Musings on a Life Quite Ordinary

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 pass...

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. ·   ...

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...

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 a...

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 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 ...

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 clenc...