So there I was. The small one had just gone down for a nap which, if you believe what all the books say, meant a good 3 - 4 hours of slumber on her part. However, if you actually have children, you will know this to be a BIG FAT LIE which none the less will torment you until well after your kids are grown and gone.
By some strange cosmic twist, the snot queen then curled up and dozed off in my lap. Could it be? Could it really be? Could BOTH of my little angels be sleeping AT THE SAME TIME?
Not wanting to tempt fate further, I carefully stood up and made my way upstairs. Miraculously, the snot queen remained comatose. We made our way to the bedroom. Still, she slept.
As I gently lay her down on the bed, she stirred slightly, which would have been grand had it not been for three other simultaneous occurences.
1. Someone's house alarm started going off. Loudly.
2. The neighbor's children escaped outside into the rain for 5 minutes of shrieking and screaming. Loudly.
3. The neighbor's on the OTHER side started up some sort of insane DIY project which apparently involved mindlessly hammering on every single adjoining wall we share.
Like a shot, little miss was up and running, all thoughts of sleep firmly vanquished. Downstairs, the small one woke from her twenty minute doze and the tiny string that was oh so slightly holding onto my sanity snapped.
Why does the Universe dislike me so?
Friday, July 31, 2009
Thursday, July 30, 2009
Fun in the Sun
I was feeling motivated today. I don't know why. Maybe because for the last couple of nights the terrible twosome have called a ceasefire on the all night dance parties they've become so fond of as of late and I actually got a semi decent's night sleep!
No matter the reason, I awoke feeling almost human and looked outside to see a blazing blue sky. I immediately became suspicious and marched to the window, glancing left and right for the giant black rain clouds I knew must be hiding somewhere.
Nothing. A few puffy white ones, but no hideous harbingers of stormy Irish gloom.
Still not convinced, I marched to the back of the house and stared out those windows. Again, I looked left and right. Again, I saw nothing but a few more puffy whites dotting the blue, blue sky.
Within minutes, I had a load of laundry on the the line and another on to wash, both girls were cleaned, fed, dressed, strapped into the buggy and we were halfway across town. No destination and no reason other then the fact that mother nature was obviously having a senior moment and we were getting the weather meant for a nicer, more attractive and infinitely more deserving country.
We had to take advantage before she realized her mistake.
We walked and walked and walked and the tiny one slept and slept and slept. The snot queen still had an hour or so of madness in her to burn off so it was off to monkey maze where she played and played and played until her eyes were dropping out of her head. By the time we left the parking lot she was down for the count. Success.
So charged with energy was I from the sun, the excercise and the fresh air, that upon our arrival home I scrubbed out the bathroom and the utility room and got a start on the kitchen and supper whilst the Snot Queen went out back to search for stones.
Even when the thunder rolled and the dark clouds eventually did move in, I didn't mind. We'd enjoyed the break in the weather while it lasted. Besides which, I'd managed to get the clothes in off the line before the rains came.
Hope you all had a lovely day as well:)
No matter the reason, I awoke feeling almost human and looked outside to see a blazing blue sky. I immediately became suspicious and marched to the window, glancing left and right for the giant black rain clouds I knew must be hiding somewhere.
Nothing. A few puffy white ones, but no hideous harbingers of stormy Irish gloom.
Still not convinced, I marched to the back of the house and stared out those windows. Again, I looked left and right. Again, I saw nothing but a few more puffy whites dotting the blue, blue sky.
Within minutes, I had a load of laundry on the the line and another on to wash, both girls were cleaned, fed, dressed, strapped into the buggy and we were halfway across town. No destination and no reason other then the fact that mother nature was obviously having a senior moment and we were getting the weather meant for a nicer, more attractive and infinitely more deserving country.
We had to take advantage before she realized her mistake.
We walked and walked and walked and the tiny one slept and slept and slept. The snot queen still had an hour or so of madness in her to burn off so it was off to monkey maze where she played and played and played until her eyes were dropping out of her head. By the time we left the parking lot she was down for the count. Success.
So charged with energy was I from the sun, the excercise and the fresh air, that upon our arrival home I scrubbed out the bathroom and the utility room and got a start on the kitchen and supper whilst the Snot Queen went out back to search for stones.
Even when the thunder rolled and the dark clouds eventually did move in, I didn't mind. We'd enjoyed the break in the weather while it lasted. Besides which, I'd managed to get the clothes in off the line before the rains came.
Hope you all had a lovely day as well:)
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Of Mice and Monkeys...
It seemed like a good idea at the time.
I mean hey, we had been indoors all day, it was lashing rain, the Snot Queen had decided that naps were sooooo last week and was doing her best to injure herself on any and all hard surfaces in our home and himself had yet to get dressed which meant that we had to keep the blinds closed and live like moles (or teenage boys) lest the neighbors catch a glimpse of his skivvies.
Enter Monkey Maze. "Europe's largest indoor activity centre for kids..." On a Sunday. A rainy Sunday. Do you see what I'm getting at here?
The place was chaos. Apparently, we weren't the only ones to have this brainstorm. It was mob rule for the under 10's. We headed for the toddler area and set the Snot Queen free to wreak havoc with her peers.
Over the course of the next hour all of my emotions were pushed to the limit. Exasperation as the Snot Queen escaped the baby enclosure and made a break for the "big kids" area for the umpteenth time, Rage, as three boys who were most definitely NOT 1 - 4 years invaded the toddler zone and knocked her over (only a desire to not end up in court kept me from kicking all of their asses)Panic, as I lost sight of her temporarily in the ball pit and extreme pride as my baby managed to climb the stairs to the slide ALL BY HERSELF, a task she'd been too small for a mere 5 weeks ago.
By the time we left, myself and himself were wrecked. The Snot Queen was still going strong and tiny one, bless her, had slept through the entire visit despite having had her eyes and nose vigorously investigated by a passing toddler.
Next week, I think we'll just stay home.
I mean hey, we had been indoors all day, it was lashing rain, the Snot Queen had decided that naps were sooooo last week and was doing her best to injure herself on any and all hard surfaces in our home and himself had yet to get dressed which meant that we had to keep the blinds closed and live like moles (or teenage boys) lest the neighbors catch a glimpse of his skivvies.
Enter Monkey Maze. "Europe's largest indoor activity centre for kids..." On a Sunday. A rainy Sunday. Do you see what I'm getting at here?
The place was chaos. Apparently, we weren't the only ones to have this brainstorm. It was mob rule for the under 10's. We headed for the toddler area and set the Snot Queen free to wreak havoc with her peers.
Over the course of the next hour all of my emotions were pushed to the limit. Exasperation as the Snot Queen escaped the baby enclosure and made a break for the "big kids" area for the umpteenth time, Rage, as three boys who were most definitely NOT 1 - 4 years invaded the toddler zone and knocked her over (only a desire to not end up in court kept me from kicking all of their asses)Panic, as I lost sight of her temporarily in the ball pit and extreme pride as my baby managed to climb the stairs to the slide ALL BY HERSELF, a task she'd been too small for a mere 5 weeks ago.
By the time we left, myself and himself were wrecked. The Snot Queen was still going strong and tiny one, bless her, had slept through the entire visit despite having had her eyes and nose vigorously investigated by a passing toddler.
Next week, I think we'll just stay home.
Friday, July 24, 2009
Dear Mom...
Dear Mom,
As I type this, you are somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps poking cautiously at the mysterious offering dubiously labelled as food that $1500.00 gets you on an Air Canada, trans - atlantic flight. Or maybe you are flicking through the fine reading material I selected for you this morning at Cork Airport. For the record, that one from Girls Aloud is looking SICKENINGLY thin!
More then likely however, you are missing your grandbabies. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of packing you a virtual suitcase to open up and dig through anytime you're feeling blue.
Item one: Unlimited supply of baby puke divided into single size portions. For those child free moments when you're feeling just a bit too fresh and clean. Open vial and toss over body part, item of clothing or piece of furniture of your choice. Works best when in situation where immediate washing is not an option and item being doused is of great value, someone else's or dry clean only.
Item two: A non stop recording of the Snot Queen throwing a major tantrum. Play this anytime you close a door, be it front, back, cupboard, fridge... you name it! Can also be used when coming in from outside. It doesn't matter what the weather or how long you've been out for, if you're coming inside, this recording is a must!
Special bonus recording!: Sounds of Small One - non stop, live recording of Small One's bowel sounds and the cries which ensue when gas attacks!
Item three: Baby Poo, and lots of it! Comes in all different shades. For extra fun, play your Special Bonus Recording everytime you come across a green one!
Item four: Porridge. Rub in hair. Throw on floors, tables, chairs... basically, anywhere there wasn't porridge before!
Item five: Selection of brightly coloured plastic toys which play a variety of tinny sounding nursery songs and lullabyes. Play on repeat. Again and again and again and again...
Of course, if you get through all of these and your heart is still a little bit blue, you can have a peek at the bottom of the suitcase in a special compartment marked "For Emergencies and Special Occasions." Here you will find Item six...
A selection of the softest kisses and sweetest smiles that money can never buy. These are given freely to you with love from your girls. Just enough to get you through until we see you again.
Christmas can't come fast enough.
We love you and miss you. It was a wonderful month.
As I type this, you are somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, perhaps poking cautiously at the mysterious offering dubiously labelled as food that $1500.00 gets you on an Air Canada, trans - atlantic flight. Or maybe you are flicking through the fine reading material I selected for you this morning at Cork Airport. For the record, that one from Girls Aloud is looking SICKENINGLY thin!
More then likely however, you are missing your grandbabies. Therefore, I have taken the liberty of packing you a virtual suitcase to open up and dig through anytime you're feeling blue.
Item one: Unlimited supply of baby puke divided into single size portions. For those child free moments when you're feeling just a bit too fresh and clean. Open vial and toss over body part, item of clothing or piece of furniture of your choice. Works best when in situation where immediate washing is not an option and item being doused is of great value, someone else's or dry clean only.
Item two: A non stop recording of the Snot Queen throwing a major tantrum. Play this anytime you close a door, be it front, back, cupboard, fridge... you name it! Can also be used when coming in from outside. It doesn't matter what the weather or how long you've been out for, if you're coming inside, this recording is a must!
Special bonus recording!: Sounds of Small One - non stop, live recording of Small One's bowel sounds and the cries which ensue when gas attacks!
Item three: Baby Poo, and lots of it! Comes in all different shades. For extra fun, play your Special Bonus Recording everytime you come across a green one!
Item four: Porridge. Rub in hair. Throw on floors, tables, chairs... basically, anywhere there wasn't porridge before!
Item five: Selection of brightly coloured plastic toys which play a variety of tinny sounding nursery songs and lullabyes. Play on repeat. Again and again and again and again...
Of course, if you get through all of these and your heart is still a little bit blue, you can have a peek at the bottom of the suitcase in a special compartment marked "For Emergencies and Special Occasions." Here you will find Item six...
A selection of the softest kisses and sweetest smiles that money can never buy. These are given freely to you with love from your girls. Just enough to get you through until we see you again.
Christmas can't come fast enough.
We love you and miss you. It was a wonderful month.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Growing up, up and away
"Oooooh! Good Housekeeping!" I chirped. And immediately wanted to swallow my tongue. Three words I never thought would cross my lips had just confirmed my status of Mother and Housewife (Housegirlfriend?) extraordinaire.
Good Housekeeping? Good Grief! What have I become? When did I trade in my mis-spent youth for a reasonably priced adulthood?
For those of you not familiar with this monthly publication, I want you to imagine the cheapest, filthiest celeb rag around, something like "Closer" or "Heat" or "Star." Now, take out all the celebs, slash the sex and get rid of the gossip. Replace with non contraversial, clean living female role models (This month features the mother of the Jonas Brothers) and articles on such scintillating topics as flower arranging, healthy dinners and thousands of ways to tighten your tummy. Throw in a few money saving tips and heartwarming stories and there you go. Porn for the middle aged and menopausal.
And now apparently, for me as well.
When did this happen? When did I switch from "How to Look Good Naked" to "How Clean is your house?" When did I stop caring about Posh and Becks and start caring about Kim and Aggie? When did my wardrobe go from "Fun and Funky" to "Frumpy and Functional?"
When exactly did I grow up? And did I maybe go too far?
Is it possible to find a happy medium? One where "Frumpy and Functional" can become "Frugal yet fashionable?"
And if I do manage to revert from my current mental age of 109 back to my real age of 29, is there room in there for the occasional "Good Housekeeping?"
Good Housekeeping? Good Grief! What have I become? When did I trade in my mis-spent youth for a reasonably priced adulthood?
For those of you not familiar with this monthly publication, I want you to imagine the cheapest, filthiest celeb rag around, something like "Closer" or "Heat" or "Star." Now, take out all the celebs, slash the sex and get rid of the gossip. Replace with non contraversial, clean living female role models (This month features the mother of the Jonas Brothers) and articles on such scintillating topics as flower arranging, healthy dinners and thousands of ways to tighten your tummy. Throw in a few money saving tips and heartwarming stories and there you go. Porn for the middle aged and menopausal.
And now apparently, for me as well.
When did this happen? When did I switch from "How to Look Good Naked" to "How Clean is your house?" When did I stop caring about Posh and Becks and start caring about Kim and Aggie? When did my wardrobe go from "Fun and Funky" to "Frumpy and Functional?"
When exactly did I grow up? And did I maybe go too far?
Is it possible to find a happy medium? One where "Frumpy and Functional" can become "Frugal yet fashionable?"
And if I do manage to revert from my current mental age of 109 back to my real age of 29, is there room in there for the occasional "Good Housekeeping?"
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Note to self...
I just thought that I'd write myself a little note for the future in case I ever get that broody feeling and decide that three would be a good idea.
Dear Me in the Future,
You're probably wondering why you (I?) wrote this letter. After all, it's a few years down the line (I sincerely hope!) the girls are absolute dreams, Dearest Partner ( husband?) is making oodles of money and you are all living the dream in deepest suburbia. Now, with the Snot Queen about to start school and the small one not so small and having long since lost that new baby smell, you are experiencing those old, familiar pangs. You are getting mushy over pregnant women you see in the street, your eyes well up when you come across the girls' old babygros and your uterus just about leaps out of your body when you encounter a tiny baby.
You imagine the sweet smell of a newborn's head, you can practically feel the soft, warm weight filling your arms and you heart flutters at the thought of breastfeeding again. You are broody and thanks to Mother Nature and her sneaky cocktail of selective amnesia hormones, there are a few aspects of pregnancy, birth and the early days which you may have forgotten.
And THAT my love, is why I've written you this letter.
It is a Thursday in July. Don't ask me the date, It's a miracle I even know the month. Tiny one is six weeks old today and it is merely the grace of god and the fact that your mother is spending 4 weeks helping out that has kept you somewhat sane and barely alive.
The girls are taking it in turns to make you old before your time and judging by the grey hairs you've recently found cropping up in your once luxurious locks, they are succeeding. You know all those charts and books that say newborns sleep 18 - 20 hours a day? HA BLOODY HA. In the last 24 hours, tiny one has spent approxtimately 19 of them AWAKE. The other five were spent in a light doze which you would have taken advantage of were it not for the Snot Queen waking up and declaring the hours of 23o till 530 party time.
You are currently living in a perpetual cycle of feeding, changing, winding, bathing (them, not you. What, did you seriously think they'd let you shower?) chasing, washing, watching and worrying. Like a puke drenched zombie, you wander through your home randomly picking things up and putting them away in an attempt to maintain some standard of household cleanliness, all the while cycling through the same old script of phrases.
"Ah Ah! Not for babies!"
"Gentle, gentle..."
"NOT HER EYES!"
"Good girl, gentle... GENTLE!!!"
"Where's mama's girl?"
"Ssshhhhh.... it's okay, come to mama, we'll kiss it better, shhhhhhh... it's okay..."
"Time for sleepy sleeps..."
"AH! AH! NOT FOR BABIES!!!!!"
"Ta Ta to mama..."
Do you remember the feeling of terror as your 28lb toddler attempts to CLIMB your newborn baby in order to get to your lap? The horror as she lovingly pats (re: violently whacks) her little sisters still soft head or plays wishbone with her tiny toes? Have you forgotten how quickly a box of salt can be emptied onto the floor as you try in vain to boil something for supper? Do the words TRAPPED WIND CRYING ALL THE TIME WANT TO BEAT MY HEAD OFF A BLOODY WALL BUT AM TOO TIRED TO DO SO mean anything to you?
You spent the last month of your pregnancy unable to walk more then a few feet without your hips threatening to seperate. Your bladder control was pretty much non existent and not a day went by that you didn't plead with the universe to end the torture now.
Little did you know of course, what with the snot queen having been born with the aid of a high powered epidural, that the real torture was yet to come, that pushing 7 and a half pounds of squiggling, wriggling, red faced indignation out your wahoo WITHOUT THE AID OF PAIN RELIEF is far from a walk in the park and that the phrase "birth canal" is a real misnomer. It's not that big.
Your hormones are all over the place, you are still carrying an extra stone weight (hips, thighs, belly and boobs) and your hair is due to start falling out any day now. You have also learned several valuable lessons in recent weeks. Just because you escaped you escaped stretchmarks the first time around did not make you immune to the damn things the second time. Just because you have a newborn does not mean that your older child will miraculously stop teething/start sleeping/ become potty trained etc... Newborns Poo. A LOT. Unless they are constipated, in which case they cry - ALOT. At around 4 -6 weeks your newborn baby will get fussy - very fussy. Nothing you do will make them happy. During this time, they will not sleep and neither will you. Babies do not come with housekeepers.
I am not saying these things to be cruel. I do not mean to rain on your baby scented parade. I am merely being honest and presenting you with the facts as they stand so that you can make an informed decision on this matter. I could continue on and regale you with tales of teething troubles and terrible tantrums but number two is only six weeks old and I still have it all ahead of me. Even talking about it would be enough to send me into a spiral of despair and anxiety from which not even the biggest box of maltesers could rescue me.
All the best!
Your younger (and infinitely wiser) self
P.S Do we ever become a size ten or is that just another pipe dream?
Dear Me in the Future,
You're probably wondering why you (I?) wrote this letter. After all, it's a few years down the line (I sincerely hope!) the girls are absolute dreams, Dearest Partner ( husband?) is making oodles of money and you are all living the dream in deepest suburbia. Now, with the Snot Queen about to start school and the small one not so small and having long since lost that new baby smell, you are experiencing those old, familiar pangs. You are getting mushy over pregnant women you see in the street, your eyes well up when you come across the girls' old babygros and your uterus just about leaps out of your body when you encounter a tiny baby.
You imagine the sweet smell of a newborn's head, you can practically feel the soft, warm weight filling your arms and you heart flutters at the thought of breastfeeding again. You are broody and thanks to Mother Nature and her sneaky cocktail of selective amnesia hormones, there are a few aspects of pregnancy, birth and the early days which you may have forgotten.
And THAT my love, is why I've written you this letter.
It is a Thursday in July. Don't ask me the date, It's a miracle I even know the month. Tiny one is six weeks old today and it is merely the grace of god and the fact that your mother is spending 4 weeks helping out that has kept you somewhat sane and barely alive.
The girls are taking it in turns to make you old before your time and judging by the grey hairs you've recently found cropping up in your once luxurious locks, they are succeeding. You know all those charts and books that say newborns sleep 18 - 20 hours a day? HA BLOODY HA. In the last 24 hours, tiny one has spent approxtimately 19 of them AWAKE. The other five were spent in a light doze which you would have taken advantage of were it not for the Snot Queen waking up and declaring the hours of 23o till 530 party time.
You are currently living in a perpetual cycle of feeding, changing, winding, bathing (them, not you. What, did you seriously think they'd let you shower?) chasing, washing, watching and worrying. Like a puke drenched zombie, you wander through your home randomly picking things up and putting them away in an attempt to maintain some standard of household cleanliness, all the while cycling through the same old script of phrases.
"Ah Ah! Not for babies!"
"Gentle, gentle..."
"NOT HER EYES!"
"Good girl, gentle... GENTLE!!!"
"Where's mama's girl?"
"Ssshhhhh.... it's okay, come to mama, we'll kiss it better, shhhhhhh... it's okay..."
"Time for sleepy sleeps..."
"AH! AH! NOT FOR BABIES!!!!!"
"Ta Ta to mama..."
Do you remember the feeling of terror as your 28lb toddler attempts to CLIMB your newborn baby in order to get to your lap? The horror as she lovingly pats (re: violently whacks) her little sisters still soft head or plays wishbone with her tiny toes? Have you forgotten how quickly a box of salt can be emptied onto the floor as you try in vain to boil something for supper? Do the words TRAPPED WIND CRYING ALL THE TIME WANT TO BEAT MY HEAD OFF A BLOODY WALL BUT AM TOO TIRED TO DO SO mean anything to you?
You spent the last month of your pregnancy unable to walk more then a few feet without your hips threatening to seperate. Your bladder control was pretty much non existent and not a day went by that you didn't plead with the universe to end the torture now.
Little did you know of course, what with the snot queen having been born with the aid of a high powered epidural, that the real torture was yet to come, that pushing 7 and a half pounds of squiggling, wriggling, red faced indignation out your wahoo WITHOUT THE AID OF PAIN RELIEF is far from a walk in the park and that the phrase "birth canal" is a real misnomer. It's not that big.
Your hormones are all over the place, you are still carrying an extra stone weight (hips, thighs, belly and boobs) and your hair is due to start falling out any day now. You have also learned several valuable lessons in recent weeks. Just because you escaped you escaped stretchmarks the first time around did not make you immune to the damn things the second time. Just because you have a newborn does not mean that your older child will miraculously stop teething/start sleeping/ become potty trained etc... Newborns Poo. A LOT. Unless they are constipated, in which case they cry - ALOT. At around 4 -6 weeks your newborn baby will get fussy - very fussy. Nothing you do will make them happy. During this time, they will not sleep and neither will you. Babies do not come with housekeepers.
I am not saying these things to be cruel. I do not mean to rain on your baby scented parade. I am merely being honest and presenting you with the facts as they stand so that you can make an informed decision on this matter. I could continue on and regale you with tales of teething troubles and terrible tantrums but number two is only six weeks old and I still have it all ahead of me. Even talking about it would be enough to send me into a spiral of despair and anxiety from which not even the biggest box of maltesers could rescue me.
All the best!
Your younger (and infinitely wiser) self
P.S Do we ever become a size ten or is that just another pipe dream?
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