Question of the day.

What was the last thing you texted?

My answer:

I was texting with Zofijka a while ago. Since her and me are the only people in our family who have iPhones, and Sofi can spend ages on the phone when not controlled, I’ve set up a family cloud for us a while ago and I control her screen time so that Mum is happy. It’s a compromise because otherwise my Mum freaks out so much that Sofi isn’t allowed Internet access on her phone, and this way it’s quite pointless that she has an iPhone at all. This is quite overwhelming for me though I’m happy to help Mum, I just don’t like the part of being the bad guy too much, and it’s quite a responsibility even if I’m mostly asking Mum what Sofi should be allowed or not allowed as Sofi is not my child so I can’t and don’t want to make decisions about her, at least not when Mum is around. And today Mum told me that I should increase Sofi’s downtime, quite drastically, and basically now she can use her phone only three hours a day. Some half an hour later she sent me an angry text (she is allowed to text during downtime) asking if I’ve limited her WhatsApp use as well, I said no, we haven’t talked about that with Mum, but actually I should probably ask her, because it’s not a good idea for her to have limitless access to WhatsApp now during school year. Sofi bombarded me then with frantic and aggressive texts about how much she needs WhatsApp and how key it is for her daily functioning, well she didn’t phrase it this way but it sounded as if her life depended on 24/7 access to WhatsApp. I mentioned that even if her WhatsApp will be limited, she’ll still have access to normal messages, so I don’t see the problem, to which Sofi responded that WhatsApp is almost the same as messages so it shouldn’t be limited. Well, if WhatsApp is the same as messages, what’s the point in using both of them and why does it matter for her so much which one does she use? I was feeling compelled to limit her WhatsApp just for her awful behaviour, but first I called Mum and told her about the situation and asked what she wants to do. And Mum wanted Sofi to have her standard app limit – that is an hour and 50 minutes as for most of her apps – for WhatsApp, so I cut it down and texted Sofi about it. So that was my last text.

Oh, and if WhatsApp counts as texting too, just while writing this post I got a message on there from Dad, who sent me some YouTube video, and I replied to him gently encouraging him to think independently because his source is quite biased and spreads a lot of bullshit, which I’m sure he’d notice if he’d thought of it before sharing with everyone. Uh, the way I put it on here sounds kinda jerky I guess, but my message really did not, I’m just a bad translator, even of my own writing, lol.

You? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

Hi people! ๐Ÿ™‚

What would be the absolute worst name you could give your child?

My answer:

Well, it depends on so many things, in my opinion. It depends on whether we are talking objectively what is the worst (most harmful) way of naming a baby, or rather the worst way of choosing a name for your baby, or subjectively which name I dislike the most. If we’re talking about the latter, just as I know lots of beautiful names that I love and could give my children, I’ve also learnt about lots of names from all sorts of cultures that I intensely dislike and it’s hard to pick just one that I would dislike the most and think that it’s the absolute worst. If we’re talking about the former, I think there are lots of ways to do it wrong, but then even when we’d try to look at it objectively everyone has so different values and opinions when it comes to ochoosing a name. And there are so many names out there that I’ve heard about over the years and would have never thought in the past that anyone coould ever use, yet people do use them. Shooter, Lucifer, Legia (as in Polish football team Legia-Warsaw, or at least I’ve heard about a daddy wanting to call her daughter this, but I don’t know if he succeeded with our back then quite strict naming laws), Google, Brfxxccxxmnpcccclllmmnprxvclmnckssqlbb11116 pronounced as Albin, or A, also pronounced as Albin (an “artistic” creation of Swedish parents Lasse Diding and Elisabeth Hallin, though the boy didn’t get named either in the end, but was nameless for some six years instead), or some eccentric Puritan names like Silence, which are all quite extreme examples of really bad ways of naming your child. But it’s hard to pick the worst, really. Then there are people like my Mum who flinch at every normal name they’d never heard onn a real person when they first hear of it being used on a baby. Recently our distant relatives called their baby boy Noe (Noah in English) and while Noah is very popular in the US, Noe is not so much in Poland, even though the N as a first letter is quite a trendy theme at the moment in my view, although a bit more for the girls, and Biblical boy names have been ruling for a while, and short names have been getting a lot of attention as well. The reason for Noe not being in favour is probably that it ends in -e, while it’s rather uncommon (and may feel unnatural for many people) for a masculine Polish name to end with a vowel other than -i or -y. I don’t know any guys called Noe personally. Anyways, my Mum told me that in a very horrified, indignant voice, and when I said “So what? Noe isn’t a usual name, but I don’t see anything wrong with it if they like it so much”, she was even more horrified and like: “But how will they call him, in normal life, every day?! Ark? There’s no nickname for Noe!”. Oh yes, that’s such a dilemma! But Poles like their nicknames. My Mum’s name is Anna, short enough, right? But no one calls her Anna, just as hardly any other Annas are just Annas. A Polish Anna usually automatically goes by Ania, unless she’s prepared for a life-long battle of correcting everyone. I love the name Anna so much but Ania is so superficial and bland. So I said that nicknames are only a matter of creativity, at least in our language, you have pretty much endless possibilities, and after all there are no rules that one nickname works with only one name, no one said at all that your nickname has to be related to your birth name. So if he likes to go by Ark indeed, why the heck can’t he? I’m sure it’s better to be the only Noe in school than the 30th Jakub, especially that the name is – like most Polish names – very straightforward in spelling, declination and what not, so should not be overly stigmatising or burdening unless he keeps bumping into such strange judgy people like my Mum. ๐Ÿ˜€ Or yesterday Sofi told us that there’s a boy called Michael in her school. The Polish version of Michael is Michaล‚, and Michael on a Polish person certainly would feel a tad pretentious to most Polish people (including myself) because the spelling is not in-line with our phonetics, because we have our own native form of the name and despite it’s now legal to use names from foreign cultures with non-phonetical spellings, it’s still a new thing and generally it tends to be a bit of an informal naming rule for most people still not to use names from different cultures if we have a native equivalent or if that foreign name doesn’t adapt well to the language. And the boy doesn’t seem to have foreign roots or anything. So my Mum rolled her eyes and was like: “Really…? He’s Michael! I thought they were such normal people!”. ๐Ÿ˜€ So, as you see, it often doesn’t take much to shock people, even though I personally think that, while I would never call my child Michael in Poland and while it is a bit pretentious, it’s not harmful or somehow really stigmatising in a major way.

So, let’s just talk about what I would try to do or avoid doing when naming my potential baby, some rules that I would stick to, not necessarily about my personal style as such but more like to simply make sure that my child’s name will be at least bearable to them to live with for their entire life.

I would avoid names that feel dated and not ready for a comeback yet, so names that are typical for either my generation or the generation of my parents, because by the time my child would go to school or something, it’s likely that the name would feel cringey to their peers if it was massively popular in, say, the 90’s and then has become much less popular so that it’s associated with the 90’s very strongly and is more common among the mums or dads. I’d also try to avoid names that would seem “seasonal” to me. Ones that get a lot of usage in a short while and then quickly fall downwards in popularity to never come back again.

Unless the child would have some foreign heritage in close family, I would not use a name that could be difficult to spell here, because Polish is a phonetic language and almost everything is spelled as it’s said. It wouldn’t necessarily have to be a known Polish name though, for example my long-time favourite for a potential baby girl is Saskia. And I’ve just looked through the popularity list for the whole Polish population and couldn’t find the name Saskia there at all, so if there are any Saskias here there is less than 100 of them. yet still it ends with an -a, as a proper, traditional Polish feminine noun should, and poses no pronunciation or spelling dilemmas. I think, like most people, I’d be in that category of parents who want something unique but not too qree8tyv.

I have nothing against people using unisex names, but it’s not a thing here, and that’s probably part of why I am not a big enthusiast of them myself, with some exceptions. But I would definitely try to avoid unisex names, or at least those that are rather similarly often used for both genders, I would mind much less names like Evelyn (which is an adorable name) which use on males is pretty much historical from what i know. If I’d want to use a word name, in Polish I’d probably never do it at all because there are only few traditionally used word names and the idea is still very new. If I were to use an English word name, I’d likely use it for a middle, especially if it’s a frequently used word, or has some very specific associations. Though the word names category is very broad, I guess even Jack could count, and I think there’s absolutely nothing wrong with using names like that as they’re well known as names and very normal. My long-time word name favourite is Hyacinth, and I’d be also happy to use that, and surprisingly, on either gender. But that would only be if I lived in an English-speaking country.

Because I believe in that name & personality thing as you probably know, and I would really hate to give my child a name that wouldn’t miss their personality, I would be careful with using family/honour names. Of course honouring someone is a great thing, but I want my child to have an identity of his own, so I would never give him a first and middle name of his grandad, rather, I’d use first name of his one grandad and second of the other. And I’d never do things like promising someone ahead of time, before seeing my baby, that I’ll name my baby after them for sure. Generally I think I would want to have some names prepared before the child’s arrival but I would not make a definite decision before seeing the child and spending some time with them, I must get a feel of them, I don’t want them to be conflicted internally. If there was a tradition in my family of using family names from generation to generation (which there sort of is because me and my siblings, my Dad and all his siblings all have middle names after our parents), I’d break this tradition if I thought that the name would clash with my kid.

What would be the worst name/way of naming for you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

If you had to name your child after a city, what would you name them? Boy AND girl.

My answer:

Well. I guess that depends… because in Poland we don’t really have the tradition of using geographic names as human first names, and for a long time, when we had official naming rules, it was actually not allowed, or at least somehow not correct from the linguistic point of view. We do have some names that are well-known as names and at the same time happen to be names of cities, but it’s not a thing really to name babies after places, even now when we no longer have that rule. I can’t really think of many Polish given names that would coincide with city names except for some very old Slavic names (like there’s a Polish town or city, I’m not sure what it qualifies as, anyway it’s called Wrocล‚aw, and there used to be an old Slavic name Wrocล‚aw as well) but those don’t really appeal to me. There also are names of foreign cities like Wiktoria, Adelajda, Konstancja and Florencja (though I’ve never seen Florencja in actual use, it’s rather Flora or Florentyna), or even Emilia as there’s Reggio Emilia in Italy, and I do like them though I’m not sure I like Konstancja and Adelajda enough to use them, and I think Wiktoria is too popular for me, and I wouldn’t call my child Emilia, first because it is my name and second because it’s popular for babies right now. So, if we are talking about Polish, I’m a bit clueless. Oh, I could use Filadelfia for a girl and call her Fila, but that would be really extravagant! ๐Ÿ˜€ Other than that I really can’t think of many city and people names in Polish.

I have more ideas if we’re talking about English names, assuming I lived in the English-speaking world or wanted to give my child a foreign name for some reason. For a boy, I think I’d go with Milan, just because I like this name and quite a lot. I also like Hamilton because I have nice associations with it, though the name itself is not very much my style and if I had any more children I’d probably have a hard time finding names that would fit with Hamilton and that I would like. But oh… wait, I’ve just got an idea! Isn’t there a city somewhere in the US that’s called Jackson? So yeah, I could happily go with that! I could have either two sons Hamilton and Jackson because I happen to like them both even though they aren’t exactly the kind of names I normally tend to like, or I could have one boy called Milan Jackson, but going by Jack, yay! I just feel like Milan Jackson goes better than Jackson Milan, what do you think? For girls, I could make whole city combos! I could happily use Sofia, Florence, Adelaide (which I like more than Adelajda), Victoria, Chelsea (though I’d rather use Chelsea as a middle), Laris(s)a. So, those are my ideas.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚ It doesn’t have to be a lot of ideas, of course, can be just for one girl and one boy.

Song of the day (25th January) – Monica Tรถrnell – “Faster Fantasis Visa” (Aunt Fantasy’s Song”.

Hey guys! ๐Ÿ™‚

I’d like to introduce you to a singer that I know quite well pretty much since I’ve become familiar with Cornelis Vreeswijk. Some of her music I like, some not so much, but for sure, her career and Cornelis’ were closely related, because Cornelis Vreeswijk was the one who discovered her in the 1970’s.

Monica Tรถrnell is from Hรคlsingland, and enjoyed singing since an early age. As a young girl, she was singing at the opening of a restaurant of her father, and Cornelis was passing by and heard her. He liked her voice and somehow from there it has started, he helped Monica to develop her career and she also toured with him for a bit and featured on one of his albums. She was very popular in Sweden in the following years, until at some point, about 20 years after the beginning of her singing career, she started having serious health issues like myasthenia gravis so had to step away from singing. However she did release her newest album some… 2 years ago, I believe. Her voice is very characteristic, right now as she is older she doesn’t sound as good in my opinion, but there are people who like her nowadays voice even more. When she was younger, she had really wide vocal range, and her vocal abilities as well as the sound of her voice and also her style a little bit, remind me very strongly of Janis Joplin, though maybe it’s just me. Her music is a sort of blending of folk, pop and rock and sounds quite characteristically of 70’s-80’s. Monica has also been very good at drawing and painting since childhood, and she does paint still.

I was wondering for a long time which song of her I wanted to share with you because I have quite a few favourites, but I didn’t want the language to be too big a bareer – as most of her songs are in Swedish. – The one I chose finally is also in Swedish, but I think it shouldn’t be difficult for me to describe to you what it is about so you can have a clear idea.

The song is called “Faster Fantasis Visa” and I’ve always thought that it sounds like from some sort of an old children’s programme, and it seems like I had a surprisingly good hunch because, well, yes, it is! I couldn’t find much info on it other than the programme was one of the first children’s programmes in the Swedish television and started out in the 50’s, and was called “Humle och Dumle”, and I believe Faster Fantasi (Aunt Fantasy) must just be one of the characters, but, apart from what’s in the song, I didn’t find any info about her.

I like her because she’s kinda like me. ๐Ÿ˜€ From the song we know that her full name is Eva Britta Karin Katarina. She sounds like an extremely refined and experienced person. She’s been to India, China, Sahara, Italy (twice actually), London, Vienna, Argentina, Yugoslavia, England, Netherlands, Pakistan, New Zealand, Gรถteborg, Moscow, Copenhagen, Berlin… all around the world virtually as you can see… but – she adds – “I’ve never been outside my door, because I travel in fantasy”. Ain’t that so very cool?! ๐Ÿ™‚

The Human Life of Misha Hhrrru? ep. 6.

Hhrrru? ๐Ÿ˜ป
This is Misha. How are you pets and peeps doing? Any yummy things you’ve eaten this week? Any adventures? Me, I almost choked with a bracelet yesterday. Mum hung it on my neck, when Mila wasn’t around. Mila never lets people decorate me like a Christmas tree because it has happened a few times that it hooked on to something and I couldn’t free myself, and it almost choked me. That was a loose bracelet with a cat on it and Mum thought nothing would happen to me but I didn’t like the idea, and neither did Mila. It started to irritate me last evening and I wanted to do something with it and was yanking on it with my teeth, and then I couldn’t free my teeth from it and was choking with it again. Mila was soooo mad at Mum, and I was too, sort of.
Oh but I promised you to share my what-if human lifestory. So, here is episode 6. There won’t be episodes 1-5 because those are reserved just for Zofijka according to her request. So we’re starting at the time when I’m six years old. Here we go: *****
The Human Life of Misha Hhrrru? Ep. 6.
January 30.
It’s my 6th birthday today, yay! SO I have a lot to talk about. It was a fantastic day! I’m so happy, I couldn’t sleep last night, wondering what will happen today and what presents I will get. So I’m a bit sleepy now. I got up almost as soon as the sun was out and got dressed super quickly, like I never do, and was downstairs in 5 minutes.
“Oh, Misha, you’re up already?” – Mum was in the kitchen, stirring something, and looked very surprised. “What happened, you’re never out of bed that early on Saturdays? Did you forget it’s weekend?”
“Did you forget that it’s my birthday, mum?” – I chirped and felt so happy that I couldn’t resist and jumped up high in the air. I’m very good at jumping.
“Oh, really?! I completely forgot!” – I felt very hurt. How could she forget about my birthday? And yesterday she remembered, so why not now? “Mum, how can you not remember?” – I said with a very sad face.
“Oh Misha, you little silly sausage, how could I forget about your birthday? Of course I didn’t! I was just joking.” – I breathed a sigh of relief and laughed, at that “sausage”, I love sausages. She quickly came over to me and scooped me in her arms, and started spinning around the kitchen with me, as she used to when I was younger, singing Happy Birthday, and planting kisses all over my face in the meantime. “Happy birthday, my little, sweet, precious boy”.
“Mum, I am six… I’m not little” – I said, starting to feel a bit dizzy and embarrassed.
“Okay, okay, giant Misha. You must be patient and understanding with your old mother. For me, you will always be my tiny little Misha who is 3 and a half. My memory isn’t that good to always catch up with your age. Now, sit down and have a mug of hot chocolate. I’ve just made it for you.”
“Yeah, that’s what I love most about having a birthday. I always get a big mug of steaming hot chocolate. Not a cup, a mug. And there was a little cupcake with a decorative lettering on it saying “Happy birthday, Misha”. I knew it wasn’t my mum who made it, my mum is rubbish at baking, everyone knows it, but it felt so cool that I had my own special cupcake with Misha written on it. It felt a little odd to eat it. Most happily I would just keep it until monday and show off with it at the nursery, but… it was too yummy. So I sat at the table and ate my food. Mum didn’t even force me to eat sandwiches, as she always does. I hate bread. But I do like cupcakes. As I was eating, I could hear dad waking up and yawning, and pottering around the room. I was still enjoying my meal and just finished to eat the word “happy” off the cupcake when he came into the kitchen, still yawning and stretching and rubbing his eyes.
“Ah, Misha, you here already?” – he said, and I could hear he was still half asleep. Dad’s a heavy sleeper, just like me. I wonder why then did he find himself such a job that he has to wake up so early for it, and even on Saturdays. When I will be his age, I will be the boss, so I’ll never have to wake up early. I’ll sleep to 12 PM. Everyone will work for me, and I’ll only pop in there in the afternoon to see if they did everything well and give them their cellery. Loooots of cellery, and for their children too, even if they don’t like it. If they will work well I will give them loads of cellery but if not I will only give them carrots. I’ll be very fair with cellery, not like my Dad’s boss. I don’t know why people want cellery from their boss but my dad constantly complains about his, and that it’s too low and not as much as it should be. Indeed, I’ve never saw him coming back from work with cellery, but I’m quite happy about it, I hate it. And I hate all vegetables. Mum says I’m very picky and would only eat meat and junk food.
Dad was drinking his coffee and reading a newspaper, but I could see he wasn’t paying attention to it.
“Dad, do you remember?”. – He jumped in his chair as if I woke him up from a nap. “Yes, yes, I remember about your swing, I’ll repair it tomorrow”.
“I’m not talking about the swing, dad!” – yeah, that’s always the case with my dad, he never remembers the most important things. – “Do you remember what’s the day today?” “Ah, yeah, Saturday.”
“But it’s a very special Saturday.”
Finally Mum had to chime in.
“Filip, your son is desperately trying to get your attention. It’s his birthday today. Misha is six years old!”.
“Oh my God, the time is flying so fast!” – Dad said, suddenly looking much more brisk. – “So, how many bumps should I give you, son?” “Seven!” – I yelled with a thrill of happiness.
“Not now, he’s just eaten.” – said Mum.
“Okay, so maybe we’ll do it after I come back from work?”
“No, no, dad, please no! I’ve only eaten a bit.”
He glanced uncertainly at mum and I prayed that she would agree. I loved getting birthday bumps! “Okay, but be careful. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.”
I clapped my hands excitedly. “Yaay!”.
He bumped me up in the air and I gasped and laughed happily, with my eyes wide from both joy and a bit of fear.
“You’re too light, your mother has to give you more chocolate to drink!” – said dad, finally putting me down on to the floor. “More! More! Please, dad, I want more!” – I screamed and laughed.
“No, it’s forbidden. If you get more bumps than how old you are plus one, it will make you very unlucky this year. You don’t want it, do you?”. –
“You’re lying! I want 10, no… 20… 25 bumps, so I’ll be lucky for many, many years. I’ll be too heavy to be bumped up when I’ll be an adult, so I want enough of them now. Maybe even 50”. “Okay, 25.” – agreed dad after a while.
“Filip, don’t be crazy!…” – mum tried to intervene, but I was already in the air again, squealing with joy.
In the end, no one counted how many bumps I received. Soon even mum joined in, and we started playing that they were sending me high up into space. Mum took out a big blanket and wrapped me up in it, and they were both holding it and lifting me very high up into the air. Until finally I hit the chandelier with my foot, not strongly, but mum was afraid we will break it, and said that we’re all insane and need to stop.
My chocolate was already cold, but mum just sighed and made me another one, but without as much foam, it was still good.
Just as I finished my breakfast, I noticed that mum went into the living room and was now carrying a few packets in her arms.
“Wow, presents for me!” – I screamed, and started tearing the paper on all of them at once. “Easy, Misha, your presents won’t run away.” – dad said cool-headedly.
I didn’t care. But I had to decide which box to open first, after all. I decided on the biggest one. It took me some time and effort to open it, but when I did, I couldn’t believe my eyes… I stared at my present with open mouth… A big, beautiful painting set. Just for me.
“Do you like it?” – mum asked tentatively after a while. “Dad said it’s too much and too fancy for a child your age, but at least you won’t have to paint on my easel anymore. And we do think you are a very talented lit… big boy. Incredibly talented. And you need to develop this talent.” – mum was speaking to me so calmly and seriously, and as if I was a really very big boy, and it made me feel so proud of myself. When my first shock passed, I quickly stood and ran up to her, hugging and kissing her. “Thank you, mummy! You’re fantastic. It’s so great!”.
“You need to thank dad most importantly.” – she said when I finally freed her from a very strong hug. So I ran up to dad and thanked him as well. I was so happy I could have cried.
My mum is an artist and paints a lot, and I’ve always loved painting too, but I’ve never had my own things to do that with. And now I had my own little easel, my own paintbrushes, beautiful watercolours, and even a box of new crayons, and some other artsy things. I couldn’t wait to try them out.
I could see my parents were also moved with my joy, but now dad really had to go to work. He kissed both of us and left.
I left my painting set on the table and went to see what other presents I got from my parents. There was a little lockable diary, with a cat and my name written on the front cover. My parents always say that I resemble a cat very much, and that I must have been a cat in my previous life, if there are previous lives. And I really like cats and things with cats on them. They really like me, too. I also got very warm and cosy slippers with cats on them. “It’s still winter, Mishka, and you didn’t have any good slippers” – Mum said.
I liked them a lot as well. I like smooth and warm things. There was also a pair of brand new football boots for me, which made me euphoric. I love football!
“Oh, and this is a present from your grandma” – mum said, producing another box. –
There was a small picture book – “Adventures of a Cat Called Misha”. “Yay! That sounds like the right book for me! And this cat is grey! My favourite colour!”
“This is just the first book in the series. We can read all of them sometime if you like it. I told grandma that there’s no way you wouldn’t like this book.”
It was a very pleasant day. I spent it just as I liked. I didn’t have to go to the nursery, and mum didn’t have to go anywhere either. I had the time to try out my new painting set, and I painted a little scene that my mum liked very much.
I painted a big, green grassland, with lots of different animals in the background, and some pretty flowers. In the middle, there was a big blanket, and my parents and me were sitting on it, and there was a big basket full of food. We were having a picnic. After a while I also painted my new football boots on my feet, and a football lying close to me, so that someone could think that Misha in the painting has just been playing football.
Mum said it was “breathtakingly skillful and detailed for a 6-year-old boy” and for a little while she indeed looked as if she couldn’t breathe.
Later that day, we had pizza and my family came. Grandma, aunt and uncle, and their son – my cousin Sasha. – His real name is Aleksander, but no one calls him that. They all were stunned by my painting too, and spoiled me with compliments. Sasha wanted to paint something too, but he is only three and doesn’t really know how to do it. He only wanted because I did. I let him use my crayons. I don’t want anyone to paint with my watercolours. Not such babies like Sasha for sure.
I also played a bit of football, but there’s no one living near us with whom I could play, I can only do that with my friend Feluล› from school so that was a bit dull to play on my own.
After they left, mum told me that she had some spare clay and I could play around with it if I wanted. I love clay! And in the end we both ended up playing around with it, making lots of animals out of it. My mum is really good at that. I hope one day I will be as good as her.
Dad came back in the evening, a bit earlier than usual, and mum made a huge bowl of popcorn, we and watched cartoons for a few hours. That was so cool! My parents don’t usually do that with me. Dad just takes a shower and goes to bed because he is so tired, and mum always has tons of other things to do, even if she is home all day. So I was really really happy. And now I’m really really sleepy. Mishpurrs. ๐Ÿ˜ด
Misha ๐Ÿ’œ ๐Ÿ’š ๐Ÿ’™

What’s up pets and peeps it’s MISHA!!!

Hhrrru?! ๐Ÿ˜ป

How are you pets and peeps doing? It’s Misha and I just woke up from a long, long nap and am full of beans and very energetic. I probably won’t write much ’cause there are so many other things to do and my paws itch for a good run but just wanted to tell you that I am very happy because Zofijka’s just come back from her holidays! She went away for a week, and today she came back and at least something is going on in this house, it was like a graveyard without her and I was just sleeping and sleeping. The sad thing is that she doesn’t seem to be very interested in me. Mila says that she just has a lot of things to do and a lot of things to catch up on but I am worried that now she likes that other cat – Flocky – more than me. Flocky is their aunt’s cat and he’s also a Russian blue and apparently he’s my relative or something, but I’ve never met him. And Zofijka has been talking about him a lot. It drives me crazy. I just hope she’ll soon forget about him. And I am also a bit sad because she says she’ll be going away in two weeks again. But she’s very happy about it so maybe I should be happy too. After all, it can be really good too when Zofijka is not around. You can relax properly. Sleep more. Be less paranoid that someone’s lurking there waiting for you to come closer just to scoop you up and get into her noisy room and squeal “Miiiisha cuuute Miiisha!” in your ears. Oh yeah and there’s much less noise which is good, but, like I said, not for too long, as it starts feeling odd. I guess the peeps felt a bit odd too.

Has something nice happened to you this week? Any plans for the weekend? Are you gonna do something interesting with your peep(s), or with your pet(s) if you’re a peep? ๐Ÿ™‚

Off to have a race with Zofijka.

Mishpurrs.

Misha ๐Ÿ’œ ๐Ÿ’™ ๐Ÿ’š

Question of the day.

Hi guys. ๐Ÿ™‚

Here’s my question for you today.

Do you silently judge someone if they had a kid very young (teenager) or very old (mid to late 40’s)?

My answer:

I usually don’t think much about these things because I am not a parent myself, although it does happen that I easily judge very young parents, because I just think it’s a pity to become a parent as early as in your teens, there is still going to be plenty of time for that, and teenagers aren’t usually mature enough for that, it’s a huge responsibility, while teenage years should ideally be a time of only preparing for such responsibilities, in my opinion, and not jumping into deep waters straight away. I also think it’s so often a result of thoughtlessness and lack of knowledge in sexual matters so that’s sad. And other than that being a Christian, from the religious point of view I think it’s wrong. Although I try not to let my first judgments influence my relation to people, because everyone’s situation is obviously very different, sexual assaults and such happen and it would be cruel to judge someone without knowing the background, and also even if such a teenage pregnancy is a result of some wrong decisions, no one of us is perfect and one wrong thing they did doesn’t define them as people, that would be crazy, and they may still be awesome and loving parents anyway. With older parents, well I might be just very surprised hearing about people having a child so late, I honestly don’t know many such people in person, can only think of one couple for whom it was very difficult because they already had many children and that late one was very unexpected, and they were struggling financially very much. I also might be a bit worried as such pregnancies are often more complicated and risky, but I don’t see anything else wrong with it, if you feel OK with it yourself and feel happy to be a late parent then why not, I think it also must have its upsides, despite many people seem to think otherwise.

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day.

Hi people! ๐Ÿ™‚

Today the question I have for you is about your childhood:

Was there anything you were allowed to do as a kid that most kids weren’t allowed to do?

My answer:

Well I guess that in a way, in our family, I was always the more privileged child in some respect. That was because of multiple things, I think. First of all, I was disabled and I think that in some regards it did impact my parents attitudes towards me. I was also their first child, the first one who was actually born and survived that is, as well as I was my maternal grandparents first grandchild, so that was a big thing, and had both good and bad consequences for me. Another thing was that when Olek was born, he was healthy and able-bodied, and there has strangely been a consistent generational pattern on both sides of my family that fathers are in a constant conflict with their sons, and so is with my Dad and Olek, even though things have eased over the years, but because of that, Dad was always more naturally inclined to me. According to my Dad I learnt to speak very quickly and apparently I was able to speak in sentences before I was a year old, while my younger siblings would learn to speak much later on and I know that my Dad really liked that about me ’cause he could actually get along with me as he says himself, he also always liked to show off with me. ๐Ÿ˜€ From all the recordings and stuff that they have of me from that time, I don’t think I was particularly special in this regard, and so does my Mum, but my Dad claims I was really different from all the children he’s ever met and more communicative. I don’t think he has more experience with children though, so from his perspective that may be true indeed. ๐Ÿ˜€ Then when I went to school at the age of 5 so I was about 400 km away from home and when I would come home it was more like I was a guest than anything and it was like a holiday for us and I was treated like a VIP which on one hand was cool because, well, who wouldn’t like to be treated like a VIP, but on the other hand was damn confusing and mesed up a lot of things for me, particularly my sense of belonging and stability ’cause that wasn’t really normal, even though I liked it. My Mum always thought I am so very mature, which she probably confused with me being intelligent, so she would always be much less strict with me than with Olek, who wasn’t much less bright but much more hyperactive and impulsive and that was what people had seen first about him.

It was particularly my Dad who was making a very visible difference between me and Olek. As a little child, I was happy about it, especially seeing how awfully and often irrationally stern he is with Olek, and I thought that I am just so lucky to be Daddy’s little girl and we’ve always got along well, despite there isn’t anything like some deeper understanding between us, we’re in a close but rather superficial relationship, not a very serious one, it’s quite immature.

Daddy woould be real nasty to Olek about something we did together while I wouldn’t suffer any consequences at all, or just a bit of telling off or some grumpiness until he forgets about the whole thing. He always liked to cuddle with me and although he was never the spoiling, doting kind of Daddy, he was close to that with me. I’ve also always had a bit of understanding of people so I knew how to not irritate him and how to convince him to something I wanted, and I guess I still have quite a strong influence onhim if I’ll try. He would buy me lots of yummy stuff just for myself, or take me to the beach and we’d go there just on our own, he would even sometimes play with me, while he never did that with Olek or even Zofijka as far as I am aware, or take me for quite long road trips or I remember that he took me from school in his tanker a couple times and that was always very adventurous and those tanker trips were always very exciting for me and one of my best childhood memories. Only that things have kind of broken a bit at some point, at least from my perspective, because we were once talking with Mum about Dad and Olek having another major crisis, Mum mentioned rather lightly, and probably not realising what kind of impact it was going to have on me, or rather how it’s going to sound, that Dad has always felt more fond of me because I am disabled so he was able to feel like more sympathetic towards me and have a better relationship with me than with Olek or Zofijka, and because I was away from home most of the time. I didn’t react to that, but it really got me ragin’. Maybe I should be a bit more understanding or something, like see the full picture and how it really is from his perspective, (though I’m not sure he’d be able and/or willing to tell me anything constructive) or just let go of that, but to me it sounded really awful and I am definitely not as genuine anymore in relation to him, anymore because knowing him it actually looks very likely. I suppose in some circumstances even feelings such as sympathy can with time grow into something more but then he wouldn’t treat us so unevenly.

I’ve always had a very strong relationship with my Mum, not always that very good, but dynamic and deep and pretty intense, and while she wasn’t as obviously favourising anyone as my Dad did, and has always loved all of us, she has always been very protective of me, don’t know if over- but very protective, and she would often let me do things that she wouldn’t let Olek do. I now know she has a lot of guilt feelings about that I had to be so far away from home, as if she could change much about it, and I think she wanted to compensate that for me in different ways, as well as that I said she just thought that I am so very mature.

Some of the things that I can remember were that Mum let me drink coffee from a relatively young age (guess I was like 8 or 9 years old and I really loved that and it made me feel so grown-up, I didn’t like to think about being a grown-up, but I did like the coffee drinking aspect ๐Ÿ˜€ hence probably my current coffee troubles hahaha). Now Zofijka is older than me then and would also like to drink coffee, but Mum tells her “No! It’s not for children!”. So I once asked her why Zofijka can’t, but I could, just of plain curiosity, and Mum argument was that “She’s too silly”. Can’t quite make the connection between those things, I know quite a few adult people who are silly and I would even say that’s too light a word and they still drink coffee but OK… Zofijka now is also spoiled by everyone, but in a completely different way as she’s just the youngest and the only child in the family at this point.

A funny thing, that I still consider funny, and a little bit confusing at times, is that my Mum have always asked me about lots of things, that she didn’t know but assumed that I might know. It looked particularly funny when we were somewhere with other people, ’cause which parent would ask the child about things. ๐Ÿ˜€ Parents always like to be right, and especially don’t like to admit that they don’t know something their child knows, like which spelling of the word repeatedly is correct (in Polish of course). ๐Ÿ˜€ When I was in my teens, she started to ask me for advice on lots of things, like what she should do in some situation or what she should choose. No, my Mum is not an indecisive person, I guess she just values my opinion or something, and I know she thinks I am a good listener. Now it’s not as weird as when I was a child, but when I was a child it felt kind of not typical in comparison to other families I knew that Mum would ask me what to do. It’s still confusing at times because you actually never know what her reaction might be like when you say something, even if in the end after a few months she’s going to say that I was right. ๐Ÿ˜€ Somehow though, maybe a little strangely, I’ve never had a problem with acknowledging her authority, it’s with Dad that I’ve always had this problem, and I don’t really consider him an authoritative figure or someone that I’d obey nowadays, for reasons other than to have a peace of mind.

What had been a bit of a problem for Olek when we were kids was that I got a phone when I was 12. It was a spontaneous decision and not really because I wanted it so much. Generally my Mum is against introducing technologies to children too early, and she used to say that she’ll buy us cell phones when we’ll be maybe like 15-16 or maybe even older. But when I was 12, I had to leave the integration school – closer to home – where I was for two years, and there didn’t seem to be much other choice than to go back to my old school. But Mum felt that now I’d need a phone, not only because I was older than when I was going there before, but also because I really didn’t want to go there so she hoped that if I would be able to be in some control of when we are in touch rather than have to wait for her to call the boarding school phone and possibly miss it, I might be more at ease with going back there, and that would just be more practical for me to have a phone. There was no such need for Olek though, so he had to wait some more, despite that he actually wanted a phone much more than I did.

Zofijka was much luckier, because although Mum also threatened her that she won’t have her own phone until almost adulthood, Zofijka was much more persevering, and also the times have obviously changed so it’s harder to stick to such a resolution. So about two years ago, when Zofijka was only 9, and had her leg in plaster, was terribly bored and really making a pain in the but of herself for all of us, Mum one day suddenly bought her a smartphone. She doesn’t have the Internet connection, but even without it, it still continues to make a lot of havoc in poor Zofijka’s mind.

I was also frequently allowed to stay up late, sometimes really late at night. It was well motivated though because my sleep cycle was messed up anyway so after some trials and errors Mum has rightly decided that no point for me going to bed at say 9 PM and waking me up at 7 AM for example if I’m not going to sleep either and am going to be drowsy the next day or be up and about at 3 AM. And it was often a lot of fun for me. I’d watch movies with parents, eat crisps withh Dad, or just listen to music and play or something – the best ideas for plays come to mind at night, just as now I still have the best and most creative ideas at night as well. – ๐Ÿ˜€

So those are the examples that I can remember now. It was kind of two-sided as you can see, both cool, and quite a bit confusing. And often made me feel not right in relation to my siblings. Like when I was going to the integration school and was thus living at home for two years and still having such a special treatment all the time, I felt pretty much like an intruder or something like this because my siblings weren’t treated like that, and I was afraid they might hold grudges against me because of that, especially Olek. But overall, I don’t consider my childhood particularly happy, – not somehow incredibly bad, but definitely not happy – so in a way I was glad of all that because it kinda made me feel special, in a weird way, but still.

OK so now you let me know how about you? And what was your point of view about that you were allowed those things? ๐Ÿ™‚

Question of the day (5th May).

Would you ever consider naming your child after yourself, so she/he would be a “junior”? What would you think if this custom came back?

My answer:

Back when I was still using my birth name, and didn’t really think seriously about changing it, despite I did already think about myself as Emilia and loved this name, I thought that maybe if I had a daughter, I could call her Emilia instead. But now, even if I wouldn’t change my name to Emilia, it doesn’t seem a good idea for me. I think I would feel like something is not right if I did that. I could give my potential daughter my name as a middle, but probably wouldn’t, despite it is a kind of custom in our family and our region. I find it nice but boring.

Emilia is also a really hot name at the moment, I guess quite a bit more popular than among girls my age, not far below the top 10 and rising, and with Amelia being #9 and other -lia names in close proximity, and that’s off-putting for me for a baby name. As for this custom in general, of naming children after parents, like using a parent’s first name as a child’s first name, it’s not really common in Poland. I remember when I was a child, Olek told me about his class teacher “You know, you would get along with my class teacher, she likes the name Jacek, just as you, her husband is Jacek, and her son is Jacek too!”. ๐Ÿ˜€ And we were both like WOW! That’s crazy! How does she tell them apart? She really must love that name. So, I’d say it’s not really normal here. If you want to name your child after yourself or your spouse, use your name as their middle name. OK, my Dad wanted to call me Anna, after my Mum, but that’s probably why he didn’t in the end, because it’s her name already and because it’s not normal. But since I am now pretty familiar with lots of weird naming customs all around the world and especially in the English-speaking countries, it doesn’t really impress me and I don’t mind it, if someone wants it, it’s not my business. I just think it’s a little bit boring because there are so many beautiful names out there. Why limiting ourselves to just a handful?! Because I can see that if a parent names their child after themself, and a lot of people start to follow that trend, their children will likely do the same, and then naturally people’s names might suddenly become really boring and repetitive. I even have a problem with this middle names tradition over here, that everyone needs to have their parent’s name as a middle almost obligatorily, even though I do love my middle name after my Mum, I feel like it doesn’t allow creativity, especially that you can have only one middle in Poland if you’re a Polish citizen, not counting confirmation or a few traditional/obsolete hyphenated exceptions. Also, I can’t ignore the baby namer in me shouting “NO!” because as a firm believer in that a name carries a personality, or at least a strong potential influence on a person with itself, I just can’t help but feel that if you call your child after yourself, he or she may feel kind of unconsciously forced to be like you! To fulfill your expectations, follow your footsteps, won’t feel their own sense of identity, or at least that their name doesn’t belong fully to them. I was named after a close family member and my Mum’s best friend at the same time (they both shared a name), and still felt that way, like they want me to be someone I’m not, so how must a person named after their parent feel? That’s how I see it, you don’t have to agree with me and I’m pretty sure many people wouldn’t. So if someone would ask me for an advice regarding this, I’d say yes, you can, but if your name is easily nicknamed, try to find a different nickname for him, even if it’s just one letter or syllable more/less or a slightly altered spelling or let him have a nickname unrelated to the nickname that he likes and can go by daily, you’ll have to try to show your child that you embrace who he comes to be, that you accept him as he is and you’ll have to really stress that in his upbringing and make sure his personality develops harmoniously. I feel though like there really is a risk of some kind of disharmony between your own individuality and the way your family influences you. On a little different note, it’s just a little thought and it doesn’t mean that I have a problem with people naming their kids after themselves or am prejudiced but in a way it kinda feels a bit selfish to me. ‘Cause generally if we name our children after someone, we admire that person, or want to honour them because of something. So it feels slightly as if someone had a bit too large an ego. ๐Ÿ˜€

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

Laura Gibson – “All THe Pretty Horses”.

Hi guys. ๐Ÿ™‚

Have I ever told you before that I love lullabies, and so much so that I have a whole collection of them and love discovering new ones all the time, from all around the world? I really really love lullabies. Particularly very sad ones, or very sleepy ones (if there can be a not sleepy lullaby and can still be called a lullaby ๐Ÿ˜€ ). This one is special to me for one reason. It has horses in it. ANd I love horses as you know! So, well, I love the lyrics of it. I’d love to wake up one day and have “all the pretty little horses”, wouldn’t that be SO cool? But I only like this version of the song. Laura Gibson made it so, so sad. I feel tempted to say too sad, because actually the first time I heard it I couldn’t help but cry, and I’m normally that easily moved by any tear-jerkers, but it just touched something in my brain. But if I could change, I wouldn’t make it any less sad, I love it the way it is. No other version other than this acoustic one of Laura Gibson’s really speaks to me. And the story behind it is very moving, even if not fully credible. It is said to be of Afroamerican origin, and that it was first sung by an Afroamerican slave, who wasn’t able to take care of her own child because she had to take care of her master’s child, and she sang it to her master’s child. I know a fair bit about children being separated from their parents, though not in such a harsh context, so I find all such stories really sad. I think it is such a beautiful lullaby and so cute and sad!

Question of the day (25th March).

If you could disinvent one thing, what would it be?

My answer:

School. I’d disinvent it, and then invent it again so that it would have a completely different structure and would stop being brainwashing, as well as, among other things, it would also be optional for parents to send their children to school, home/flexi schooling would be highly encouraged, school would be more of an alternative for those children whose parents can’t or really don’t want to homeschool them, or to gain some additional skills that parents can teach their children but would like them to know, like some stuff that is of a special interest for the child or that they would like to base their career on in future. Schools would also be more of a place where the children could meet and play so that people wouldn’t complain that they don’t grow up together with their peers, and parents would be taught there on how to homeschool their children and just learn about parenting. But in fact I’d rather have someone else do that than do it myself, I don’t fancy dealing with this rotten system. ๐Ÿ˜€

How about you? ๐Ÿ™‚

The temptation of little Meriel. My short story.

OK people so here’s another short story I wrote basing on some writing prompts. Funnily enough, just as my first one, which you can read here,

it also features some yummy food in one of the main roles. As always, sorry about any potential stilistical, grammar or other shortcomings in the quality, I’m only just starting with creative writing in English.

ย ย  The temptation of little Meriel

“…95, 96, 97… stupid sheep! Why don’t they do what I want?!” – muttered a 6-year-old girl, tosing and turning in her bed. The girl’s name was Meriel, and her problem was that she couldn’t fall asleep. She was trying to count sheep for the last half an hour or so, but with very poor results. The sleep wouldn’t come, no matter what she did. SHe went to sleep in a very joyful mood, all happy and excited, because the next day she was going to have a birthday. A 7th birthday. Her school friends were invited, lots of fun games were planned, and yummy food was prepared. Only, how can one think of a happy birthday when sleep doesn’t want to come at night? The joyful mood has nearly vanished, and Meriel was growing more and more irritated, and more and more scared every minute. The moon was peeking into her room, and long time has passed since her Mummy kissed her goodnight. Soon after that, she switched off the lights, and Meriel could hear her steps upstairs, and the slight creaking of Mummy’s bed. Meriel knew that she mustn’t wake up Mummy. Mummy was troubled by an ugly monster called Insomnia,

who liked to creep into her brain at nights and make it hard for her to sleep, so that sometimes she couldn’t even sleep at night at all. Even the small white pills that always stood on her bedside table didn’t always help. So when Insomnia wasn’t creeping in her Mummy’s brain, or when the pills were able to scare her away, it was the more important to let Mummy sleep peacefully. That’s what Daddy told her, back when he lived with them. “You are a big girl Meriel, and I know you can understand this” – he said. – And she didn’t want to let him down. She also loved her Mummy, and didn’t want to make her sleepy in the morning. She didn’t know what to think about this Insomnia monster though. She didn’t like her, because she was bad for Mummy, but she also liked her at the same time. Because sometimes, when Insomnia wouldn’t let Mummy sleep, Mummyย  would come to Meriel’s room and lie with her, or would just bustle around in the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea, which made Meriel feel safe in her sleep, knowing that no scary monsters will come to her because Mummy will see them first and won’t let them sneak in to her little girl’s room. Sometimes, when Meriel had trouble falling asleep too, Mum would make two big mugs of steaming hot chocolate for both of them, and after that, Meriel was fast asleep, sometimes even before she could brush her teeth and go back to her room and Mummy had to carry her.

But now there were no sounds that could mean that Mummy was still awake, despite Meriel listened really carefully. “Maybe Insomnia didn’t come tonight.” – she thought. – “Good for Mummy. That can’t be nice to have a monster in your head.” And then, a scary thought came to her mind. What if tonight Insomnia decided to visit her – Meriel – instead of her Mummy? Is it her who doesn’t let her sleep? maybe she is right here, in her room? Standing beside her bed? Or maybe she’s already creeped into her brain? “I wonder what she’s like. Is she scary, like a real monster?” – she thought. Dozens of images filled her little head, as she thought what Insomnia might look like, and she barely noticed that it’s making her a little uneasy, more afraid. Just as she thought about that, the window curtain moved slightly. Meriel startled, and could barely stifle a scream. “She’s here! I knew it, she’s here!” – she thought panicked. Regardless of whether insomnia was in her room or not, any chance of sleep was gone now. Meriel hid under the duvet, her imagination flooded with horrifying images that she has just made up.

She spent there a long time, or so it felt for her, until finally she could stick her head out and look around the room. There was no one that she could see. “I should be brave” – she whispered – “That’s what Daddy has always told me. I should try to sleep and tomorrow it’ll be my birthday. I need to sleep.” She tried lying with her eyes closed for a couple more minutes, but sleep didn’t come. She was still too startled. After a while, a thought came to her mind: “If Mummy’s pills scare this monster away, maybe I should take one too?” That seemed like a good idea for Meriel. Very carefully, holding her breath, she sticked out one feet from under the covers, then another, after a while. She put her fuzzy slippers on, slowly got up, and quietly came to the door, peering through. It was dark and quiet everywhere. Only her heart was thumping loudly, and Fluffy – her dog – was snoring lightly on the carpet. Meriel stroked Fluffy’s fur to gain a bit of courage. She didn’t like the dark, and was very afraid of it. As she went through the corridor, the tapping of her little feet seemed loud and eerie in this sleepy house. She almost ran through the flight of stairs leading to her Mummy’s room, trying to be as quiet as possible, stopping in front of the door. She opened them very quietly and peeped in. “Mummy? Are you sleeping?” – she mouthed. There was no answer. Mummy was asleep, all snuggled up warm, and, seeing that, Meriel felt a sting of jealousy. She came closer and listened to Mummy’s silent breath. “Will she be mad at me if I take one pill? Just one? I’m not stealing it, I’ll tell her I took it” – she wondered – “But if insomnia came to me, I need something too to scare her away, I can’t go sleepy on my birthday”. And then, very silently, Meriel reached out for the jar with pills, standing beside her Mummy’s bed. As she did it, Mummy sighed in her sleep, murmured something and turned over. Meriel got startled, again this night. “Oh no, maybe it’s not a good idea, I’ll wake Mummy up” – she thought. And sneaked out of the room quickly.

“So what should I do now?” – Meriel thought, suddenly feeling very lonely and on the verge of tears. “Everyone else is asleep, even Fluffy is sleeping. I want to sleep too!”. she thought about all those steaming mugs of cocoa they’ve drank with Mummy, and how they always made her instantly sleepy. Maybe she should drink cocoa then? The problem was, meriel had no idea how to make cocoa, nor any other hot drink. She was an only child, not a very autonomous one, spoiled thoroughly by her loving, single Mummy, who let her play almost as much as she wanted and didn’t want her to worry about anything, and to whom it has never occurred so far that it could be helpful to teach her daughter some practical skills, so that she could cope on her own in case Mummy wouldn’t be there to help her.

But the next day was Meriel’s birthday, and because of this special occasion, there was plenty of delicious food. Meriel herself wasn’t taking part in the preparations, as she was in school when Mum was making all those yummies, but she knew well all that was there, as it was Meriel herself who made the list of all her favourite things that she wants to be on her birthday party. Another thing that Meriel knew, which would probably surprise her mother, was where all those delicacies were hidden, in hopes that Meriel wouldn’t discover them too quickly. She figured it out much earlier on another occasion, but now seemed to be a good chance to use this secret knowledge. Meriel’s Mummy, unaware of her child’s great detective skills, has always kept everything that she wanted to hide from her daughter – in the basement. –

Meriel didn’t like the basement, it was dark, cold and wet, and she suspected that there might be some mice or perhaps even rats, so even though she knew about this hiding place, she wouldn’t dare go there. But now, as she had already get out of her room at night, and stood there in the dark on the stairs, feeling her mouth watering and her stomach gurgling, she thought that it could be a nice, little nightly adventure, to go down to the basement, and have a little treat before birthday. Mummy surely wouldn’t notice. Nevertheless, she could feel a big, unpleasant knot in her tummy, as she thought about going down there, so before her basement expedition, Meriel popped into her room once again, and took out one of the keepsakes from his Daddy – a small torch which he bought for her for one of their campings, to help her overcome her fear of darkness, as her Daddy was a real enthusiast of travelling, especially all sorts of campings and tentings, and had high hopes that his daughter will one day follow his footsteps. – The torch had been lying uselessly among Meriel’s things for almost a year, and now it was finally its time. As she came back on to the corridor, Fluffy yawned and looked at her, intrigued about what her little mistress is up to so late at night. Meriel felt happier and braver that she’s not alone anymore, and as she went, Fluffy followed her faithfully, as if encouraging this little crime. “At least even if Mummy notices I can say Fluffy ate it” – Meriel chuckled.

She started going down the stairs, down into the darkness. “Hm, maybe I should rather go back? I guess it’s not good what I’m doing. It’s cheating…” – she hesitated, looking down and, again, feeling less confident. “Oh well, but I’m hungry! And I can’t sleep. I have to do something that will help me”. And that explanation seemed to satisfy her, as little Meriel continued walking down the stairs. THe door opened with a creek, that seemed somehow ominous for the little girl’s overactive imagination and uneasy conscience. But she courageously went in, looking for the place where all her birthday food has been hidden. As she examined the contents of all bowls and plates she realised that actually it would be hard for her to eat anything of it not leaving any sign. There were mostly cakes, and Meriel wasn’t the most skiled at cutting yet, she knew she wouldn’t be able to cut an even piece of cake, and even if, Mummy would see that something is missing. But then she remembered. There was one dessert that Mummy didn’t do yesterday, because it the best when eaten fresh. Meringue with ice cream! “So there have to be meringues!” – Meriel said to herself. “Fluffy, what do you think, where are they? Will Mummy be mad at me for eating a little piece of meringue?”. The girl imagined that Fluffy shakes her head, and continued rummaging the basement. “Ohh, here they are! Look, Fluffy! Now we’ll have a real feast!” – Meriel took a piece and gave it to Fluffy. Just like Meriel’s Mummy, and Meriel herself, Fluffy was also a real meringue connoisseur, so she appreciated the treat. But Meriel was more hesitant.

She certainly wasn’t an angel and liked to be mischievous and cunning, which both her intellect and fiery temper helped with, making her quite a handful to deal with for her Mummy, but she was at the same time a good-natured child and lying, cheating or stealing wasn’t her natural traits, even if it was just about stealing from her own birthday table. With her kind and honest heart, she would most gladly go back upstairs, woke up Mummy and ask her if she could eat a little meringue, or just anything, but imageries of her Mummy being plagued by Insomnia monster kept her from doing so, as she felt somehow responsible for her mother’s good sleep, and she just wanted to deal with the problem on her own. She took another, very small piece of meringue and held it in her hand. Suddenly, her heart became very heavy and she felt that she doesn’t feel hungry anymore. Maybe she can fall asleep without doing it? Slowly, she raised her hand with the piece of meringue, and licked it. “Mmmmm…” Only that something still wasn’t right. Suddenly, as if driven by some impulse, Meriel quickly put down the piece of meringue on its previous place and went back to the door. Confounded and disappointed Fluffy followed her obediently. “Sorry, Fluff, not this time. I forgot we need to wait for the guests. It’s too early for feasting. And I think meringue tastes so much better with ice cream. On its own it’s too dry for me.”

She left the basement with a sigh of relief so big that she didn’t even feel disappointed that she didn’t get to eat the meringue. Instead of going back to her room though, Meriel again sneaked into her Mum’s bedroom, as silently as she only could. “Maybe if we will be together, we can win over Insomnia” – she thought. – She curled up next to Mummy on her bed, and immediately felt so muchย  better. Safer. Sleepier. Fluffy curled up under the bed and dozed off right away. The silent, monotonous sounds of Mummy’s and Fluffy’s breaths calmed down the little girl, exhausted after all her late night wanderings. She snuggled up close to her Mummy, and gave out a quiet sigh of satisfaction.

She was satisfied with herself, and knew that she did the right thing. The next time, she told Mummy about her night time struggles, and Mummy was very satisfied too, that she has such a sensible and trustworthy, mature little daughter. And since that night, neither of them has fought Insomnia on her own. They both know that they have each other, and no scary monsters can change it.

 

Question of the day (15th March).

Hi guys. ๐Ÿ™‚

Here’s another pet question for you:

Do you think pets can count as children?

My answer:

It only depends on how you feel towards a pet. I must say that before I met Misha, none of our pets felt like this to me, and they were just pets, although for me Misha is definitely my child, or little brother, and I treat him as such. Not because I would like to have children and he’s some sort of a substitute but because I simply feel this way only to him and it comes very naturally to me to think about him as my child since he’s with us. Funny thing that my Mum feels the same about Misha, though not as strongly as me I guess, she often jokes that she wouldn’t think she’d have a little child again, refering to Misha, and she’s actually his primary carer so he treats her like his Mummy in lots of ways.

What do you think and how do you feel about your pet(s)? ๐Ÿ™‚

Commitmentof a mother.

Hi guys. ๐Ÿ™‚

I’ve been thinking about finally writing some other posts, other than my usual series, and looking forward to doing it, and I planned to do some more writing over the weekend, though, quite predictably, I was never able to publish anything as it was my Mum’s and my brother’s birthday, also I had some rather bad anxiety and quite a lot was going on here. Nevertheless, both my Mum, and one of the recent writing prompts gave me an idea for a post. One of the recent words of the day at Word Of The Day Challenge was commit, and recently me and my Mum talked about commitment and dedication in relation to my grandma. I’d like to write about my Mum, and how I admire her, and thus also generally about mothers and motherhood.

There are lots of things that I admire in my Mum, but the one I would like to focus on now is her commitment.

Her commitment and dedication to motherhood, to us, her children, and to our whole family. I really don’t know where we’d be if not Mum, and I’m not just talking about the fact that she gave birth to my siblings and me, but that she is like an adhesive for our family, and keeps together us and everything in our house and family. I am happy to say that I have a good relationship with my Dad, but it has never been as deep as my connection with Mum. And even if I was ony to say on behalf of myself, I also don’t know where I’d be without my Mum.

Being disabled, I need more help with many things than an average person, sometimes a lot more, and my Mum has always been there for me, ready to help me out with really different things. Even when I was away from home at the boarding school, she always tried ther best to find the time and possibility to visit me or take me home for the weekend while she didn’t really have to as there was a rather big distance between the school and my home. She also tried her best to make my life easier there, and when there was a time I was emotionally abused by some of the staff she was the one to notice it despite the distance between us, and she was the one to make it stop. I’ve heard many very positive comments about my Mum at school, both from the staff and my friends, that I am really lucky to have such a committed and involved Mum. Not that other kids didn’t of course, though such situations also happened sometimes as they always do, that some children came from families where they weren’t loved, but because she did so much more than she had to, and her involvement was very visible. I also have mental health difficulties, since years but that both me and some of my family became more aware of only in recent years, and while my Mum doesn’t always understand it, she’s still there for me, if not in any other way than at least happy to help me practically. She’d been helping me to get to therapy, picking my prescriptions, she is my “spokesperson” in all sorts of new or difficult situations when I feel anxious or whenever I’m just not fully able to stand for myself, and I appreciate help hugely. She’s done so many big and little things for me that I probably wouldn’t be able to acknowledge all of them in a single post even if I dedicated it only for such purpose. ๐Ÿ˜€

My Mum is definitely a type of altruist who gets easily engaged in what she does and is very responsible and caring, that’s her nature, but sometimes I wonder whether all those commitments she has made over the years since she’s become a wife and a mother, whether they sometimes don’t make her feel unfulfilled in other areas, like her professional career for example, or her social life that would extend beyond her family.

My parents got married when she was 22. Mum was learning to be a beautician and after that tried studying pedagogy but didn’t really have a heart for it and didn’t feel motivated so quit it and then, two years after their wedding, they had me. They had to go a long way until they realised that I’m blind, it wasn’t like that I was born and they were told that, my blindness was congenital but well doctors just didn’t notice it and left my parents to figure it out on their own, and as it has turned out there were some other things we had to figure out blindly, pun intended, even much later on, but that’s another thing actually. Anyway, when Mum finally did figure out that I’m blind, soon after Olek arrived so with two little kids and one disabled she didn’t even think about looking for a job, despite at those very beginnings the financial situation in our family was really not the best, and by the way it’s also partly thanks to Mum that now Dad has the job he has and that our situation is much better nowadays. But Mum, even when I went to the boarding school at the age of 5, still was a full time Mum and still is, even though both me and Olek are adults and Zofijka can mostly take care of herself during the day, and so can I for the most part. And we really appreciate her for that, but as I said, I wonder whether she doesn’t feel a little disappointed with her life sometimes, having so many commitments, many of which she really didn’t have much choice about.

They say though that you usually copy your parents in your life choices. ANd that would be true for my Mum, because the thing was very similar with my grandma.

She is a very intelligent, cultured lady, had great ambitions as a young woman, got degrees in such diverse fields as food technology and theology, but she is also a very gentle, sensitive, idealistic and actually naive person, believing that everyone is like her and has the same values. And during her food technology studies met my grandad – also a very intelligent, cultured, strong, manly, fiendishly ambitious and versatile man. – They were madly in love with each other like most couples are at the beginning, the thing was that each of them had their own dreams that were quite different from each other’s, and my grandad was incredibly stubborn and domineering, to the point that in our current standards I suppose we could call it abusive. His dream has always been farming, because of his huge interest in agriculture, so it was clear to him that his wife will have to adjust and live in the sh*thole and dedicate herself to him and breeding hens to help him grow his business.

I love my grandad, have had a pretty close relationship with him, he has always stood for me when I most needed it, even when no one else did, and I always feel very safe with him and like we have a strangely deep connection and understanding for each other, and overall he’s one of the people I admire most in my life, particularly for how comprehensively skilled he is, but although he has mellowed a whole lot in his old age, I feel really bad about him being so bossy and tyrannical to my grandma. He wouldn’t let her go anywhere on her own, he decided what she should do or not do, with whom she can meet, he forbade her to drive anywhere, have her own work or money or any personal life that he wouldn’t be able to fully control. I guess even if she was assertive she wouldn’t be able to resist this and stand for herself, but she wasn’t, at all. He even didn’t let her to go to church on her own, only when it suited him and he would be able to drop her there, which was a big pain for her because my grandma has always been a very devout Christian. Grandad was brought up in a Christian family too, but it was never a priority for them and I guess he was too proud to be able to live through Christian faith where you have to be humble and rely on God rather than on yourself. So he wasn’t really keen on that which was also a big problem for grandma. As the children arrived her life was focused only around the household/farm, selling eggs with grandad and mothering the four kids. Later on grandad started drinking too much alcohol and has once tried to commit suicide, and while it’s no longer a problem and he doesn’t drink at all, it used to be something that grandma really struggled with and couldn’t accept, and tried to desperately hide it from children in which she succeeded as my Mum only learned about his alcoholism when she was an adult. At some point as I told you grandma got a degree from theology and wanted to work as a religion teacher or something like that but then one of my aunts was born and there were quite awful complications and she was a very vulnerable and sickly baby even though now thankfully she’s thriving and perfectly fine.

Now my grandparents’ relationship is less stormy, as I said my grandad has mellowed a lot both to his wife and to his children and all his grandchildren love him dearly, though they’re certainly not madly in love with each other and grandma is still suffering because of grandad’s cynical/haughty approach regarding faith and that he treats her like she’s very inferior to him, but he does appear to love her in some way and cares for her in that controlling, possessive way as some people do since they can’t otherwise.

She has certainly had her fair share of sufferings, but, most importantly here, has been always so very committed, to her husband, children, and every other responsibility that life has placed on her. In a way I admire her for that, but on the other hand, the extend to which my grandma commits herself is sort of strange to me and I feel like I couldn’t do that without feeling frustrated. just every minute. She doesn’t actually have her own life. Her life evolves around her children and grandchildren, caring for her husband, their work, praying, and now there is a little bit of place for gardening, but that’s it.

My Mum is not like that, my Mum is stronger and more assertive, but still has that extreme ability to dedicate herself to others.

It makes me wonder how marriage and motherhood can really change you and your life so much. When it comes to me, I’m happy to help people, but I really don’t think I could commit myself to someone to such an extend and so unconditionally, it feels rather overwhelming and strangling. I still most probably have a fair bit of ife ahead of me and I know things can change, but so far I’m pretty sure that I don’t want to have children, and even if I would want at some point, I most probably wouldn’t be able to be a good mother for many different reasons. But I really admire my Mum in that, and other mothers who do it like this, silently and without shouting how altruistic they are, and I know that if ever my Mum would need someone to commit themselves to her, I will try my best to do it since I owe her so much. I am proud to say that now I can at least listen to her, and that even though it’s usually her who is the listener for others, I often listen to her when she has problems, and Iย  am the first person she goes to since I got out of the boarding school if she wants to talk about some stuff that affects her deeply. i am happy she trusts me and that I can give her at least that.

What do you think about commitments in relation to motherhood/family life? What are your experiences with your mum, or with your own parenting if you are a parent? Are you deeply committed to anyone, be it in a relationship or whatever? If you’re not a parent, do you feel like you could dedicate yourself to your children full time or is your professional/social/any other aspect of your life so important to you that you couldn’t give it up? ๐Ÿ™‚

Alexander Rybak ft. Superbarna – Dyrene I Afrika (Animals In Africa).

Hi> ๐Ÿ™‚

I have something special for you guys today. A children’s classic from Norway!

I must say I really do like to listen to some children’s songs in other languages sometimes, it’s one of the easiest ways to catch some interesting vocabulary, and it can be funny.

Those of you who like to watch Eurovision most probably remember the 2009 finalist Alexander Rybak. For those of you who don’t know or don’t remember him, he is a Belarussian-Norwegian singer/songwriter and he also plays violin and piano. At that time around 2009 after he won the Eurovision, he was pretty popular in Poland for a while, not so much now, but he’s still liked by some. I was kinda reintroduced to his music a few years after he won by one of my blind Polish friends who was crushing on him. I didn’t get the crush, but still I liked him a lot, and I still like to listen to his music once in a while, I think he’s very talented, both as a singer and violinist.

Anyway, from me, the enthusiasm for Alexander’s music went further, and infected my little sis Zofijka. Very severely. She could listen to his music like ALL the time, and watch the videos, and stuff. I actually prety much regretted I showed his musicย  to her because she was talking about him all the time and listening to his music whenever she could which made me quite sick.

Now it has lessened, but she’s still crushing, which doesn’t disturb her to crush on 1D and Justin Bieber at the same time, poor Alexander!

And this song is Zofijka’s most favourite from all the songs by him she knows. Zofijka – as much as she is talented in many other areas – definitely doesn’t have an ear for languages, so her English is quite nasty sounding, and not very communicative, though, well, let’s be honest, hardly any child can communicate effectively in English in 5th grade. But, OMG, if you could hear her singing this song, particularly the refrains… when she really tries, she can have so confusingly Scandinavian accent! Is it our apparent Norwegian roots or what? That’s weird. And very funny.

The song is nice and funny as well, and I was pretty surprised to hear Alexander Rybak singing a children’s song, when I heard it for the first time. It’s really really cool though.

And what else I like about it is that despite I can’t speak Norwegian as such without sounding moe or less fake, I understand pretty much all the lyrics of this song via my Swedish, so easy it is.

The lyrics were written by Thorbjรถrn Egner, and Alexander sings this song with a Norwegian child band called Superbarna.

I wasn’t able to find English translation of this song anywhere, but I was able to find the original lyrics and I thought I’d challenge myself. I decided to translate these lyrics for you to ENglish so that you can get the context at least.

Because I am not an English native speaker, and I practically don’t speak any Norwegian – I can only understand more or less of Norwegian Bokmรฅl and rather less than more of Nynorsk via my Swedish, I wouldn’t expect this translation to be high quality, I suppose it might have quite a lot of errors, but I hope it will give you at least the context and if you by some chance speak Norwegian and have any comments or fixes do let me know, I hope it’s not too bad though.

So here it is:

 

This is a little animal song that you can now hear

About the animals in Africa and all they do

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

About the animals in Africa and all they do

 

High on the trees grow coconuts and bananas

And there live many noble and fine baboons

 

Ojajaja ahaha, ojajaja ahaha,

There live many noble and fine baboons

 

And the kids are rocked in a palm hammock

And the nanny is a gammal, chatty parrot

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

The nanny is a gammal, chatty parrot

 

The big elephant he is the forest’s firefighter

And when there is fire he quenches it with his long proboscis

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

When there is fire he quenches it with his long proboscis.

 

But the king and the queen are lion and lioness

And the queen is hungry, but the king is so angry

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

The queen is hungry, but the king is so angry

 

On the trees the birds are sitting and singing all day long

And the hippo plays the drum by patting himself on the belly

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

The hippo plays the drum by patting himself on the belly

 

And the ostrich dances samba with the prettiest chimp

And soon all the other animals are also dancing

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

Soon all the other animals are also dancing

 

The big crocodile was feeling so bad the other day

It had eaten a monkey and got such a bad stomach ache

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

It had eaten a monkey and got such a bad stomach ache

 

And down in the Giraffeland there is grief in the waltz

For eight little giraffes had gotten a sore throat

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

For eight little giraffes had gotten a sore throat

 

But then doctor rhino came with a hat, a stick and glasses

And then all of them got cough syrup and black small tablets

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

Then all of them got cough syrup and black small tablets.

 

The poor crocodile doctor had to operate

And there are many verses yet but we can’t anymore

 

Ojaoja ahaha, ojaoja ahaha,

There are many verses yet but I can’t anymore.

Question of the day.

How often did you play outside as a child?

My answer:

Not like very often. I’ve never had good orientation in open spaces plus I’ve learnt to walk pretty late in comparison to most children, and my interests were more indoor-oriented, I’d say. My brother played outside constantly with his cousin, but their things didn’t interest me at all and I never played with them. When I went to the nursery we were often going out to the playground

which was very near. As far as I can remember it was almost every day and it was always extremely boring for me. Children were usually playing on carousels or slides or other stuff like that, which I didn’t like at all because it usually messed up with my already messed up balance and made me dizzy and nauseous extremely easily and I’m still just allergic to such things, probably also because people from the staff were always so very astonished and like it’s not normal I don’t like these things, it made me hate them even more. ๐Ÿ˜€ So usually I was either vegetating on some milder swing and just waiting for them to finish, or just walking around aimlessly or talking with the staff. When I started going to school they still liked it a lot to go to the playground and we did it often, but then at least I could bring something to read with myself, although it was still boring to just sit there doing practically nothing. When Zofijka was born and grew up a bit, so I was like in my early teens, I liked to play with her outside and it was really fun, although we didn’t do it often.

Question of the day.

If your school separated you by reading groups which level were you at?

My answer:

Neither of my schools did that, or anyway it wasn’t something casual. But in school for the blind where I was for most of my education we often had reading contests – class, school or interschool, in the Central Library, and I kinda liked to participate in them and pretty often was winning some leading places. Also, I don’t know how it is in other schools around the world, but we usually had so, that if we were reading in class, usually the teacher picked a person to read a bit, then another to read another bit and so on, and the rest just followed the text. Because I read quite well, teachers often picked me, just to have it done a bit more efficiently than most of other students would do it and not waste too much time. And I know many of my classmates were annoyed by me, because I usually read pretty quickly and they were lost easily. ๐Ÿ˜€ Also later on I had a very lazy Polish language teacher who used to take an advantage of the students whom she perceived “more bright” and so she often wanted me to read stuff to a classmate who was dyslexic. So I guess that all says I was pretty good at it.

How was it in your case? Also, do you think separating students by their level of skills is actually good? Are you one of those who think it makes children less self-confident, or do you think it helps children on a higher level to develop quicker, while also helping children on a lower level to go up, but in their own pace and with the support adequate to their needs?

Question of the day.

What do a lot of parents do that screws up their kid?

My answer:

The thing I hate that quite a lot of parents do to their kids is diminishing their problems. Like, a kid comes to them, trusts them and wants to share with them whatever is on their mind, something more or less difficult they feel like they need some support with coming through. And the parent’s reaction is like: “These aren’t problems. You’re just a child, you don’t have serious problems. You’ll start real life and you’ll see what problems really are”. That discourages most kids from confiding in their parents and makes them feel like their struggles aren’t important to their parents and don’t really deserve any attention. Plus, another thing is, so when does “the real life” start? When you get married? Divorced? After you’re 50? ๐Ÿ˜€ I’m really curious.

Another thing that pisses me off a bit every time I see it is when a child tells the parent about whatever is happening in their life and the parent doesn’t really listen but only wants to give advice, no matter if the child wants it or not.

What are your answers and what do you think about it?

Fffrrreeezzzing!

Yeah it’s really freezing here today. Snowing almost all the time since yesterday and very icy. My gramma whom we invited today for some time to stay with us almost collapsed on the steps when she was coming in, so slippery it is.

So as you know I had an almost sleepless night. Yeah luckily I managed to fall asleep about an hour after I wrote that post in the morning and had a few hours of sleep. It wasn’t very refreshing, but it was definitely something. Otherwise I would probably become very groggy after some time. We all went to the church in the morning. We went there on foot, it is about 7 minutes walk from us till there, so not that very far, but my leg was burning a lot after I got home. It’s shitty, I thought it healed at least a bit. and then my uncle dropped gramma (my Dad’s mum) to us. I was writing a lot with my pen pals. Also I played with Zofijka for a while. At 4 we went to church again, but now by car. Now as it is Lent, there is a special devotion on each Sunday of Lent related to that in Poland, apparently it doesn’t exist in any other Catholic countries, I think its English title would be something like Bitter Lamentations and it is about Christ’s passion and it is sung. We dropped gramma to her house afterwards and did some shopping. Zofijka felt very sleepy early on and she went to bed about 7 PM so very not like her. She wanted me and Misha to be with here so we were as she was falling asleep, she often wants us to be with her before she falls asleep. I told her a story. I don’t usually do that, only sometimes, but she really likes it. Zofijka’s stories are very special. They are about a fictional creature called Jim, which looks like a human, actually like a 10-year-old boy, but he is a Jimosaurus – the last Jimosaurus in the world and is 10000 years old, despite looking so very young and being so child-like. Jim lives in Australia (Zofijka had a slight obsession about Australia when I was making it all up so hence the location) in a little hut in the forest. He’s the king of that forest and all of the animals there can talk obviously. Jim’s best friend is – Plim – a pretty clumsy, forgetful, awkward and sluggish but very kind-hearted and sensitive koala who rules the forest on Jim’s behalf when Jim’s not there and a bit scating, but incredibly loyal bee called Sophie who is very good at cooking and making different curing mixtures and taking care of animals and people. Jim can eat normal people food and he likes it, but it isn’t nutritious for him. Really nutritious food for him is helping people. When he feels hungry, which happens very often, he takes out his binoculars and leather wings and climbs up on the roof of his hut. Then he looks at the whole world and searches for people or any other beings who may need help. If he finds someone to helps, he takes quickly what he needs, sometimes takes Sophie with him if any medical intervention is needed, puts on his wings and flies there. So as you see poor Plim has to be in charge most of the time actually. So Zofijka’s stories are always about different people or animals or plants or even sometimes things that Jim helps. She always says she loves Jim. But she always falls asleep so quickly that I highly doubt he can hear the whole story.