Tag Archives: hope

My Sprog

I hate my son. No, I’m not being rhetorical or metaphorical; I literally hate him. I love him too, but probably not enough to rub out the hate. Here’s why…

Have you ever, as a mum or dad, dedicated your life, hope and dreams to a child’s development and wellbeing? Ever spent sleepless nights thinking the worst, wiping your tears away and getting up to check on said sprog, just in case they stopped breathing in their sleep? Well, I have. I am the tiger mom, the infernal nuisance at schools for all teachers and teaching assistants – I am the complainer that worries whether he received his coat on time for breaktime, his forgotten lunch box before lunch or his meds if he’s had to go back to school before I think he’s well enough. I’m your worst nightmare as an educator. At least, I was. I have changed as my sprog has gotten older. I’ve lost my sense of purpose, my fight, my passion.

Instead, I’ve been introduced to my worst nightmare, a creation of my own volition: a free thinking individual who has the intelligence to question me and my morals and call my up for my shortcomings. I have a person who refuses to be dominated by others, who does not buckle under peer pressure and who assumes authority in the household – my household – anytime I’m not around to rule the roost. I hate him!

He is the epitomy of everything I am not; he has the capability to stay true to his course when I flail about, thinking I should give up. He shows strengths in my weaknesses and makes me feel incompetent in my education. In other words, I feel dumb around him. Yet, I created this wonderful monster. 

So, what do I do?

Is it a case of inflating his ego further and telling him I am proud of his existence? Or do I belittle every little fault I find, exploding at every mistake made and celebrating every time he doesn’t reach a goal? What would you do with something like this living in your house, eating your food and making you feel inadequate?

Anyone else here hear my ego taking a beating?

Well, I do what I assume every other mom does, I just give up! I take a step back and let him lead when he needs to. Right now, he is standing over my two other sprogs, perfecting their piano pieces so that they don’t embarrass us (the family) at their next piano lesson. He walks into the kitchen and mutters a belittling remark about the curry I’ve cooked because he doesn’t like curry anymore. His personal beliefs refute the fact that he is part Goan. In his mind, he is British. 

I ignore the remark and think of how he is helping the other sprogs, what an inspiration he is getting all A’s and finding maths easy at A level, unlike me. But, as a parent, I can’t ignore the snarky remarks that make my older daughter cry, the continuous abuse of power because he is the eldest, the strongest and the most likely to outhink all of us who are too tired to fight. I think of the days when he disappears into his cave (bedroom) and refuses to eat family meals. And I hate him.

As a mother, it is hard to admit that the child who makes you feel the most is the one that hurts you the most. I’m hoping, no I’m praying that, in the future, he will return to the sweet little boy I protected and nurtured many years ago. 

But, am I hoping for the right thing? Am I actually celebrating the fact that my child does not do drugs, has a good sense of what’s right and wrong, and abuses it at home, but is there for us when we need him. Am I hating him for all the wrong reasons?

What do you think?

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Slivers of light

Huddle up close
Piddling through the night

Warm your cold nose
Light on your feet healing

Discouragement begone

No harm in dreaming

Time to sing a new song
Find that sliver

Brighten your day

Abate your shiver

Choose your own way

Monday Coffee

Yes, I know.  It’s Tuesday! I blame the public holiday yesterday.  It threw me and I assumed I was still in Sunday mode.  So, let’s pretend it’s still Monday and have a quick cuppa before tackling Tuesday.

I have been mulling over the stories I have written over the past few years and have made the firm decision to mix a romance/thriller that has been sitting idle with my two intrepid detectives, Perkins and Jones.  For those of you who haven’t had the chance to meet them, I’m shocked.  The Iron Pendulum has been out for a while now and I can guarantee you will enjoy it.  Plus, it gives you a chance to meet Perkins and Jones on their first case that highlights their personalities. With this in mind, I shall start stirring the story pot and see where the book wants to go.  Watch this space for tasters.

Judith emailed me yesterday to give me some amazing news: I won second place in the Tenby Bookfair Short Story Writing Competition.Needless to say, I was bouncing around the house, squealing with delight. My lovely sprogs and hubble gave me huge hugs and we had a mini celebration.  It’s not often I enter competitions or come anywhere close to winning, so that was a big deal to me.  Please, raise you cup and lets give a toast to the person who inspired me to enter this competition in the first place – Hugh!  Through the process of joining WordPress and meeting incredible artists from different genres, we have the opportunity to meet the most inspirational people who will keep us going during the dark times and push us to go further, try harder; to succeed.  Hugh is one of those amazing individuals that I am lucky enough to know.  Thank you, Hugh.

Some more exciting news.  A few of my other incredible blogging friends are preparing to send their books out to beta readers for a last check before releasing their babies out to the big wide world.  Have you ever thought of becoming a beta reader?  If you’re an avid reader who enjoys receiving releases before anyone else has had a chance to read them, then you should get in touch.  We are always looking for good beta readers who will give feedback to our special creations and would love to share them with you.  Get in touch.  It might be fun!

Have a lovely Tuesday and we will catch up again later this week.

 

 

Book Tuesday: My Poetry Book

Welcome to a different Book Tuesday.  Today, I will be focussing on my collection of poems simply called My Poetry Book

 Poetry has always been a part of my life.  I recall reciting poems to the rose bush outside my brother’s bedroom window.  Some of the poems would turn into songs which seemed to go on forever, or at least that’s the way my mother felt when she told me to shut up! As I grew, so did my confidence and I ended up showing a friend of mine my poetry.  She came up with the name Mello-Elo for me and the nickname stuck to this day!

Shakespeare shook my world when I discovered his Sonnets.  I was lucky enough to receive a beautiful book with his collection of sonnets and accompanying pictures which brought them to life.   

 His influence challenged my perception of beauty, life and the longevity of love. Most of my poems tackled the darker side of love, delving into the depths of despair and depression.  I recall sending my poetry to a publisher many years ago and their request for a few lighter, happier poems to add to the anthology to counter the darkness!  Unfortunately I couldn’t deliver anything light and airy and I lost the contract.  Roll on many more years and I have managed to create a collection that moves through joy, love, pain, hurt and back to hope.  I have ordered the poems to flow with a life, a romance within themselves describing the emotions we subject ourselves to when we succumb to love.  Added into the mix are my own quotes, some humorous, some meaningful. 

 Here is a taster for reading pleasure…

Moving On

Sluggish passing ships carried my memories away

Slowly, quietly, fading like day

A new light was shown to all who cared to see

No recollections for those now set free


Acquiescing to the loss of my former years

I look to the future to cry new tears

Life begins again as the river flows on

My life cannot suspend on things that have gone


For fear of the ships passing my way again

I have jumped onto the first boat of a lonely friend

But alas, it was the wrong one for I see the men

Who will strain the heart and to its death, repeatedly send


In resolution of which way to turn

I have now selected to slowly burn

Upon the ashes of the dead memories

At least there I know I will not be dashed in the lonely seas


A Mello quote…

Mischief is the nymph of good,

Guided by the dark knight of lust,

Befriended by the demons of the soul

And humoured by the corruption of the heart.


My Poetry Book is available from http://www.lulu.com/spotlight/eloisedesousa

I hope you enjoyed this week’s book highlight.  Have a great week. 😀

Monday Coffee

 IMG_0545-4It is one of my favourite days of the week and today I really fancy a chat with you.  Shall we get a coffee at our favourite place?  Let’s go.

It has been an awful weekend with sadness overwhelming any happy moments that have occurred.  So many lives lost over the past week, both man made and natural events.  As we order our beverages, let’s take a moment to think of the families left behind.  

Now I don’t want to scream blue murder, nor do I want to cry and beat my chest in anger.  No, instead I want to raise my cup to the brave souls who have held an injured person’s hand this weekend, or stroked the head of a soul leaving this earth, comforting them in their last breath. It doesn’t have to be under the extreme circumstances, life tends to give us ample opportunity to care for others through all walks of life. I want to smile and thank the medical teams who work tirelessly to save the precious lives of our dear ones and miss their own families to make sure ours stay intact.  I’m sure you get the gist of what I’m trying to say.  It’s only in darkness that we see the stars appear, those beckons of light and hope in a world of confusion and fear.

As we sip our coffee, I’d like to know how your weekend panned out.  Did you achieve all you set out to do, or like me, did quite a few things fall off the list?  I would show you my plans for next year and how I have already set up ridiculous goals for myself and the family, hoping we at least touch some of them.  Did you know that this week, I will be one year older?  Not that it makes much difference as I stopped counting a while back.  My children thought they would do me a favour and picked up the habit for me, adding two more years to my age.  Such kind little sprogs!

How goes your NaNoWriMo?  Are you over the halfway mark yet?  My abysmal attempt this year has been hampered by work and a lack of motivation in my story.  The characters flop around helplessly in my head and should be fired! I need a fiery boost to get me to the end, which will be dire if I fail.  The children I have encouraged to take up the task will not be impressed by an adult who says but does not do.  What do you think I should do to kick my story into gear?

Of course, since we are sitting together, we should discuss cakes, even birthday cakes.  It has been mentioned how delicious the triple chocolate cake displayed at the top of this post looks very appealing.  I think this would make the perfect birthday cake, don’t you?  I hope you will join me for a slice as we discuss the future of my book and your projects.  

Mihran is just about to play a new song for us and before he starts, I just want to say thank you for visiting and sharing a cup with me.

News

In light of the devastating attacks in France, I have found a post from A Mighty Girl on Facebook that gives us a different perspective from the news and media.

Please read this and remember, there might be evil in this world that we could highlight and acknowledge, or we could give light to those who help others in the time of conflict – the Angels risking their lives whilst we watch on from the safety of our homes.

Our thoughts and prayers are with the people of France in the wake of several devastating attacks in Paris. 
As with many tragedies that are covered extensively in the media, children who hear about them may be confused or scared. Fred Rogers of Mister Rogers’ Neighborhood once shared a thoughtful approach for comforting children and instilling a sense of hope in them in the face of such incomprehensible events:

  
“When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, “Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.” To this day, especially in times of “disaster,” I remember my mother’s words and I am always comforted by realizing that there are still so many helpers – so many caring people in this world.” — Fred Rogers 

Hand in Hand Parenting also provides many great tips for parents on how to talk to kids about shocking events — be they natural disasters or senseless violence — in their article at http://www.handinhandparenting.org/article/helping-children-exposed-to-shocking-events
You can find more resources, including tips for parents related to media coverage, on the website of the National Child Traumatic Stress Network at http://www.nctsn.org/trauma-types/terrorism.
Thank you for reading.

Book Tuesday Author Feature: Peter Piazza

Thank you for joining me for another round of Book Tuesday authors.  Today we have a special guest and friend of Howard Loring, author of The Elastic Limits, and he has been kind enough to let me choose from his wonderful work.  His name is Peter Piazza and his book is available from Amazon.  

Please click on the pic below for further details.

 I have chose Ascendance Through The Fall as my excerpt from his book for a number of reasons.  It might appeal to everyone but the idea, the different perspective of a fateful day, made me sit up and read this story again.  I would love to hear your thoughts on this story and I’m sure Peter would appreciate some feedback on his work.  

Right, enough chatter and onto Peter’s work.  Enjoy!



ASCENDANCE THROUGH THE FALL

Crystal clear crispness prevailed throughout the glorious atmosphere of an especially memorable early autumn morn. The sky was deep teal blue and the cool dry air was congenial and invigorating. The xanthic sun was golden yellow and glimmering, robust in its magnificent ebullience.

Summer had nearly reached completion, and as autumn dawned it brought with it the withering of life which once flourished in the vernal season. There was nothing about this particular bright day, ignited with an early morning frost, which would hint of the unimaginable, seething darkness about to unleash.
While standing on the ground only a short distance from a statuesque urban skyscraper, my gaze was fixed toward the direction of the monumental tower soon to be beset. I stood marveling at the over-whelming beauty of the firmament in its backdrop, when suddenly a thunderous explosion emanated from the edifice. A bomb had been detonated near the buildings top. My focus immediately turned from the majestic morning sky, directly toward the iconic structure, specifically to its upper tiers where people within were eventually forced to the periphery of the inferno. Plumes of black smoke wafted into the sky, and though the endless visibility of that morning had instantly become mired, one particular man, whose torso I saw half hanging from a window, stood clearly in my sight.

Even until today I can recall with vivid detail everything about that man. He wore a gray suit and a white shirt with a conservative tie not clasped. His face was clean shaven, his eyes were soft and his hair was shiny and sandy brown. He was a good man, a courageous man. Kindness and integrity were at the foundation of his character. He was young, no more than thirty five or forty years old. His career was nearing its zenith and his family, consisting of a loving wife and several beautiful young children were in full bloom. These and other minute details about him became instantaneously and inexplicably clear to me, holding the same clarity as the crystal clear sky held only moments earlier. Without so much as a handshake or a spoken word he had become a dear new friend.

There was nothing about this man that would signify he had reached the terminal moment of his prospering life. However, I knew with a knowing which cannot be described that he was soon destined for a different existence, one imbued with far greater joy than all the blessings life had thus far bestowed upon him. I knew with an undeniable clarity that he was imminently destined to rise much higher than the lofty heights of the smoldering building, higher even than the joy to which his family and career had elevated him. Nonetheless, I held not a morsel of a doubt that his family would remain forever indelibly etched within his heart, never to be forgotten.

The crowds that were gathered around me watched in recalcitrant awe as the relentless fire burned with a fury they never before witnessed. It was evident to me, though not necessarily to others, that the landings adjacent to where the bomb had directly impacted offered no egress whatsoever. Neither elevators nor stairwells were accessible to those whose bodies stood pressed against the windows as they frantically signaled for any manner of rescue from their futile predicament. Just as the others before them who perished at the moment of detonation, these beings knew they too were doomed, certain to be consumed in the inescapable raging flames.

My focus remained on the man I had mysteriously come to befriend and know so intimately. None around me could anticipate as could I what would occur next. There was a defining choice confronting the man I had come to know and care for so deeply. He had to choose the method of his physical death. He needed to decide between incineration and a perilous fall from the distant height of the window upon which he was perched. As I knew he would, he chose to jump.

People all about me cringed with horror as he hurled himself from the window, soaring to the ground in free form. They shrilled in terror at the fear and agony they envisioned was upon him,… but that’s not what I saw. I know what I saw. I’m absolutely certain of what I watched and experienced as his body accelerated toward the ground. I saw his spirit, and with his unspoken word I was graciously granted permission to participate in the journey it had taken. I was attuned not to his body whose suffering was now entirely vanquished, but rather to his soul, where a good friend should be focused. The tortuous screams around me, though deafening to some, were muted as I was undeniably assured of his safety and salvation. I could see he had risen far beyond the plumes of smoke, far above the once grandiose building peak, and was now nestled in the arms of an all powerful and compassionate embrace. Indeed, he was cradled and protected. I could see in the once crystal clear sky that he’d been lovingly guided to the gateway of another dimension in which only immeasurable joy exists. The darkness instilled upon this pristine day of beauty had not brought him to ruin. The torrid flames that had imprisoned him burned only the last vestiges of anything that separated him from his higher self. They could not deny him emancipation. Rather, they facilitated his transition into unhampered freedom.

Most watched, riveted in their trauma, as people died that day,… but that’s not what I saw. I’m very certain of what I saw. I watched my new found friend not felled in defeat, but risen up in triumphant victory. I experienced the devious deeds of evil undone that day. I came away a changed man, forever an improved man. Without so much as a handshake or a spoken word I made a dear new friend that day; a friend I’ll treasure for all eternity.

Friends share things with friends, and as a good friend he allowed me to share not in the demise of his mortal frame, but rather in the glorious liberation of his eternal spirit. He willingly permitted me the unique opportunity to bear witness as his soul gained ascendance through the fall, into a sanctuary where the only flames that burn are the glowing embers of tranquility and love.

Thank you for reading.  Don’t forget, if you would to read more of Peter’s positive prose and poetry, I Have Nothing To Give is available to purchase from the link below.

Link: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00T24R8WS

RonovanWrites #Weekly #Haiku #Poetry Prompt #Challenge #56 Luck&Hope

I missed last week’s challenge and couldn’t resist one last blog before bedtime tonight to make sure I did not miss this week’s prompt.  What better way to end the evening than doing a fantastic haiku challenge thanks to Ronovan!

The words luck and hope draw out many variations and combinations of words and meanings.  This is my contribution to this week’s haiku challenge.
Luck and Hope

With some luck she tucks
Hope away in empty heart
Freedom still distant


Blue Moon


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With Arms Wide Open

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