Tag Archives: jane cunningham

netball

September 8, 2012


“Got your drink bottle? Cut your nails?”

Pile in the car, park miles away, do your warm up running to the courts.

Find a space huddling next to other parents. Compare notes about progress of sore throats or coughs. Inhale the smell of the organised parents who got there early enough to get coffee. Look at their well-groomed hair and make-up and marvel, while hiding your own unbrushed mop under your raincoat hood.

Babies in back packs. Pyjamas peeking out of pants. Eyeing the heavy grey clouds over the hills.

Hooter blows.

“GetintospaceGreen.” “Infrontofyourpartners.” Whistle blows. “ohhhh”

“ComeonGreeeeen” clapping.

Quick drink at half-time, bibs change. Whistle

Kids fall over, knees skinned, they tough it out with tears in their eyes.

Whistle

HiprayHiprayHipray

And one for the Ref.

Hipray.


Jane Cunningham is a storyteller, mother, slattern and artist. She lovingly retells your story at www.reframingyourstory.com, has an artgallery/blog/learningsite at www.seedsofthenuminous.com and is here on facebook and @faerian on twitter

sunday 13 may

May 13, 2012

As I settle here to write about my weekend, what I notice is this: My long hair is lank and whiffy with oil and vinegar after treating myself for nits.

This not the sort of thing I would normally bring to the notice of the world. This mundane, less than attractive, my-life-is-not-magazine-worthy-detail is what I notice.

Nits. I can’t stand them. Where I live nits are rife. People resort to putting poison on their children’s heads to kill them. (Nits or the children? I am not sure what that poison kills).

But the reason I have nits is that my girls still love to curl up with me, head to head, on the couch, in bed. I have them because their friends from school cuddle me when I arrive to do art or storytelling with them. I have them because I am held with love by nitty kids. Those crawly little bloodsuckers are a side effect of love.

I don’t want to sound like Polly-Anna – I feel revolted by the livestock on my head. Nits aren’t on my list of “things that will be happening in my life that will let me know I am magnificent”.

But nits have come because I am loved, and so those revolting little itch makers are messengers of the true magnificence of my life.


Jane Cunningham is a storyteller, mother, slattern and artist. She lovingly retells your story at www.reframingyourstory.com, has an artgallery/blog/learningsite at www.seedsofthenuminous.com and is here on facebook and @faerian on twitter