A bat a cat and a rabbit

The rabbit leapt and went straight for her neck. Meredith yelled “You’re supposed to be a vegetarian!” Meredith flung blankets off sweaty and with a racing heart. “What was that?” She spoke to no one in particular because there was no one. He had gone.

Every morning for the first week was a different version of sameness. The rabbit never reappeared but she had wrangled with a bat, been late for a flight and gone to school with no undies on. “Freud would have a ball with this lot.” She muttered to a house plant. Everyone needs a sounding board . Bunnings had supplied hers.

As the full circle of a new Monday approached she decided cleansing was in order. Usually she hated cleaning but shiny windows now made her smile. The bed was stripped and adorned in the floral cover he hated. She sorted paperwork that had been procrastinating in a pile. Incense smoke danced in the breeze of an open window.

The first round of snoozing her alarm the next day came with  a realisation. Calm. She squinted into the dark hoping for a memory of the dream that hadn’t rocked her. There was a taxi…or an Uber. She had heaved their tatty suitcase into boot and slammed it with a satisfying thud. His protesting voice came from behind her in the body of the guy from the post office. A tail grew from the base of his spine and dipped between his legs as he slumped into the Ubers back seat. She turned and walked. A bat, cat and rabbit stood clapping their paws. Her waking self smiled with the memory of her dreaming self. She was ok. And he was gone.



I love to write. It’s cathartic and expressive. For me it’s necessary. Yet I often get stuck. I puddle about not knowing what I “should” write. I promised myself this year that I would just do it. Five minutes a day was my realistic goal. I was going great guns…until I wasn’t.

The “additional needs parents” club is an exclusive bunch. Shared experience binds us. One thing many of us share is superstition. When my child’s neuro dares to ask how her seizures are going I whisper and bemoan a modern hospital with no wood to touch. (He kindly offers his head…which I truly hope is not made of wood!). I digress. I was doing it…my 5 minutes a day. Until.

I was writing about the girl. The topic was difficult. Following  a light bulb moment while trying to declutter, I was expressing the challenge of letting go of the stuff of a medically fragile child when it may be needed to keep memories…or for a memorial. Tough stuff. Then my phone rang. Her carer. “I think she’s had a seizure.” *#$%! It had been ages. On my race home my desire to write took a huge knock. (She’s fine by the way)

Actually the desire didn’t diminish so much as the anxiety and fear associated with writing wrapped my aspiration in a sticky web of what ifs and this-is-what-you-get-for-doing-something-for-yourself. From meditations to Facebook quizzes the answer keeps jumping at me. You need to write. “Should I go back to work?” Write. “Express your creativity.” Write.  “How can I help others and create awareness?” Write. I am disappointed to have broken my promise to myself. In trying to find motivation via Catherine Deveny I came across THE quote. “Commit. Find time. Or just find another excuse. The choice is yours.”*  Yep.

When people have said I should write a book I recoil. So many words, and about what? I recently came across a copywriting course which felt like a good fit, until I thought about it too much. But the time is now. So I’m committing again to writing, by writing.




*Use Your Words  Catherine Deveny 2016



Happy Sunny-versary

My baby has been neglected lately. No not the real one, she is getting plenty of attention. That’s my point. When the care levels of the kid increase (necessarily) my time and headspace for writing decreases. I miss it. To be neglectful even when busy is poor form. To do so on Sunshine’s birthday feels wrong.

Four years ago I took and deep breath and published my first post. It can be confronting putting my words out there for anyone to see but the support of you fine folk out there has spurred me on. Over the last four years 5393 visitors have taken a staggering 8702 views of my blogs. I am proud to say I have made over a century with 105 published posts (and many drafts laying idle…oops).

Happy 4th Sunny-versary little Sunshine in Puddles. May the second half of this year bring you more thoughts and musings…I can only try.

Getting the writing written

So to be a writer you need to write, right? Right. I haven’t been. There has not been much in the way of time…or head space. So I shall endeavour to improve.  Writing to Inspire offers daily prompts with which to flex ones creative muscle. Here is todays efforts. The prompt was….”Three words to include in a story: answer machine, operator, memory.”



The red light blinked. Tiny but menacing. He stood and began to walk toward it. Then slowed and veered into the kitchen. But she was here too. He recognised her in the neatly labelled jars of flour, sugar and spices. He smelt her in the feint waft of beef dripping as he opened the cold oven. The memory of her was imbedded in the kitchen within its floral walls and wispy curtains. He sighed imagining her warmth. Striding with renewed courage he crossed the lounge room threshold but stopped short of the doily covered table. His breathing fell into rhythm with the blink. Each breath as short and shallow as he felt. She had marvelled when he helped her unpack this whizz bang device. “I remember when telephones were all run by an operator at the exchange. This is so fancy.” With her voice in his head he pressed the answer machine button. “Hello loves. I can’t answer your call at the moment. Please leave me a message.” Beeeep… He sat and let the tears fall.

Happy 2nd Birthday Sunshine

2 years…73 posts…3879 visitors…6357 views…wow!

That is a lot of numbers and there have been countless words. {Well not exactly count-less….more counting-them-would-be-laborious-and-annoying!} So my little Sunshine, what have you taught me?

Words are powerful.

Writing is cathartic…or painful at times and then cathartic.

Touching people is a privilege {excuse me you wearing the cheeky grin…I meant figuratively!}.

Creating original, insightful analogies is like whacking your shin on a wheelchair foot plate {yep…ouch).

Writing an indulgent, self-reflective piece at 10:28pm on a Sunday when in a silly mood is asking for trouble….wind it up crazy lady {great, now I’m talking to myself}.

THANK YOU for indulging me. I appreciate having a forum in which to share our, dare I say it, journey.

Happy birthday Sunshine in Puddles.

A year of words….happy birthday Sunshine in Puddles!

I can scarcely believe a whole year has passed since this blog began. Maybe I should bake a cake. It would be a celebration much like any other first birthday…the baby won’t really know whats going on but it will be fun for me. So, is my baby developing as I expected? Well, no. Offspring rarely do. As with my human babies, Sunshine has been a surprise package. My idea was to practise writing and self therapise with some journaling (and a fair dose of linguistic licence!). It has become so much more.


I have been staggered by the response. Truly staggered. To be able to share thoughts that bring a smile or a tear or knowledge or empathy or anything else in others is a gift. I’m blessed by the lessons my children have given (and continue to give), even though many are a challenge, and lucky to be able to string enough words together to pass them on…or at least endeavour to.


Thank you to all who have read a little Sunshine and liked/commented/patted me on the back down at the coffee shop. It seems apt to coincidentally end up where I began. A fundraising storm has begun around us for my lovely little Miss by another blessing, our band of helpers. So I take you back to the very first blog entry……


…the warm community hug. I needed to remember. To think of where we have been makes me grateful. Reflection is marvellous thing, when used in moderation, and it’s what I hope to do here. To share my thoughts and, hopefully, reflect your beauty back at you….like Sunshine in Puddles.


My hope for you  is that you will see some sunshine, a little bit of joy, in your day. And that during this wintry Melbourne week or wherever you may be, the puddles you come across reflect your beauty within. Happy birthday Sunshine in Puddles!