Musings on a Life Quite Ordinary

So, there I was, Christmas week, leaving my new born baby in the very capable hands of my mother and sister to go to a Duran Duran concert in Dublin. What the hell was I thinking? He was 16 days old; I wasn’t even used to him being on the outside of me yet. The tickets were a present from my family for my landmark birthday earlier in the year, which happened to coincide with the week I found out I was expecting the new born I was now feeling homesick for.   That was a big week. Even though I didn’t expect it, I’ve turned out to be a bit of a clingy parent.   I thought I would skip out the door the first chance I got when I had my first baby, but instead I irritated my mother with phone calls every 20 minutes to see if baby was ok.   I was a bit better this time, he is my third and I should be getting better at the job, but I still found it hard to leave. I met up with hubby and we had a bite to eat.   Then we parked up the cars and took the tram to the concert venue in the c

Last week we got a fright at our house.   Well in truth it was me who got the fright, thankfully no one else was upset by a drama that unfolded in our home over a 13 hour period. Our pet cat Berry went missing.   It never happened before, in 8 ½ years we have always known where she is.   This knowledge has been facilitated by a very distinctive squawking sound she makes.   That and the fact that she doesn’t seem to be aware that she’s actually feline, which has led to some distinctively odd behaviour on her part. She likes to bathe for instance, not in a puddle in the back garden, but in our bath or shower, particularly on warm days, she waits for the water to go down to her comfort level, then she gets in and sits in it.   Cooling her derrière and paws.   She then very considerately gets out and dries herself on the floor mat.   Honestly, she loves it.   She always loves anything garlicky in flavour, eats things off her paw and can open the fridge.   She’s a little odd I’ll admit,

About six months ago I had a very eventful weekend which changed a lot of things in my life.   Over the course of a few short days I turned forty and found out I was pregnant with my third child. My fortieth birthday faded into the background somewhat as all the plans I had been making since I turned thirty suddenly had to change.   Gone were the many bottles of red wine that would have been my constant companions under ordinary circumstances.   No big night of partying like it’s 1999 and of course the quiet afternoon of Botox I had hoped for had to be swapped for a nap and a quick trip to the shops for sensible supportive undergarments. My other half coped well, he had a few drinks himself at my birthday party and managed to deflect offers of alcohol for me with expertly placed comments like “she’s been sick as a pig all day with a tummy bug” or “we had a few last night, she’s not able for it any more” while I sipped orange juice and water.   As the weeks passed by I felt really

Another summer over, another first day back at school already a memory and its September. So, here I sit at my kitchen table, ready and waiting for genius to strike.   My routine is back in order; I have designated time two mornings a week to write for the next three months and what happens?   My Internet connection goes down. WHY? Doesn’t the Internet service provider know that I have a check list before I can write?   It’s crucial to the point of being superstitious.   I absolutely, most definitely, completely importantly must do the following before I can write a word: ·          Check email. ·          Cross reference bank account with my carefully planned colour coded excel budget for the household. ·          Look at the stats on my blog. ·          Check email. ·          Look at my credit card balance in case a miracle has happened in the night and its zero for the first time in 17 years. ·          Add a bunch of stuff to the online shopping list that I

I know, it’s disgusting. I don’t know a soul who likes the word. Clamper. I met a right effer yesterday. He clamped my car because he claimed he couldn’t see the valid parking ticket he had watched my other half pay for and put on the dash board of our car. The sneaky little so and so waited until we had left the car park and then clamped us. I would like to point out for the sake of clarity that we did not break the law.   We weren’t parked in a disabled space, or blocking an entrance or anything and it wasn’t the police or a traffic warden that clamped us.   It was a private company who own the private car park that we had parked in and paid for. So anyway, 90 euro later and quite a bit of verbal abuse from both the git who took the clamp off the car and the other git who shouted at me down the phone, we now have to appeal at our own cost. It’s so unfair that a scam like that has been made legal. The strange thing was, it led me to a Holly Hunter in Broadcast New

Anyone who has ever flown anywhere with children will know that it can be a little challenging. We recently flew away for a lovely week in the sun which got off to a bit of a rocky start. Sticking with my diary theme, here’s what went down: 4.09 am – My alarm goes off – I hit the snooze button. 4.10 am – My other half’s alarm goes off – I jump out of the bed, stumble into the bathroom, forget what I’m doing in there and walk out.   After approximately 30 seconds, I remember we have to check in at 6 am for an 8 am flight and go into full get the kids up and in the car mode.   I should point out that on the day I am 18 weeks pregnant with our third child and have had little or no short term memory for weeks. 4.12 am – 6 year old is sitting on the landing, fully dressed, carrying a back pack that is at least two thirds her own size, wearing a big smile.   She still hasn’t opened her eyes yet. 4.25 am – The toddler is breaking me.   After 10 minutes of arguing and crying about why

Zero minus 48 hours – almost 6 year old is sick, temperature, sore throat, no appetite (this last one bewilders me).   Zero minus 24 hours – almost 6 year old is no better, but fully convinced she will be completely recovered by tomorrow morning so that she can go to school and have everyone sing happy birthday to her. Zero minus 22 hours – of the 21 kids invited, 19 now say they are coming.   This goes completely against the statistics.   Must be a slow social day for 6 years olds. Zero minus 18 hours – almost 6 year old running a temperature of 39.8.   Also, it hasn’t stopped raining for 3 days. Zero minus 6 hours – my little one is finally 6; she thinks she looks taller this morning.   Going to school.   Still running a high temperature, doesn’t look so good, but refuses to accept possibility of being sick on her birthday. Zero minus 4 hours – the bouncy castle has arrived.   It fits in the garden – Just! If any kid bounces over the back of it, they’ll have to s

The Tooth Fairy finally came to our house this past weekend.   Not once but twice. We had been waiting a long time, a very long time indeed.   The lose tooth had been wobbling, squeaking, squelching, turning, moving in any number of directions up to 90 degrees for months. So long, in fact, that the new tooth was half way up behind it when finally, last Friday a gentle tug was all it took and out it popped into my delighted very almost six year olds beautiful and grubby little hand. Months earlier, when the initial wobbling of the tooth began I fussed about and spoke to lots of other parents about what the going rate was for a milk tooth.   The consensus was 2 euro per tooth was fair considering the current financial climate.   So a shiny 2 euro coin was put aside in the inside pocket of my handbag for the occasion. Luckily we got it right, as it turned out, our almost six year old had discussed in detail with her school friends what she would get and a 2 euro coin was the minimum.  

My daughter just had her very first ever Sports Day at school.   She was so excited she was fully dressed standing over us at 6.03 am on the morning of the big day.   It took me a while to talk her into our bed, well bribe with a promise of a cartoon; I wasn’t capable of a whole lot of talking at that hour. I went along on the big day to support her, bringing the toddler, the camera and a picnic. The camera turned out to be my most prized possession of the day.   Unfortunately the sheer amount of belly shaking, couldn't catch my breath for  laughing caused many of the photos taken to be blurry, but boy was it worth it. The toddler turned out to be one of the more exuberant supporters of the day.   He even went so far as to join in.   As in run down the field during the sack race and then just keep going past the finish line and beyond to the fence to chants of “Run Forest Run”. I should point out he runs like a speed walker with his little tushy clenched and shoulders pushing up t

My daughter is almost six, a birthday party is expected. We’ll pull it together but last week she gave us a list of 41 children that she wishes to attend, not counting herself and her little brother. This causes it’s own set of problems, logistical and whatnot, our house is not big and with those numbers one of those indoor play places that do it all for you is ruled out completely. We did that last year, 13 RSVP’d and 17 showed up.   The Party/Events Organiser was not a happy camper.   Neither was I, as I hadn’t expected to spend most of my daughters 5 th birthday in the loos with the little ones whose parents had employed the drop and run tactic.   Smart people, very smart people. Nor had I anticipated the pretty little Klingon attached to my right thigh for the entire event which meant I couldn’t use the toilet as I have issues in that department.   It’s nothing serious; I just can’t perform with an audience. A couple of years ago for my daughters fourth birthday we hired a bouncy

Last week, I saw someone I never thought I would see, well not in my country at least. It was the Queen of England, Elizabeth II, she drove past our house in her big black range rover with an impressive cavalcade.   Not to mention helicopters, army & Gardaí (the Irish police force) present all along the route. She smiled brightly, her car slowed and she looked warmly at our children. It was quiet, which was a relief as we had watched television reports of anti-royalist republicans and dissidents rioting in Dublin city over the previous two days.   I was born in 1971, so my memory of “The Troubles” is very clear and I have no doubt of what havoc could have been wreaked had certain people decided on it.   Thankfully, they chose the high road. I was born in the Republic, I was born a free person, so were my parents, but my grandparents were not.   They were born subjects of a royal family who reigned over a nation that invaded our country, so the history of what happened here is still

The Truth About Me I have been tagged by the wonderful blogger Mammy Dolittle . Ok, so here’s what this is about.   This questionnaire from the Guardian Weekend Magazine has been doing the rounds in the Blogosphere, and it’s mostly a bit of fun. So, here goes: 　 Which living person do I most admire and why? My mother.   She has faced the best and the worst of life with dignity and always has great hair. When were you happiest? The first time my little girl smiled at me.   We were alone together and it was just the best feeling I ever felt. What was your most embarrassing moment? My twenties, it was a long moment. Aside from property, what’s the most expensive thing you’ve bought? A Car but I wish I could say a handbag. What is your most treasured possession? My family. Where would you like to live? New York City.   From the first time I went there seventeen years ago, I’ve loved it.   Failing that, a field in the middle of nowhere would be nice.   I’m an all or nothing kind of