When you look for sth here

Sunday, 9 July 2017

It's magic

They're playing iPad games in the other room. Me, I'm having my hour of being oblivious to the world, with a book and a bed.

- mum, mum, he says coming over and looking at me, expecting to reply.
I don't. Just reply with a stare.
- mum, can you talk, please?
- you came over so clearly it's you who wants to talk (encouragement at its best), what's up?
- my sister has blood on her feet, he says.
- I see, is she in pain?
He nods.
- is she dying?
- yes
- so there'll be just the two of us now, you and me?
- yes
- I see. You came to tell me your sister is dying then?
- yes, of course.
- thank you, I say. Now you can go back to your games.
- I will, he says. And goes.
When I giggle and try to keep it silent (she didn't come to get first aid so noiseless laughter is fully justified), I can hear him coming back to his sister and saying to her: You are dead

... Sunday mornings. There's something magical about them.


 - she doesn't want to be my friend anymore, he says, sobbing.
(I'm a listener now, trying to complete a 15-minutes markup of that hour with a book that I started this morning.)
- why not?
- she's angry with me. My sister is angry with me. And I want her to be my friend, he says.

Then he adds something that makes this whole conversation a one-of-the-kind one. And worth remembering...

- because she is the best. And I want her to be friends with me.



... Sunday afternoons... the magic continues...

Tuesday, 27 June 2017

I like London in the rain

Have a feeling I wrote that already. It's a beginning of a song. The song, actually, as I recall the rhythm and the vibe quite well.

Anyway, it would suggest I like London 79% of the time. Including the fact June this year has been very summery, with lots of warmth and positive, summery feelings. No longer talking about the weather.


This whole being a mum thing is quite depressing. So nice weather actually helps a lot.

My thoughts today are very, very inconsistent, more than usual, at least. Thoughts floating around, banging at my door, trying to get in and overwhelm me.

The reason being, I lost it again. The being a calm and caring mum who doesn't get angry, counts to 100 at all times before saying a word, thinks before she speaks, and so on. Not today, sadly.

Not that it was that awful. But it is that feeling again, that irritating physical pain in my throat after I use that very low voice, not shouting really, but speaking with such intensity and opening almost all the filters between my brain and my mouth (never a good idea), when I know I lost it.

And now I am thinking, seeing my two little ones (although after our last amazing trip, of which I will definitely mention very soon), calmly sleeping, quiet and showing no signs of post-intense-maternal-attack stress disorder, I am drinking my orange juice (no wine, it's the middle of the week; rules, people!), and I am simply wondering, what did I teach my kids today?

First comes the guilt. I lost it, how can it be that I loose it, how can I expect them to deal with their own feelings since I cannot gulp down my own ones?

Then comes the reflection. I am not ideal (shocker), so maybe, just maybe (hello, my big fat justifier of all wrongdoings, you never let me down), it was a good thing, to let them know that I too have feelings that I cannot deal with?

Need to talk to them tomorrow. Ask how they feel.

Can't change the past. But can influence the present. Which, in turn, will modify the future, to some extent.
Cheers to that!

Thursday, 25 May 2017

Shhhtshhh aka jazz

So, I went to see that concert last night.
Seeing is not necessarily what we aim for though, is it? We're supposed to be listening to, immerse ourselves into music, forget where we are, relax, and enjoy. Yet, these days it's all about see and be seen. Look and be looked at. It's almost as if the whole society forgot there are other senses, including common sense, sadly. There's vision and nothing else. We even say 'vision' when we describe a clear goal and an organised set of strategic thoughts put in place. And we call someone 'sound', when they are logical, offer advice based on good judgement, while appearing, and in some cases even actually being, reliable.

I went to listen to jazz last night. And what a jazz evening it was:) There were barely any empty seats left. Which gives me hope.
In terms of vision, maybe it wasn't visionary, as the pieces were more about past experiences, memories, and feelings, both of the wonderful composer and pianist, and me. But it helped me put my own life in perspective a bit. While enjoying myself and feeling relaxed, and a bit at a distance with everything that has been going on recently.
The sound, that's a completely different level of reality. You could hear classical pieces jazzed up, and I mean definitely up:) you might have even get a piece of contemporary music created by another great composer who lived 40+ years ago, here modified and interpreted differently, with respect to its genuinely genius sounds. But the best parts were the original pieces. Where there was sadness and hope, and a bit of pain, with lots of smiles and giggles, and hope. At least that is what I heard. The beauty of a sound is you can anything you feel like, when you let yourself listen.

I went to see Leszek Mozdzer in kings place last night. A magical evening. A delight.

Sunday, 30 April 2017

Sir David and us

Sometimes I just want to hide under bed sheets all day and pretend I'm not here. So I did just that yesterday. With the two of them. The best lay-in you could imagine, honestly.


Well, it wasn't a 100% lay-in, by definition. One has to eat (and one like to eat, so that helps:). We were watching 'Life', beautiful series of tales about nature and its charm told by Sir David Attenborough. Highly recommended.
At first, I was informed by my 8.5-year old that it was not a good idea 'as the little one will have nightmares after watching this and I am definitely not watching it anyway.' There is logic (there always is) behind her words, I know these documentaries can be quite scary sometimes, but using me as a chair and gluing together did its job for him.
One cheetah later she was suddenly convinced, too. 'It's a cheetah! And an ostrich! They can run really fast!' Yep:)
What a nature can do to you and to your 'definitely not' attitude is somewhat amazing, isn't it?:)

So we are breaking our fast and watching the hippos jaw-dropping. Also, watching the hippos, jaw-dropping: 'Mummy, these hippos are really big!!' Fighting over a territory, or a flock, that is a pod. Whoever wins, gets in charge. I just can't stop thinking then that we humans are so mammals.
The birds semi-magically dancing on the water surface, again in a contest to win a flock (this time it is a flock). Which makes my definitely-not-watching 8.5-year old share her remarks: 'I don't exactly understand why they are fighting over females. Like if the females had nothing to say.' 'Well, in this case, they actually don't.' 'I know!, she says.' Obviously:) 'But it just doesn't make sense.'

It does for the flock. But for the humans, it doesn't. I'm glad she gets it. If she keeps it that way, it might make her life less easy but definitely more worthy. Life-worthy.

Tuesday, 11 April 2017

A month (and a day) away

Anyone - like if there was a crowd of readers falling over each other.... anyway, anyone reading this is highly appreciated, truly:) - anyone then expecting a cut-throwing and gasps-triggering review of 31+ days in a middle of nowhere, a.k.a. no WiFi available area: sorry, none of that. Not even remotely, ironically.

There was a vast amount of thoughts, some mean, most low-esteem (move along, nothing new to see here, self-pity again, really? boooriiing... did I mention move along?:), one or two falling into 'maybe I should post something, then again the whole idea of this blog is not about should but could and did, so...'

Let's face it: it was either a choice between focusing on what I do for a living and teeter at the so called verge of bankruptcy (don't laugh, it is closer than one may think; definitely closer than a naive version of me thinks), or call the whole 'let's pretend I am a good and decent parent' thing off and focus on lifetime experiences. Travelling to the other parts of the world? Why not! Some can do it, why can't I?

Two reasons. Well, 4 actually, depending on how you look at it. Two pairs of eyes, one blue, one greyish-greeny. Looking at me every day. Looking up to me most of the days. As long as they do, there is this mixture of being humble, honoured and responsible for looking back sincerely. Since I know it will not last. And in few years' time these eyes' owners will inevitably learn I am not the most intelligent (well... ;) and most well-informed human being. I kind of try to stay in the 'I am worth talking to' kind of zone. One in 7+billion. Yet, these two are one of a kind for me. And that is the most important thing. Does it define me? Hopefully, not. Does it impact me? Hellyeah. Does it make make me a more thoughtful person? No need to answer that. Right? :)

Friday, 10 March 2017

What was it that I wanted to say

... is a perfect line when you think the beauty is in the talking. And each and every minute of every conversation with every human being should be filled with words.

The thing is, it shouldn't.
(majority of the people who know me would be in shock, reading this as for them I seem to be the essence of spoken words; well, I like talking, true, and I talk a lot... but the ones who know me really well, they know:)

As the best way to know if you're in sync with someone is to keep silent. Not forever, that would be dreadful. But for a minute, or two.
It worked for me.

Sadly, that didn't secure the happy ever after ending. What does, though? Appreciation of what you have, regardless? Maybe. But then, one ends up avoiding one's own reflection, which is quite a thing, on a long term at least.

I think you just should never stop trying. The moment you feel perfectly comfortable and 'used to', that moment is the snowball to finish line. And I don't mean feeling good. I mean stop trying.


So, my most up-to-date recipe for a successful relationship (bear in mind there's no 'long-term' reference here, so it might as well apply to few months as to few years as, who knows, to a half of one's lifetime) is this: test the silence and feel good with your own reflection in a mirror.

Simple, isn't it?:)


Disclaimer (did I mention talkativeness earlier?:) - I refuse to believe each relationship should be successful. I refuse to believe there's black and white approach when defining a relationship - in each one of them you'll find something good and something bad. If you want to keep it going, follow my recipe, that's all. If you don't, maybe it's for the best...


Saturday, 4 March 2017

Inspiration can come from everywhere

I'm looking at my screen, reading the 'Have an inspiring day' text I just got from a friend of mine. How to reply to something like that?
There are so many things I would like to do and so many I should do, and they hardly match today.

I could pretend I'm not here but that won't stop the world bothering me. Obviously, if it did, I would complain even more. All this 'I want to hide and cry over my life' attitude is a show-off. As I 'm truly grateful for all that bothering I get, for each and every MumMumMumMumMum I get. Because in 10 years' time I will miss it. A lot.

So, deep sigh and off I go. How inspiring loading a washing machine can be:)?
And then it hits me. What if there was no kids clothes to load that machine with... Would I be that pretentious over-intelectual individual with sour soul and a grimace replacing a genuine smile (in fear of wrinkles)?

20 minutes later. Working on a document (reading other people's bios can be inspiring or depressing, depending how you look at it), I have a rare opportunity to see my team colouring a picture, hand in hand, in perfect harmony (that moment, and I really mean a moment as it won't last long, the moment is truly amazing). And then my Mini-Man says: 'I need a piece of paper to draw you a picture, Mum'. 3 seconds later he comes with something that makes me think he is some kind of Picasso, but starting from the end of Pablo's career and going backwards. The picture is clear and precise but abstract at the same time. 'It's a sad monster', says the artist and hands me his latest masterpiece. Before I manage to thank him, the LMSP comes, glances at the paper and immediately says: 'It looks like a dead plant with a mouth.' There. Each opinion matter. Some more cut-through than the others.

The artist seems to be oblivious to the deadly critique and comes back a minute later with another result of his creative work. 'And this is an angry monster.' LMSP looks at it and comments: 'How can it be an angry one. It has a baby face.'

And the world stops. When I realise an 8-year old knows babies are never angry... Something I wasn't aware of until not so long ago.

Thursday, 2 March 2017

We are reading

The Book Week

Yes, it's the world books' day today but at some places, including my monsters' school, they extended it to the whole week. So it's a full 5-day celebration of the written word. And the joy it brings to our lives if only we let it in.


Also, this is the first week in the last 52 we kind of blend in.
When the little one's being devastated we have nothing to read on the bus (10-minute journey, a.k.a. eternity in his opinion; with special relativity theory being in place for 112 years now who's going to argue with him about it? Certainly not me), like he was this morning, we're blessed with genuine smiles and semi-adoration from other passengers.
In truth, we are also slowly making progress on the let's-be-polite-and-use-our-library-voices-shall-we route. Which helps.
 By the way, realising the fact that a concept of a library voice is clearer than a concept of an indoor voice for a not-so-typical 3.5-year old, realising that is both amazing (that's me) and slightly intriguing (some unfulfilled psychologists, maybe).
Not to mention, it is another example of blending.

Actually, we look almost 100% normal.


Looking forward to a singing week now. As then we will be again a perfect illustration of a casual modern family, strolling down or up the hills in a park. With me singing quietly the shape of you, the SpiderGirl creating her own song. And the Mini-Man, crying his heart out for 3 kings who were riding the bumpy, bumpy road, regardless of seasons.

Sunday, 26 February 2017

Seven and a little bit of void

Anyone's wondering how counting to 12 should go in a year of the rooster?


According to my I-know-it!-I-know-it! expert (he has 1350+ days of experience on 🌏, who'd dare to question that:), it's:

one two three four five six seven eleven and twelve

Logically, it must be the case.
It's all about the unexpected, the shortcuts and the rhyming... 2017 in a flash. Or flesh. Whichever you prefer.

Sunday, 19 February 2017

The extraordinary race

Today we were witnessing an exemplary of courage, bravery and speed. Two contestants, more different to each other than you could assume, were racing in a 15-metre, a.k.a. gigantic and spectacular run among sofa, chair, desk lamp, and a bookcase.

Everybody won.

Everybody shared the same medal, accepting well-deserved congratulations.

Everybody was happy. For that very short moment of excitement and pure joy, there was magic.
I guess this is what we are all, ultimately, are looking for in life. The magic:)

Monday, 13 February 2017

44th

Today is the 44th day of the year. That's what the bus driver told me. Well, not him really, the info display on the bus, showing time, date, route and trivia stuff, like how many days are there left till the end of 2017 (321, interesting, as it's the exact reverse version of the, you guessed it, 123), whose names day it is (Greg and Kate), and finally which day of the year it is (my LMSP would know by now anyway; she really likes finding out solutions to math problems...)

To me, number 44 is quite specific. Not only because it's a combination of two exactly the same digits. But also because of that romantic poem written approximately 200 years ago by one of the 3 most significant Romantic poets of Polish literature. It was telling a story of the sort of chosen one who would save whoever needed to be saved. And that saviour's name was 44. So, it's important. It's the number and the name of the hero.

The day was not that heroic (unless you count my genuine attempts to stay calm and be brave at the dentist; you'd have to ask them whether successful, really, as my opinion is logically bias). But it meant something.

I had a chance to see people on the street. Not stare at them but notice the world around, the faces not so smiley, the talking not so light and positive, the air not so fresh and mild. All that was fascinating and sad at the same time.
Yet, when the false bomb alert came into equation, the one I was accidentally in the middle of, none of that mattered. The funny part was, I knew nothing of that.

Sometimes, not knowing is the best that can happen to you. Even if it is the last thing that happens to you.

Monday, 6 February 2017

Big black dog

- Can you please draw me a big black dog, please? - he says, giving me this 'I love you so why don't you do what I am asking you to? Nicely?' kind of look (ok, I'm trying here not to become this insanely fixated mother, who thinks and talks about no one else but her magnificent children. I'm trying... He's not that manipulative, he's cheeky and has these ideas that put him into trouble but he's a good boy, deep down inside he is a good one, so fingers crossed I won't spoil him...:)

5 minutes later we end up with a fox. It looks quite realistic, apart from the fact it is black. And nowhere near the dog some of us expected it to be.

- Looks like big dogs are out of my reach for now - I say - Is it ok if we have a fox instead?

He thinks about it before saying:
- How about a small black dog? Can you draw me a small one, please?

All of a sudden, trying to stay sane and not in awe of how genius a 3.5-year old can be, all that trying is very challenging.  Almost impossible. And for a short moment, it actually is.



(Turns out that small animals are within my artistic reach. Black dog in petite, anyone?:)

Tuesday, 24 January 2017

It's all about the name after all - again

One of the most important factors to consider when buying a portable solution used to be: Is it Mac, and why can't I afford it... Latest Apple developments slightly put me off (your welcome, IT budget:), so here I am, reviewing, checking, comparing.

And then, matching half of critical 'ingredients' is Yoga. They actually called it Yoga. And the more I think about it, the more I realise that one is exactly the one I need.

It all started with a car. It was the same brand that my dad's so made it all easier to manage. But the most important thing was its colour.  The brightest red, like the one of a Ferrari. OK, it didn't look the same, but the shades, the tones, the blushes and flushes. It fitted perfectly. And it survived my clumsiness as a beginner, saving me at least half a dozen times.

Then, I remember, good few years ago, in the hassle-free era of twenties (OK, it was ages ago...), I was to buy a bike. A cycling bike. Something good for riding, to make me slimmer (I should say 'even slimmer' but nope, that wouldn't be the case:), and happier, and give me that feeling of total freedom one truly appreciates when out, on the country road. Even better with your boyfriend, although then you sort of try harder so it's a bit more exhausting.

Anyway, being an expert in the subject I had no idea what I wanted. And then I saw the best of bikes. It was red (again:). And its name was Kraken.
Later that month it turned out there was quite an annoying manufacturing error included in the package, resulting in several internal punctures. Testing boyfriend's commitment to it all.


But the name. It was the most important thing.

So now, it's all about flexibility and relaxation. Things which, apparently, at least according to my best of knowledge, a laptop can give you...

<nearly two years ago I wrote this... some things change, some stay the same...:)>

Sunday, 22 January 2017

A coo coo clock

6:35 am on a Sunday morning.

In my dream world I'm in my dreams.

In my real world: 'Mummy, I'm going to make breakfast, and you'll sit on a chair and read me a book. Ok?', says the 3.5-years old impersonation of hope and energy.


 How to motivate people, part 34: 'early to rise...' ;)

Monday, 2 January 2017

Starting from the beginning

First few days of the new year are tricky... sleep is tricky, uncertainty of things is tricky, and above all, identifying synonyms to 'tricky' seems to be something of beyond achievable. This is where music helps. And chocolate, obviously.

Just discovered this EP, it's from 2015, by Soft Glas, really nice. Helps me embrace that feeling of freakiness around the whole new year new start methodology which is slightly overwhelming and not really helpful when you're trying to reshape your every day life without overanalysing (ha!) and underperforming at the same time.
Did I mention tricky? ...