I’m all up for freedom of expression, but sometimes my girls manage to leave me totally lost for words.(ok, this blog post suggests otherwise)
It’s been an awfully long day and I’m very tired, so when I wandered bleary eyed through the door 11 1/2 hours after wandering out bleary eyed this morning I wasn’t expecting to be greeted by this!
Umm… Yeah. So apparently she’s now a ninja.
I guess I shouldn’t expect any less. After all, I decided to be a frog yesterday (which continues to go well. I left today with stuff still outstanding and instead of being stressed out, I realized that it will still be there tomorrow and no-one will die – for those of you who are raising an eyebrow at this point, it all becomes clear in this post).
It just reminds me that the girls have developed the quirky sense of self that I always wanted them to have. Being girly is fine if that’s what you want to be, alternatively wear a top hat and monocle, or nab daddy’s hat and become a ninja until its bedtime.
I’m writing this sitting with them as they settle down for bed and the pair of them have opted to read to themselves instead of a story from me. It’s just another sign that they’re growing up and learning to love the world of imagination that books let you get lost in. I hope they never lose that and by adulthood, beanpole will be just as inclined to dress up like a ninja for the day on a whim.
But on to what I had originally intended to blog about before I was confronted by my eight year old assassin…
Ducks. They don’t hold grudges (technically, neither do frogs, but for the sake of this metaphor lets stick with the feathery pond creature). Having started to let things go, it’s become quite addictive and I was thrown another literary curve ball today with the statement “ducks, they don’t hold a grudge”. Are ducks very stressed? I have no idea, I guess they might be if you started to talk about hoisin sauce in a threatening manner to them… But in general, they swim about, occasionally have a jostle with another duck who’s barging in on their bread time then they swim off as if nothing had happened. They don’t actively avoid the bread stealing duck. They don’t shun the other duck for being a bread pirate. They quack their piece and its done.
I’m not a duck today. I’m still busy being a frog. I’ve been sitting on my lily pad contemplating the ducks though.
I realized that actually, this ability to step back from my racing panic thoughts isn’t something new. A while back when I was in a less than pleasant place, I had a bit of an epiphany whilst driving the car. I remember it clearly – I had just turned onto a roundabout and was freaking out about something that was worrying me and I just heard myself inside my head tell me to calm down and stop worrying as it can’t possibly be so bad that I need to crash the car and the panic went away. It felt like an hour going around that roundabout, but when I turned off I consciously realized that I was actually capable of coping with more than I gave myself credit for.
Within six months of that epiphany, I had got my life more together and whilst I have still been prone to fits of panic and self control to the point of insanity, I have maintained an inner monologue that means I can carry on for the most part. My goal is now to keep calm while I’m at it. Calm? Ok, no not calm, that suggests just suppressing everything. Pragmatic.
So, a pragmatic frog who seeks to let go of grudges.