Musings on a Life Quite Ordinary

I was delighted to discover the Dear So and So Letters recently thanks to Kat at 3bedroombungalow.blogspot.com via the always talented and lovely HotCrossMum.   I’m hooked and have been looking for them on blogs across the globe for weeks now. Here’s my contribution.   It was so fun and quite therapeutic; I highly recommend the exercise to anyone really. ** Dear Handyperson of Non Specific Gender, Do I really look that stupid? If that’s how much money can be made from fixing the side panel of a bath, then I’m in the wrong business. I’ll keep shopping around thanks. Yours with my arms folded because you keep looking at my boobs, Missus. ** Dear Government, I am very disappointed in you. Get onto the naughty step for a time out.   One minute for each euro you’ve wasted.   That should keep you out of the way for long enough to stop you screwing things up any further. Also, leave the elderly and the young alone you big bully. Yours on the verge, An Irish Citizen. ** Dear

This week I get to say something I’ve wanted to say for a long time.   My son can walk.   I rang my husband and said “He walked!” I rang my mother to say “My little boy is walking”, I’ve told people in the school yard, at the supermarket, via email, text and Twitter.   Anyone who stands still long enough will hear me say that my son can walk. Some of them look at me like I’m a little mad; he’s not the only child in the world to start walking late after all.   Those closest to us know though, that it hasn’t been all that simple for him and how close we came to missing the window of opportunity that allowed him to get the right treatment and most importantly – get it in time. I was so proud of him when he walked, I cried and couldn’t stop.   I confused our daughter who thought something was wrong.   It’s difficult to explain happy crying to a five year old.   She really didn’t see what the big deal was, as she said, we did tell her last year he would eventually catch up.   But she

Right, brace yourselves, today I’m having a moan and it’s a doozy.   If you’re looking for something all perky and sweet, you may as well stop reading because today, I’m not your woman.   I’m in a bad mood. I feel grouchy and my right nostril has been itching since I skipped breakfast.   My husband would say that means there’s a fight coming my way.   Sounds good right now, wouldn’t mind smacking the face off someone and I know just who too.   Come on, we’ve all got one.   That super annoying pain in the backside who rubs you up the wrong way, especially when everyone else says she’s sooooo nice.   Sure she is - for psychopathic Stepford Wife.   She says things like “Really, you’re not 40? Oh I thought I missed that birthday”.  I would call her a silly cow but that wouldn't be nice to our bovine friends. Aaaagggghhhh! Is that how you type the sound of a scream?   Not very satisfying is it.   If I were to scream today, its ferocity would probably break a window.   And to top i