11 November. I am grateful for rainy lazy pj sundays. (And for daughters who don’t follow this blog).
three hundred and one
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Author Archives: lianne cawood
roar
My friends and I have often discussed moms and their kids. Throughout the years. As in lionesses and their cubs. And the one thing we have all always recognised is that the one thing that you can never ever do is criticise another child’s behaviour. Even if you believe it’s warranted. And I believe that. I can say my princess is damn cheeky, but if you say it I dare say my lioness hackles will rise. So I get it. And then there’s the behaviour itself and what we find acceptable in our kids. And in others. Or not. And here we all differ. But one thing I find very hard to stand by and not respond to is ganging up, bitchiness, meanness. Unkindness. And I don’t care who is doing it. Two against one. Even if the intention is not to hurt as much as it sadly does. Not in my own home and not out in the world. And I’ve seen my own daughter have a hand in someone’s pain, in our home. And maybe not really knowing exactly how unkind her seemingly innocent disregard of another was. But I made damn sure she understood. As a mother should. Because this lioness protects all cubs not just her own. I simply cannot tolerate unkindness in my midst. Ever. And while I can’t fix the whole world I can speak up when it happens in my little world. And yes, to my cubs. Consequences be damned.
three hundred
10 November. I am grateful for that ahhh moment. For the smell, the taste, the warmth, the caffeine hit, the blend, the barista, whatever. It just works for me. Especially on a Saturday morning.
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9 November. Today I am grateful for a serendipitous meeting with a wise and gentle friend along a soul filled coastal track, a distinctive orange cap and most especially a sweaty hug.
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Today was not the best day. It appears we may have a deal breaker building issue on the house. No supplier is responding when they said they would. The bank manager is on leave, her replacement is ill and the relevant file is in transit. Our attorney speaks in legalese. My husband is away again. My teenage daughter and I are rubbing each other up the wrong way. My youngest daughter’s friends are hurting her feelings. Not the best day for that either, because I was already on the warpath. I left three messages for B. I am grateful my fourth call got through, not because anything was resolved but because when I started to rant at him too saying, surely you should be able to take a call from your mother, I mean wife, B burst out laughing. I did try cover it up but no way. It was very funny. I am so very grateful for the perspective of a belly laugh. It is so easy to take life much too seriously.
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I am grateful for the dinner Kate cooked for Jem and I tonight. But not so much for the sulks and slammed doors that happened thereafter because Jem wasn’t hungry and Kate felt she should have been more appreciative. Nor for being disdainfully accused of having anger management problems after I raised my voice (a little) to try and restore calm in the house, as one does. Jeez Kate reminds me of me at that age. I remember thinking I was surrounded by idiots. I can see she thinks it too. Little shit. Yip, it all went down in the Cawood household tonight. I blame late nights and far too many hormones. Oh, but I am grateful for the spotless kitchen Kate left. My baby really is growing up.
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6 November. I admit today I am grateful for Sara Blakely and her Spanx. Or any version thereof. It meant I could wear the clingy what the hell was I thinking dress I’ve had in my wardrobe with the tags still on for almost a year. Vanity ruled the day I am sad but not too shy to admit.
respect
Yesterday was a good day. A day filled with much laughter, far too many margheritas and good honest fun with lovely and at times delightfully mad friends. But a day that also left me quietly deflated. I saw so many sad women looking for happiness, in what was obvious to all but themselves, the wrong places. Beautiful successful women sadly clearly not realising quite how innately beautiful they are by selling themselves short. Women so desperately and so sadly needing reassurance they’ll take it no matter where it comes from. You all know how much I love women, how much respect I have for our inner strength, how deeply capable I believe we all are. How much I know we all care. But you also know how sad it makes me when women let each other down. And that I believe it’s usually due to fear, fear of not being good enough, fear of being left out, fear of being ignored, fear of being alone, fear of not being loved. But what makes me the saddest of all, is seeing women letting themselves down. I wish every woman could know her worth. And know that it’s not to be found in a bottle or with someone else’s husband or by accepting dismissive or disrespectful treatment by others. I wish all women the respect they so dearly deserve, the only respect that really matters. Their self respect.
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I will never tire of the sight of my little ‘princesses’ in the kitchen. I am grateful to them for taking charge of dinner tonight because the biggest princess of all had her nails done today. And I didn’t even have to bribe them. Sweet things.
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I am grateful for two hands, one big and one small that found each other across the bed on a Sunday morning. I love our family Sunday morning cuddles, made even more precious because B is leaving us on Monday again.
grace and dignity 