Lamentations of a Maenad Mother (IC)

^{((Only people who would be close to Korinda, and have been around her while drunk and venting these sorts of frustrations would know these thoughts. Which means anything her children read here, is player knowledge and can not be used.))}

When I was younger, I often thought that those who say "parenting isn't easy" were those who came from cultures that worked hard to suppress the natural energy and curiosity of a child and turned their energy towards labor at an early age.  Those sorts of people who work too hard themselves and don't take the time to indulge in the pleasure of life.

Those who do not understand that while work is noble, it is only noble in moderation and necessity.  Those who also seem to think, that to enjoy one's leisure more often than they toil, is not a life well lived.  As my mother once said, "No one lies on their death bed, regretting the finer things in life. No one dies, wishing they had worked harder."

Of course, everything is harder when you work against it's nature, (I know this well) but what about when nature has yet to make the connection?

Oh, you think you know everything about parenting before you become a parent. It seems so straightforward, Love them,  feed them, teach them what you know, and learn what they have to teach. Allow them to simply be.  Show them the ways to be kind and respectful of others and nature, unless of course, their actions prove threatening to themselves or others.

But I suppose, no matter how confident the mother, every mother frets, every mother flounders. Every mother is critical of what she has not done right, or wonders what she is doing wrong.

Take for instance, the issue of wine. I've heard it said that the mothers of human children fret over their consumption of greens and oranges, that they pluck colorful rose petals and carnations out of hungry, curious mouths.

But what am I to do with my son, and my daughter? They eat their greens, and hold attention long enough to clean their plates!  This is all well and good in moderation, but such pervasive order, in children? Where did I go wrong?

Not so much as a drop of wine! It's like watching a fish reject water. To watch a satyr, or a centaur reject the very blood of life, that every edible fruit and flower secretly yearns to be rendered into, it is vexing to say the least.

I was a lucky child,  my mother produced more than the milk I needed to grow,  she produced cherries and from her cherries the wine I was raised on was made. Not all wood nymphs can say the same. It's true that I had to drink so much of cherry wine that I grew a little tired of it, but it was what I was raised on from the time I could hold a kylix!

I remember it, my first kylix, my own size, with a handle each size so I could hold it steady. Perhaps if I had kept it to use with my own children, I would not be in this troublesome position. I'm a potter,  so I could make them one,  but when they already reject the wine, why should I set myself up for the disappointment of rejecting the cup?

I shouldn't even begin to fret about all of the chores they do. Without being asked!  Helpful? indeed. Noble? Of course.  but when a nymph, satyr or centaur of any age puts work before play without a struggle it is cause for an intervention.

I suppose many parents would say I should be grateful, and I am.  I do not crave disobedience, disrespect or irresponsibility  (I met a young faun recently who made me appreciate the dispositions of my children more than ever) but is it so much to ask that just a little bit of wine with dinner? Or if they could at least suffer a few sips in front of others to spare me looking like a terrible parent, until they get a taste for it.? If only they looked towards their cousins  the way I  look to and up to my sister. Her beautiful girls, wineskins in hand so confident and carefree. I wish I could give my own the same liberation I myself knew as a child.

I wonder, if Eaken's understandable caution when dealing with wine has not been overplayed in our household. We only ever meant for the terrible tale of  Thessalian Centaurs at that wedding to be a warning against overindulgence!  I would never preach such indulgence to a child...

..Only an adult.  But my pedagogy on the matter can not be helped.  I followed a great reveler until well into my early summer before I met Eaken. I might ask him to work his thaumaturgy in my favor in this situation, but he never stops bloody moving long enough!

Avry's Blog

My little 'taur (I'm sorry, "Officer") has started his own little blog.

http://avrytaurus.wordpress.com/

((for those of you who don't know... we do not alt Avry. A friend whom we trust with the lives of our RL children, took him over and I honestly think it is the best thing that has happened to our little family since we met Neria. So check out his blog. He really makes Avry come alive and makes me realize that alting him just didn't do the character justice.))

So go check him out! add him to your blog rolls. Frolic in his read-ability!

::is so proud of her 'taurians!::

Wakefulness Corinda (third person)

...As the sleepy fog cleared from her eyes, she found herself in a glade surrounded by the beautiful faces and auras of glamour that only the nymphs could possess and see.  She was certain, that this had to be a dream, she'd seen so few nymphs since she returned home to the Seven Isles.  But it was the sweet smell of (blossoms) that filled her mind, and stirred her to accept the reality.

Even though her drowsy mind could not accept how, or why she woke up in a place different to where she fell to sleep, in the heavy arms of her barrel chested-larger than life beloved, but she knew where she was; Kýpros.

With one of the maps she made herself, and a pocket full of gold from his father. Avry had paid his way back to the island where his father was born,  where nymphs were plentiful, and their lore of plants and minerals and their healing properties were rich.  It was the nymphs that nursed her out of her coma, and restored glamour inside of her that returned the bark-like patterns to her skin, and the branch like kinks and twists to her hair that had fallen flat over the years.

She knew in her heart that Eacen --more than anyone-- would love to see Kýpros again, so there must have been a good reason for him not to accompany her himself.  Of course, he had a sister, and a daughter too small for travel to care for.  There was a community, he felt a part of and could not abandon.

Kýpros may have been Eacen's home, but Corinda realized that the land she ran to looking for fellow nymphs, and fell in love with the man she would start her family with; it was her home too.  The proof was in the fact that much like being away from Seven Isles weakened due to the distance from her tree, and her family.

But she had clearly been defenseless from the changing of seasons, and the lack of presence of nymphs.  The temperate climate and special magic of the island held some form of renewal for her, too.  And she wondered, at times, if this was where her father was from, and if he had the restless traveling spirit that she and Avry possessed.  Maybe her link to Kýpros was more than just one of romance, and sisterhood.

In any event, it did not matter now.  She was awake, and invigorated and it was time to go where her heart was, to her family she had missed, even as she slept.  It would be hard to leave the now serene lands of Kýpros, but it was harder, to be away from her home, it was her Alpha and Omega.

The Smiths Tale (IC)

For many years we have got by without the winter snows Slowing her. But this year the snows Piled deep over the land the rivers are frozen hard enough that we have had to cut though the ice in the harbour to allow the Merfolk access to the surface and she fell asleep.

Into a sleep that we could not awaken her from. So I sent my son with her supine form to find warmer shores where she can winter with out harm. I miss her. I miss her so much and i know Neria Does. But we survive. That is all we can do in these circumstances.

I certainl;y hope my Plum come home soon.

Snippet of an unfolding tale (Third Person IC == Corinda)

...It didn’t happen every year, but in the harsh winters, sometimes, mother would not wake, even as her breath rose and fell in a steady but slow rhythm. There was no sign, no warning, least of all for the Meliad who simply thought herself to be lying down for the night.

Some seasons, she avoided the long slow sleep, by taking on the Centaur form her sister blessed her with, but by the time she did so this year, the color of her skin shouldhave hinted, that it might have been too late.

But of all things this family had, the most abundant thing they had was hope in all things. In this case, there was hope they caught it in time.

The next morning, the father looked at his son, and they knew what must be done. So the budding young sailor Avry took his mother Corinda to a special place to hibernate. Where her sleep would be hastened by warmer winds, and left his father behind with his sister, knowing the two of them could look after one another, even if one may still be too small to understand...

... and the story goes on.

(The less fictional explaination can befound one post below, or here.)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -