Tangled | writermummy

Toddler Shirts: Fiddly to Iron

Today witnessed another domestic day of calm which also started with a minor victory.

I decided to download reward charts for the children, for Going to Nursery with a Smile. We haven’t done reward charts before, partly because I think Aaron’s still a bit little and partly because I’m rubbish at that kind of structured parenting. The kids get stickers for good behaviour but it’s incident specific – some days they’ll get them for eating all their dinner, sometimes for washing their hair.

I’ve never wanted them to be always motivated by sticker rewards – I’m naively hopeful they’ll eat their dinner or go to bed because it needs to be done.

Reward charts for Smiling Faces

But the nursery thing has become a bad habit for all of us and I was scraping the bottom of my pot of parenting ideas. Now they get a sticker each time they don’t cry and after they have collected ten they can buy a toy. I think little man might get frustrated waiting the month it will take to earn ten stickers but at least I have a neutral point of discussion. I just need to make sure not to over-use it: I probably said ‘you won’t get a sticker’ a dozen times this morning. He still clung to me and wanted to cry when I dropped him off, but a timely reminder of the promised toy brought him round.

As a reward to myself I’ve been doing housework all day because a clean house is a calm house. It means my Claire post will be a little short but it’s a price worth paying. Three loads of laundry and a batch of spag bol later and I’m back in control, for now. If only little man hadn’t decided he wants to wear shirts like Daddy. I don’t do ironing, it’s practically in my marriage contract. But you can’t say no to a 2-year-old who wants to look smart. If I could also find his missing football top I might earn some major Mummy brownie points! In the meantime I am floating around my clean house in a zen bubble of peace, wiping stains off work-tops and picking up stray socks. It will last twenty-four hours – 48 hours at the most – so I’m enjoying it while I can.

A little aside about today’s post. It makes sense if you’ve seen Tangled (a frying pan; who knew right?) If you haven’t seen it I heartily recommend it.

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Below is the next installment in my novel Two-Hundred Steps Home: written in daily posts since 1st January as part of my 2013 365 Challenge. Read about the challenge here.You can catch up by downloading the free ebook volumes on the right hand side of the blog:

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“Sky, come away from the edge, sweetheart. Sky? I said come away from the edge!” Claire ran forwards to catch hold of her niece as she leaned over the railings, her feet dangling a foot above the path. She peered down at the two-story drop and retreated to the middle of the walkway, swallowing bile. Honestly, I used to think Castles were a bit boring but I feel like I’ve been on the Big Dipper at Blackpool. She felt the sweat trickle down into her bra, despite the freezing wind whistling around the half-ruined castle walls.

On her right she could feel the view stretching into the distance. If she turned she knew she would see a lake and a glimpse of the village in the distance. If I’d been watching Sky instead of admiring the scenery my niece wouldn’t have nearly thrown herself twenty foot to her death. We should have stayed in Framlingham and had tea and scones, it would have been less stressful.

She turned the little girl to face her and squatted down to allow her to look directly into her eyes. Brushing away the wisps of hair that were escaping Sky’s ponytail, Claire inhaled deeply. “Sky, I know you want to explore, but you must listen to Auntie Claire. It’s very dangerous, leaning over the edge like that. What would your Mummy say if you fell and hurt yourself? Or worse?” Never mind what she’d do to me.

Sky hung her head. “Sorry, Auntie Claire. I’ve never been to a real castle before. I was pretending to be Rapunzel, trapped in the tower.” She shook her ponytail, which skimmed just below her shoulders. “I was letting down my hair. You know.”

It rang a bell in Claire’s mind, but she hadn’t read the story recently. A fact popped up. “Didn’t the prince fall and have his eyes poked out by a bramble bush?”

Sky stared at her, open mouthed, her eyes wide. Thinking that seemed a bit harsh for a children’s story, Claire shook her head to dismiss the image. “Ignore me; that must have been something else. So what happens when Rapunzel lets down her hair?” She stood and led the girl away from the yawning gap and back into the castle.

“She hits Flynn on the head with a frying pan and ties him to a chair.”

What? That’s definitely not the Brothers Grimm version I remember. Sounds much better though. So, Feminism reaches Disney? Probably not before time.

“Well, no hitting any boys on the head with frying pans when I’m around please.” She thought about her own bump to the head. A frying pan would have been a handy thing to have had in the dark lane when she was mugged. “Well, not unless they hurt you first at any rate.”

Feeling she had experienced enough of life trapped in a tower of stone, Claire waited until they were safely away from the railing before tilting her head and smiling at Sky. “Are you about ready for that chocolate cake?”

***

Tangled – A proper modern fairytale

I had a glorious three hours at home by myself today, as Daddy took the children to the local Farm. Normally it’s my favourite place to go, and it was a lovely sunny day today, but the children decided they wanted Daddy to themselves and I had to admit that it was probably time to do a bit of cleaning. Spending my spare time writing about Claire is having an impact on the house!

I did manage to hoover the bedrooms but what I spent most of my time doing was watching Tangled (I am still poorly!) We recorded it at Christmas for the kids but I hadn’t managed to see it and it was a delight to become absorbed in it without a dozen “what’s she doing?” every minute. I have always enjoyed Disney movies but this is the first princess one I’ve seen for a while. I must say, it isn’t my intention to analyse it here (though I could) but I thought it was very well done.

Generally I don’t mind my daughter watching Disney movies (not that she’s seen many – they are so expensive!) but I do have an Usborne fairytale book that I try not to read if possible for the simple reason that, at the end of every story, when the prince asks the girl to marry him she always replies “yes please”.

I mean, what?

Have a happy ending, that’s fine, I happen to be an advocate of marriage. But not “yes please“.

[Deep breath, avoid ranting.]

Phew. Anyway I liked Tangled because we see the man’s journey as well as the woman’s and at the end he jokes about her asking him to marry her. It’s nice to see the man have a character arc too instead of being a dummy in a suit.

Sorry, that was a total digression, but I thought I’d add it so I could put a nice picture from the movie as my page picture (taken from the television, Disney, before you try to sue!) and it was in my mind after reading the two articles I’ve listed below, from the Ubiquitous. Quotidiant. blog that I have recently discovered (worth a look).

It is slightly relevant to my story-writing as well because this novel is only from Claire’s POV (so far) whereas usually I like to write from the male and female protagonist’s perspectives. I haven’t decided yet whether there is going to be a significant male in this story but we may find one coming in later.

On to Claire….

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Claire parked around the corner from her parents’ house and turned to contemplate the rucksack on the back seat. Taking it in with her was going to raise questions, but leaving it in the Skoda was tantamount to putting a sign on it saying “Steal Me”. Even in this part of Cambridge there were bound to be people handy enough with a wire coat-hanger to break in.

She pulled the tiny silver handle to open the door. I could probably break in myself if the need arose. Maybe I should start carrying a piece of wire in my handbag. I’m bound to lock my keys in at some point.

She pushed down the lock and checked she was holding the keys before slamming the door shut. One of the quirks of this particular car was that it wouldn’t lock from the outside. I miss my beep-beep button already and it’s only been a day.

Claire opened the front door to her family home only after ringing the bell to see whether anyone was in. She wasn’t surprised to find the house empty. The journey had taken much longer than expected and her mother was probably already at her WI meeting. Her father was rarely in during the week. Despite taking retirement he kept himself busy during normal working hours, as if the groove made by fifty years of work was so deep he could do nothing but run along the same path.

She looked around the hallway and lounge, trying to tell if anything had changed. It was unlikely. If her father’s groove was created by time spent in a suit and tie her mother’s ran between her charities and the WI. Home decoration and interior design had never been her thing. Claire supposed a house of magnolia and pine was better than frills and flowers everywhere but it did make the place feel cold. When they were little there had been a few photographs of her and her siblings around the place, the odd painting tacked to the wall. Now the pictures were as bland as the furniture.

Claire shivered, cursing herself for forgetting to unpack a cashmere from the rucksack. The house was always several degrees colder than was comfortable. Another quick yell confirmed that the house was empty. Walking through to the kitchen, Claire headed for the kettle, hoping her mum had thought to put some semi-skimmed milk on the sign for the milkman. There was a note by the kettle. Mum does at least know me that well, Claire thought with a smile.

“I bumped into Kim at the supermarket and mentioned you were coming home for a few days. She said to call her if you fancied a drink.”

The note was written in beautiful curling handwriting on a piece of pink paper torn from a notebook. Claire stared at it, wondering if she was feeling strong enough for a night out with her oldest friend. Nothing cuts through your life to the core like an hour spent with someone who has known you since you were five.

Claire poured steaming water into a large mug and gave the teabag a prod, watching the rich red-brown colour spread out like spilt blood. She was conscious of a strong pulling sensation somewhere in her chest. It was the lure of the Maldives; of empty sandy beaches and no one having any idea where she was.

***

Related Articles:

How I learned to Stop Worrying and Love Disney Princesses: Ubiquitous. Quotidian (http://rmbenson.wordpress.com)

Fairytale Fact Check: Do Dreams Really Come True? Ubiquitous. Quotidian (http://rmbenson.wordpress.com)