An elderly Chinese woman had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a
pole, which she carried across her neck.
One of the pots had a crack in it while the other pot was perfect and
always delivered a full portion of water, at the end of the long walk
from the stream to the house, the cracked pot arrived only half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the woman bringing home only one and
a half pots of water.
Of course, the perfect pot was proud of its accomplishments.
But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own
imperfection, and miserable that it could only do half of what it had
been made to do.
After 2 years of what it perceived to be bitter failure, it
spoke to the woman one day by the stream. "I am ashamed of myself,
because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your
house."
The old woman smiled, "Did you notice that there are flowers on
your side of the path, but not on the other pot's side?" "That's
because I have always known about your flaw, so I planted flower seeds on your
side of the path, and every day while we walk back, you water them.
For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the
table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this
beauty to grace the house."
Each of us has our own unique flaw. But it's the cracks and flaws we each have that make our lives together so very interesting and rewarding.
You've just got to take each person for what they are and look for the
good in them.
Sunday, November 26, 2006
Hospital yeah yeah!
W's first trip to hospital this week...Thankfully all went well (aside from one slightly bitchy anesthetist, who got my hackles up- patronising cow) and W's reaction to having an IV, and coming round from anesthetic (not pretty).
If he were any more fit, he'd be dangerous. Now the fun part begins- trying to keep him "quiet" and "rested" for the next week! He's off school, and contact should be restricted to family members only for the next week...so please just excuse me as I go quietly insane in the corner- no playgroup, no pre-school, no parks, no shopping AAAAHHHHHH!
Please enjoy our photo montage of what we are calling "The Hospital Experience"
W and daddy, upon arriving in day suite W in the "holding zone", just prior to Op
Back again! Op is all done, W is FINALLY calm! W showing off his "machine
"W, it's time to turn off the TV"(which has cable, and thusly channels you have never seen before!) But hey...we get to go home in the morning!
And finally...here is what a boy who had an operation 2 days ago looks like...
Spidey and Supes...kicking the butt of illnesses everywhere! :)
Monday, November 20, 2006
Seen and Heard
*whinge* It isn't warm, it's cold... and even colder on my little body! (about his bath)
*when listening to Wiggles (song ends with "What do you dream about?) Nothing Greg, nothing at all!
* I need to do a wee, and I wouldn't mind some privacy!
* It's not funny! Oh for pete's sake!
* Do you know Mummy, when I was your age, I was lots more sensible!]
* Oh, I like this shirt! Is it Italian? (shirt features in photo above)
*(after having his hair cut, the barber put some gel in his hair and spiked it up a bit); Hey! What's this funky hair? I wanted flat hair I said! (followed by a flattening of aforementioned hair)
W has also developed a little snazzy dance, as a result of getting a toy which plays "I like to move it move it" I am trying to download it somewhere so you can all see, as it's quite funny.
Sunday, November 12, 2006
Lest we Forget
For The Fallen
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
Laurence Binyon
We took W to the Remembrance Day Service, which was held at the war memorial in the city. I have never been more proud of his behaviour.
We went the day before to see where it would be. We talked a lot about the symbols and traditions (poppies, the last post, 1 minute silence), and how there would be lots of returned soldiers there, who were remembering their friends.
When we arrived and the ceremony hadn't started, we walked through the field of remembrance, and looked at all the crosses. We looked at the medals of returned soldiers, and watched the marching band prepare.
Once the ceremony got started, W was very solemn, taking it all in. When people were laying wreaths, he listened to the music, and said "That's lovely music, they're playing the music "sad" because of all the soldiers who didn't come home."
We listened to the ode of remembrance, and then we heard the last post (I'm fine until they play the first note, and then the tears start). At the conclusion of the ceremony, we all sang the national anthem. W got it word perfect, and stood very patriotically too, much to the amazement of the Canadian tourists next to us.
With proud thanksgiving, a mother for her children,
England mourns for her dead across the sea.
Flesh of her flesh they were, spirit of her spirit,
Fallen in the cause of the free.
Solemn the drums thrill; Death august and royal
Sings sorrow up into immortal spheres,
There is music in the midst of desolation
And a glory that shines upon our tears.
They went with songs to the battle, they were young,
Straight of limb, true of eye, steady and aglow.
They were staunch to the end against odds uncounted;
They fell with their faces to the foe.
They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years contemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them.
They mingle not with their laughing comrades again;
They sit no more at familiar tables of home;
They have no lot in our labour of the day-time;
They sleep beyond England's foam.
But where our desires are and our hopes profound,
Felt as a well-spring that is hidden from sight,
To the innermost heart of their own land they are known
As the stars are known to the Night;
As the stars that shall be bright when we are dust,
Moving in marches upon the heavenly plain;
As the stars that are starry in the time of our darkness,
To the end, to the end, they remain.
Laurence Binyon
We took W to the Remembrance Day Service, which was held at the war memorial in the city. I have never been more proud of his behaviour.
We went the day before to see where it would be. We talked a lot about the symbols and traditions (poppies, the last post, 1 minute silence), and how there would be lots of returned soldiers there, who were remembering their friends.
When we arrived and the ceremony hadn't started, we walked through the field of remembrance, and looked at all the crosses. We looked at the medals of returned soldiers, and watched the marching band prepare.
Once the ceremony got started, W was very solemn, taking it all in. When people were laying wreaths, he listened to the music, and said "That's lovely music, they're playing the music "sad" because of all the soldiers who didn't come home."
We listened to the ode of remembrance, and then we heard the last post (I'm fine until they play the first note, and then the tears start). At the conclusion of the ceremony, we all sang the national anthem. W got it word perfect, and stood very patriotically too, much to the amazement of the Canadian tourists next to us.
Saturday, November 04, 2006
Giftedness
My hot button topic for this week! I am 100% undecided about where I sit on this issue...I have been reading about this, and thinking about it throughout the week.
At present, I am looking at schools for W. His teachers thus far are telling me that he is "smarter than the average bear" (he don't get that from me, that's for sure, must be his Asian genes!), and the Monty teachers have suggested getting him tested prior to him starting school, so that we have a better idea of where we are at.
I am so torn on this issue. As a teacher, I look at some of the things he does, and think "meh, that's a little special, but you aren't the next Einstein",but as a mum, I look at him and think "You are the most splendiferous scholar who ever drew breath! Huzzah for you, my little prodigy."
I live in perpetual fear of being one of "those" parents...The ones who turn up on the first day and demand a diversified program, which will stimulate and challenge little Tarquin's every need, fearing that he may *gasp* spend more than 2 seconds un-occupied.
The flip side is the very real parental fear that he won't get the attention he needs, that he wont be challenged, and that he will become bored and switch off from school.
I literally lie awake at night, tossing and turning over this, projecting into the future...What if I make a poor choice for him? He'll never learn to read, he'll drop out at 15, and take up an apprenticeship in a mechanics workshop in *insert undesirable suburb here* ... from there he'll get involved in a car re-birthing racket, and then he'll go to jail and turn to other men for comfort ! He'll get tattoos and the needle will be infected, and he'll catch HIV and die young and alone, AND IT"S ALL MY FAULT! If only I had chosen school A, where all the children go on to work with the UN, and make significant contributions to society!
OK, so that may be a touch dramatic, but who among us isn't nursing some scar from childhood...body image, friendships, school issues...ARGH! This is what they meant when they said once the kids are here, you never stop worrying.
I found this article/blog entry, which really made me think...There is a college down the road, where children can start tuition at 4 1/2. Are those parents pushy? Are they trying too hard to give their child an "artificial edge"? Or are those of us who aren't enrolling our kids not giving them every chance they could have?
At the moment, my thinking is this; W hangs out at Montessori, which he adores, and would be going to in any case. We sign him up to *school down the road*, which runs the IB program, which I like, because it teaches kids HOW to think, not WHAT to think, as well as offering a great deal of extra curricular stuff, and the uniform colours look nice on W (a huge factor in any school choice). So he goes there and if all isn't wonderful, I start looking again. Simple huh? URGH!
At present, I am looking at schools for W. His teachers thus far are telling me that he is "smarter than the average bear" (he don't get that from me, that's for sure, must be his Asian genes!), and the Monty teachers have suggested getting him tested prior to him starting school, so that we have a better idea of where we are at.
I am so torn on this issue. As a teacher, I look at some of the things he does, and think "meh, that's a little special, but you aren't the next Einstein",but as a mum, I look at him and think "You are the most splendiferous scholar who ever drew breath! Huzzah for you, my little prodigy."
I live in perpetual fear of being one of "those" parents...The ones who turn up on the first day and demand a diversified program, which will stimulate and challenge little Tarquin's every need, fearing that he may *gasp* spend more than 2 seconds un-occupied.
The flip side is the very real parental fear that he won't get the attention he needs, that he wont be challenged, and that he will become bored and switch off from school.
I literally lie awake at night, tossing and turning over this, projecting into the future...What if I make a poor choice for him? He'll never learn to read, he'll drop out at 15, and take up an apprenticeship in a mechanics workshop in *insert undesirable suburb here* ... from there he'll get involved in a car re-birthing racket, and then he'll go to jail and turn to other men for comfort ! He'll get tattoos and the needle will be infected, and he'll catch HIV and die young and alone, AND IT"S ALL MY FAULT! If only I had chosen school A, where all the children go on to work with the UN, and make significant contributions to society!
OK, so that may be a touch dramatic, but who among us isn't nursing some scar from childhood...body image, friendships, school issues...ARGH! This is what they meant when they said once the kids are here, you never stop worrying.
I found this article/blog entry, which really made me think...There is a college down the road, where children can start tuition at 4 1/2. Are those parents pushy? Are they trying too hard to give their child an "artificial edge"? Or are those of us who aren't enrolling our kids not giving them every chance they could have?
At the moment, my thinking is this; W hangs out at Montessori, which he adores, and would be going to in any case. We sign him up to *school down the road*, which runs the IB program, which I like, because it teaches kids HOW to think, not WHAT to think, as well as offering a great deal of extra curricular stuff, and the uniform colours look nice on W (a huge factor in any school choice). So he goes there and if all isn't wonderful, I start looking again. Simple huh? URGH!
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