jmgoyder

wings and things

Another peachick!

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Yesterday my youngest brother’s family stayed the night with us and the twins found another peachick! They were terribly excited, but it presented me with a dilemma because, even though the mother appeared to be looking after him, it was getting dark, so we kept him inside for the night with a very nonplussed Gutsy9.

This morning, after my brother’s family left, Ming and I were sitting outside on the front veranda with both chicks when the mother peahen approached us making little clucking noises, so we put her chick on the grass and off they went. I followed them for awhile and it was obvious the mother and chick were inseparable so I have decided to hope for the best and reassess the situation this afternoon. (Months ago around 20 guinnea fowl chicks hatched under a shrub and, thinking it best to leave it to their mothers to look after them, I didn’t intervene. The next day they were gone.)

So we might bring the new chick in for the night again – not sure!

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Peaceful peafowl

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Peace.

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A peacock’s crown

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Apparently, in Hindu culture, the peacock’s crown symbolizes the music of the heart via the head. It’s interesting to watch Gutsy9’s little crown grow.

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Bouncing back

It’s a bit difficult to bounce in yet another horrible heat wave, but Ming and I saw the doc this morning, agreed to undertake some treatment, including further counselling, then went to a restaurant for breakfast.

While we were away, a father/son lawnmowing team gobbled up 5 acres of overgrowth at a very reasonable rate, so the place is once again back in shape.

Yesterday, Ming and I went to see Anthony because I hadn’t seen him for a week due to not being allowed to bring my flu into the nursing lodge. We sat outside but the scene was not BradyBunchish; Ming plonked himself at a distance, scowling, while I sat on the grass next to Anthony’s chair with Gutsy9 (the baby peacock) scurrying between us and flying on and off Anthony’s lap.

I asked Ants to give Ming a pep talk but this didn’t work because Anthony’s concentration is now so poor. Oh well, he did try! It reminded me of when he was home because he was always the buffer if Ming and I had an argument about homework or eating vegetables etc.

Anthony’s big-hearted solidity often turned arguments into hilarity and taught us a lot about bouncing back, even though he can’t bounce at all anymore.

I missed him so badly last night that I almost couldn’t bear it, but today I am bouncing back.

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Making friends with Despair

I’m not scared of Despair anymore because today she told me that she only wanted a tiny hug before she went to visit somebody else. She said she had tried to visit us before but the doors were always locked.

So I gave Despair an enormous hug, apologized for us locking the doors and, as she hugged me back, she wept into the crevice of my left elbow, then she gave me a short bit of advice.

I kept hugging her until I realized Despair had gone and I was hugging my silly self!

Translation: Despair’s visit catapulted me into seeking help. Tomorrow! Yeah, she was okay enough, but I don’t want her to come back.

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The gift of listening

Years ago I wrote my PhD about the importance of listening to people with dementia who were still able to speak. In the process of turning the thesis into a book for publication, I began to realize the importance of listening in general. At the time, Ming was a little kid and Anthony wasn’t so ill, so I would listen to Ming’s babble and Anthony’s hearty stories with equal attention.

Listening is not always easy because sometimes what you are hearing may not make sense, might be boring or inane or moany, could be longwinded and require patience.

To listen, you have to be able to shut up for awhile, give your own voice a break, and focus on the person you are listening to.

Yesterday, after my altercation with Ming, he broke down and begged me to listen to him and I remembered, with a thud of remorse, that he had been asking me this for some time.

So we sat down together, cried our eyes out in separate chairs and then he began the story of his 3 days away at the Southbound concert festival.

As I listened, I saw how his face glowed in the telling of each episode. After two hours, we were laughing again and I asked for an intermission. “That’s okay, Mum, we can do Episode 3 tomorrow.”

I am beginning to think that the best gift you can give anyone is to listen to them.

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False frivolity

I just wrote a rather frivolous post about my teenage son nagging me but the frivolity was false.

He is behaving badly but is too old to put in the naughty corner (we never had one of those).

I never expected to be tongue-lashed, hen-pecked, reprimanded and nagged by my own son!

How can the same boy be both muse and monster?

He hugs me then spits venom then disintegrates into guilt, then hugs me again.

I want to say to him cruel things – I want to say he is an ungrateful wretch.

An ailing father is no excuse. I have already given Ming too many doubt benefits.

My angel child needs his wings fixed or a punch in the nose.

Teenager, normal, okay.

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Nag, nag, nag!

Ming just got back from Southbound http://www.southboundfestival.com.au/ a huge musical festival. He went with his two best mates and was away for two nights, so he wasn’t home for his 19th birthday (yesterday).

Did I miss him? No.
Was I lonely? No.
Would I have minded if he’d stayed away a bit longer? No.

Now don’t get me wrong. I adore him and he is a wonderful kid but he is also a NAG!

The first thing he said when he got home: “Why haven’t you cleaned your office out yet?”

Let me explain: my’óffice’is a tiny room at the back of the house that was once a junk room. Well now it is both an office and a junk room. Nevertheless it is my only totally private space – so private that I lock it when I am out.

Mr NAG wants to help me organize the office but the more he hassles me, the less inclined I am to sort it out. I seem to have some sort of mental block, possibly due to a deep psychological resistance to sorting out the paperwork of my life, or else pure laziness.

Nag, nag, nag!

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I’m not eating THAT!

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As a baby, then a toddler, then a kid beginning school, Ming had absolutely no interest in sustenance. It was a nightmare trying to breastfeed or get him to drink from a bottle and he seemed to be able to survive on air. It all worked out in the end but argh.

And now Gutsy9 is doing the same thing – so funny!

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Close your eyes!

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The other night I was watching a thriller on my laptop (before it died). Gutsy9, the baby peacock, was, as usual, on my shoulder and wide awake watching the screen. Suddenly, a scary scene erupted unexpectedly and, without thinking, I covered his big, innocent eyes with my hand.

I have always been a bit overprotective!

Note: Still using minilaptop while big one gets fixed so not keeping up as well as I would like to with other blogs and commenting, alas.

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