Tag: Children

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Reading Review

My take on the latest, greatest picture book…

I was given a stack of Picture Books recently, asked to read them, and give my opinion. Smiling, I agreed. Who doesn’t like picture books?

And although there were a couple that I recommended the library in question *not* purchase, one of the books in particular hit me as not only extremely well-written (and illustrated, of course) but with a clear message, subtle yet necessary, and BRILLIANTLY executed.

I don’t review books often – not because I don’t read (my 2016 Goodreads challenge is sitting steady on 77 books completed, of the 104 I set myself) – but because I don’t want to embarrass myself again with a recommendation for a book I’ve fallen in love with… which I later find out to be pretty much a blatant rip-off of an earlier novel which I’d never read. [This situation occurred earlier this year, and boy! was I mad when I discovered the original…]

But back to the picture book: my latest, greatest, most favourite of all picture books that I discovered this week is: THE FABULOUS FRIEND MACHINE by Nick Bland.

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Yes, that’s a chicken, looking at an iPad. No, I won’t give away any more than that.

If you’ve read this book already, you’re smiling right now; I know. Me too.

If you *haven’t* read it – go find yourself a copy and READ IT NOW. You won’t regret it, I promise. In fact, if you’re like me, you’ll probably say to yourself after, ‘I know people who need to read this book’. And you’ll tell them. The way I’m telling you.

Please, please, please, if you know of any parents, or teachers, or librarians, please let them know about this book. I can’t stress enough how much they’ll love it. Try it, and see. Bet you I’m right!

And, as always, have a lovely week šŸ™‚

— KRidwyn

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my novel-in-progress places to visit Writing

My favourite #writingplace

This is my favourite spot in the whole world at the moment. It’s on the beach, the very northern tip of Bribie Island, in Queensland (Australia) looking across the passage to Caloundra.

Just now, the weather’s warm enough to be perfect too!

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The cherubs play happily and I get to sit and write.

Bliss!

Do you have a favourite #writingplace? What do you love about it?

 

 

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family anecdotes momentous events Random thoughts teaching

When your kid is smarter than you

4066496185_9624123677_mSo it’s happened. My Miss11 beats me in chess. Regularly. So much so, that she doesn’t ask me for gamesĀ anymore. Miss8 and Mr7 still do, but Miss11? Not so much.

I asked her if it was because I was too easy to beat. She hesitated before answering with, “Umm… noo….” – you know, the long drawn out variety of no which means ‘yes, but I don’t want to hurt your feelings.’

It’s sad, but I guess ’twas inevitable. You see,Ā when it comes to chess, I have developed this theory: an older brain is less flexible, and therefore a younger brain will beat an older brain in chess any day of the week.

That’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

Plus, it makes sense, I think. Why else is it easier for young children to pick up languages etc? Because their brain is still maturing, working out which neurons should fire together, and all that jazz. But oldies like me, our brain paths are set in their ways. They like centre openings. They like castling around the middle of the game. They like set patterns of checkmates to follow. And when an opponent comes along who runs things differently, who shakes things up, it’s really rather frustrating.

So that’s my gripe for this week. She’s now better at me in something. And she’s knows she is, AND she knows I know.

Really, I’m okay with that.

It was bound to happen sometime. *sigh*

I just hoped it would have been much, much later!

Have a fantastic week, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

CC image courtesy John Morgan on Flickr

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Life Random thoughts teaching

When you’ve gotta go…

I lost my wallet yesterday.

The cherubs and I were at the ALDI checkout, a couple of dozen grocery items jolting along the conveyor belt toward the cashier when I looked at my hands and realised both were sans wallet. As were all my pockets – both jacket and pants.

Assuming I’d left my wallet in the car, I sent Cherubs 1 and 2 with the keys, to retrieve it. While they were gone, I made it to the front of the queue and Cherub3 helped me bag the items as each was scanned.

The lovely check-out guy rang up the total… then Cherub 1 arrived back with the bad news. They couldn’t find the wallet; Cherub 2 had remained in the car and was still searching, and where did I think they should look next?

Apologising profusely to both the lovely check-out guy and the man waiting in line behind me, I left Cherubs 1 and 3 in the store with our groceries; the check-out guy suspended the sale, and I raced out to join Cherub 2 in what was to be a thorough but fruitless rampage through the car.

No wallet.

If you know me, you’d know just how much panic would normally be ensuing at this point in time.

And yet – it wasn’t.

Reason being? It was 4pm after my most-full-on day at work. The day where I start at 7am and literally don’t get a minute to myself until 2.50pm- and yesterday, even that minute didn’t happen. I therefore found myself in the middle of a missing-wallet-dilemma, and all I could think about was how soon I’d be able to extricate myself and find a ladies room.

Man, oh man, was I ever regretting the whole ‘drink plenty of water, it’ll cleanse out your system’ regimen I’d decided to try!

So there I was, turning my car as inside-out as is physically possible, and although the back of my mind was trying to tell me that ‘Losing my wallet was a Very Serious Situation that I’d need to deal with, pronto’, my bodily urges were saying, ‘Nuh-uh! My problem trumps yours, bucko!’ And the bodily urges were winning.

Long story short, I was back at the checkout with Cherub1 – Cherubs 2 and 3 safely ensconced in the back seat of the car, groceries paid for with the generous assistance of an old friend who God had just-so-happened to have take out the right amount of money and shop there at that particular time – when the lovely check-out guy (who’d taken my name and number when I’d scoured every aisle, looking)Ā called me over and told me a wallet had been handed in.

Yes, it was mine. So I could pay back my friend, pack the groceries and Cherub1 into the car, and make it to a ladies room in time.

Relief all ’round!

Moral of the story? Not entirely sure. It’s good to know that God’s in control, maybe? And does every story even need to have a moral? Who knows. Perhaps what every reader gets out of a story is different, anyway…?

Anyway, just thought I’d share that with you this morning.

Here’s wishing you a wonderful week, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

 

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Christianity family anecdotes Life More about me Random thoughts Writing

When stuff goes pear-shaped

I remember one of my godfathers once asked me to choose a present for myself. I was about 8, and we were in the local newsagent.

I looked for a long time, finally bringing him the thickest compendium of Garfield comics I could find, which he bought without hesitation. Afterward, he questionedĀ my choice. “I was only able to choose one gift,” I explained, “so I wanted to make sure that the gift I chose would last me a long time.”

That’s me. I’m a thinker; a planner. I’m the person who always has to know what is going to happen, WAY ahead of schedule, so I can plan for it. That photo next to ‘control freak’ in the dictionary? That’s me.

Well, it used to be, anyway. I’m learning to relax a lot more. God working in me and all that, maybe?

Case in point: this blog.

Last week. No blog post.

Whoops! Monday morning came; Monday morning went; all 24 hours worth of Monday disappeared… and no new words appeared here.

And it was completely human error. Mine.

Thees last couple of weeks have been busy ones, you know? As in, three-cherubs-underfoot-EVERY-SINGLE-DAY-and-no-time-to-stop-and-think-and-realise-exactly-what-day-it-is-today kind of busy.

Hence Tuesday evening, when I went to watch the Monday TV show I’d taped the night before, I realised that I’d been a day behind. No TV show taped. And also, no blog post published. It wasn’t even written! It hadn’t even been thought about!!!

Cue panicked screaming, running around the house, arms flailing, et cetera – for a whole 20 seconds.

And then I thought, ‘You know what? These things happen. It’ll be okay.’

Decibel levels reduced to within nationally appropriate safety standards, my arms stopped flailing, my heartbeat slowed again, my mind ceased racing, and the cherubs whose presence had caused the upset to routine in the first place, chalked the episode up to yet-another-example-of-Mummy-being-crazy, sighed, and returned to watching old episodes of Pokemon I’d recorded for them. (Yes. Record their programs, not mine. Go figure.)

Stuff had gone pear-shaped, and little ol’ control-freak me was going to… be okay with that.

I’d realised that no amount of panicked screaming and arm-flailing was going to change the situation. “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change” seems appropriate to quote here, but actually, it was a tweet that same dayĀ that hit the nail on the head for me, instead.

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So often IĀ allow stuff over which I have no control, to trip me up. Do you do the same? But although the idea of ‘stumbling over something that lies behind us’, is ludicrous… how often do we do it?

If we can’t change the past, then let it lie. Don’t dwell on it; forget about it inasmuch as it is able to be forgotten (obviously, consequences will out and all that).

But, in the grand scheme of things, I don’t want to be the person on her deathbed at the end of her life, saying ‘I regret spending all that time worrying’. Especially when it’s worry over things I can’t do anything at all about.

[Aside: It may be trite, but I believe that worry is simply an unsaid prayer.]

So my advice, when stuff goes pear-shaped? Do something about it, if you can. And if not, then don’t sweat it. In the long run, it’ll probably be small stuff anyway.

Well, that’s my take on it. Your thoughts?

And have a great week, dear reader!

-KRidwyn

Categories
family anecdotes More about me my novel-in-progress Random thoughts Writing

What makes an effort worthwhile?

Last Saturday was a fairly momentous day for me.

IMG_1907I finished the first draft of my third book.Ā And then I went and performed on my harp in public – for the first time.

But although both of those were momentous for me, their impact on others is negligible.

I typed ‘THE END’ on JUSTINE BROWNING AND THE YETI SOLUTION at 5.17pm, then packed up my three cherubs and we headed off to an evening performance with the Moreton Celtic Fiddle Club, which we’re all part of. Miss11, Miss8 and I play violin; Mr7 and I play recorder; and I also play harp. Different instruments for different songs, I hasten to add, hopefully before images of Dick Van Dyke in MARY POPPINS are stuck in your head… whoops… sorry!

Anywho, I’ve been learning harp for just over five months now. I’m a music teacher, and I’ve been playing instruments for three and a half decades, but harp is BY FAR the most difficult I’ve ever learned. Saturday’s was my first performance, and as scary as it was? It’s been and gone and the others will all be easier.

Likewise, my book. The first time I typed THE END, on May 10 2015, it was exhilarating. Typing it for a second time on May 10 of this year was just as brilliant, if not more exciting because I’d proven to myself that last year’s book wasn’t just a fluke. Typing it for the third time, two days ago, made me realise, ‘Hey, I can do this. This is a thing, now.’ And that’s an incredibly fantabulous realisation to make!!! Especially seeing as I can see how my writing is improving substantially with each and every book. It may not be getting ‘easier’ but it’s certainly getting ‘better’ šŸ™‚

Although, (and I’m thinking about Saturday again now) for each of these two events, I also stepped back from myself and said, ‘So what?’

I played my harp piece as background music during a celebratory meal – the group that had booked us to play for them, were marking 30 years existence. So people were eating and drinking, talking and laughing – and maybe a handful were watching; listening; paying attention. Not that I was playing for their attention… but the thought hit me: ‘few care’. And no more than a couple would have given any thought to the efforts I had gone to, to learn the harp and play the song for their enjoyment.

Likewise, my stories. I’d like to think they’ll be published one day. [Please Lord, before my 45th birthday!] but even if they are, only a mere handful of readers may possibly think about the effort that I put into creating the book.

And that’s okay. Don’t get me wrong, I realise that this is the way life is, and even if I wanted to change this, it’ll never happen.

No, my point is: what is it that makes these efforts of mine – any effort, by anybody, really – worthwhile?

Was I playing solely for my listeners’ enjoyment? Do I write solely for my future possible readers?

In part, yes. But to be downright honest about this – only a little part.

So what makes my efforts worthwhile? My own feelings about what I’ve accomplished. My own emotions about what my future could look like.

And if that’s not motivation enough, I don’t know what is šŸ™‚

Have a great week, dear reader!

— KRidwyn

Categories
#blogjune Blogging challenges family anecdotes Life Reading

30 must-read books – #30

And today’s post marks Day 30 of my ’30 must-read books’ for #blogjune 2016. My last one!

#bj30

And what a novel to round out my list. Controversial both when it was first published in 1932, and still, this novel raises issues that sit uncomfortably with readers. And that’s not necessarily a bad thing. As I wrote yesterday, books that challenge us to think about, to adjust, or to be more firmly convicted in our own beliefs – I’m all for that.

As I tell my cherubs continually, KNOW what you believe. Don’t just follow the crowd because it’s easy. Be true to YOU. And the only way *that* can happen is if you know who you are, and what you believe.

Thus Aldous Huxley’sĀ Brave New World makes it into my list of ’30 must-reads’. And my question to you, dear reader, is this: would it make your list? Why / why not?

For those of you who’ve followed my #blogjune journey this year – THANK YOU! I’ve enjoyed sharing my faves with you – and especially enjoyed your comments / suggestions / recommendations!!!

And have an incredible day today šŸ˜€

— KRidwyn

 

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#AtoZchallenge #blogjune Blogging challenges Life Reading

Reflections on #blogJune

So what *is* this #blogJune thing? It’s a blogging challenge, started by @flexnib back in 2010, and basically you publish a daily blogpost, every day in June. Most bloggers hail from Australia and New Zealand, and many work in the Library sphere, but we’re not exclusive. Case in point: me šŸ™‚ If you’d like to join us, the signup info is here.

So anyway, #blogJune starts in just a couple of days. This will be my sixth year participating!

In 2011, when my blog was just a shade over 6 months old, I was exceedingly proud of myself for publishing 30 blogposts in the 30 day period. No, not all got done on their respective days, and yes, I used quite a few ‘memes’ in there to get me through the 30, but all in all, it was a very satisfactory start to the whole ‘blogging’ thang. In spite of my cherubs deciding that the first week of June would be a perfect time to have vomiting bugs…

#blogJune 2012 was hugely emotional. My Mr3 had just been diagnosed with autism, and boy oh boy, that was a HUGE rollercoaster ride! Reading back on those posts now? Wow. Just wow.

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In 2013, I battled (more) vomiting bugs and assignments, work and really AWFUL movies and made it to the 30 post mark

2014 saw me only blog 5 posts due to illness and Uni assignments šŸ™

And last year,Ā renovating and parenting blogposts were the main topics featured – but there were a couple of Krav Maga ones in there too!

Just last month I blogged daily too, as a first-time participant of the #AtoZchallenge which occurs every April. I had planned on publishing a 26-part story, however it ended up being far too dark and intense to publish on my blog, so I’m keeping that one for a different audience. I wrote a series of ’26 lessons from God’s metaphors’ instead. Which still ended up being FAR more words than I had originally envisioned!

So I’ve decided that my #blogJune entries for 2016 will be photo-based. My thirty favourite books (or book series / collection). I wonder if any will surprise? How many you have read? What you thought of them, if you did?

Anyway, that will all start June 1. Stay tuned, dear reader!

And until then, keep well!

— KRidwyn

Categories
#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity More about me Reading

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #20

There’s a lot to be said for thinking for yourself, in my opinion. I try daily to teach my own three cherubs how to not just blindly accept what they hear, but to test its veracity and decide for themselves.

One of my favourite Bible verses is from Acts 17 verse 11, comparing the Bereans to the Jews in Thessalonica. The Bereans didn’t just accept what they heard Paul (one of Jesus’ followers) say, but they “examined the Scriptures every day to see if what Paul said was true.” They checked it out for themselves. I like that.

TIn the book of John, chapter 14 verse 6 says:

“I am the way and the truth and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”

Today’s letter for this #AtoZchallenge I’m doing is ‘T’. ‘T’ is for ‘Truth’ – and that, with a capital T.

In this verse, Jesus said that He IS the truth. Also the way, and the life. That’s a pretty radical claim. And me being the type of person I am, I’m not just going to take this on face value. I need to examine this further.

Thatā€™s one reason why I agree wholeheartedly with C.S.Lewisā€™ argument in MERE CHRISTIANITY: that thereā€™s only three options when you come to thinking about Jesus. Heā€™s either a liar, or a lunatic, or He actually is who He *said* he was: Lord.

Warning: long quote alert!

ā€œI am trying here to prevent anyone saying the really foolish thing that people often say about Him: Iā€™m ready to accept Jesus as a great moral teacher, but I donā€™t accept his claim to be God. That is the one thing we must not say. A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. He would either be a lunatic ā€” on the level with the man who says he is a poached egg ā€” or else he would be the Devil of Hell. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God, or else a madman or something worse. You can shut him up for a fool, you can spit at him and kill him as a demon or you can fall at his feet and call him Lord and God, but let us not come with any patronising nonsense about his being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to. ā€¦

Now it seems to me obvious that He was neither a lunatic nor a fiend: and consequently, however strange or terrifying or unlikely it may seem, I have to accept the view that He was and is God.ā€ *

Iā€™m taking the third option. I believe Heā€™s the LORD. And Iā€™m gratefully accepting His offer to follow Him and His way, and have life!Ā šŸ™‚

Have a great day, dear reader!

ā€” KRidwyn

* Quotes taken from Book 3, the end of Chapter 3 ā€œThe Shocking Alternativeā€ and immediately on into the beginning of Chapter 4 ā€œThe Perfect Penitentā€

 

 

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#AtoZchallenge Blogging challenges Christianity Life

26 lessons from God’s metaphors: #10

I have three children: Miss11, Miss8 and Mr7. I love them more than I could possibly imagine, and want to protect them from the evils I know exist in the world. I’m sure all parents feel the same. Before becoming a parent, I never felt this way. I didn’t know it was possible to feel the overwhelming love that would sacrifice everything for this child who relies on you so utterly.

As a teenager in High School, I once heard the story of a man who controlled the switch at a train track. He was about to switch the track for a passenger train to pass safely by, when he realised that his four-year-old son was playing on it. Now that’s a dilemma! Choose who dies – a train full of passengers, or your own child?

That story has remained vivid enough that I could remember it this last week, and use it for an illustration today. Snopes though, tells the background to the story, as ‘story’ it appears to be.

JNonetheless, it is a relatable illustration of God and His choice – to send His son to Earth, knowing He would be killed the most excruciating way possible. For us. Because it was the only way that He could save us from the consequences of our sin. And Jesus – who knew, and obeyed.

Now I’m a parent, God’s choice confounds me and humbles me. There’s no way I would voluntarily sacrifice my one of my own children for strangers. Not even for friends. And yet – that’s what God did. And Jesus – who knew, and obeyed? The mind reels.

God loves us, did you know?

I’m humbled by that.

And that’s my takeaway lesson for today. J, for Jesus. Who obeyed.