So many people ask: is she good for you? Well, no, she’s a baby for me. This is what she does: feed, poop, sleep and lately, chat and smile a little.
They don’t come out preprogrammed to make a parents life a joy or a misery; either all smiles and sunshine or rubbing their hands together with clear evil intent. The latter would be impossible: have you seen a newborns relationship to its hands? They’re surprised by the very existence of their own hands about 94 times a day, they’d never get it together to offer an intention with them.Continue reading →
I know we’re well past the point of wishing each other a happy new year, but bear with me, I’ve been preoccupied. So, what is New around here?
She arrived. We could say she was 12 days ‘late’ but at this point none of my pregnancies have been shorter than 41 weeks so I should have more sense than to regard a due date as anything more accurate than a game of Pin The Tail On The Donkey. She’s amazing. With a 4.5 year age gap between her and the newly minted Middle Child I feel like a bit of a newbie again. I forgot how many times you have to change their nappies – like, in the middle of the night and everything. She’s a bit pukey, and fussy all evening. So far though, she usually gives me at least one three hour stretch at night. That’s a big deal – I never had that before. I’m sure it’ll all change week to week but I’ll take it where I can get it.
She’s big too, she was 280g (10oz) bigger than both her brothers. I tell people how long she is, bursting with pride as if my pipsqueak genes have anything to do with it. She has her fathers body type right now, and looks like the little big brother who in turn looks a little more like me. It’s hard to see past the next feed but part of me would love a quick glimpse into the future to see what she turns out like. Either way; she’s the most beautiful girl in the world and that’s a fact. Continue reading →
That sounds like I’m about to launch into a spiritual post doesn’t it? As if I’ve come over mindful all of a sudden. Fear not. It’s about an egg. An egg we’re trying to drop and not break.
Sit comfortably, and enjoy our eggsellent adventure.
They’re having an Egg Drop at school next week. Specifically an egg drop from a shed roof and ideally, the egg wouldn’t break. We need to bond with our child while coming up with a method for that to happen. What it may do in actuality is set parents up for divorce and teach small kids about the power of the pun. Continue reading →
There’ll be no dozen roses, or candlelit dinners and I’d be weirded out if there was; the little things that all add up to love are what count for me.
I’m pretty sure the kids like tangible treats so they’re getting ridiculous glasses and some Love Hearts sweets. In return I get adorbs artwork.
Forget hot air balloon rides with champagne; here is the official run down of things that happened this week that mean something between me and the fella I married.
He bought me tickets for my birthday to go see one of my favourite bands from my teens: Suede. I was into them at a time when he was all about Motörhead yet this week when the gig rolled round he sat beside me probably not embarrassed at my lyric-recall powers.
He made the school lunches on thursday night. That’s a bit pathetic that I count that in the romance column of our marriage ledger. I had made them the other four nights but it’s a task I dislike so much that any reprieve is noted.
Much as I love to watch Ireland play in the Six Nations, the enthusiasm doesn’t stretch to the Under 20’s on a friday night. I suggested we watch About Time on Netflix instead, and he did not protest one jot. It helps that Dumble Gleeson (go to 1:18) – who can do no wrong in our eyes – and Rachel McAdams (think he might fancy her a bit) star and that it’s from the reasonably reliable Richard Curtis school of nice-English-people-and-an-American-bumbling-about films. What? It’s a genre. Lets forget Love, Actually though. I hate Love, Actually). I cried unsurprisingly. I guess lots of people do but it’s got the dad-cancer trigger which is bound to set me off. Sorry. It’s not really a spoiler. Anyway, him indoors liked it.
He suggested we get Indian for dinner. That was no big sacrifice on his part but it’s my absolute favourite. I would happily bathe in Saag anything.
I got up this morning and he was gathering swimming gear to bring both children to the pool. Lessons aren’t on this week, and he’s a member of a fancy place where the lads can go free but there’s no guest passes for wives. Oh no… So instead I got to go for a run and drink coffee in peace and eh, write this. Added bonus, that’s the children washed for the next week.
Incidentally, I had hoped for all my couch-hours this weekend to be spend under a giant Netflix Night In blanket like some of my parenting blogger colleagues (shout out to Sadhbh’s audacious use of her granny). Instead this is all I have. My blanket has been keeping the local delivery office cosy for three days now. I think. Maybe my postman is snuggled up under it eating popcorn and toblerone with the missus. If he is, I hope he gets the ride. It’s the weekend for it.
One little brown-eyed, brown-haired boy sat on his bedroom floor this morning, playing with cars and transformers and Lego bricks. His life isn’t hard. No three year olds life should be hard. To understate it entirely, it’s a lucky accident of birth that my particular three year old is safe and warm in his bed tonight, living here in Ireland in comparative luxury.
His mama rushed to him last night cuddled him and kissed him. She had seen another little brown-eyed, brown-haired boy, ripped apart from his family during a desperate attempt to leave their home, his mother and his brother meeting the same appalling fate as him. Continue reading →