I work with little ones and their families every day. I am an Occupational Therapist that provides home and community-based services to the birth to three population. I join them in every moment of life for sometimes a period of 36 months.
I am welcomed into their homes, I sit on their floor, I sometimes join them in a cup of coffee and I kiss their babies. I am so comfortable in this element that I now cannot understand or even see colour, creed, or sexual differences.
My job is to NOT see differences, but to see POSSIBILITIES. My values are to promote the inherent good in people and the capabilities we all share.
Readers
often wonder where story ideas come from. They come from many places, but
rarely from as deep a place as Gilbert’s Cake.
As author Emily Mir explains, ‘Our first baby, Gilbert, was
stillborn in 2010. Two years later, we welcomed Gilbert’s twin siblings. As
young children, the twins wanted a party, complete with balloons and a cake, to
mark Gilbert's birthday. It was painful at first, but an annual tradition
began. Gilbert’s Cake is the story of our story.’
After working with families who have experienced miscarriage and stillbirth, Emily was inspired to share her family’s story of love, loss . . . and pelicans.
Emily is both a counsellor and a bereaved
mother, and hopes her story sparks joy and love as well as evoking holistic ways
of healing in the face of loss and trauma.
For a long time, I believed life had already thrown every curveball it could at me. I grew up marked by losses, first my parents and grandparents, all passing when I was very young, and later the grandmother who raised my siblings and me after we lost our parents.
From
childhood, I understood resilience not as a choice but as a necessity. I
dreamed of creating the kind of loving family I never had the chance to grow up
with, one full of warmth, stability, and affection.
And, for a while, I had it. I married a wonderful man and we were blessed with our beautiful daughter, Sophie. Life felt whole.
Last month, I had the most splendid array of
bruising on three fingers and half the palm of my left hand. What a fantastic
opportunity to have some fun!
‘What happened?’ asked one of my writing students.
‘Wanna hear a story?’ I replied.
She nodded.
‘A boxing match,’ I said. ‘Well … not much of a
match, really. He swung, I ducked. I swung, he didn’t.’ I shrugged. ‘He hit the
dirt.’
 |
| Birds are an inspiration for books: Jodie McLeod (left) with illustrator Eloise Short |
Then, one misty Mountains morning, a
cacophony of birds sounded in my backyard. Well, not birds, but – bird.
A lyrebird. Putting on a spectacular show, just for me.
WOW.
You imagine the baby cuddles, the tired eyes, the giggles, the growth. You prepare for long nights, teething, tantrums, and heart-melting milestones.
But what I never prepared for was parenting while battling cancer.
I was diagnosed just weeks after giving birth to my second child. At a time when I was meant to be soaking up the newborn phase, adjusting to life as a mum of two, and holding my toddler’s hand through her own big emotions, I found myself staring down a fight for my life.
My parents’ consistent efforts of reading to me led to a pastime of reading on my own. The return on their investment was never having to hear 'I’m bored' from their oldest child, whose nose was always in a book.
.jpeg)
Curiosity killed the cat, we might warn a too inquisitive child. Or, Blood is thicker than water, we say to emphasize family loyalty.
These phrases are catchy, memorable, and roll off the tongue so easily. They seem to wrap up big ideas in neat little packages.
But what if these familiar lines are only part of the story? What if the wisdom we think we are sharing is, well, a bit incomplete?
She was in year one during Covid times, which was difficult because doing things like holding hands (which was the only thing that made her feel safe) was discouraged. Despite this, teachers were putting themselves at risk to care for our kids, and in Evie’s case, they took her by her little hand anyway.
The greatest scientist of the twentieth century is, without a doubt, Albert Einstein.
Einstein’s amazing reasoning and powers of observation brought us the photoelectric effect (key to solar panels), special relativity (E=mc2) and general relativity which describes our current understanding of gravity.
However, my favourite observation of Einstein’s – which is pertinent to teachers not just in science, but in all fields – is his assertion that 'If you can’t explain it to a 6-year-old, then you don’t truly understand it.'
This has huge relevance to me in my line of work as a children’s writer and also in my day job as a science communicator.
International award-winning children's book author, playwright and filmmaker, Maura Pierlot visits us today on the eve of her latest picture book release, Clutterbugs; a book that creates a nuanced look at creating vs consuming. Here's why she pursued this concept.
We live in an age where our self-worth is often built on what we have rather than who we are. The problem of plenty.