Without Dance, What's The Pointe?

Source: pbase.com via Laura on Pinterest

I could have been a Dancer you know...God knows I tried.  

Here's my unlucky tale...

First of all, I could have been in Riverdance.  I started Irish Dance classes in a little galvanised community hall in the countryside when I was about three years old.  I don't remember much about it apart from one two three four five six seven, one two three, one two three...and I remember the little tartan skirt and moss green coloured tights I wore because they were so itchy. I'm sure I would have been good at it.  However, we moved away from the area before I had a chance to be discovered.

And that marked the end of my Irish Dancing days.

Speaking of Riverdance, I looked it up and was once again captivated! We're used to seeing it now but when it was first performed, it was so completely different to anything before it. It blew everyone away!


Have a watch of what was one of Ireland's two high points in...like...ever. 


(The other one being that  moment in 1990 when Packie Bonnar saved the day-that was the happiest Ireland probably ever will be, though, like Gatsby, we didn't realise it at the time.  We were too busy having a street party that could be spotted from space)

Here's Riverdance:

When we moved to our new town, I was signed up for ballet lessons as soon as I was old enough to join my older sisters.  I had been smitten by the flowing dresses they had worn at a performance and was starry eyed at being allocated the part of a baby robin in the next show.

Unfortunately it transpired that my sisters weren't that interested in ballet and began another activity which was on at the same time.  In those days children did one out of school activity.

That was the end of my ballerina days.

But dance was in my blood...so not to be discouraged, some time later, another sister and I went to an open day of the now gone Digges Lane Dance Studio. It was a state of the art dance school. Our aim was to become masters of swing:

(Something like this:)

We joined one of the free sampler class and  were soon enthuiastically dancing barefoot to the strains of Reet Petite, when suddenly looking down, my sister noticed she was jiving in a pool of blood!  Somebody (clearly a worse dancer than us ) had inadvertently trod on her foot which was now spurting blood all over the highly polished professional dancefloor...which now looked something like this:

We left with embarrassed  haste.

And so ended my Swing days.

Well God loves a trier, so the next year I spotted a flyer for Latin & Ballroom Dance classes.  The day and time suited me perfectly...

Source: google.com via Judy on Pinterest

The only problem was I had no boyfriend and none of my friends were too interested.  So I rang the number on the flier and told them I wanted to take the class but that I had no partner.

"Oh that's no problem at all, come along and there's always a partner to be found"

Armed with that reassurance I signed up...turned up...and no spare dancers to be found...

"Oh that's no problem" said the male dance instructor "You can be my partner...I need someone to demonstrate.."

So with stars in my eyes and dreams of my name in lights I enthusiastically joined the troupe.  All went well until the instructor needed to go around the other dancers checking on them.

"Oh that's no problem...just continue on..." 

He told me.

So I continued my latin moves, whirling and swirling keeping perfect time with my partner...air.

My humiliation was complete when a young married couple in the class who were near me felt sorry for me and asked me would I like to join them...Emm...in a threesome.

And so ended my Latin Dance days.

But this story has a happy ending.  Last year my children got a gift of Wii 'Just Dance'.  All my dreams have come true.  And even if my teens see fit to close the curtains and beg me to stop whenever I turn on my favourite tune and if even if yet another sister laughed heartily at the sight...who cares???

Well anyway, do you know that Socrates learned to dance when he was seventy because he felt that an essential part of himself had been neglected.  Time for all of us.

Before I Lay Me Down To Sleep

I have to admit, one of my favourite moments of the day is one of the last.  Getting into bed, clean from the shower, the lights dim, my feet relishing the coolness of the sheets and the weight of the day slipping away...one of life's genuine little pleasures.  I sometimes remark to my husband how kind it was of God to think of making us require sleep, otherwise we'd just keep going...and going...and going...just like the Duracell battery...no rest in sight...

Falling asleep is another of the moments I anticipate with pleasure.  I usually have a plan of something interesting I'm going to think about in those moments.  When I was a new mother I read an article (you know..how much of our life's wisdom comes from 'I read an article'??) about how worrying in bed is so detrimental to our peace of mind and our mental health and how Mothers in particular so easily fall into the trap of using what should be a restful time to think about all their problems because that may be the only time they stop 'activity'.  What results is that going to bed actually becomes the trigger for worry. A very difficult habit to break out of.  Reading that article I recognised the budding of that very thing in myself and from that moment on I made a huge effort to try and nip it in the bud.  I'm not saying I ever fully mastered the art of serene bedtime and many's the night over the years I have lain awake trying to slow my mind down.  However to recognise a danger is half the battle.

But even before nodding off and even before climbing in, I have discovered there are a few moments which, if used well, can actually be the most productive of the entire day.

Did you know Mark Twain did most of his writing in his BED?

I don't think there's one among us who doesn't relish the memory of Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer, whether from reading them by torchlight under the blankets in the forbidden hour, or from the myriad of movies and animated films.  Now I'm not suggesting you write an iconic novel in your bed, but I have a little suggestion which I have found invaluable ever since I was a child and my very wise mother imbued a lovely habit into her children. She taught it as a way for us to take ownership of our actions and to guide us in our friendship with God.  It's very easy for children to rattle off bedtime prayers almost as though they are nursery rhymes, but to teach them to ponder, to look at themselves and their little faith journey and to evaluate their day...that is a treasure which will always stay with them.  To the best of my knowledge, my siblings have maintained this custom in one form or another and are carrying on the tradition.

All of us, whether from a faith perspective or otherwise, can improve.  We find it so easy to notice the faults in everyone else...our spouse heading the pack and closely followed by our children...friends...family... acquaintances...emm...strangers...and taking up the rear (if at all) ourselves!!

Yet we know that no manner of nagging, pointing out or suggesting on our part can change a single person (well, maybe our children, but you know what I mean).  The only person I can change with any real affect is ME. But how can I change if I have no faults and when it's everyone else who has the faults-they're the ones who need to improve??  

This is where my little suggestion comes in.  

Here's how it goes:

1.  Get yourself a pretty notebook. (or chic, or funky..whatever is your style) Well any notebook will do but I think if it's pretty and tactile we're more likely to keep up the habit. Have a look at Etsy.com for something special like this . Add a pretty pen if you like.

2.  Sit down for maybe two or three minutes and just think back on the day.  How did I work?  How did I treat those around me? My spouse? How did I spend that precious and unrepeatable time that I was given today? Was I thankful? And especially...what went well...what am I proud of? Can I do something better tomorrow, or do I need to scrap the whole day and start afresh? Did my God even cross my train of thought?

3.  Now write down a few little notes, little reminders and a small plan of something I can do better.  Here can I recommend just from my own experience...have this as something very small, otherwise nothing is surer than that it won't be done.  The days I plan that I'm going to be perfect tomorrow are usually the ones that fall flat on their face!!

You don't need to make these little scribblings legible to anyone else, write in code, or one word points, you're not writing a novel, you just want a few very short pointers. But to physically write them down all the same is so important.

4.  If you believe in God, now is the moment to say Thank You. Thank You for this insight, thank you for what I did well, Thank You for today.  And Sorry.  I'm sorry because You love me so much and I love You less. I'm sorry because I didn't notice all those moments You put in front of me today. And finally...HEY!! Tomorrow...Bring it on!!!

5.  If you don't believe in God...shur, why not do those things anyway...just in case???

All of this should literally take two or three minutes.  Next morning you'll be glad you wrote it down because you'll be amazed when you look at your notes and remember your little resolution...did I think that?? Wow!! Go Me!!

I'm telling you...just try this for a week. You'll be delighted how something so small can have such a big affect.

And now...Sweet Dreams. 

(and no worrying!! Do you hear me?)

ZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzz..................

The World Of Ice-Cream, Love-Notes & Gangly Legs

7 Quick Takes is back being hosted by Jennifer over at Conversion Diary so when your'e finished here pop on over and have a look at some of the other great blogs linked up there this week. If you're wondering where to start, check out Kelly over at her blog  This Ain't The Lyceum, I think it must be one of the funniest blogs on the internet.  My husband laughed so much at the post just linked and if any of you have ever been puked on you just might relate. My own dear husband recognised himself in the husband who bewilderedly strolls in offering help after the said puke has been cleaned up.

Well anyway, this week I have been appreciating the pleasures of middle-childhood.  You know in any family, big or small, a lot of the focus tends to go on the older ones who are hewing the furrow because everything is new and scary for them and for you...or the youngest one...because nothing is new or scary and they are there to be delighted in. When our second youngest was about three or four and looked like he was destined to forever remain the youngest I remember telling him one day

 "You know, Peter, God made you the youngest, so that means your job is to be cuddled"

He was very cuddly, and still is, though sometimes (like that moment) he probably was thinking more along the lines of playing lego.

Now a new little girl has been given the God-appointed task of being the cuddlee, and it's now her who doesn't get too many moments where she can escape the barrage of kisses and cuddles from her older siblings and her no longer scared parents.

So this week I am going to give a few reasons why Middle Childhood is a treasure which passes in a moment that seems like the lifespan of a May-fly.

 Here's To The Perfect Years Of Middle-Childhood

--- 1 ---

You know those years after toddler-hood and before teenage where you live in another plane of existence from adults.  Where parents and their friends are to be pitied because their lives are so boring because they have no toys and watch the News.  Where the Den in the trees is more important than the HHS Mandate, where the speed of your roller blades is more important than the financial crisis and  where the world is safe because Mum and Dad know everything.

I love those years.

They are the foundation.

--- 2 ---

I love when the tinkling melody of the ice-cream van brings them running full of hope and confidence that this time they'll be handed a crisp 'blue paper 20' to treat their friends. Because the last four times they've been shown the empty purse and because they saw you take that 20 out of the ATM just this morning and they know they've been good and that you have promised them a treat

And I really love the happiness that only ice-cream can bring...

--- 3 ---

I love when the promise of 'I'll count' can convince them to do any job.

--- 4 ---

I love that there's still room on my knee for gangly legs and pointy boned bottoms even though at times my lungs feel like they're being crushed and my blood supply feels like it's about to be cut off with 11 year old weight but that the discomfort is diminished by the delight of knowing that they still want to be there

--- 5 ---

I love that they are reading The Little House on The Prairie and Malory Towers which I know to be safe and wholesome and that I don't have to spend the same time researching and studying them as I do with The Hunger Games and whatever other literature the culture throws at the teen market.

--- 6 ---

I love going to bed at night more often than not to find sweet home-made cards and love notes...

I never throw them out  ♥

--- 7 ---

And I love creeping in to tuck them in at night and when I lean over to kiss their sleeping foreheads, I get the soft warm smell that reminds me that even if their ankles keep becoming visible a week after I have purchased new jeans, even if they are happy to spend endless hours out of my sight playing with their friends among the trees and even if before I blink they will be grown...they are still my babies.

And I remind myself

"These are the halcyon days." 

Heaven Is BETTER Than The Anchor Beach

You know the way the ocean triggers profound thoughts?  Well this weekend just past we went to the ocean to spend some time together just as a family, just us, no phones, no computer, no doorbell ringing a thousand times a day, just us. All eight of us. As usual the weather forecasters promised us misery, wind and a wash-out so we packed rain gear, books, pencils and I brought along my new knitting project...a sweet custard coloured cardigan for little sis.  As usual the micro-climate along the west coast defied all forecasts of doom and we had amazing weather, if typically nippy for April. So we wrapped up and spent lots of time on the beaches of The West Of Ireland...stunning.

This beach is Aughrus Beg in Connemara looking out to Inisboffin and I took this photograph just with my phone, no filters or settings, just as it looks.  I literally could sit here forever  and just think things.  So I took the rare chance to sit in the car for a little while and let the children have some 'Daddy' time (my generosity had nothing to do with the wind-chill) before joining them.

As I sat and admired the amazing colours of navy and turquoise and the breaking waves a bit off shore where the water hit the granite rocks I started thinking of the majesty of The Creator.  Just look at those colours...how many artists, poets, photographers and writers have tried to capture their beauty over the years, some getting pretty close but none quite reaching the mark.  Who could ever manage to mix the correct combinations of azurite, malachite and lazurite to match those of the Divine Artist?

 Nobody...that's who.

I peered out to sea, partly hoping to see a dolphin leap out of the water, even though I've never heard of dolphins in that bay but you never know, and partly trying to strain my eyes to see the islands off the coast, wishing, as I always do, that we hadn't forgotten the binoculars. If I could see far enough I could maybe see my friend, who lives not 6,000 miles but rather €1,000 away.  And all the while my train of thought continued.  The Divine Artist.  God the Creator...God the Artist.  My eyes stung a little as I tried to discern whether that white feature in the distance was a boat or a lighthouse.  God the Artist painting the ultimate masterpiece.  I can't see whether that is a boat or a lighthouse...what else can I not see?

Then I remembered watching a documentary a while back about hummingbirds. I've never seen one of those insect-like iridescent birds and maybe I never will but it really was a very interesting documentary.  It was about how flowers use iridescence and ultra violet to attract insects, and in this case, hummingbirds.   It seems that the colour of the flower isn't really what differentiates the species...it's something else...that the simple lens of the human eye cannot make out, it is completely invisible to us.  I'm not a naturalist and can't explain it so well as one so have a look at this short clip, it really is worth watching:

All those beautiful and stunning sights we'll never see.  Wouldn't it be amazing if we could have a glimpse of what else the Divine Artist has conjured up.  Do we think His imagination is limited to the range of colours the rods and cones in our eyes can distinguish?  What colours are we missing not only in the flowers, what about the sea? What about the sunset? What about the eyes of our babies???  What has he made for us that we won't see till the last day?

What about Heaven? What's that going to be like??!! Oh My Goodness, if there are stunning sights lined up for us here on Earth, do you think that God is going to sell us a pig in a poke when we die?

No eye has seen, no ear has heard, no mind has conceived what God has prepared for those who love him

1 Corinthians 2:9

But we have seen the invisible iridescence and the invisible ultra-violet flower patterns, we've seen them with the help of technology.  So just what is it God has prepared for those who love him?  We can't even imagine, so it says.  But that doesn't mean we shouldn't try to imagine.

The Christmas after my mother died I saw a review of a book that looked like it might give my father a bit of a lift.

A Travel Guide To Heaven 

 It was endorsed by lots of people I trusted such as Fr Benedict Groeschel  & someday I might tell you how he unbeknownst to him broke through a post miscarriage prison of grief. (I said might, not will), Quincy Jones, Raymond Arroyo, Mrs Bob (Dolores) Hope and lots of others. It was only about three or four days before Christmas but I was impressed enough by the reviews to pay the high courier charge to get it delivered in time.  I'm glad I did.

It puts paid to the boring, un-enticing idea of Heaven many of us have built up.  Rest In Peace? Peaceful rest forever???...no thanks!! If any of you know somebody who is bereaved, or who is facing bereavement, or facing their own death, this book will give them, or you, such a great idea of Heaven we'll be just dying to get there!! (ho ho ho, the old jokes are the best eh?)

Well anyway, back to the beach...what profound thoughts the ocean stirs in the soul.  Rest in peace? I've had enough peace, time to join my family and the very, very visible and audible manifestations of joy, except for one small girl in Daddy's arms, her face bleary and covered in nasal slime and tears, none too impressed with the sea..er..breeze?!! 

Addendum:  Do you see that sea in the background?  In the summer when it's a bit warmer you'd better bring your swimming suit along because you'll have no choice but to jump right in!! So don't be found wanting or improvisations will be made...Be Warned ;-D

Laugh Now...But You'll Thank Me Someday!

'A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.'

Confucius

Confucius...he was a Chinese philosopher around 500 BC and his wisdom has stood the test of time don't y'think?  Everything we do has to start with the first step.  Depending on our size and ability that step may be pretty small, insignificant even.  Part of my philosophy behind this blog is to pass on tiny things you can do to make your life easier, smoother and to help you (and me) to glean moments which can be spent in better ways than the 'drudgery' of life maintenance, or housework as we more typically call it.

Call me sad over getting a kick out of discovering a tip that actually works, but I'm not sad at all...I'm delighted actually, because over my lifetime I am going to add hours to my fun-time allocation by cutting out a job that has always caused me some minor irritation.

Last weekend we had some cousins over. I was faced with a load of hungry children and adults after a day of enjoying ourselves.  It was getting on in the day and I didn't want to have to go to the shops for food so I made the recipe which always goes down well, it's quick, yummy, the ingredients are all store-cupboard things and (mostly) everyone likes it .  

Spaghetti Carbonara.  

For that many tummies I tripled up the recipe-thus needing my biggest pot.  Everyone fed, I took one look at the scrambled egg caked at the bottom of the pot and stuffed it out of the way to face later.  I think we all know scrambled egg is a curse to try and clean off .  As expected, it was no easier later after the soak in cold water.  I thought to myself there has to be an easier way, so I whipped out Wiki Answers, click, click, click...magic internet...tell me the answer...

Some (obviously wealthy) respondents suggested throwing out the pots and buying new non-stick ones.  That was a non-runner, so reading on down I spotted a suggestion which was novel, if unlikely. Fill the pot with water and throw in a tumble dryer sheet, let it soak overnight.  Well, worth a try except I don't use tumble dryer sheets, but I guess maybe I've bought a pack one time.  I rummaged in the back of the cupboard till I found the forgotten pack with two completely dried out sheets left in it.  So nothing to lose, I duly filled up the pot, threw in the old dry cloths and shoved it out of sight again.

Next day I threw out the water and to be perfectly honest the scrambled egg mess looked exactly the same as it had the day before.  Aah, I'll just have to remove it the usual way, elbow grease...picked up the dish brush and was amazed...ok...maybe not amazed, but certainly pleased, that the egg just slid off, leaving a sparkling clean saucepan with no effort at all.

So there you have it.  Some day you'll be glad I told you this...mark my words!

Oh...and now my #1 daughter has just told me that you can also use dryer sheets to smooth down your frizzy hair after a day at the beach!! Hey, maybe I'll throw a pack in my trolley next time!

Date Night

It must be almost six months since I said my next post was 'Date Night' and the fact that it's only now I'm actually writing it is kind of indicative that date night is not something that magically happens by itself.

You see I needed to prepare for Christmas, then there posts about spring cleaning, decluttering, miscarriage, chivalrous knights and quick takes...everything that pushed 'Date Night' down the priority list.  And that is exactly the way date night was treated for a long time in my offline life too.

Another time I might post about getting into the 'mood', setting the romantic scene and so on but in this post I want to get across that date night is not something that should be neglected in any marriage, no matter what the material means, no matter how limited our time or no matter how tired we think we are.

As usual I can only illustrate with things from my own life though this isn't a blog about my life per se. Mainly it's what I know so I'm pretty sure of the facts.  Secondly, I don't think I'm that unusual, so I figure that if something applies to me there's a good chance it will apply to lots of other 'usual' people too.

Here's our little history of how we learned that we had been missing 'it'.

You may know by now that when we married my young husband was a student and had several years of lectures, exams, long hours in hospitals, rotations and more exams ahead of him.  Study was pretty much the priority.  As hoped, babies came hot and heavy and we were delighted with them all, little dollies to dress up and cuddle and nurture.  I worked full time with some 'unsocial' hours up until baby #2 arrived.  As well as that there were both families to spend time with and my own mother wasn't that well. Every waking minute was busy busy busy.

Now looking back I never once remember the thought crossing my mind that there was anything we were missing.  Now and again we would be invited to friends homes or attend a party together and after J qualified there were a few medical lectures and dinners to which wives were invited (not any more).  The common denominator of all these 'dates' was that we were always with other people and we would spend the evening small talking with other people with barely a sentence or glance shared with us as spouses.  

They were all things we more or less had to attend. They weren't dates.

From time to time one of us would say we should go out together...just us.  But when it came to actually arrange something we'd think of all the excuses and reasons we couldn't go out.  I don't even have to write them, you could rattle them off yourself...no babysitter, babysitters are (very) expensive...

(Gone are the days when teenagers were willing to sit in a house long after TV shut-down listening to a ticking clock and trying to stay awake lest you should be caught asleep on the job when the couple decided to lurch home at 4am having sworn blind they'd be home by 11pm and throw you £2...a pittance even then!) 

(sorry that was a rant, but I enjoyed it-nothing like the high horse of the memory of past injustices to get the blood pumping)

Anyway....our excuses...we were too tired, lets just watch this movie, ah we'll go out next week...next week...next week...

It was just too much effort and we didn't really mind as we'd just gotten into that pattern.

Jump forward about 14 years and five babies later,  in a darkened ultrasound room our perspective took a u-turn.  Over the next few months we were told to prepare ourselves for life with a very sick and probably disabled child.  Now amongst all the spiritual and godly and altruistic reactions to this change in our lives, we are all still human and it would be a lie to say it didn't strike me that our freedom of movement was about to be curtailed dramatically. However difficult it had been to organise a night out before this, there was no chance now.  

Around the same time this happened, a young mother I knew was diagnosed with a terminal illness. Her advice to everyone she met: 

'Appreciate your husband while you can and DO things together' 

She had the same regrets we were now feeling: you don't appreciate what you have until you see it slipping away.

Busyness is no excuse.

So we had a few last months before our sick little baby was going to arrive so what did we do?

Made up for lost time!!!

We literally tried to cram a lifetime of date-nights into those few months.  Every evening we were both free we went for an early-bird, a movie, a drink, a walk...like the autumn frenzy of ants gathering their winter supply.  But y'know what...it was GREAT!!! I loved every minute of those evenings.  We had even more to talk about those months and a dim restaurant and soft music helped put everything in perspective.  We talked and talked and talked like we hadn't done in years of nappies and runny noses.  

And only then did we see the absolute reality that most important relationship in any family is not the parents and the children, is not the father and his workplace, is not the mother and the baby, it's not even the mother and the sick baby.  The most important relationship in the family was ours...husband and wife...the marriage which is the sun around which the satellites, the children, orbit and function best.  

So you know what...no matter what difficulties this new little person was going to have, the marriage was still the most important thing and date night was going to be something that needed to be factored in come hell or high water.  Just because something is difficult is not good enough reason not to do it. (In fact that's another post I'm planning one of these days).  So date night is here to stay.

Sometimes we go once a week, sometimes once a fortnight but when I know it's coming up I feel a spring in my step, I'm thinking what will I wear..make a little extra effort with my hair, with my make up...a spray of perfume.  And maybe some nice candles by the way find their way into the boudoir...

And far from the children pining for our return, they're delighted to get rid of us for the evening...usually with the instruction...

"Don't Hurry Home!!"

So what are your thoughts on dating your spouse?

A Diamond Painted In Nail Lacquer

There was a good and true lover who cared for his beloved very, very much.

To show her how much he loved her he gave her a beautiful diamond ring.

It was pure and clear and dazzling white.

The beloved took the ring and she admired it's sparkle.

*************************

The next time the Lover met his beloved he looked at her hand to see the beautiful ring and it's perfect clear diamond. and he was horrified to see that the diamond was no longer pure and clear...the beloved had painted over the diamond with nail lacquer!

With tears in his eyes he asked why she had covered over his clear diamond with something so valueless.

"Well...WHY did you give me that thing anyway??

It was too bright, it hurt my eyes to look at it...

...and it was too boring!!

I didn't LIKE the colour...

...it had no colour...

...I like THIS colour better!

THIS colour is FUN"

*************************

This really happened you know.

It is a true story.

You see, this:

is now this:

~~~~~

This:

To this:

~~~~~

This:

Has become

This:

~~~~~

And the Lover:

Oh Him?   

He has as been replaced....

Happy Easter.