually, the beast releases a weak growl before he collapses on the ground, defeated. I lead him to the cage. I am exhausted but happy.

I lean against my door, thankful to have been successful in my guarding. Glossy tears fall freely down my cheeks. I bask in the immense relief. Albeit temporary.

Copyright © 2019, KN J Tales and Snippets. All rights reserved.

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EXCUSES EXCUSES

I should be losing weight. I should have started my slimming down diet. I should be doing some form of exercise.

Why? No, it’s not to get healthy and fit. No, it’s not for any medical necessity. No, it’s not to be a good role model for my children. It’s simply so that when I rock up to my brother’s wedding next March, I won’t be the butt of my extended family’s ridicule. Sad, isn’t it? I can almost hear you shout… You’re doing it for all the wrong reasons! This would be true if I actually managed to begin the arduous weight loss journey in the first place!

You see, I have a litany of excuses that I am using to bide the time. I’m too tired. I don’t have time. I don’t have runners. I don’t have money to join a gym. I don’t have exercise clothing (That’s a lie… there are some tucked away from 2017’s pilate’s efforts.) I don’t like sweating, my face itches (Seriously, it does!). I have a whole year until I really need to get my act together. And so it goes on and on.

The real reason is I have no discipline. And because I have no discipline, adding lack of drive and laziness into the mix, means I probably won’t be losing any real weight. Have I mentioned that the minute I think about exercising, subconsciously my feet propel towards the pantry and my hand shoves bags of chips and chocolate into my unwilling mouth? It’s a problem. Thinking of a diet causes me to gain weight.

It doesn’t help that my husband tells me every second day that I should start doing the seven-minute workout in the mornings with the children. He thinks it’ll give me energy, and I’ll start to feel better about myself. Sigh. I know what he says makes sense. Somewhere deep in my rational mind, I know this to be true.

I’m just sick of the yo-yo dieting and the lacklustre exercising, and the eventual weight gain. I’m at my heaviest to date and I have gone up three dress sizes since having the babies.

What do you do when you need motivation but have none? What do you do when you should be disciplined but aren’t?

You put one foot in front of the other. You take one step at a time. You start low and go slow.

I guess I’ll start with that seven-minute workout.

Copyright © 2019, KN J Tales and Snippets. All rights reserved.

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MINDFUL MUSINGS

What is cultural sensitivity? I looked it up… it means having the skills to learn, understand and accept people whose cultural background is different to yours. It means an awareness and acceptance of cultural differences – that they aren’t seen as positive or negative, better or worse, right or wrong.

I live in Australia, a country where multiculturalism is celebrated and promoted in our society. This notion is reflected in our diverse communities and largely positive social cohesion. People with different backgrounds, cultures and ethnicities call Australia home. Suffice to say, cultural sensitivity is important for effective interactions and a peaceful society.

I found myself thinking about cultural sensitivity yesterday after a session as a classroom volunteer for literacy and computer skills. There were people from different origins – Iran, Ethiopia, China, Hong Kong to name a few.

As I was assisting several of the women with their computer tasks, I found myself touching people on their backs. I’m not sure why I was doing this as I’m not generally a tactile person. Usually, I feel uncomfortable with people in my personal space and touching me. So when I noticed myself being handsy, I made a conscious effort not to touch, which somehow made me touch even more!

Reflecting on my interactions with the women, I wondered if I had acted in a culturally insensitive way. A touch to the back could be seen as a friendly gesture to some and a disrespectful or inappropriate gesture to others. Not knowing or understanding their background, values or life experiences, makes it impossible to tell. 

So you know what I’ll do in the next lesson? I will ask instead of making assumptions. I will take time to get to know the students as individuals. I will put into practice the words of wisdom that I like to impart to my children about being culturally sensitive.

Because for me, being Australian means: respecting one another, embracing cultural diversity, respecting differences, valuing each other’s contribution and giving people a fair go. It also means practicing cultural sensitivity through my willingness to change my behaviours and communication styles to meet other cultural norms.

 

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SUMMER SLEEP CYCLE

Every summer school holiday (six weeks – a week before Christmas to the end of January), I dream of sitting on a secluded island, surrounded by waitstaff topping up my fruity mimosas and hand feeding me grapes. I laze around a pool (no sand), food belly (not just my fat belly) protruding from underneath my tankini and reading steamy historical romances on my kindle (stop judging!). Not a care in the world. Not a soul (besides the discreet staff) to see me at my worst.

In reality, I am the full-time carer of two wayward children that constantly bicker over nonsense and defer to violence at the drop of a hat. My husband likes to comment that if he was the stay-at-home parent, he would treat parenting like a job. He would have a schedule. He would have activities. He would go for walks to nearby parks. He would have the kids preoccupied, therefore reducing the chances of fighting. The implication here is that he would have these children under some semblance of control. Insert a loud sigh. I really hope my poor deluded husband gets to test his theory one of these days – and soon.

Last I remember, having a job meant getting paid real money, enjoying hot coffees, eating uninterrupted lunch with both hands, clocking on and off, and not rushing through potty time to break up arguments. You actually have a moment to yourself. To breathe. To think. To relax.

The debate of who has it harder – the stay-at-home parent or the full-time parent – sometimes surfaces during school holidays. We are different in many ways; parenting styles, approaches to discipline and play, personal strengths and weaknesses. But regardless of our differences, we understand and respect the other person’s contribution to the family unit.

The summer school holiday just past was brutal, more so than usual. Due to the ongoing bushfires raging in many parts of Victoria (Australia), there were days where the air quality was hazardous, and we were stuck indoors. There were days of extreme hot weather, leading to three perspiring bodies laying prone in front of an overworked and underfiltered air-conditioner. The emergence of Coronavirus meant I was wary of taking the children to public places like shopping or play centres. Uncle TV came out to watch the kids now and then but the side effects of square eyes and delayed meltdown was not a worthwhile trade-off, so I avoided using this form of babysitting where possible. And there was only so much art and crafts that we could handle.

Ultimately, we suffered from cabin fever from being inside, sleep deprivation from the heat and the dreaded boredom. We were all a bit tetchy by the end of school break.

Like Tom Jones says “It’s not unusual.” It happens EVERY year. It’s nothing new. You would think I’d have my act together by now. You would think I’d have action plans in place. But every year there are add-ons, creating new challenges that throw out any expectations.

This year’s add-ons included late nights from visitors, daylight savings, transitioning our three-year-old from cot to bed, and overnight potty training. There were midnight requests “Mummy, can you do me a favour and hold my hand?” “Mummy, can you cuddle me? I’m scared.” There were early morning visits to the loo and problems with resettling. There were many potty accidents (the carpets will never be the same). These add-ons further impacted on everyone’s quality of sleep and made the summer school holidays infinitely harder.

Recently, a friend commented on how she loves school holidays and spending time with her son, and that she misses him when he goes back to school (how sweet!). I could only nod in parental unity and mask my face with understanding. But in all honesty, after sending my children back to school, I did my jazzy happy dance, waved my arms in the air like I just didn’t care and screamed… I’m freeeeee!!!!

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BREAKING HABITS

I see the hot tears
falling down your cheeks
I hear you crying
it shatters my heart
I feel your sadness
adding to my guilt
I know your pain
for it is mine
Even so I must
my little munchkin
be cruel to be kind
Goodbye arm pillows
Farewell hand-holding
So long midnight hugs
For we both need sleep

Copyright © 2019, KN J Tales and Snippets. All rights reserved.

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