untangling this thing we call life…

Monthly Archives: December 2012


I haven’t gone anywhere, but I’m painfully aware of the lack of posts here recently.  I do have a serious one in my drafts folder.  Mostly, life is hectic.  We’ve changed gear from school routines to holiday routines.  I wish I could say this made life slightly easier, but honestly, it’s just different!

All three children are back home, and rules have had to be set in stone to get us through.

To add a little spice to the chaos that is Christmas, I’ve just received my course materials for my Biology A level, and I’m really keen to find an hour or two to get that started.

Neither writing nor knitting have featured much in my life for the last few weeks, which I must remedy because both are a key part of my mental health system!

In other news, Sweet Girl is now a recognised name with the Authority, even before they have received any paperwork – I think that’s good.

Little Man…. I am battling.  The Authority is trying all its tricks to avoid the option I want.  Why?  I have no idea.  I am so shocked by their tactics.  The latest is to insist on specific details from the schools of teaching strategies that have or have not worked.  The school have already written that they are unable to meet his needs.  After five years of immense effort on their part, it was a heartbreaking letter to write.  For their teaching to be put in question is a step too far in my mind.  I really hope that we can keep this out of the tribunal system, but…  On a positive, they are sending a letter to the school I’m hoping for to see if they will come and assess Little Man in his current setting.

All of that pauses with the Christmas holiday.  I wish I could as easily put my emotions on pause.  My inability to do anything at all for two weeks is more than frustrating…

Eldest is home and so far we’re doing fairly well.  Tensions are high, they always are when the family is reunited because we all live with the knowledge that our stability is a chimera… the slightest thing can spark something that can lead to fairly intense situations.  But we are vigilant, and hopefully we will spend a lovely holiday together.

As far as blogging goes, I am hoping to do a little, without worrying about sticking to a target!

I do hope you all have a relaxed, happy holiday…

All my love to all you lovely readers!!!

Benedicte



Find the little pink cloud behind all those grey ones...

Find the little pink cloud behind all those grey ones…

This was my sky on the way home from school this afternoon, and it struck me as wonderfully reflective of my simply tangled life.  It’s been a fairly grotty, miserable winter’s day; we woke to rattling, cold rain and wind strong enough to push you over.  The temperature has lately been freezing, but warmed up just enough to allow big grey rain clouds to roll in.  Not warm enough to feel remotely comfortable though.  One of those days when the wind lashes cold rain into your face, the sky hangs low and everything feels rather gloomy.

I bravely walked my way to school to pick up Little Man, and then followed his zoomy power chair all the way home.  No time for chat… he powers away, constantly looking for a bit of suitably wet and muddy grass to skid slightly out of control.  A successful skid is followed by a world class grin and a thumbs up to me (if I am within visible distance).

And out of the blue… well, out of the grey and the bluster… there it was: a little patch of pale blue sky with a fluffy white cloud.  The heavy lid of grey cumulo-nimbus that has covered our world all day gave way to the reality of the sky above.  Still blue, still beautiful with the occasional little cotton ball of condensation. Not only that, but the evening sun had coloured that little ball of fluff a pale yet clearly visible pink!

I claim that pink as red, and revel in the old saying:  Red sky at night, shepherd’s delight, which promises fair weather in the morning.

It was a tangled picture, combining galeful winds and grey, rainy clouds, with quiet blue sky and little pink balls of fluff.  However grim and grotty the day may have felt, that blue sky was always just beyond our sight.  And I’ve just caught a glimpse of my little pink cloud and chosen to interpret it as a good omen for the day to come!

Serendipity!  The effort made to walk to school led to me being in a position to see that little ball of pink fluff.  But I then chose to notice it, take a photograph, and putting my own spin on it.  As a result, I feel happy and looking forward to tomorrow!  This is serendipity in the making… 🙂



No deep and meaningfuls tonight.  I am trying to keep my blogging regular, it oils the wheels of my creative and emotional expression.  But as I wrote just yesterday, there is not always the energy or time to express all that is being felt.

And one hugely important role of this blog is to keep those who love me informed of the little details in my life.  This avoids their worry if I have not called recently, and I have to admit it takes away the need to make call upon call giving information rather than simply enjoying family company.

So…

This week in a little nutshell:

  • Sweet Girl is in school for the mornings only.  Her medication doesn’t seem to be working very well any more.  She worries about food, though her appetite is still driven by the drug.  She is staggeringly fragile and prone to tears.  This evening, as the chimney sweep was struggling to shift a blockage, she was crying at the thought of never having a fire again…  However, afternoons at home are helping her find some sort of emotional stability, and we are slowly moving a little further forward on her road to a better educational environment.
  • On that road, a review meeting with Behaviour Support should lead to the involvement of Education psychology in the near future, and there is finally a realisation that this little girl will not manage in a “normal” secondary school.
  • Also on that road, we had a long meeting to complete a CAF… common assessment framework.  This is a discussion which is later submitted via a form to try and bring all agencies working with a child together and put in place the practical support that is required…  NOT a fun meeting, but it’s done, and another step, another piece of evidence to get her needs met.
  • Little Man underwent a CT scan yesterday.  His regular headaches are a cause for concern, and it was important to make sure that there is nothing in his skull that shouldn’t be (don’t you love doctors and euphemisms? – we’re looking for tumours…), all the while not expecting anything too nasty.  I’m guessing that there is certainly nothing eye popping as we were allowed to go home, and I haven’t heard from the hospital about the results yet.
  • While in hospital, and sedated, the idea was to get some blood out of Little Man to check his white blood cells etc…  Well!  First of all, though sedated, he never actually fell asleep (pity!  it made things much harder work for Mummy).  He was lovely during the scan, very out of it but responsive enough to stay still.  Unfortunately, his vein was not compliant, and kept jumping out of the way.  My little boy became very distressed, and having given up on that vein we decided to leave it.  Very good decision!
  • Giggle gas!!!  In a bid to help Tom deal with blood tests, we will be going into hospital next Tuesday to try out Entinox (giggle gas).  Subsequently we will make an appointment to get that blood out.  I will have some anaesthetic cream at home to prep him in all available poking spots, and we will use the giggle gas to lower his anxiety.  It’s really good to see the nurses being proactive about this needle anxiety (which I refuse to call a phobia so far!).
  • Darling Man was theoretically on holiday.  He has managed one day and a half!  Short of booking a holiday it seems impossible to get him to let go!!  I love his work ethic, and it goes a long way to providing our family with much needed stability, but I have to say I would love to see a little more of him!
  • Eldest was extremely upset yesterday when told to stay in bed by the school nurse.  Nothing serious, just a nasty cold, which he still denies having.  He continues to do well according to school staff, and I am looking forward to seeing the various new strategies that are being put in place for January… I know nothing right now!!  A phone call to the psychologist earlier in the week was very reassuring, and I have high hopes that she will be able to help him through some difficult emotional memories next term.
  • Christmas shopping is almost done!!  Christmas posting is not yet, and I hope that all gifts will arrive in time.  I have a couple of things still to do, but on the whole there is no big rush.
  • And finally, I was able to spend the evening with kindred spirit, Miss Berry last night!  She and I have a long standing plan to see each other every fortnight, despite our rather hectic lives.  We were doing very well until early summer, when life simply took over.  Last night was the first night spent together for a very long time.  Much chitty chatting was had, the children were lovely, and I got home at half past one this morning!!!

There we have it!  My teeny update!



Since I became a mother, I have been faced with concerns, questions and even judgements from various people…  These have come in various forms, from direct questions, to looks, and sometimes quite virulent statements.  All have been well meaning.  All have been quick to judge.  Almost none have taken the time to talk to me about their concerns.

What worries people so much about me?  Well, it’s very simple, and I understand that a casual look at my life and the way in which I spend my time and energy can lead to this conclusion…

She lives through and for her children.  This is not healthy either for her or for them.  What will she do when the children leave home?  How will the children ever detach from such a powerful, overwhelming mother.

It’s hard to hear that.  Harder when you see all of this and more in the eyes of someone sat across from you, and who often clearly cares for you.  When they are more distant emotionally it’s a little easier, but more frustrating.  So much so, in fact, that I needed to get those few sentences in a different colour as soon as I had typed them.

In therapy this week, this topic came up.  My wonderful therapist has clearly been worried about me, as our sessions have revolved around my frustration and heartache in trying to help the children, and it was quite right that she should bring this issue up.  I hope that I was able to more clearly show her all of me, and reassure her.  The thing is that in therapy, I tend to bring the hard stuff.  And this year, this school year, the children are so vulnerable and struggling so much that this is the hard stuff.

When a baby makes it presence known, I suspect most mothers become enveloped in the need to nurture that little life.  Pregnancy is a funny old thing, but during this time, it becomes quite difficult to think of yourself as anything other than a mother… someone responsible for a whole other being.  And when that baby is born, the feeling intensifies.  For more than a year, that little person is utterly dependent on you for food, cleanliness, warmth, touch, happiness, love.

Even at this early stage, I was often told that I was “pushing” my baby.  The truth is that I was trying desperately to keep up… Eldest, in particular, craved information, stimulation and entertainment.  I was more than happy to sit back and enjoy those first few years for what they were: fleeting, and a great opportunity to watch and relish each little milestone.  Eldest had other plans.  He was quite desperate to move, and was pulling himself up to standing by five months, walking at ten months and climbing up to the highest slide at the park before he was one.  By the time he was two, he was counting forward and backward to 20, could read and write simple words and was doing simple addition and subtraction.  In both French and English.  I don’t believe for a minute that I could have “made” that happen.  He was extremely demanding, but when kept busy was a lovely, interesting and delightful little boy.

Oh… it might be worthwhile noting that from the time Eldest made his presence known, until he was two years old, I continued to teach the piano and oboe.  For three hours a day from the time he was a week old, I taught.  If he was hungry, I fed him.  Other than that, he was either in my arms or led/sat at my feet while I taught.  As he grew older, he sometimes played in his room, but in any case, he knew that he could not have my full attention during this time.  I also conducted a local children’s orchestra once a week.  Eldest either came with me (with a later bedtime which he did not like), or had a babysitter (which he did not like either).  The fact that he was less than impressed with these arrangements that failed to put him at the centre of my world was something I felt important… both for him and me. (Oh look!!!  I am me!)

Sweet Girl was very different.  Where Eldest had needed to be busy all the time, Sweet Girl was largely unresponsive to any external stimuli.  Certainly not positive!  She hated being engaged in any way, and was only interested in her big brother.  So as Eldest went to a local school in France where we were based, life became extremely quiet in the mornings.  The afternoons hustled us into the mad, busy, cluttered world of Eldest’s mind as I was thrown back into keeping him busy enough to avoid awe inspiring meltdowns and tantrums.

Was I giving in to him?, they say under their breaths.

It’s easy with hindsight to explain that Eldest is autistic.  That his special needs make understanding the world an extremely difficult thing for him to do.  That as a little boy he was simply trying to make sense of all that was around him, and that his intellect allows him to take in phenomenal amounts of data and analyse it.  But deprive him of his “laboratory” or of his “subjects and materials”, and you force him back into the chaos that is his first experience of life.  Wouldn’t you melt down?  Would you be able to understand that in order to give Mummy a little peace, you are expected to live in that darkness, that chaos which leaves you feeling terrified and confused?

And then, in the midst of a happy, but tiring life with two very small children, arrived Little Man.  Quite unexpectedly!!

Within ten weeks we were hurled into the world of hospitals and the realisation that life is a very fragile thing.  It’s a bit important to remember that at this point, I was mother to three children, all under the age of four.  One of whom was fighting for his life in hospital.  The other two of whom had just begun to adjust to a new baby, only to see him whisked away, with Mummy and Daddy reeling with shock and fear.  All three of them were incredibly vulnerable, and I was, I am their mother.  For quite a while, I would have to be Mummy.  “Me” would have to be protected, but would also have to be put to one side for a while.  Not because that is what I wanted, but because we each have a limited amount of hours in the day, and we each have a limited amount of energy both physical and emotional.

I am me.

And for the last nine and a half years, I have primarily been Mummy.  Because unlike most children, mine have not been able to go into school at the age of five and build their little lives gradually, happily, “normally”.  I have a (nearly) thirteen year old, a (nearly) eleven year old and a nine year old.  I am hoping that in another twelve months, all three of them will be happily ensconsed in a school that can meet their individual needs without the need for me to be on call at any time of the day.

I have to make choices, as do we all.  I could hand over Sweet Girl to her school in the morning and fetch her in the afternoon.  By doing that, I would be putting her mental health at tremendous risk (I know, simply because that’s exactly what I did last year).  By doing that, I would certainly be putting the school in an increasingly difficult situation as she becomes less stable.  Last year, there were several occasions when the school asked me to take her home.  The reality I live is that if it is in any way possible for me to keep her well both physically and mentally, I must surely do what is needed…  None of what I write here is over dramatised.

Little Man must be taken to his various therapy and medical appointments in order to keep him as well as possible.  These things are not optional.  If I treated them as such, I would be facing charges of neglect and bad parenting.  From well meaning folk, but also from medical professionals and social workers.

So I am me.  And a large part of me is being Mummy.  It’s hard, it’s tiring, and it’s also rewarding and lovely.

I’ve been looking forward to rediscovering the rest of me for a while now… probably about three years.  Slowly, quietly I’ve been allowing my experience of life in the last ten years to percolate to that “me”.  I’ve been letting all that sink in and make the changes that are inevitable.  It’s been a little frightening to think that the me that emerges from this decade of intense living will not be the me that had to be put away for a while.  That “while” has been far longer than any of us anticipated.  But then cocoons are not a bad thing… they allow for transformation, for growth.  They allow the possibility that what will emerge will have beauty and strength…

My cocoon is slowly thinning.  I can begin to see the outside world once more.

In the last few years, “me” has emerged through such activities as knitting, sewing, making time for special friends…  I have stubbornly continued to help out at school with the choir, even though this can be tremendously difficult when the children are more fragile.  I have allowed music to come back to me in the small moments that it has deigned to.  And I have tried to listen to the voice within to find a direction for life beyond the children.

This week I emerged a little more.  Thanks, oh thanks to Darling Man, who has such faith in me…

It started with a few little comments..

You would have made a brilliant doctor.

You know so much about this… it’s really complicated…

You could learn…

And I looked.  Could I learn?  Could I “start again”?  Could I look into medical research and what would I need to do?

And I found answers.  Medical school is not the right way for me.  It would involve a single mindedness that I am not willing to give.  I have been single minded for ten years, and I need to be me.  “Me” is not the single minded type.  I have always enjoyed too many varied things to give ten years of my life to training to be one person only.  Especially given that I would qualify as a doctor no younger than 50.

I also found other answers.  Nursing is also not the path I want… lots of reasons.  But science and health are really calling me.  Funnily enough I am back where I was at the age of fifteen… interested in how the body works.

I have been increasingly interested in the process of converting food to a healthy, functioning body.  I am fascinated by Little Man’s difficulties with food, and I find myself wanting to learn  more, but hitting the brick wall that is lack of education.  And I have experience.  Valid, strong life experience.

I have one child who is tube fed and clearly has problems absorbing food correctly due to genetic problems.

I have another child who is at considerable risk of anorexia.

Personally, I found myself gaining a huge amount of weight due to hormonal problems, and eventually managing to lose that weight (I hit that magic goal weight with weight watchers this week – my bmi is finally healthy!!).

And so I find myself rather keen to return to university to study nutrition and dietetics, with the goal of becoming a dietician.

Phew… as ever, writing things down makes them real, and strong, and scary!

My first step is to do an ‘A’ level in Biology.  It’s a requirement for the degree course.  I have to say I’m quite relieved, because it’s been a long time since I studied. ‘A’ level is achievable.

Darling Man… how lucky I am to have a partner in life who is so supportive, and enthusiastic.  I know that he will push me when I need it, and provide me with the confidence I absolutely lack.

First step of the first step was to announce!

When I learned of Little Man’s leukaemia, I spent hours on the phone, telling anyone and everyone I knew.  With every call, it became more real and in so doing, it became more manageable.  When something is real there is no choice but to deal with it, step by step.

So now, in my bid to release the “me” that has lain rather dormant for a decade, I am announcing…

I am planning to go back to school, and my second step, after announcing this to the world, is to buy my text book!

Off to Amazon I go…

I am me.  You may not have seen it.  You may have been blinded by the mothering, the intense mothering that circumstance has required of me.  But I am… I am me.  Just watch.  Once circumstance allows, I will emerge from that cocoon, and I will fly.

For me.  Also for those wonderful children.  So they know that Mummy is also more.  Mummy is me.  So they know that they too can fly.  They too can be… Zack… Kesia… Tom…

I am me.



So there it is… Teeny, tiny post.

Turns out that in the turmoil and box of the life that is now, that is necessarily lived for my darling, wonderful, rather broken children, “me” is breaking out!

I can see an end to this turmoil, and I’ve been working on untangling the snarl entitled, “my life after children”.  Well, my life once the children are settled in school.  Normally it happens when the youngest turns five and starts full time school.  For me, it’s looking like the youngest will be ten years old before I can embark on this new life.

But I can see that end, and my mind has been churning away at all sorts of possible paths.

I think I may have found one that clicks.  My spinning wheel, to turn all that tangled wool into a lovely thread looks to be school!

I am seriously considering going back to university, to study nutrition and dietetics with a view to become a dietician… The paths that would then be open to me feel numerous, exciting, challenging and suitable for my family life.

So my first step is to get an ‘A’ level in Biology.  I’m looking at distance learning, which will no doubt be the most practical style of studying for me.

It’s scary.  And exciting.  And really, really scary!!

But I have a sneaking suspicion that I’m going to jump in feet first and go for it!



There’s a lot on my mind!

Another wonderful blog award has come my way.  I know many bloggers are very cynical about these, comparing them to chain letters, but for me, spreading appreciation, kindness and sharing wonderful writers is nothing but good!  However, tonight is not that post because I have neither the enrgy nor the time to dedicate to it…

I have a huge amount of untangling to do with regards to a recent news story: that of a mother who “stole” her son away from doctors.  The little boy has a brain tumour and radiotherapy is the next course of treatment.  His mother says no.  As a mother with some experience of childhood cancer and with many, many (far too many) online friends whose children have and had cancer I believe very strongly that a patient (and in the case of young children their parents) must have the choice to refuse aggressive, damaging treatment, especially when results are far from guaranteed.  It’s a very controversial topic, I’m aware.  Which is why tonight will not be the night for that post either!

Mental health!!  There’s another thorny tangle in my mind.  I have, over the past several years, had a number of battles with depression.  My biggest hurdle, and that of doctors trying to help me, is that my depression is not clinical.  I think they call it situational.  Of course, the stresses of my life tend to go on long enough that what is initially situational does turn quite major and clinical.  And the horrid thing about depression is that once it takes hold, there is no “just get on with it”  available to you.  I’m not far from having to decide whether I need to consider anti-depressants again, but it is a tangly question.  I’m not against them as such, they got me through a very difficult period.  But they come with side effects both physical and psychological, and I’d rather not!  It’s a tangly tangle that would certainly benefit from some writing to simplify it.  Again, too thorny for tonight!

Which brings me to the conclusion that although I have much that I need to lay on the page in order to gain a little clarity, I have to wait for some emotional energy to return after a gruelling couple of weeks.  And yet, I need to write because the act in itself is so beneficial to my state of mind.  And also because I know that in writing here, I am able to share a little of myself with loved ones who live too far to knock on my door and make me a cup of tea!!

So tonight’s topic is that Family Day I promised us on Thursday!  As with all such promises it involved high expectations and thus came with a few little lows, but on the whole we had a lovely day.

I began with a surge of adrenaline equivalent to that experienced by a normal person doing a bungee jump.  (My brain provides me with utterly excessive amounts of the stuff for ridiculous reasons – I hate this chemical more than you might think, and cannot for the life of me understand those who actively seek it!) In this instance, I was quite stressed because I was expected at school to accompany the choir for its Christmas concert.  This would have been absolutely fine if it had been held in the afternoon as scheduled.  Instead, the time was changed at the last minute and the concert was held in the morning.  Which left me double booked, with the children having their Christmas ride at ten o’clock.

With a little ingenuity and the advantage of having two vehicles, Darling Man and I had worked out a plan that would get the children and their teaching assistants to the stable on time, and me as close behind as I could.  I duly took the children to school in the car, only to get out of a badly smelling automobile – drat that Sod who rules my life!!!  (For those who do not know it, I refer to Sod’s Law… click away!)  Having phoned Darling Man he appeared unsurprised, having experienced a similar problem recently (could he not have warned me???!!!).  On top of a high level of adrenaline to start the morning, I experienced another little surge… heart rate jumped a little higher, acid reflux good morning… oh the fun!!!

We decided that Darling Man would collect the four as  previously arranged, and would wait for me with engine running…

I cannot say that I enjoyed the concert.  Everybody performed very well, but my mind was firmly on the clock…  Heart rate loud and fast, and frankly interfering with my ability to keep time comfortably.  How tempting it was to speed up the choir pieces (with the excuse that I couldn’t see the conductor!).  I didn’t, because I am basically good!!!

And goodness won, because I left at ten o’clock and was at the school door before the children!  Hurrah for me!  Of course, my body was not so quick to respond and it was about forty five minutes before all bodily functions returned to a satisfactory base line…

I love to see that real smile... Thank you RDA!

I love to see that real smile… Thank you RDA!

I have not written yet about the amazing organisation that is Riding for the Disabled, but that is another post waiting patiently to be written.  Little Man has been riding with them for about two years now, and we have seen astounding improvement in his core stability and strength.  Sweet Girl has just started and for both children, this half hour of the week shows them at their best.  They smile, they are truly happy.  They feel safe and cared for by staff, volunteers, parents and ponies.  They each have “their” pony, and a real bond builds over time.  Little Man has been riding Jim Bob since he started, and Perry is Sweet Girl’s pony.  She shows real promise as a rider,but what the experience offers her is a chance to build on her self esteem, a time to let go and be herself without judgement, and the emotional support without which she could not manage this activity.  Despite her ability, she would not have the confidence or courage to ride in a more conventional class.

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Tom is absolutely in his element… his riding school, with Jim Bob on the way, dress up and Christmas music. Happy lad!

Christmas ride… so much fun!!  The ponies get dressed up with tinsel (well, not Rollo, who cannot abide dressing up… we suspect he may be autistic).  His rider from our group is an amazing little boy who also has autism, and agrees wholeheartedly with Rollo on the subject of disguises.  Along with a giant Christmas tree in one corner of the riding school is lovely cheesy Christmas music, and the ponies, children and volunteers then perform their ride.  This is choreographed so that the ponies perform figures of eight, allow those children who are able to to show off their trotting, and generally show themselves to their best.  The children are usually asked to wear red, which while a great idea is quite tricky over a big winter coat.  In view of this, I chose to make some tabards that would be easy enough for most children to manage (large head holes, no armholes to negotiate), and would not flap as this can spook the ponies.  In the event, only my two chose to wear them, but I have now donated the five tabards to our RDA group in the hope that they will be enjoyed by other children too.

Little Man is helped full time at school by the lovely, straightforward and dependable Mrs K, while Mrs V helps Sweet Girl at the beginning of each school day.  Both of these wonderful ladies have a lovely affinity for my children and make school possible for them.  It was a real pleasure to be able to invite them to this event, and they both seemed to enjoy themselves thoroughly – despite the cold!  It has to be said that Santa was very slow to hand out his presents this year, and our toes were froze by the end!!!  A cake and drink in the hut helped warm our cockles before we headed back to school to drop off the grown-ups, and home with our outlaw Little Man! (Sweet Girl is only able to be at school in the mornings at the moment, so we were only “stealing” Little Man away).

 

Christmas tree 2012

Christmas tree 2012

We had a very gentle and slow afternoon.  A family viewing of “Love Actually” to start the Christmas season, and then decorating the Christmas tree.  Darling Man found a selection of Christmas music to accompany our job, and the children had great fun rediscovering our baubles and decorations.  As with all such activities it was over in a whirl and left the children high as kites, and the grown ups exhausted and a little flat! 😀

We now have a lovely, warm sitting room with a beautiful Christmas tree.  Next week, we are to have the visit of a chimney sweep so that we can an open fire to the picture, and some marshmallows on sticks for the perfect evening!

Family Day was good!



Gwin Zegal… as picturesque and lovely in real life as it looks here… but better thanks to smell and wind on your face.

I’m babysitting for a friend tonight… and using her computer (cheeky me!!).  Unfortunately, her keyboard is most unfriendly to my fingers, making typing a particularly onerous task!!

So this one is a little post for my dear Maman, who tells me she checks my blog each evening for newslets… We are far from each other physically, so it’s rather lovely to have this virtual world to meet in!

Enjoy the photo – once more thanks to the world of the internet, all I had to type was the name of one of our favourite beaches: Gwin Zegal and presto!!, Brittany appeared as if by magic.

I’d urge you all to go there because it’s just perfect, but please don’t as one of its charms is the lack of people there!!



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...sharing everyday recipes from my gluten free kitchen with a side of life.

Chewy Pickle

Artsy fartsy and completely gluten free!

Durga's Toolbox

embracing special needs parenthood with courage, compassion and joy

Handmade Christmas Project

Spreading holiday cheer one craft at a time

Gold Can Stay

"The golden moments in the stream of life rush past us, and we see nothing but sand; the angels come to visit us, and we only know them when they are gone"--George Eliot

Thoughts

thoughts at teatime...

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