Hi, I am a young at heart middle aged woman, navigating life , love and hardships like you.... I love to write, about anything and everything. I like to also write poetry. I love people , people watching, travelling, exploring and learning. Having enjoyed empty nest for a couple of years, it's time to get more selfish, more relaxed, more adventurous as I slide into my next decade... Looking forward to see what each new day brings...
in these uncertain times we have enough to worry about. The most important thing to worry about it staying safe and well and keeping others safe and well. Worrying about rent, mortgages, businesses etc should not be part of our burden now. I think the governments, around the world should just press pause, from the beginning of march and reboot, when this is all over, so no more debt accumulates, adding to people’s already enormous burden of keeping well.
When ugly is more than what the eye perceives. Ugly comes in many disguises
Authors own…. dancing in the shadows
I hope they are not ugly….
What does that say about me? What do I mean? I don’t know really. When I signed up to take in other people’s children and when I would get the phone call from the social worker asking me if I would take in someone, ‘I hope they’re not ugly’ would always spring to mind.
Rewind to years before I ever became a foster carer but to a time when a seed was planted. Working on placement whilst studying law, with young offenders in a secure unit I was horrified that they were so young and yet were locked up due to their ‘behaviour’. Having read their files, I was more appalled at the level of neglect they had received from their significant care givers. I knew then whose behaviour was uglier.
Through this placement my path crossed with foster carers, caring for a very pretty little baby girl. My heart broke. My 2-year-old was safe at home and surrounded by a loving family. The seed was truly planted.
When my 2-year-old was 15 I took in my first child. It was to be for 2 weeks. Having been given some of the back ground, it was with nervousness, excitement and even a little bit of trepidation that I agreed. Not only wondering how this would all go, she was also the same age as my 15-year-old, I would try to imagine how she would look, based purely on the information I was given about her circumstances.
In total I have fostered 13 children over the last 15 years and none have them have been ‘ugly’. But what does that even mean. Ugly can be determined in different ways can’t it
The dictionary definition is: –
unpleasant or repulsive, especially in appearance
involving or likely to involve violence or other unpleasantness
At times, over the years, there has been an element of ugliness with regard to unpleasantness, bad or undesirable behaviour. There have been challenges, battles, disagreements and it doesn’t necessarily come from the ‘child’ who has been fostered.
I have had battles with school teachers, my own biological children, social workers, my husband, family of origin members, my family members and of course, the children themselves.
I had wanted to foster children between the ages of 0 to 10, because at the time, my youngest children (twins) were 10 years old. I wanted all of my children to be older. As I said, the first child which was placed with me was 15, the same age as my oldest child.
As the two-week period came and went, turning into six months, things eventually became difficult during this period of adjustment, for my oldest child felt that her ‘life’ as she knew had been completely changed and taken over. She had to share her home, her school, her friends, her mum and dad, with this new girl. There was nowhere for her to ‘escape’ apart from her own bedroom. It was junior cert year and it was a difficult time. She felt for the girl and her circumstances, but was that really her concern, she was after all, just a kid herself and didn’t really need that sort of responsibility, did she? Wasn’t she already dealing with enough transitioning into and through teenage hood? So at times, it got ugly. The twins however, felt differently because to them, it was just another older sister. She didn’t impact on their friends, their after school activities or their school life.
Even now 15 years later, we are in touch with this girl. Lots of other children have made a way into our lives and most have stayed a part of it too. Fostering is not an easy task by any means, because there are many different angles, perspectives, personalities, dynamics, challenges and ugliness. There is however, also a sense of joy, a sense of satisfaction and a sense of hope that you can make a real difference in someone else’s life. Not only the child that you foster, but actually, your own and your biological children’s life. It teaches tolerance, respect, understanding, responsibility, sharing, even when they don’t want to and acceptance, even of the ugliness. It teaches people to grow, to have empathy, and to care, to care enough for someone else, someone who has to deal with the ugly.
People say they are non-judgmental, but I think people judge all the time, if only for a while…
photo author’s own…. how well a 5 year old can see and observe around his environment… even without binoculars .
Judging……
My grandson turned 5 yesterday. He is a very clever, observant and smart boy. He is definitely in tune with his feelings too. The night before his birthday, he go very upset, thinking that once he was 5, he would no longer be able to do crafts or colour in pictures of spiderman etc as he would be too old. His mother reassured him that not only could he still do his crafts and colouring, but that he would get better and better at it and anything that he did, the older he gets. He was very reassured and of course, believed his mother.
I went to see him on his birthday, well to have a social distance visit with him so I could leave his birthday present in the garden for him. After thanking me, he proceeded to tell me that he been upset the night before his birthday because he thought that he would not be able to colour or craft once he was 5 but that his mammy told him that he would be able to and not only that, but that he would get better and better. I also reassured him that yes, that was the case and that I am now 55 and I can still paint, draw and make things and that I got better with age. He smiled and nodded.
We were both painting at my house about a month ago, I was doing an abstract. He told me that my painting looked like a child had done it! Now thinking back to our conversation yesterday, I am a little perturbed that when he smiled and nodded at me, he was being polite, thinking that by 55 I should be able to paint better than something that looked like a child had done it! I think he may have been judging me!
These are very different times which we live in, especially the last few weeks and it is having an impact on everyone, all ages, across the world. This sensitive 5 year old picks up on everything around him and he is alert to everything in his environment and the people around him.
Last week he and his mother were having a chat which lead to how he views the family around him and it goes something like this:-
Nana L – drinks tea
Grandad L drinks champagne
Nanny M smokes
Grandad J builds
Nanny C Judges (means bosses everyone) 🙂
Grandad K works all the time
Daddy drinks cans of boost
Mammy drinks milk (no I don’t) she says
Jess watches Netflix
Jake says cool stuff
Uncle D gives out to B every day!
Aunty S tells C not to tease
Little J goes to school
and S…. poos
Well, we did have a giggle. Out of the mouths of babes hey. Well me being Nanny C, I took a little time to reflect. Am I really ‘Judgey/ bossy’? Well, yes I guess I am. It’s not the first time and I don’t think it will be the last time that someone will say that to be honest
I Judge EVERYTHING, straight away, and I am not ashamed to admit it. However, I am not the only one. You do too! People like to say that they don’t judge but, we all do. You are judging this piece of writing right now. I first wrote this in a notepad in a beautiful leather bound case which I bought in a shop in Dingle. I judged it as soon as I saw it, thought it was beautiful and bought it. Others may have seen it and thought it was just OK or too expensive, that would be their judgement on it.
The dictionary definition of to judge is:-
to form an opinion or conclusion
We all form opinions everyday, from the weather to what to wear, eat or how people interact with each other etc, etc. The dictionary definition is to form an opinion OR conclusion, not necessarily both, at the same time. In my defense then, I would say that when I form an opinion I do not always come to a conclusion on something, that there is room for manoeuvre. For example, lets take the weather. I may say ‘I don’t think it will rain all day’. That is not a foregone conclusion, merely my opinion. A meteorologist may be able to put me right, given that she/he is more expert in the field of weather, but even experts sometimes get it wrong.
I mind this particular grandchild 3 days per week whilst his mother is at work and sometimes at the week end too, until she gets back from work. He spends a lot of time with me, in usual circumstances, at this moment he is locked in at home with his mammy and loving every minute of having her home! He has been known to call me mammy 2, in the absence of mammy 1, but mammy 1 is his absolute number 1 person in his life I might add. As much as I love him and my 3 other grandchildren, I am known to somewhat spoil them more than I did their mothers when they were little. That is a grandmother’s prerogative is it not? Having said that, I still have to ensure he is ‘fed and watered’ properly and nutritionally first. I also have to ensure he is ‘bathed and bed’ by a reasonable hour, so I can absolutely understand his view of me as being ‘bossy’.
Also, I still have two teens in the house and boy oh boy do they test my patience at times. My little 5 year old is often a vicarious party to the conversations which go on between us plus the fact that they often have to be coerced, encouraged and told what to do and how to do it by yours truly, moi! Hence, of course I am a bossy boots.
I would imagine he has taken in a great many of the conversations we have had regarding, teens, indulgent and otherwise, boys, clothes, and make up styles to name but a few. Make up, especially seems to be a regular topic in the house in that I see lots of people contouring their faces to within an inch of their lives. Making themselves look like drag queens with the over made up eyes, lips and enormous eyelashes, that a bird could build a nest in. Then of course, there are the eyebrows and the shiney noses. Who really in their right mind wants to look like Groucho Marx about the brows and Rudolph with the ‘shiney nose’. Girls, put down the high lighter and step away from the brow pack…. Dont you know you are to only enhance what you already have, not recreate it with a pencil! See there I go again with the judging.
I started this piece by saying my 5 year old grandson is a very clever, observant and smart boy. I have judged him correctly on this occasion, not only is that my opinion it is also my conclusion about him. I also observe that he too can be a little bossy at times….. he must take after his nanny C.
In conclusion, however, to his list, when I am no longer ‘actively’ parenting or childminding grandchildren, I propose to be more like grandad L, and drink Champagne…..
As quiet descends, the world makes amends And begins to heal and renew Rivers run free and flow to the sea No sight of a boat or canoe
The fish in Venice, no longer are menaced By people or gondala alike Returning to water, where of course they ought to Since panic and chaos has spiked.
The sun set spectacular, they’ve spoke in the vernacular To stay in and please comply There’s no need to panic, it’ll just make you manic And the price to pay, sky high.
Though some will admire us, in spite if this virus To plough on an help the sick Spare a thought for their need, and stop with the greed Be wise with the choices you pick.
This Covid-19, requires to be clean If we want it to go away So go wash your hands, yes that’s what it commands To keep the death rate at Bay….
Watching the program on RTE,:Redress, breaking the silence, I was very sad, angry and upset for the victims. I wrote down words some had used and put them into this poem. For all people of abuse, institutional or otherwise, Keep fighting, keep surviving,
How can I describe this ‘state’ that I am in? It is easy to articulate words, adjectives, but that is not the entire picture. It’s more than that. For one little word ‘Grief’, means so many different things. This one syllable word does not translate my ‘state’ of being.
At times, it is all consuming. A feeling of sadness, deeper than any crevice or hole and the possibility of crawling out seems improbable, unlikely and impossible. It is seismic, insurmountable, paralizing, yet ‘life goes on’. That is what they say, and usually, they are right. Life does indeed go on, but does the grief go away or does that go on too? Yes, night follows day, time continues to move, people move and the world rotates. Grief too rotates and I am at the centre of it. I am the axis for it. It changes me, or do I change it?
I am in the black hole and I don’t see you, I don’t hear you. I don’t see or hear anyone. I am remote. I am in my thunderous, swirling hurricane and I am spiralling deeper and deeper. I lock myself away. I curl up in a ball, I am foetal. I am helpless. I need an interaction, a distraction. I need transient nourishment. The pain is too much. I am starving with the hunger of needing and wanting you. I drink in the numbness. It soothes me. It entices me to its open arms and cradles me. It understands my pain and for a while, it takes it away and I am peaceful, blissful, for you are with me again and we are in each-other’s arms.
I see and hear you as you come into view. I get so excited at the recognition of you. It’s the most wonderful, warm feeling and it envelops me. I know you feel it too. I see it in your face. I watch your eyes light up, as do mine, and we embrace. We hold and try to cling on, but then in a cruel twist of fate, you are gone again. I am alone again, alone in my grief.
Oh people around me tread carefully, offer me the usual platitudes but I know they are getting frustrated with me. I see it in their eyes, I hear it in their voices. Their patience is waning and wearing thin. They expect me to just accept it, this loss, but I cannot, it is beyond my capability to do so. This grief is a thief of time and presence of normality and ordinary regularity. I want that too, more than anything, more than they want it. What do they know about it? They say they understand, but they don’t. How can they? They didn’t experience this loss.
All I have now are my thoughts and feelings of you. My memories come and go. My mind is distorted, somehow it forgets and regresses and then it remembers. That is when I wish I wasn’t here either. I just want to be there with you. Everything is clear and calm and easy there. Nothing makes sense here. I try to reason, to rationalise, but it’s just too big to fathom and understand and that is why I crumble and shout and scream. I’m afraid, I am terrified of ‘what next’?
How can I move on, just like that? It is not that simple, it’s too complex. I cannot get used to it, your absence. I too wish to become absent, nothing else matters. I will just submit to it. I invite it and long or it to come and get me. I wait submissively for the rotation, to bring me back to you. It is only there that I know who I am. When I am back there with you, that is normal, that is home, that is me, in my proper ‘state’. I recognise myself there and I remember who I once was before this decrepitude enslaved me. I see me clearly with clarity and I am, once again, intoxicated with happiness. I, somehow made it back, and for a while I am not grieving. Then, without warning, I disappear abruptly, with wanton abandon and again, find myself surrendering to grief.
There’s a war inside me but I must remain calm Hide vital signs, it will cause untold harm Carry on doing all sorts of normal Day to day bullshit keeping it formal Bury all the secrets, desires and vices Well hidden from them, cos you know what the price is Tip toe outside, inhale that fresh air Drink in the freedom, run if you dare Dance with the devil, make a pledge with your soul What is it now? your ultimate goal Keeping the peace, has its own pricey deal Paper over the Cracks there’s much to conceal Passion’s in fashion it’s bubbling within Forever told it’s the ultimate sin Cavorting and frolicking, sounds like fun Step out of the clouds and into the sun Pounding and pumping expressing out loud Not quietly and meekly, not making a sound Dancing and drinking, smoking some weed Walking naked, this body has needs Take off the shakles and old rusted chains There’s always tomorrow to start again Today let this war just come to an end And this new stage of life, simply transcend Excess is what teenagers do, pushing the boundaries, rebirthing, anew Identities are found at this turbulent time Restless, yet fierce and disturbed of mind Trying new things, perhaps shooting up Drinking in life from an overflowing cup So now it’s my time, I just want to try I don’t want it all to pass me by Time to run, set myself free I spent my life, nurturing family Go down the path, and out of the gate Let down your hair, it’s never too late So what if you shock them for claiming your time Seeking out fun is not a crime Your family is grown, their time has come To start setting boundaries, to be the sensible one Off you go just flee that empty nest This life comes just once, it’s not a test So break out the chains and end that war Time for adventure, walk out the door Whatever it is that you seek or find Discover the you that you’d left behind Get rid of the baggage, the accumulated faults Your time is now, it’s time to revolt
Relay shun ships 
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