Jen's rantings

Oops

2010-12-09T16:27:00.001Z

A voice from the loo calls out.‘ I was in your uterus, mummy.’

I continue washing up.‘You were love.’

‘I have a tiny uterus.’

We’ve had many conversations like this.‘You do love.’

‘Daddy has a..’

Knowing where she’s heading next I intervene to correct.‘No he doesn’t have a uterus, only girls have a uterus. mummy and daddy make a baby together and the baby grows in mummy’s uterus.’

‘What’s make a baby about?’

Feck. Me and my big interrupting mouth

‘Is that an elephant out the window? Right,time to wash hands.’

ssshhh

2010-08-21T13:44:00.000+01:00

I have the flu.Everything aches. I spent the night awake alternating between shivers and sweats. Not to mention the three hours of comforting a very restless teething boobie monster.

But.....

Today himself amused the tinies all morning. I got a lie in. I’m now still in my pyjamas. I’ve written two blog posts and had breakfast all by myself. I'm not up for cooking so we’re going to eat from the freezer for dinner.

Maybe this will last until Monday....

Sad, I know....

2010-07-25T12:19:00.004+01:00

It's not you, it's me.

2009-10-15T22:12:00.002+01:00

I apologise for not visiting your blog or keeping up to date on your news or even acknowledging your comments.

I’ve slightly overextended myself. Two babies, one husband, lots of family and friends, two cats, 2 websites, a business start up, 3 blogs, 3 Facebook pages, 2 Twitter accounts and a daughter who feeds every forty minutes from 7 til 10 in the evening. Something had to give.

Bear with me you wonderful bloggers. I will find the time to open my reader soon and catch up with you all. I may even pour myself a wee glass of vino as I peek into your lives.

In the meantime, I’m twittering here and blogging a bit here and maybe even right here.

The Big Wuss in the Face of Adversity Award Goes to Me

2009-09-29T14:38:00.001+01:00

Saturday morning 9:00.

The kitchen.

Tinyelf is screaming to get out of stupid jumping contraption and to go for a nap.

Crazypixie is roaring with pain, blood is pouring from her mouth, her pyjamas are soaked in blood too and there is a puddle of it staining the tile grout.

Himself is hugging crazypixie and examining the wound while trying to talk calmly to tinyelf.

I'm lying on the floor, in just a towel, overcome by the sight of so much blood.

I was going to elaborate but let’s just leave it at that.

Suffice to say it all turned out ok in the end.

Thanks to Daddy.

Not so much fun

2009-09-23T21:07:00.000+01:00

I’m covered in hickeys!!

The purple blotches are on my arms, neck and chest.

It’s not from a passionate night with himself (sigh).

Nor is it from an illicit tryst with a stranger (eew).

Tinyelf is the culprit.

My little leech baby likes to suck. When she’s finished feeding it’s bye bye boobie and hello nearest piece of exposed mummy.

When she’s happy she sucks, when she’s tired she sucks, when she’s bored she sucks.

Maybe it’s about marking her property.

Asgard 2

2009-09-11T13:17:00.004+01:00

I wrote this piece a year ago today. It was an attempt to type away my tears. A year on and Asgard has been left on the sea bed and we have no news of a replacement. Coiste an Asgard is still carrying out sail training but we are without a tall ship to carry our flag.

On September 11th 2008, Asgard II sank, and with her something of my youth. I’ve cried the great big heaving sobs of grief. And yet it seems ridiculous, yeah illogical to be grieving for a boat. But as the old hands would say, ‘she wasn’t just a ship, she was a lady….’

I was sixteen when I boarded the Asgard for the first of many voyages. For the next two weeks I became part of a crew, had experiences that changed me forever and fell in love with a gaff rigged brigantine…

Sailing a tall ship was magical; it was the stuff of adventure novels. We did things that pushed our boundaries just enough so that we were stronger more confident young people at the end of the voyage. We climbed up the rigging in heavy seas to reduce sail; we did it because it had to be done, and we did it under the watchful eye of the crew. Sure we were a little scared but when we had that job done and conquered that fear….well we just got on with next job…

Asgard was a relatively new vessel, but she was steeped in the tradition of the sea. The poetry of her rigging echoed the rich lives of ancient seafarers: buntlines and clew lines, braces and sheets, topsail and t’gallant. The centuries old calls of ‘all hands on deck’, ‘bracing stations’ and ‘2, 6, heave…’ became a language we understood. We thought nothing of spending time tying frayed rope to make baggy wrinkles or avoiding the widow-maker during manoeuvres before returning to the dog house for watch duties. We revelled in this new world, learning together.

It was on this vessel that many young people gained a love and respect for the sea and an appreciation of working life. Like many young people I went on board Asgard during that rough rollercoaster of my teens. Onboard everyone was part of the crew, we all worked together and we all worked hard and that was the joy of it. As well as the sailing, there was brass to be polished, toilets to be cleaned, and dinner to be cooked. Every one mucked in, and became firm friends in the process.

Ashore there was the craic, and with a boat full of teenagers, many romances. But this was no summer camp, this was real.

I always felt safe on Asgard. Even in really heavy weather she was solid; a great sea boat. The permanent crew: Captain, Mate, Bosun, Cook and Engineer, took incredibly good care of their young charges and treated us with a mixture of respect, good humour and firm boundaries that ensured life at sea was challenging, enjoyable and safe for us all.

I can’t believe she’s gone. I only hope that this isn’t the end of the wonderful tall ship training tradition in Ireland, and that one day my daughter will have a chance to experience living and working on an Irish Tall Ship.

Life's not fair.

2009-09-10T20:51:00.000+01:00

My sis and I were having a cuppa in my sitting room, our tiny ones on our knees and crazypixie busy trying on shoes and hats.

Tinyelf began the theatrics that signal a poo.

My sister asked ‘Does she poo everyday?’

I was confused.

‘She poos about three times a day.’

‘Oh, lilman only poos every three days.’

Every three days!

I was incredulous.

I was stunned.

I was envious.

The day before I had changed seven pooey nappies by teatime. 7, in a day.

She does that a month.

NOT FAIR

Dress code

2009-09-05T19:52:00.006+01:00

I usually dress the girls in the morning but sometimes himself, my mother or my mother-in-law does it.
When this happens I try to leave complete outfits ready but there are rare times when himself or the grannies have to pick the clothes themselves.

So until my girls are choosing their own clothes the following tips will be duck-taped to the wardrobe door.

Tips for dressing my girls

Choosing an outfit

Dress for the occasion:
Jeans/trousers and top are appropriate when going to the pool, the woods, the playground and generally mucking around.
For visits to friends and grandparents or restaurants a pinafore (like dungarees with a skirt bottom), skirt or nice trousers and top will do.
For special occasions like birthday parties a dress is appropriate (not pyjama top and jeans, mum).

Colours:
Pink, red, orange, purple; pick one and don’t mix it with the others.
White, green, blue, denim can be matched with any of the above.

Pyjamas:
Are for bedtime only.

Tights and socks:
Should match outfit. See colours.

Shoes:
No matter what your daughter/granddaughter tells you, shoes should be worn in matching pairs.

Accessories:
This is crazypixie’s area of expertise. Let her chose hats, bags and bracelets for everyone.

When you’ve chosen an outfit using the above guidelines, lay it out to make sure it all works together (i.e. she won’t look like a little hooker/homeless child/teletubbie).

Before putting it on the child ask yourself, ‘Is this what my wife/daughter/daughter-in-law would dress her in?’

Always check that the clothes fit and are on properly.

The clothes are inside out if:
The tags are on the outside (take note, husband dear)
The stitching is on the outside.

Clothes are too small if:
Pulling it over her head involves you breaking a sweat and her in tears.
The top finishes above her bellybutton.
The trousers reveal a builders bum when she bends over.
The crotch of the tights is at her knees
Only one of four buttons will close.

If in doubt take a photo of proposed outfit and media message it to Jen for approval.

Life before little ones.

2009-09-01T22:24:00.003+01:00

Feeling a little nostalgic while figuring out how to embed video in blogger.

Here's what myself and himself used to get up to at weekends (we're not in this but used to race against the guys that are).

Mad hatters.

2009-08-31T13:49:00.008+01:00

This week we’ll be mostly drinking tea.

My littlesis presented crazypixie with a beautiful wooden tea set at the weekend. I love it, it’s carved from sustainable wood, there are little cups and saucers, a teapot, sugar bowl and jug. There are also wooden sugar cubes, tea bags and spoons, all of which I’ve put away for now as I have had enough of medical emergencies for a while.

So we spent the morning tea partying. Well mummy got all nostalgic and enthusiastic (a scary combination)and starting pouring imaginary cups of tea for lambkin and bear, while crazypixie tried to figure out how the pieces of this new puzzle fit together. Eventually the pixie gave in and quickly got the hang of imaginary tea.

We soon discovered that the tea party game is even more fun when wearing silly hats. Yes, the beloved bag of hats was called into service and we all looked fabulously ridiculous (no photo, too busy playing). Oh I so need to get out more!

Then the postman arrived…..

…….with a huge box of tea!

What excellent timing.

A few weeks ago my favouritest tea company in the world (too much Pooh, I know) was offering free tea on Facebook. So, of course ,I signed up!!

And today the box arrived. In it were 9 types of teas and infusions.

I think I’ll have my big girl friends around for a tea party all of our own.

And maybe I’ll make them wear hats.

Owee!

2009-08-28T14:23:00.001+01:00

This week my running, dancing, climbing crazypixie was stopped in her tracks. Three days ago she tripped, an occupational hazard for a wired 17 month old, and she must have landed awkwardly because there was much hysterics.

After the initial cuddle I thought she was just being a little melodramatic with her ‘owees.’ Closer inspection showed that her foot had swelled a lot and she couldn’t bear for me to touch it nor could she put any weight on it.

Feck!

The thought of tending to my wounded pixie and my elfin boobie monster in an over packed waiting room (presumably rife with swine flu) as each of my smallies in turn became hungry and overtired during a 5 hour wait was more than I could bear. So I threw some nappies, emergency snacks, toys and drinks in a bag, phoned himself to let him know what was going on, lifted the two into their car seats and headed for the nearest take-out-a-mortgage-to-pay-for-this Swift Clinic. At the car park I bunged (that should read ‘lovingly placed’) crazypixie into her buggy and threw (ditto) the tiny one into a sling.
Up in the lift and to reception. Wow! No queue – no one else in front of us at all, comfy chairs and loads of toys. We were called in a few minutes. Crazypixie attached herself firmly to me as the nurse and doctor came to check her out. She was such a brave girl and when each professional was finished and leaving, through her tears crazypixie would smile, say ‘Bye’ and blow them a kiss. They were charmed and weren’t to know that ‘Bye’ is pixie speak for ‘go away’.
Going for an x-ray proved complicated, as tinyelf was strapped to me getting fretty and crazypixie was snuggled up to me. We couldn’t bring tinyelf into the x ray room and I wasn’t keen on extricating myself from either of them. Enter himself on his white steed (well, shanks mare anyway).

An hour and a small fortune later we were home. Nothing broken, thankfully.

So she’s been on painkillers and confined to the couch. We’ve been colouring, reading, playing with her animals, picnicking, dressing and undressing her sister and doing anything to keep her amused while keeping her owee elevated.

Cue DVD’s.

We looked at a few David Attenborough’s first (nerdy parents, the poor child) until I discovered a Pooh DVD I had bought to amuse mrman when he was younger.

She loves it.

I love it.

My mum and I cried at it!

We’ve watched it 5 times in 2 days.

Anyhoo, she seems to be on the mend. She can hobble about a little and has rediscovered crawling. Soon she’ll be back having her own adventures and we can mothball Pooh, Tigger and the rest of the Hundred Acre Wood until the next period of confinement.

Under House Arrest

2009-08-21T12:56:00.001+01:00

It should come as no surprise to us really that our girls are strong willed. With parents like us what did we expect?

This week tinyelf has decided that she would rather not travel by car. She voices her opinion by turning red and screaming at the top of her lungs to such an extent that mummy has to throw on the hazards lights, stop in traffic and haul her out before she makes herself sick or has a seizure. This has happened 9 times (and on three separate trips) in the last two days and no amount of soothing, feeding, winding, changing or dangling of toys seems to make a blind bit of difference. She starts the journey quite happily but obviously runs out of patience about 5 minutes in. When she’s taken out of her seat she’s all smiles and cooing, as if to say, ‘that’s better……now don’t put me back in there.’
So our nine week old has us under house arrest!

And house arrest wouldn’t be all that bad if we were allowed to go around fully dressed, but no. Crazypixie has decided that ‘nuwees’ (nude in pixie speak) is the way to go. Any clothing with poppers is useless as she can get it off, ditto her grobag and pyjamas. And she can also remove her own nappy! Short of stitching the clothes onto her I’m not sure what I’ll do.
And she isn’t satisfied with being ‘nuwees’ alone. Oh no. This morning tinyelf was undressed as she fed and crazypixie insists on viewing mummy’s tummy and boobies at regular intervals.
The only clothes she seems to be happy wearing are scarves or bits of fabric that she drapes around herself and calls her ‘bwas’ (yes, you’ll remember, pixie speak for bra).

If my girls had their way we’d spend all day at home, nude. Ah well, maybe it’s not that bad………

Attention Freelance Mam

2009-08-20T13:17:00.003+01:00

I like your blog...but i can't post a comment...there seems to be a problem with comments on your site...I've tried to commment on your last 3 posts...i know you follow this blog so it's the only way I could let you know!!

I wanted to tell you that your story is beautiful, happy, sad and made me cry.......

Everyone else, check her out!!!

Rescue me

2009-08-16T10:00:00.000+01:00

There have been times, mostly when crazypixie was just born, that himself has dropped everything to come home and help me cope with our crying baby.
There have been days when I’ve rung him at 9 in the morning sobbing down the phone, ‘When are you coming home?’ Then we’ve chatted and all was well in the world again
There have been mornings, following rough nights, when he’s quietly taken crazypixie downstairs, fed her and amused her while I’ve snored away upstairs with tinyelf.
Today it was my turn to rescue him.

Tinyelf and I were in bed as she was having her morning feed. My phone rang. Bizarrely it was himself, who was presumably just downstairs. I answered, hopeful that it was an offer of a cup of tea. But no.
A sheepish voice asked me to come down stairs and let him in.
Confused, I threw on a big t-shirt, and bounded down the stairs only to be greeted by crazypixie.
‘Where’s dada?’ I asked.
‘Outside,’ she grinned and pointed. There he was peering in the glass looking all lost puppyish.
I opened the door and we both just collapsed laughing. Apparently he had just popped out to get something from the car, he’d put the top lock on the latch and pulled the door after him. Then when he tried to get back in all he could hear was the key turning in the lock.
Clever crazypixie!

Double the love.

2009-08-11T14:07:00.003+01:00

Friends, who are parents of one and either contemplating or incubating a second, keep asking me, ‘Is it hard, having two?’
The short answer is ‘YES.’
But it is also wonderful, rewarding and fun.

Double the love, double the smiles, double the cuddling.
Double the nappies, double the mess and half the sleep.

So here are my tips for those of you contemplating or expecting your second (says she with a whole eight weeks experience):

Routine. Let me just say that again. ROUTINE. Help the older sibling to get into a regular nap and bedtime schedule before the new baby arrives. This makes things so much more manageable.
Go easy on yourself. You can’t be and do all (I know, I’ve tried). If you have to leave one cry for a minute or two while the other needs immediate attention, it’s ok. They’ll get over it, you’ll get over it. Do your best.
Train a helper. Crazypixie loves to get me things while I’m feeding or changing tinyelf. They may not be exactly (or even remotely) what I was looking for but it does keep her amused and interested in her sister.
Let your toddler play mummy. Baba, crazypixie’s dolly, is changed, rocked to sleep, burped and breastfed. Hours of fun!
Stagger getting up times, naptimes and bedtimes. In the morning I give crazypixie her cuddles, get her changed, dressed and have the porridge on before bringing the sleeping tinyelf downstairs. I always ensure tinyelf is napping or happily playing before bringing crazypixie up for her nap.
Be a grownup. Have a least one adult conversation a day. Give yourself little snatches of grown up time, be it phone conversations, blogging, online shopping or snuggling with himself – whatever cranks your tractor.
Get out. After the first few times it’s not that difficult to get out and about. Go visit friends and family; give everyone a change of scene from your own four walls.
Remember the priorities. Leave the mess sometimes and just hang out with your kids and your partner.
Enjoy. Do what you can to make sure you all enjoy some of this special time and not just survive it.

Did I mention routine?

Boobs, boobs,,,,

2009-08-09T16:19:00.000+01:00

It’s been mostly about boobs this week.

Tinyelf has her first cold and so is a total boobie monster. The trick to sleeping which we discovered when crazypixie got her first cold is working a treat again. She lies on her side snuggled into me with her head on my arm to elevate it. When she gets congested I offer her the boob and this helps her to swallow the snot (gross, but effective). She gets sleep and isn’t distressed and I get a little bit of sleep too!!

Crazypixie has moved from saying ‘beeboo’ to ‘boobie’ and now directs me whenever tinyelf cries, ‘Baba boobie.’ Bizarrely she is better at telling when tinyelf is hungry than I am.

Later in the week I had the following conversation with my 6 ¾ year old neighbour who was ‘helping’ me by ‘babysitting’ crazypixie.

Me: I’m just going to feed tinyelf
Mr man: Again! She sure feeds a lot.
Me: Well, I just feed her when she’s hungry.
Mr man: Bottles are very handy.
Me: But I don’t have to worry about measuring, sterilising or anything.
Mr man: The thing about bottles is, if she doesn’t finish a bottle you can keep it til later.
Me: Well, I can even feed tinyelf when I’m asleep.
Mr man: That is handy. So she could start feeding and then you could fall asleep.
Me: Exactly.
Mr man: Wow, that’s very handy!!!

How sad am I?

No More Stuff!

2009-08-05T20:33:00.002+01:00

In ~~an inspired~~ moment of madness I've set myself a 'No more Stuff' challenge. Details on my other blog.

Tandem Feeding

2009-08-05T13:14:00.000+01:00

Yesterday I tandem breastfed for the first time. It wasn’t planned and was quite a surprising development.

Crazypixie had weaned three months ago and had shown no interest in what lay beneath mummies bra (‘bwa’ in pixie speak) until tinyelf began spending her days attached to the ‘beeboos’.
When tinyelf feeds, crazypixie wants to be involved to, ‘beeboo’ she points excitedly and I nod, yes, ‘boobie.’ ‘Bwa’ she exclaims as she pulls down the cup on my elf free boob. Then begins a weird kind of peekaboo game with beeboo and bwa. Thankfully this game has been confined to our own home and hasn’t happened in front of visitors yet!
Peekaboo is usually followed by the pretending to breastfeed game. Much like sipping a cup of pretend tea at a kids tea party crazypixie ‘feeds’ without ever actually making contact. I humour her as it means tinyelf can guzzle away in peace without having her ears pulled/fingers inserted up her nose/her hair ’brushed’ with a plastic pig.

Two weeks ago when dealing with the joys of blocked ducts, I had to express quite a bit into bottles I hadn’t had time to sterilise. Instead of wasting my milk I chucked it into crazypixies sippycup and she was delighted. My friends warned me I was living dangerously, but I didn’t see the harm.

Then yesterday…….

I was feeding the elvin boobie monster when little pixie hands pulled down my bwa, pointed to beeboo and handed me her dolly.

Well, what could I do only humour her?

So I now tandem feed one baby and one doll.

Rainy day

2009-07-31T18:12:00.006+01:00

Three girls, a day to ourselves, and pouring rain outside. Oh, what to do.
Let’s have a……

Spa Day!

Now bear in mind that two of the aforementioned girls have a combined age of 1 ½ so we had to be creative.

Firstly, to get in the mood, pink nappies all round (with the obvious exception of mummy's ample bum).

Then...

Crazypixie had:
Pedicure and manicure, although she insisted on having the moisturiser applied to her elbows and knees.
Warm oil head massage. No more embarrassing cradle cap!
Yoghurt facial. Granted, this was supposed to be lunch.

Tinyelf had:
Pedicure and manicure. She obviously found it relaxing as she slept through it.
Then she chilled in the massage chair for the rest of the afternoon.

Mummy had:
A pixie massage. Unfortunately it preceded Crazypixie’s manicure and the jury is still out on the benefits of pinch therapy.

More rain tomorrow. I wonder are they too young for Bridget Jones Diary and maltesers.

Snapshot

2009-07-29T20:17:00.000+01:00

Here’s a snapshot for my girls to look back on:

Tinyelf, at 6 weeks old;
You are growing and developing by the day and we are constantly amazed by your new feats.
You can now smile and you chat to us in your cooing language.
You are very alert and like looking at peoples faces,.
You love your sleep, like your dada, and love to snuggle up next to your mama and hold on while nodding off.
You are very patient with the enthusiastic attentions of your big sister. But when you’re tired, hungry or bored, boy can you scream!!!

We love you, you tiny little snugly elf………

Crazypixie, at 16 ½ months old:
Your new thing is spinning around in circles until you’re dizzy and then falling on your bum. This is your dancing!!
Your favourite book is your birdie book, A Bird Identification Guide, which we frequently have to sellotape back together.
You like to figure things out. You can now almost get your shoes on yourself. Well, you can get the right one on and closed but you haven’t quite got the left one yet.
You climb on all the furniture and instead of sitting in the bath you run back and forth.
You love playing outside and being nude. You would probably explode with excitement if we left you run around nude outside!
Every evening when Daddy comes home from work you squeal ‘Daddy’ and run to the door.
You have new words every day, and are starting to say little sentences, ‘bye, bye baba’ and ‘in bin’.
Your favourite toys are your Bear (‘B’), dolly (‘Baba’) and plastic cow (‘Moo’).
You are a great big sister, you insist on trying to hold tinyelf on your lap and read books to her. Sometimes mummy has to curb your enthusiasm as you try to drag her around by the arm.

We love you, you determined little pixie…..

From me to you

2009-07-25T18:41:00.006+01:00

So, I got this Meme award from Sandy and, the rules are as follows:

Acknowledge the person who gave you the award
List seven personality traits about yourself
Pass the award on to seven other blogs that deserve recognition for the personalities that they share with the blogging world.

Between compiling lists of seasonal vegetables for tinygreenpeople and feeding tinyelf who was a total boobie monster today (crazypixie was off adventuring with my parents) I did a wee bit of introspection and came up with the seven personality traits required (btw himself thought I should add Brilliant to the list – he’s saying all the right things at the moment).

Seven Personality traits of Jen:

Caring. I might not be great at expressing it always but I care deeply about my family and friends. I care about the welfare of strangers and animals and nature, and the wellbeing of the world in general.

Fair. I try to be fair and treat everyone with respect, especially my own children. I hate to see people being treated unfairly, and I particularly dislike people abusing power over others.

Determined. Try coming between me and something I feel strongly about and you’ll see how determined I am.

Bookish. I’ve always been a total bookworm and since I’ve become computer literate I am proudly both a nerd and a geek! A gnerd, maybe?

Mischievous. Or evil as some of my so called friends would say!! I like a bit of fun if it doesn’t harm someone else. On holidays with my brother we bought a load of garden gnomes and at night placed them in strangers gardens; there must have been some pretty confused people the following day.

Self critical/analytical. I am guilty of over analysis. I’ll remember something stupid I said 10 years ago and still cringe. I can’t watch the video of our wedding as I have such good memories of the day and know I would spoil them by nit picking.

Sensitive. I take things personally. I can’t help it! I may come across as a confident woman but there is sensitive little girl in here too.

So I’ll pass this award on to some bloggers I’d like to know more about. Some of the blogs I’ve only just discovered, others I’ve been following for a while. Some are due babies imminently so blogging awards may be the last thing on their mind but hey, when you’ve got the time guys.

JennyMac at Lets have a Cocktail
Mick at WannabeDad
Whoopsie Daisy at Living in a Toy Box
Danka at Dublin Mama
Miss Leslieanne at Life with a Little Dude
Hot Cross Mum
Potty Mummy at Potty Diaries

Thank you and Helloooo

2009-07-24T12:00:00.007+01:00

Firstly thank you Sandy at Baby baby for the Meme award, I’ll compile my list and pass it on soon….

In the meantime, for your entertainment and to give my grown up girls an insight into their parents juvenile humour………an extract from a Skype chat between myself and himself while the girls were napping.

It’s just cut and pasted, I couldn’t be arsed adding punctuation.

Me:hellooooo
Himself: hi
Me: poor crazypixie is napping but very restless that bottom molar about to appear
Himself: molar: her 2nd molars
Me: canine...i need sleep
Himself: fffwww
Himself: feeww
Himself: or something like that
Me: phew? or not enough?
Himself: that'll do to
Me: poo maybe?
Himself: no: I'm fine thanks
Me: (smiley face)
Himself: to think, in 5 years they'll all fall out: teeth not poo
Himself: maybe I do need to go
Me: another quiet day at the office?
Himself: no, up the walls, just taking a minute out to chat to you!
Me: ah, nothing like five minutes to chat about teeth and poo
Himself: reminds me of a south park episode (smiley face vomiting)
Me: not the one where where they eat..........
Himself: ....through their....and.....through their
Me: eeewwwww
Himself: right, on that note best do some work
Me: (smiley face blowing a kiss)
Himself: (smiley face blushing)

The Solution.

2009-07-22T13:06:00.001+01:00

I figured out what I need to make daily life a little easier. The one little thing that would allow me to be all and do all……………

An extra arm.

Surely this is possible. They grow human ears on pigs for goodness sake.

If that plan doesn’t work…….maybe a change of perspective is called for.

Me time.

2009-07-17T20:06:00.004+01:00

Things I could (all the self help books say not to use ‘should’) do while the girls nap:

Wash nappies and clothes: it would only take a fraction of the usual time without my helper.
Prepare lunch and dinner: with nobody simultaneously emptying the cupboards and insisting on sampling everything.
Tidy up: without pausing for feeds or nappy changes.
Wash the dishes: while the contents of the bin remain safe from eager little hands.
Nap: in uninterrupted bliss.

Things I actually do while the girls nap:

Banter with himself on Skype chat
Check my email. It’s the only time in the day where I don’t have to battle crazypixie for control of the mouse.
Update my websites. It’s so much quicker typing with both hands and without a baby on my other shoulder.
Blog. By 10:30 there have usually been 1 or 2 blogworthy events.
Drink tea: slowly and without worrying about where to put it down.
Eat chocolate biccies: without having to share them.
Catch up on my favourite blogs. It’s almost like having an adult conversation.
See who’s up to what on Facebook. Hello outside world.

So…….we continue to live in chaos but I remain both sane and happy, and I retain the capacity to get enthusiastic about an afternoon of blowing bubbles, colouring, chasing cats, reading stories and doing housework ‘together’.

Now, if only they could co-ordinate their napping every day…..

another day at the office...

2009-07-13T21:25:00.001+01:00

By 5 o’clock today this is the situation:

The sitting room is a sea of primary colours: blocks, bikes and books, dollys and drums, playmats and prams. I’m afraid to put tinyelf down on her mat in case I can’t find her again.
The back garden is strewn with discarded shoes, balls, sippy cups and buckets. All are the result of crazypixie, a two year old and a six year old having great fun.
Cat food scattered over the kitchen floor (this find provided crazypixie with a little pre-breakfast snack). The kitchen counter top ares piled high with vegetable peelings and dishes that, surprisingly, don’t wash themselves.
Tinyelf is actually sitting happy in her bouncer chair, but is wearing a suspiciously fresh set of clothing and smelling faintly of baby vomit.
Crazypixie is overtired, sore from teething and not impressed that dinner isn’t ready yet.
Like tinyelf, I also smell of baby vomit (slightly less faintly unfortunately) and after undressing in the kitchen I’m now wearing a tracksuit pants that is so unflattering that it must go in the next charity bag and a t-shirt that used to fit perfectly before breastfeeding boobs took over my chest but now is struggling to cover my midriff (classy bird, me).
I’m trying to put on rice for the dinner, while diverting crazypixies attention from her little sister, who she is patting a little too enthusiastically. This involves letting her rifle through the cupboards while I sing Old McDonald with thoroughly faked enthusiasm.

In walks himself, after a long day at the office.

He takes one look at me and what does he say?

‘You look lovely.’

And he meant it!

I think I’ll keep him.

Dressed to Impress.

2009-07-12T16:30:00.001+01:00

Heading out to play football with mummy........in the rain....Irish summers are all about being dressed for the conditions!

Well, duh...

2009-07-11T12:06:00.002+01:00

My local public health nurse said something very wise to me on her last visit:
‘We are all idiots with our first baby.’
How true……

I mentioned that tinyelf was having digestion problems and had a witching hour (or three) in the evening, well Infant Gaviscon has returned her to a cooing, snuggly bundle of joy (thank you Sandy for the tip). She still frets a little bit but is much easier to soothe………..
When crazypixie screamed each evening, we thought it was normal. My mother in law said that himself and his brother used to be the same as babies.
It took 16 months and the discomfort of tinyelf for me to twig that maybe, just maybe, reflux runs in the family…..

(for when you read this in later life, crazypixie, mummy is sorry for being an idiot)

Can’t you take a hint mummy?

2009-07-09T17:57:00.001+01:00

A friend called over this afternoon with her tiny person and as we sat there chatting I began to wonder what crazypixie was up to out in the hall. A quick peek around the corner revealed the results of her labours.
In the middle of the floor were: my sandals, her sandals and her jacket that she had managed to extricate from the bucket of freshly washed clothes.
Crazypixie herself was sitting on her bike, which was parked at the front door and attempting to tie the straps around her waist.

Do you reckon she was trying to tell me something?

Thank you for the days.....

2009-07-07T13:54:00.002+01:00

Dare I say it but things seem to have settled down here. Crazypixie is teething; canine no.1 has just cut through, but is dealing with it superbly. These are the first teeth that have cut through since she weaned so it is considerably easier on mummy too.
Tinyelf is now 3 weeks old and it seems as if she’s been around a lot longer. Her sister showers her with kisses daily and when tinyelf cries, crazypixie admonishes me, ‘Mummy (we’ve progressed from Mama), row, row…’ Meaning, sing ‘row, row, your boat.’ Mind you, ten minutes later tinyelf is often jolted awake by crazypixie shouting ‘boo!’ into the pram……..
Our days are on the whole very enjoyable. We don’t go that many places: we’ve made a trip to the doctor for checkups and vaccinations and we’ve recommenced our weekly trip to the farmers market for some decent food. We also make the odd visit to friends and family but otherwise they have all been coming to us.

Once crazypixie is in bed, you’d think things would be even calmer…but, oh no.
Tinyelf, like her sister at that age, has a witching hour (more like 2 to 3 hours). This involves general restlessness and crying and the ritual dousing of mummy. Over the last three nights, I’ve been pooed on once and puked on twice. And we’re not talking spit up here, but the type that requires both mummy and tinyelf to strip down completely (much to himself’s glee) and be power-hosed. All I can say is, I don’t know how the parents of colicky babies cope……10 mins of crying and we’re all at our wits end here.
I’m currently cutting dairy out of my diet to see if that has an effect of tinyelf’s windiness but it may also be due to the drops she’s on for thrush, or a myriad other reasons and we may never know………….. ah the joys of it all.

So my final thought for today:

Sometimes being a parent means having to scoop poo from your cleavage………

Wedding Regrets

2009-07-03T17:31:00.002+01:00

We were invited to a wedding today. We couldn't go. Here's the email I sent to the happy couple.

To the Bride and Groom,

As you exchange marriage vows, we’ll be thinking of you while we change yet another nappy.
As you sip champagne and chat with your guests, we’ll think of you while we cuddle our girls and put them down for their naps.
As you eat a wonderful meal with your family and friends, we’ll think of you as we try to grab some dinner while ducking to avoid flying toddler bowls
As you share anecdotes and proclaim your happiness in speeches, we’ll think of you as we read Woof’s Bedtime Story for the 2000th time.
As you dance the night away, we’ll think of you as we pace the halls soothing our newborn baby.
As dawn breaks and you happily head to the bridal suite, we’ll think of you as we are roused by an enthusiastic toddler and a very hungry baby.

Have a great day.

Myself, Himself, Crazypixie and Tinyelf.

The New Boss

2009-07-02T18:58:00.008+01:00

Crazypixie has a new word……..
‘No!’ accompanied by vigorous shaking of the head.
This means that combined with her heretofore favourite word ‘more!’ she can pretty much get mummy and daddy to meet her every whim.

At lunch today she pointed her imperious finger towards the middle of the table, “More!”
‘More bread?’ I asked
‘No!’
‘Cheese?’ I ventured
‘No!’
‘Tomato?’
‘No!’
‘Water, maybe?’ At this point, I was beginning to feel like a kindly but slightly stupid Labrador.

Image www.guidedogs.co.uk

‘No!’
‘Do you want olives?’
‘More’
Now I was confused; olives usually result in her pulling theatrical grimaces, fishing the hideous object that mummy has tried to poison her with from her mouth and flinging it with contempt to the floor.
I waited as she sampled my offering.
The olive elicited its usual reaction.
Yet she kept pointing, ‘more!’
Then it dawned on me (silly mummy), crazypixie had had red grapes earlier that looked almost exactly like the offending olives.
I, like the aforementioned Labrador who has suddenly realised the true meaning of ‘Fetch’, leapt up with a grin, scampered to the fridge, retrieved the grapes and presented them to crazypixie who bestowed a smile on me as she happily began munching.

I reckon in another year or two she’ll have us fully trained.

Awards, Puzzles and Naps....a good day.

2009-07-01T19:37:00.004+01:00

By lunchtime today, 3 events of significance (well, in my little world anyway) had occurred…….

Firstly, I turned on my PC to find I had been given my first Blogger Award. Thank you Maternal Tales for the One Lovely Blog Award. I feel all warm and fuzzy and accepted!!

Then Crazypixie matched up all the animals in her puzzle (I’ve emailed Mensa).

And last but not least………

I had an hour and a half nap while both my girls slept. I will brag about it now as it may never happen again!

Yippee for today…..

And now it’s my turn to pass the One Lovely Blog Award on to five lovely blogs.
So here goes:
To my fellow mummy bloggers, campaigners, and recent mothers of two, Mammydiaries and Irish Mammy on the run, ladies you are great!
For her food inspiration and generally lovely blog Arty Feminist
To Mumunplugged and English Mum in Ireland, I really enjoy reading your lovely blogs.

Nap Time

2009-06-29T11:50:00.003+01:00

Crazypixie has a daily routine that she is rather fond of, or should I say if she gets her naps and food on time we can avoid TTM (total toddler meltdown).

Today was the first day where I didn’t have assistance from himself, my mum or my sister at nap time.

Now, rather than be worried, I was optimistic. I’m a very capable woman (had to stopping typing there as had a fit of crazy laughter). I had even dared to plan on taking a nap myself as my two darlings snored sweetly (I know…hilarious)

Nap time is about 10:30, so I reckoned and hour and a half lead in time would be plenty.

This is roughly how it unfolded:

9:00 Put on kettle for cup of tea before the madness. Decide to do a quick wash-up as there is a lot of water in the kettle (feeling so organised and supermumish). Crazypixie helps by emptying cupboards.
9:15 Tinyelf begins to stir. Play a last game of build-the-bricks-and-knock-them –down-again with crazypixie, while keeping an ear out for tinyelf.
9:30 Feed tinyelf while reading animal book with crazypixie (definitely heading for mum of the year now).
9:45 (yes, she’s a speed feeder) Started to change tinyelf. Lifted crazypixie down from the table.
9:50 At the insistence of my toddler put nappy on crazypixies dolly, lifted crazypixie down from table for the third time.
9:55 Calmed crazypixie down after a Oscar-winning dive to the floor (from the floor) and big crocodile tears. Here comes the TTM………….
10:00 Manage to finish changing tinyelf, who’s not too impressed at this stage, as crazypixie flings her dolly around the room.
10:05 Give crazypixie her morning snack. All smiles and sweetness again. Lay tinyelf in her pram to kick about and so she’s out of reach from crazypixie who’s doing her best to introduce her sister to solids a little bit too early.
10:10 Run upstairs to get sleeping bag and bear. Tinyelf starts screaming. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram.
10:15 Realise sleeping bag is covered in poo from this mornings ‘good morning mummy’ gift. Run back up to laundry room to locate clean sleeping bag, crazypixie quite happy sleepily clutching bear but tinyelf wakes crying again. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram (going into crisis mode now) .
10:20 Chase crazypixie who has woken up again and decided that mummy needs more exercise (she may have a point) and then play I’ll-try –to-change-your-nappy-while-you-try-to-flip-yourself-over-and-run-away-at-every-possible-opportunity. Tinyelf wakes. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram (smiling on the outside, tearing my hair out on the inside).
10:25 Dismantle nappies and put them in bucket for washing later. Wash crazypixie’s hands after removing them from toilet. Tinyelf wakes. Wind tinyelf…. rock and soothe her…back in pram (I think I'm developing a nervous tic).
10:30 Put crazypixie in her sleeping bag. Start to sing her sleepy song while rubbing her hair. Tiny elf begins to wake. Run upstairs with crazypixie, give her a kiss, say night-night while putting her into her cot. Remove and hide extra toys that will keep her awake. Turn on monitor.
10:35 Run back downstairs to the now screaming tinyelf. Wind and soothe her…….give her another small feed……….walk around and sing to her until she dozes off.
10:50 Put tinyelf back in pram, settle her gently when she stirs again.
11:00 Both girls asleep. I enjoy a cold cup of tea while venting into the blogosphere…………..(it wasn't that bad, really)
11:30 Cr@p! Is that crazypixie stirring?

And then there were two.

2009-06-28T20:13:00.002+01:00

Almost two weeks in and I’m beginning to discover the realities of two under two.

Here is a taste of the parenting dilemmas I’ve faced to date:

Tinyelf is latched on and frantically trying to deal with my Niagara-like let down, crazypixie is happily rolling around on the ground when I notice a suspicious brown substance running down her leg.
Solution: Ignore suspicious brown substance as himself is due home and finish feeding tinyelf.

Tinyelf is screaming with wind while I rub her back, meanwhile crazypixie disappears briefly then reappears chewing something that she refuses to show me but I catch a glimpse of a lump of blue stuff. Bluetac?
Solution: Prop tinyelf up with cushion and chase crazypixie and pry her mouth open. Only blue paper – whew. Let her eat it and resume winding tinyelf.

Tinyelf is fretting a bit with her nappy off as I clean off a particularly explosive poo, crazy pixie picks this moment to climb up on the garden bench, then onto table, then she proceeds to stand up on table and totter around precariously close to the edge.
Solution: Grab naked tinyelf and run to intercept crazypixie before she does a header off the table. In the excitement tinyelf pees all over my t-shirt and my only nursing bra that is both clean and fits.

Tinyelf is nursing enthusiastically when crazypixie disappears from view in the garden (don’t call social services, it is an enclosed garden and I’m sitting at the French doors).
Solution: Attempt to keep tinyelf latched on as I run around the side of the house. Crazypixie is just attempting to get in the cat flap but the neighbours are now wondering why I’m running around with my boobs hanging out and spraying milk in all directions as tinyelf howls for more.

And I have a feeling the fun is only beginning…………..

Life Lessons

2009-06-26T13:27:00.003+01:00

This was posted on a thread on Rollercoaster today and I thought I'd share it with you all (lazy blogger that I am).

Written By Regina Brett, 90 years old, of The Plain Dealer, Cleveland , Ohio.

"To celebrate growing older, I once wrote the 45 lessons life taught me.. It is the most-requested column I've ever written.My odometer rolled over to 90 in August, so here is the column once more:

1. Life isn't fair,but it's still good.
2. When in doubt, just take the next small step.
3. Life is too short to waste time hating anyone....
4. Your job won't take care of you when you are sick. Your friends and parents will. Stay in touch
5. Pay off your credit cards every month.
6. You don't have to win every argument. Agree to disagree.
7. Cry with someone. It's more healing than crying alone.
8. It's OK to get angry with God. He can take it.
9. Save for retirement starting with your first paycheck.
10. When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile.
11. Make peace with your past so it won't screw up the present.
12. It's OK to let your children see you cry.
13. Don't compare your life to others. You have no idea what their journey is all about.
14. If a relationship has to be a secret,you shouldn't be in it.
15. Everything can change in the blink of an eye. But don't worry; God never blinks.
16. Take a deep breath. It calms the mind.
17. Get rid of anything that isn't useful,beautiful or joyful.
18. Whatever doesn't kill you really does make you stronger.
19.. It's never too late to have a happy childhood. But the second one is up to you and no one else.
20. When it comes to going after what you love in life, don't take no for an answer.
21. Burn the candles, use the nice sheets, wear the fancy lingerie. Don't save it for a special occasion. Today is special.
22. Over prepare, then go with the flow.
23. Be eccentric now. Don't wait for old age to wear purple.
24. The most important sex organ is the brain.
25. No one is in charge of your happiness but you.
26.. Frame every so-called disaster with these words'In five years, will this matter?'
27. Always choose life.
28. Forgive everyone everything..
29. What other people think of you is none of your business.
30. Time heals almost everything. Give time time.
31. However good or bad a situation is, it will change.
32. Don't take yourself so seriously. No one else does.
33. Believe in miracles.
34. God loves you because of who God is, not because of anything you did or didn't do.
35. Don't audit life. Show up and make the most of it now.
36. Growing old beats the alternative -- dying young.
37. Your children get only one childhood.
38. All that truly matters in the end is that you loved.
39. Get outside every day. Miracles are waiting everywhere.
40. If we all threw our problems in a pile and saw everyone else's,we'd grab ours back.
41. Envy is a waste of time. You already have all you need.
42. The best is yet to come.
43. No matter how you feel, get up, dress up and show up.
44. Yield.
45. Life isn't tied with a bow, but it's still a gift."

You think you know someone.....

2009-06-25T20:35:00.001+01:00

You think you know someone….

You spend 7 years living together
You share all your hopes and dreams
You accept each others faults and foibles
You have two wonderful children together

Then one day…………………

He does a drawing for your toddler. It’s a primitive drawing of a person that she immediately recognises as a ‘baba’ i.e. someone other than dada or mama. But it’s not a stick man like you would expect…..

No, it is a bubble man; circular belly, and oval limbs.

What is that all about?

I am in control!

2009-06-24T20:47:00.001+01:00

The porridge is soaking and crazypixie’s morning cup of milk is already poured and in the fridge.
Lunch and dinner are prepared and ready to go.
There are spare clothes for both of my girls down stairs.
Freshly laundered nappies have been assembled and stacked in the sitting room.
Crazypixie’s CD’s and musical instruments are lined up for action.
There is a ready supply of puzzles, crayons and colouring books to hand.

Himself is only going to work for a few hours.

What could possibly go wrong?

What's in a name?

2009-06-21T18:09:00.001+01:00

Crazypixie has a new word she uses when she wants something right now.

To a stranger it may sound like she is shouting ‘Knee!’, but we know that she is shouting himselfs first name. In fact, she is doing a perfect impression of mummy shouting upstairs to daddy to ask him (read tell him) to do something.

He’s still ‘dada’ for cuddles and when she’s missing him but if she wants something from the other side of the room or a door to be opened, it’s ‘Knee!’

Not a very flattering reflection on yours truly………

Is that you mummy?

2009-06-20T12:11:00.000+01:00

Crazypixie spent this morning pulling my top up and down, presumably trying to figure out where mummy’s sizable tummy has gone and what on earth has happened to mummy’s boobs.

Yes, I am now the proud owner of a pair of 40FF’s that I need a wheelbarrow to cart around. My milk has come in and the tinyelf and I are trying to adjust (think mouse trying to feed from geezer).

In the meantime my heart is breaking for my crazypixie (not helped by postpartum hormones) as I see her trying to figure out what’s going on. She alternates between kissing ‘baba’ to trying to pull baba off mummy. As we get her involved and try to show her what’s going on she is dealing it with it in her own 15 month old way. She’s climbing up to the pram to take a look and see our reactions and pointing out ‘baba’ to every guest . She’s also been very busy changing and winding her dolly, and only occasionally throwing dolly across the room.

We’re very lucky to have great family support and my in-laws have moved in for a few days to help (this is a good thing) so at least crazypixie is getting loads of attention and distraction.

Nonetheless, crazypixie is my baby and I’m finding it a little difficult to adjust too! I’m trying to make as much time as I can for just her but my darling tinyelf is quite demanding as she tries to train mummy and daddy in her ways.

I know we’ll find our balance and we’ll be just fine and crazypixie will soon come to accept tinyelf as part of our family and by this time next year my girls should be the best of buddies and gleefully wreaking havoc together.

The birth…..

2009-06-18T11:25:00.000+01:00

Okay, here it is……the highlights…gory bits omitted…and names changed to protect the innocent.

Monday am….saw doc, had a check, things looking ‘favourable’, doc did a bit of what himself describes as ‘jiggery-pokery.’
Monday lunch time…mild contractions start. Spend most of Monday walking the streets while mum minds crazypixie.
5am Tue….contractions strong enough that I can’t sleep through them.
5:30…….himself and myself have a cup of tea in the garden and between contractions enjoy the early morning sunshine and decide that today is a lovely day for a birth.
6:30….off to hospital. Therein follows a few hours of increasing contractions which I dealt with in my own unique way by trying to remember the mantras from my gentlebirth programme (which I never did get finished) and sampling the miracles of modern pain relief (the same as last time, I started off refusing everything and by the end would probably have gratefully taken heroin – big wuss that I am).
Fast forward through my martyrdom…………(must mention how wonderful himself was…..and how he knew just when to shut up)..
15:40. Pushing begins. Lovely midwife explains about pushing 3 times on each contraction and that when she sees head begin to crown, she’ll ask me to pant to slow things down.
15:45…contraction (or surge in gentlebirth lingo – I remembered that)…one push….midwife shouts ‘pant, pant, pant’…..little head is out already.
15:50….one more contraction and she’s fully out! Like a bar of soap (and no stitches for mummy)!

Then follows a lovely quiet time as she lies on my tummy and we all just pause and wait 5 mins for the chord to stop pulsing. Himself cuts the chord and she snuggles in for a long feed.

It was a lovely day and we’re home now since Wednesday lunch time. Crazypixie has been busy kissing her new ‘baba’, if anything we may have to curb her enthusiasm slightly. Our newly extended family is busy getting to know each other.

Welcome home our tinyelf.

So, how are you feeling?

2009-06-14T21:52:00.004+01:00

Well, I’m still here. Littlespud decided to stay put for a while and let mummy, daddy and crazypixie enjoy all the wedding festivities. And enjoy them we did.

Except, for one small thing…….I seem to have been perceived as some kind of freak show.

I understand people mean well and ,in fairness, I am pretty huge at the moment and my mother has been telling everyone (random strangers included) that I’m due any minute and that they didn’t even think I’d make the wedding, but….there are a few phrases I must have heard a hundred times in the last two days.

These include:

‘How are you feeling?’ Long stress on the ‘feeeeling’, and usually accompanied by a hand on the shoulder and concerned stare. I tried the nonchalant ‘I’m feeling fine, how are you?’ and, after an hour or two, the slightly more concise, ‘Pregnant.’

‘When are you due?’ A few times I went with honesty and answered, ‘Yesterday,’ but the hoo-haa that elicited was often more than I was able for. Once I muttered ‘September,’ and I think that poor lady is still looking at me.

‘Still here?’ Another phrase spoken with a smile and usually repeated by the same person every time they passed and with increasing frequency in direct correlation to the amount of alcohol they had consumed. ‘Ho, ho, yes, still here,’ I reply again and again.

‘Not going to pop on us now are you?’ This was usually accompanied by a nod and a wink, a favourite of uncle-types! ‘Any moment now!’ I muttered through smiling teeth.

‘Aren’t you great to be here in your condition?’ This is one I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to but I went with ‘Ah, sure, I’m only pregnant.’ Because it’s not as if I’ve been let out of the hospice for the occasion or anything.

I’ve debated using (and might yet):

‘Oh, I had the baby.’

‘Pregnant, me? No, do I look fat?’

or...

‘I’m feeling f*cking hormonal, so back off.’

Again, let me reiterate, I know people mean well and that they just can’t help using what must be the most obvious conversation opener but I’ve never been good at small talk or been able to handle fuss (give me a Pc to hide behind any day), so for the next few days I think it may be better if I just turn off the phone, keep my virtual self offline and generally hibernate until littlespud decides its time to meet the world.

And then…….I will text everyone, blog about the birth and update my facebook profile accordingly….unless I’m too busy with all the new baby fuss, of course!

Thoughts on birth and other stuff...

2009-06-11T18:16:00.003+01:00

It’s the day before my due date and I’ve decided I want a home birth.

Or rather, I don’t want an over medicalised hospital birth. Yes, this may be last minute panic or those crazy pregnancy hormones again but it’s more likely a result of my recent reading material.

I’ve been collecting information for a new section on birthing choices for tinygreenpeople and it has been an eye opener. Mammydiaries sent me a collection of links before she had her own wonderful home birth and I have been perusing them today (I know, superb timing as always).

It probably doesn’t help that my current bedtime reading material is ‘The Politics of Breastfeeding: When Breasts are Bad for Business’ by Gabrielle Palmer. Instead of winding down with a novel and drifting blissfully to sleep, I find myself being outraged again and again and waking himself up so I can rant at someone (be grateful that I don't have a laptop by my bed).

I’ve also spent a lot of time the last few months visiting friends and family in the local maternity hospital. This is a brand new, purpose built, ‘centre of excellence’. Why then does it seem so unsuitable for babies and mothers? Surely there is no need for it to be such a ‘hospital’. There must have been a way to design things so mothers and babies could bond gently without having to contend without the noisy family of ten visiting next door, without outrageously early morning rounds, food of little nutritional value and staff that is too overworked to provide the emotional and practical support many first time mothers need.

I know most of these problems stem from our individuated society and lack of community. Oh for a place where women could be women and share their experiences without judgement and children could be raised by family and community as opposed to a sector of the workforce.

Oh to live in a society rather than an economy.

But, I digress………again.

Family time.

2009-06-09T15:58:00.002+01:00

Maybe the crazypixie knows something I don’t but she unpacks my labour bag at least twice a day and runs off with the contents. At this rate I could find myself in the labour ward with a bag containing nothing but some pre-chewed ricecracker, one sock and pink monkey (not an Anne Summers gadget but one of crazypixie’s stuffed minions).

At least there is plenty to distract me from obsessing over the upcoming birth.

My lil bro and his fiancée have conveniently decided to have their nuptials this week, followed a few days later by a great big wedding bash. There is a whole week of festivities planned to keep us all amused and to get to spend as much time as a family as possible( yes, this is a good thing – boringly, we all get on really well and said lil bro and fiancée normally reside in the antipodes).

Couldn’t we have timed this little better? You may well ask. And my entire family did ask when we first admitted that our due date might be a bit close to the wedding (as in two days after the ceremony and one day before the party). In our pathetic defence we hadn’t actually planned to be pregnant quite so soon. I was still breastfeeding crazypixie and she was just being introduced to the joys of solids. My cycle hadn’t even returned (ah yes, we’re the stereotypes – that couple that is cited as a warning about using breastfeeding as your only method of contraception).

My mum summed it up by retorting to my justifications, ‘Well, you didn’t do anything to prevent it!’

So, with a bit of luck my waters won’t break during the I do’s, we’ll all enjoy some great family celebrations over the next few days and just as we wind down from the wedding, I’ll put my hand on my bump, turn to himself and whisper, ‘I think it’s time dear.’

You just never know...

2009-06-08T09:49:00.001+01:00

Yesterday while trying to walk the baby out..........
I was about to step over a piece of dirt, when it got up and flew away. A butterfly...........

What’s with the lemons?

2009-06-05T22:25:00.001+01:00

Yesterday evening I was sitting back giving my poor pregnancy weary body a rest when himself poked his head in from the kitchen (yes, the wonderful man was doing the wash-up).
‘What’s with all the lemons?’
‘Lemons?’ I was confused.
Apparently I had ordered a bag of lemons with my online shopping and then bought more at the farmers market. So what was with all the lemons?
I had no idea.
I mean I remember buying them, kind of. But I have no idea what I was going to do with them.
We put it down to crazy pregnancy brain (what am I going to do when I can’t use that excuse anymore?) and laughed it off.
Then today, when my mum called over I gave her the lemons as we’ve a big family gathering on Monday and I thought they might come in useful for the ole G&T’s. So she put them in her bag.
No problems so far.
Then she went to leave and for some reason, I needed a lemon, so she agreed to leave one with me.
I then sat down and spent the next half hour smelling the lemon (I kid you not).
By now himself was home and tactfully ignoring my lemon sniffing.
But he began to get worried when I grabbed my phone, rang mum and asked for the rest of the lemons back! Not to mention half an hour later when he found me in tears because I couldn’t find my lemon.
So I’ve been drinking a kind of homemade lemon drink for the evening and we seem to have silently agreed not mention the insanity of my latest obsession.
Could this be some bizarre indication that labour is imminent or am I losing the plot altogether? Or maybe a little from column A and a little from column B?

From Mummy to Littlespud.

2009-06-02T19:11:00.001+01:00

Littlespud,
We are all ready to meet you. Your mummy wants to hold you in her arms, cuddle you, nurse you, gaze on you with wonder and of course respond to your every demand.
Your dada wants tell you how much he loves you, to snuggle you in his strong embrace and is all set for midnight nappy changes.
Your big sister has an endless supply of kisses for you. She’s ready to rock you enthusiastically and feed you all kinds of goodies when mummy’s not looking.
You have four doting grandparents who can’t wait for a cuddle and aunties and uncles ready to shower you with love. Your brand new little cousin is looking forward snuggling with you too.
These past nine months have been wonderful, feeling you grow and begin to move and wriggle. But it must be getting quite cramped in there now. Every time you stretch your legs that’s mummy’s stomach and ribs that are getting in your way. And mummy’s pelvis is that hard thing you butt your head against as you stretch your arms into mummy’s lower intestine and playfully punch her in the cervix.
There is much more room out here and we are all so looking forward to meeting you. This week would be lovely, today even, but preferably before your uncles wedding next week.
See you soon my little love,
Mummy

My big Achievement!

2009-06-01T19:27:00.002+01:00

I painted my own toenails: not easy at 38+ weeks pregnant, and you wouldn't want to take too close a look.

Happy Days.

2009-05-30T19:38:00.000+01:00

We’ve just spent a lovely day in the garden. The sun was shining as I contently sat rubbing my bump and watching crazypixie and himself build and demolish sandcastles. Every now and then one of them would turn to catch my eye or blow me a kiss.

Bliss.

It occurred to me that there will be many ups and downs in our lives over the years to come and that this is one of the good days. One of the days to treasure; to bask in the simple joy of family, and to add to the wealth of happy memories that will help us through future hardships.

I’ll go to bed smiling tonight.

Just go away!

2009-05-27T19:56:00.001+01:00

So there I am in the kitchen, frantically deciding whether I have time to get the frozen food into the freezer before crazypixie has a total meltdown upstairs, the Tesco delivery man has left the front door open (again, grr) and a head peers into my hallway, shouting to me in my kitchen ‘I’m canvassing for…’ He got no further as I swung my pregnant self around and snarled ‘Oh, just go away……’ And he did. Very quickly.

Of course there are issues I’d love to take the time to discuss with politicians, the proposed cutting of child benefit being one, and I’m going to vote in the upcoming elections, even if I’m labour (producing a baby as opposed to being a member of the political party) but if one more feckin canvasser wakes up my crazypixie I won’t be responsible for my actions.

For the last local elections I actually put a sign on the door; the wording, if I can remember correctly was:

‘No canvassers or salespeople please. If we require information on your policies or products we would rather seek you out. Please Respect our Privacy.’

The original wording which was vetoed by himself (too crazylady apparently) was:

‘No Salespeople or Canvassers, We are Tight Fisted Anarchists’.

Don't mess with me today!

2009-05-24T21:13:00.001+01:00

As I’m nearing the end of this pregnancy, becoming daily less agile, enthusiastic and patient, I thought it was time to change how things are done around this house.

So for the foreseeable future:

All meals to be taken outdoors, where the local wildlife can do the cleaning up. I don’t care if it’s pouring rain, it’s summer and we’re picnicking!
If it’s on the floor it’s not my problem (crazypixie being the obvious exception to the rule). I cannot reach the floor, and if I could lower myself I’d probably be there for the next three weeks. The contents of the kitchen cupboards that crazypixie empties and all the scattered toys will be left for himself to deal with.
All wash-up will be left to himself. I’m too big, or else my arms are too short, but I cannot reach the sink!
No laughing at the pregnant lady. Grunting helps me move, don’t knock it. Also comments on how huge I’ve become are not really appreciated at this stage.
Friends who call and make cups of tea, entertain crazypixie and wash their cup are welcome. Friends that bring chocolate and cake, change crazypixie’s nappy, and do the wash-up are particularly welcome.
The pregnant lady is entitled to grumble as much as she wishes, after all there is someone using her bladder as a trampoline and apparently trying to batter it’s way out through her lower back. Just smile sympathetically. Do not attempt to turn it into a joke, make light of it ,or suggest that it’s just for a few more weeks.
Take a look at me. How could I possibly be in the mood? Don’t even ask.

Right, that should get things running a little more smoothly around here. I’ll just print off a copy and nail it to the drivers door of himself’s car.

Welcome to the world.....

2009-05-23T19:30:00.002+01:00

There is a new person in the world. My little sister is a mother. I’m an auntie. My daughter is a cousin.

My first nephew was delivered by c-section on Monday morning and we’re all besotted. They gave him a lovely name but let’s just call him lilman here.
He is beautiful and amazing and I want to cuddle him all the time. Maybe it’s my hormones but watching my sister with lilman makes me just want to smother them both in kisses and love (obviously I restrain myself as I don’t want to freak her out totally).

Over the last 9 months I’ve had the privilege of being there to witness my sis go through her first pregnancy. I’ve watched in amazement as this career girl let her maternal side emerge as she embraced impending parenthood.

Being due only 3 weeks apart meant we got to spend a lot of very special time together and compare notes on both the wonders and trials of pregnancy. We would sit in sis’s kitchen, while crazypixie reorganised all her cupboards, eating fruit and chocolate (standard pregnancy fare) bemoaning varicose veins and swollen ankles and sharing the wonders of little kicks and wriggles.

I’m now looking on in awe as she takes to parenting like a natural (which she is). And I feel the overwhelming pride of big sister as I watch her and her husband deal calmly yet confidently with specialists about health concerns and as they battled the health system to make sure their lilman could be exclusively breast fed (why oh why do the some midwifes think a bottle is the solution to everything).

We’re having conversations now that I never imagined: there are text messages in the middle of the night about the joys of blocked ducts and sore nipples.

I’m so looking forward to the weeks ahead as our little ones grow up alongside each other.

I’ve also been thinking of my girls and I can only hope that crazypixie and littlespud share a similarly supportive relationship (oh, I know they’ll be fit to kill each other at times too) throughout all the ups and downs of their lives.

Oh dear, I think I may be turning into a sentimental wreck in these last few weeks of pregnancy……..

Potty talk.....

2009-05-21T20:15:00.001+01:00

Well, today crazypixie decided operation pee-pee was progressing way too slowly for her liking and took matters into her own little hands.

Operation pee-pee was started around about the same time I resurrected this blog. I had been flicking through one of Tracy Hogg’s books and read with interest that half the worlds children are out of nappies by a year and that the time between 9 and 15 months was ideal for introducing the toilet. Anyhoo, I had the temerity to mention this on a parenting forum I frequent and what ensued has been described by a mammy friend of mine as ‘toilet gate’. Honestly, there was uproar. How could I do this to my child? Was I serious? I must be taking the piss (sorry, couldn’t help myself with that one)? I must have way too much time on my hands! Did I expect her to eat with a knife and fork as well? Could I not let her just be a baby? Why did I want to her to grow up so fast?

I tried to explain that this was something we would be introducing slowly and gently and with a sense of humour. I must also acknowledge that there were some very supportive mums out there. I thanked people for their input but mentioned that ridiculing my parenting ideas might not be the best way to communicate. Anyhoo, apparently I had overreacted and those who had children older than crazypixie knew a lot better than I did.

So I just bit my tongue for a bit (you have no idea how difficult that is for me).

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, every time I use the loo I’ve been explaining to crazypixie what is going on. So she now understands mummy do pee-pee or poo-poo and I usually have to wrestle her away from trying to peer in for a closer examination of proceedings. We also started putting her on the loo when it was obvious she was performing. We kept her entertained with books and poo-poo songs to the extent that recently she’d be telling us ‘poo-poo’ and trying to climb on the loo just to read books with mummy or daddy.

Anyway as I’ve gotten bigger and lazier, I’ve managed to miss (or ignore, I admit) a few poo-poos and she’s had to just go in her nappy like any other self respecting 14 month old. But by today she’d obviously had enough.

This morning she pulled out the potty from next to the toilet and brought it into the hall. Then she sat on it and made her grunting sounds. ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That’s for poo-poo.’ We then went out for the day and I thought no more of it.

We arrived home just before dinner time and as I checked my emails she pulled the potty to a corner and sat on it (fully dressed) and did her poo. I gave her a big kiss, and congratulated her, then took of her nappy and cleaned her up. I then left her nappyless to see what would happen (a trait of mine that gets me in no end of trouble).

Sure enough she went back over to the potty and sat on it. I handed her a baby wipe and she made an attempt to wipe herself and I jokingly congratulated her. But when she stood up, there was a pee-pee. In the potty! And 20 minutes later she sought out the potty and did it again!
I think my daughter has just potty taught herself.

And now, I’m not sure where to go from here. I think I might leave her nappyless for a bit of time each day and see how we get on. I wonder is she too little for knickers? Pull-ups aren’t an option as we use cloth.

Do you think I should post about this on the aforementioned parenting forum? Or would I only be inviting trouble? Should I also mention that she’s been using a fork for the past two weeks?

Scoobidy doo, i want to be like youoooo....

2009-05-18T22:19:00.000+01:00

Crazypixie is proving herself a great mimic. While we were visiting my lil sis and hubby at the weekend, they were in knots of laughter as she bent down to pick something up.
What, I asked.
Hadn’t I noticed she was grunting and sighing?
Apparently every time she bent down, went to pick something up or even lowered herself to sitting, she was grunting……….like a pregnant woman!
And later that day she followed sis hubby around the house doing a perfect impression in miniature of his walk, hands behind the back, long stride, much to our collective amusement.

So, I’m realising that, yes, we parents have a huge influence on this little persons behaviours and attitudes (oh, the weight of parenthood) and, who’d have thought it, I’m now a role model (methinks mummy’s crazy 20’s will have to become a family secret and never be mentioned!)

However, please note that crazypixies tendency to run around the house naked clutching only her green handbag did not come from me, nor did her penchant for parading in front of the mirror wrapped up in my ‘special occasion’ silk negligee. No, I’ll lay claim only to those traits that reflect well on me!

Getting three on the road.

2009-05-16T17:55:00.001+01:00

I’m wondering how it’s all going to work when the littlespud arrives – only four weeks to go now. The logistics of getting myself and crazypixie out the door is one thing, adding another baba to the mix should be fun!

We’ve decided not to purchase a double buggy for the moment. From my vague recollection of the early days with crazy pixie, she spent most of the time either asleep or attached to my boob, so I’ve treated myself to a new sling – a stretchy wrap this time. I can’t believe I’m getting excited about it, but there you go. We already have two ring slings, a mei tai and a structured carrier (with loads of buckles and straps) that himself uses. I still carry crazypixie in the ringsling at 8 months pregnant (is there a baby carriers anonymous?) and otherwise she travels by trike, or as fast as her little legs will carry her in the opposite direction from mummy’s preferred destination!

I haven’t quite figured the logistics of slinging two yet…..

So the trick will be keeping crazypixie within a two foot radius of me when out shopping. She’s quite happy in a shopping trolley for short periods of time, but how long this will last I don’t know. I’m debating getting one of those leads/harness thingies but I can just see it leading to more tears than anything. Mmmm, maybe one of those little bracelets they use for placing people under house arrest (like you see on telly), a little jolt of electricity when she strays too far should soon teach her!

The more I’ve thought about it the more I’ve realised that either staying home and having friends over, or visiting friends and family will be the way to go. It won’t be fair to confine my lil lunatic to a buggy just so mummy can wander around clothes shopping. Ok, this may be necessary every so often but I’m definitely going to curb my excursions.
Luckily my lil sis will have a baba in a few days and lives up the road so we can hang out together and my mum isn’t far and will happily play with crazypixie for hours on end. Methinks it may be time to slow life down a little and just enjoy.

And, there's always online shopping....

The married man song....

2009-05-13T12:52:00.004+01:00

And here's the one for our long suffering partners..........

An unexpectedly good day.

2009-05-12T22:01:00.003+01:00

We had a rough night last night – crazypixie had the snuffles and was very restless, so needless to say I was not the most cheerful this morning and was probably even crankier than my beloved offspring at breakfast.

So with the prospect of a day with an irate me not coping very well with my demanding daughter looming large I settled at my computer to have a quick moan into the blogosphere.
I had tapped out a few lines when crazypixie decided that this would not be a morning where she would happily play away while mummy typed. Sighing, I looked around for something to keep us occupied at 8 o'clock in the morning and then looked out and saw it was a beautiful day.

The computer was abandoned, fleeces and shoes hurriedly pulled on and into the back garden we went. Crazypixie forgot all about her miserableness and happily started doing laps of the garden, only pausing for plant tasting and trying to find good stuff in the compost. I found a comfy chair in a sunny spot and really relaxed – a huge achievement for me. After a while we did a bit of gardening and then crazypixie kept herself amused for ages doing ‘boo’ in the cat flap at our rather bewildered felines.

And the day got even better in the afternoon when we decamped to mammydiaries garden and crazypixie and the snotqueen happily played in the grass while us two eight month pregnant ladies sipped non-alcoholic wine from champagne flutes in the sunshine.

The only minor hitch in the day was when the aforementioned eight month pregnant ladies and two toddlers managed to lock themselves out. But enter helpful neighbours who prevented toddlers being thrown over the side gate and given directions to come rescue mummy.

Roll on more summer days.....

Aaaarr, me hearties....

2009-05-10T20:30:00.000+01:00

I think I may be suffering from exhaustion but I’ve found a great way of keeping myself amused (in all the spare time I have, you understand).

On Facebook, I’ve changed my language setting to English (Pirate) and I swear I’m knotted laughing every time I get a notification from them. Firstly they all come with the subject from ‘Ye olde Facebook’ and then instead of ‘To view this link’, I get
‘T' spy on all th' parrots scrabblin' at th' door, stab the link below:’

Instead of hitting ‘Share’ to update the world, I now ‘Divvy spoils to all my mateys.’
My ‘inbox’ is now is now my ‘Bottle o’ messages’, videos are ‘bewitched portraits’, I’m ‘anchored’ to himself, I last updated ’50 shots of rum ago’ and to sign out I click ‘abandon ship’.

Oh, how easily amused am I?

The indignity of it all.

2009-05-08T12:48:00.002+01:00

So, I’m in my last month of pregnancy and it’s not pretty. Within an hour of getting up this morning I had done the ole pee-while-you-sneeze trick and my boobs had leaked everywhere. And it’s not as if I have that many spare changes of clothes - nothing fits!!!!

Not only do I look like I’ve swallowed my yoga ball but you should see the monstrosities that were once my boobs. I’m currently at an F-cup (sigh I miss my C’s) and if the last pregnancy is anything to go by I’ll be dragging out the H-cup scaffolding in a few weeks.

I’m also discovering the joys of haemorrhoids and chronic 24/7 indigestion. I fear this baby will be peppermint flavoured as I singlehandedly quadruple Gaviscon’s European sales figures. Not to mention the mood swings that turn me from sobbing wretch to eye-gouging demon and back, in a flash and for no particular reason.

And look at what I have to look forward to in labour: internal exams by the entire hospital staff, pooping all over the labour ward (himself thinks this part is hilarious and still slags me over the last time), and stitches that I’ll have to pee on!!!

'What did you expect?' You might ask…..
'You only had 6 months between pregnancies, surely you knew all about the upcoming discomforts?'

But here’s the thing…….

There is some fundamental wiring problem in the female brain when it comes to pregnancy. Once the birth is over and you are holding your little bundle of joy all memories of morning sickness, epic labours, stitches, piles and all the other wonders magically disappear.

Two months after giving birth to crazypixie I found myself gazing teary-eyed at pregnant women and muttering my to (ever-patient) himself, ‘I’d love to be pregnant again.’

Four months later, I’m pregnant, feeling crap and moaning (to slightly less patient) himself that this pregnancy is much worse than the last and that I don’t remember feeling so sick and hormonal. He replies, ‘it’s the same.’

At eight months I’m thinking maybe two kids will be plenty but every now and then I joke to himself (who’s trying to dredge up any remaining patience) ‘sure I could be pregnant again next Christmas!’

The reply?

‘Well, it won’t be mine!’

The Knack

2009-05-04T21:16:00.005+01:00

So there we are in the bathroom, crazypixie and I. She's just finished her business and we've said 'bye-bye poo-poo', counted to three and flushed and then she does it......
my 14 month old bends down to peer under the toilet. Presumably (because mummy always presumes genius) to see where the poo-poo is going and I'm reminded of a clip himself (the engineer) sent me by email when we were newly pregnant with her, titled 'It could happen to us'.

Time to relax...kind of

2009-05-03T11:44:00.000+01:00

I got a bit of a wake up call this week. After a visit to the GP which became an immediate call to my obstetrician and then a trip to the hypertension unit in the maternity hospital I’m finally admitting that, yes I’m heavily pregnant and might need to slow down a little.

I think it was the prospect of being kept in for observation or worse still developing preeclampsia that put the skids on me. Himself has made it his mission to ensure I relax (to the extent that he gave up a ticket to see his beloved Leinster win the semi final yesterday). It’s just, I’m just not very good at it; I prefer to keep both body and mind busy.
So I’ve borrowed some fiction books from my mum (I’d given up buying fiction myself as I just didn’t have the time) and promised to go to bed before eleven. The ole hypnobirthing programme is being dragged out and I’m determined to get beyond track 1, CD1.
At least we’re all sleeping now. The sleep plan first implemented two months ago has proved a resounding success. Crazypixie goes to bed at 7 wakes at 8 and naps for an hour during the day (fingers crossed it’ll last). Thank you Elizabeth Pantley.

But I do need some things to keep me occupied (besides looking after a wired 14 month old) so I’ve begun washing all the baby clothes and decided it’s time to pack a hospital bag. I’m pottering away at keeping the Protect Child Benefit site updated and working on developing my own site for summer launch (and bonding with Microsoft Expression in the process). And did I mention we put the house on the market last week, in the hope of moving to greener pastures?

From angel to diva.

2009-04-29T08:48:00.001+01:00

We appear to have come to a whole new range of ways letting mummy know when she is not meeting expected levels of service.
Oh, yes, the tantrums have arrived. And there are no half measures here. Crazypixie now voices her disapproval at being offered the wrong piece of fruit or having her shoes put on by back arching, red faced, arm and leg thrashing screaming and if that isn’t proving effective she throws in some fake choking.
The first time this happened I thought she was having a seizure and acted accordingly. Bad idea, the ole positive reinforcement ensured that this will be part of our daily communication for the foreseeable future.
I understand that she’s trying to deal with a whole host of new emotions and so far this is her only way of coping with the frustrations of being thwarted. And it’s not as if she got her strong will from the ground, both himself and myself are the oldest in our families and are fairly opinionated and headstrong to boot. Oh, there’ll be fun when she hits her teens.
In the meantime tantrums have been restricted to home but we’re going to the supermarket this morning and I have a funny feeling I’m going to get my first taste of those disapproving looks from strangers.

Thinking small.

2009-04-25T09:39:00.003+01:00

Himself is in the kitchen with crazypixie keeping her entertained by reading the local TD’s latest newsletter out loud in various ‘funny’ voices. I walk past every now and then muttering obscenities about the lying feckers (politicians, not wonderful family) under my breath.

It’s made me think about the things we grown adults do to keep our little ones occupied, enable them to fall asleep and prevent meltdowns.
In the past year some of the tricks we’ve learnt are:

Kiddies Cd played at full volume in the car enables crazypixie to fall asleep. This particular Cd contain such classics as ‘I can count with my fingers’, ’10 elephants came out to play’, ‘Alice the Camel’, and most annoying of all, ‘One, two, three, O’Leary.’ There is no switching back to the radio once she’s asleep, oooh no, she can sense that and is instantly awake. We’ve emerged from the car after three hour drives totally stupefied and fit to strangle any happily singing kid that comes within our reach. But, hey, crazy pixie gets her nap and arrives at our destination all smiles and sweetness.
‘Row, row, row your boat’ sung a double chipmunk time will comfort her back to sleep at night. Sing too slow and she’ll scream the house down, hit her preferred speed and the thumb goes in the mouth, she rolls over and nods off. It usually doesn’t take more than half an hour, and if you rub her tummy clockwise at the right tempo things are speeded up.
Giving away my credit cards to total strangers ensures the crazypixie stays amused during shopping trips. Whether in the sling, the buggy or a shopping trolley once I produce my wallet she has to have it (in the ‘I’m going to scream until I’m sick unless you give it to me’ way). Then she might chew on the leather for a while before she goes about getting it open. The credit and loyalty cards are the removed one by one and either flung on the ground when mummy has her head turned or handed to total stranger with a smile and a ‘ta ta’.
Predinner meltdowns (when mummy hasn’t got her ass in gear in time to feed the hungry child) can be averted by pouring rice crispies onto her tray. She eats them individually so providing the window of opportunity for mummy to come up with some culinary delights.
In desperation, when all the ‘row, row’ rowing has not worked she’ll happily sleep parked under the extractor fan in the kitchen. So environmentally friendly, I know.

People (you know the finger wagging kind) might tut-tut that we are ‘ruining’ her and that ‘she’s the boss’ and they may have a point, but I’ve realised that we just have to do what we can to help her cope with her frustrations, and us with ours, and there are times when being parent involves thinking like a toddler.

We're done.......

2009-04-22T12:04:00.001+01:00

At 13 ½ months my little girl is weaned. She hasn’t had a boobie feed since 7pm last Friday.

I must admit I have very mixed emotions about this. Part of me (lets call her Earthmum) is feeling the wrench of no longer having the same physical attachment to her offspring and is bursting into tears at every opportunity (not helped by the pregnancy hormones here). Another part (Foreveryoung) is dancing around the kitchen singing ‘my boobies are mine, mine, mine’ (to the tune of an old Michael Jackson song).
Earthmum was looking forward to the experience of tandem feeding and loving nursing her little darlings for as long as she could (probably calling a halt somewhere in their early teens).
Foreveryoung was feeling the toll of breastfeeding while seven months pregnant and wishing for two months of having purely decorative (if still monstrously large) boobs and getting more than three hours sleep at a time.
Ah, the conflicts of womanhood.

We hadn’t really planned to wean just yet even though for a while we had both been losing interest. In retrospect, I think my supply went about two weeks ago.
I had been hoping for night weaning so my exhausted pregnant self could catch up on some sleep. Last weekend himself settled her one night and my mum the next and she didn’t seem bothered or even look for a daytime feed (forgive the over justifications but I have a hyperactive guilt gland).
So it’s done…….
We’re finished…..
She’s growing up……
I’ll just have to deal with it…

Yesterday my GP, the doc who thinks I’m mad for breastfeeding during pregnancy and has serious issues around the whole tandem feeding thing, asked how the feeding was going.
‘Oh, fine,’ I replied……………..I don’t think I’ll give her the satisfaction just yet………

Uh, oh

2009-04-20T08:16:00.001+01:00

I was just putting together a few thoughts on weaning, getting quite emotional as I pitter-pattered away on my keyboard, when I became aware of how peaceful it was....

Uh, oh...

It was one of those silences………..

You know the ones that mean she is quietly doing something that is very definitely a ‘no no’, if not downright dangerous. Here it usually indicates she’s halfway up the stairs (after some negligent parent forgot to close the stairgate again) or happily munching into the cat food.

Sure enough, my daughter, who was sitting no more than three foot from her oblivious mum was at least half way through a tub of Vaseline. It was all over her little hands, smeared on her clothes and the remainder, presently unaccounted for, is presumed eaten.

I can’t wait for the nappies.

She's human!

2009-04-17T11:46:00.001+01:00

My little girl has grown up; it’s time to send her to work in the mines. Gone is my baby. Soon she’ll be borrowing the car and bringing home dodgy boyfriends.

Yes, we bought ‘big girl shoes’; the kind she had to get measured for, with real soles and almost requiring us to take out a second mortgage.

Crazypixie has been able to walk for quite a while but up until recently she considered crawling a much more efficient way of actually getting anywhere. But she has officially evolved from quadruped to biped; walking is now her main means of transport. She toddles ever more confidently from room to room and back again, and again, and again. She’s even bringing dada for walks outside, ‘out, ope door,’ she points while clutching her hat.

In a way it’s a relief, we had been a little worried. Not about reaching development milestones on time (arse to that) but rather that she may have been spending too much time with our cats. You see, not only would she crawl everywhere but she would inevitably be carrying some thing in her mouth. And when she would be faced with dilemmas like how to eat a yummy piece of banana stuck to the leg of the armchair while holding dolly in one hand and mummy’s rather naughty negligee (I’ll tell you that story another time) in the other, she would go for the cat solution – bend down and just lick it off. She also tends to roll over to have her tummy tickled (I get the raised eyebrows from the inlaws on that one) but at least she hasn’t picked up their hygiene habits yet (cats not inlaws).

So now our little pint sized person is not only walking, she’s walking fast, and silently. No more slapping of little knees on wooden floors to give away her position, methinks the mummy radar needs to be recalibrated.

Wait a minute, I’m sure we have a spare cat collar with bell somewhere…………….that would work, wouldn’t it?

Loving being a mummy.....

2009-04-14T21:49:00.003+01:00

I've been tagged by Irish Mammy on the run so here goes:

Five things I love about being a mother

(off the top of my head, and in no particular order...)

The chaos
Finding shoes in the food cupboards, duckies in the toilet, tomato puree in the toybox, little socks scattered everywhere…..I love it! At 13 months old she’s taken over every corner of the house and our hearts.

Watching my daughter and my husband interact
It is the most heartwarming sight, and makes me love each of them even more. He does bath with her every evening, and I love to see them laugh together and enjoy each others company.

Knowing my pixie
I have the privilege of being the person who sees this little girl grow and develop day by day. There is nobody who gets to know her quite like her mummy.

My motherly body
I feel so different about my body and my womanhood now that I’ve given birth and that I’m nursing my child. It all feels right somehow.

It’s not about me anymore
I love the feeling of looking after someone else, of being so much more than myself – being mummy.

Just myself and himself........

2009-04-13T16:12:00.002+01:00

Just had the loveliest afternoon with himself. With the recent run of sleepless nights and erratic pregnancy moods we hadn’t been getting much quality time together (hate this overused phrase but chilled out brain won’t let me come up with a better one). So we approached it as we always do; we came up with a plan.

Part A involved getting an afternoon together this weekend. Doting grandparents were brought on board, briefed and charged with the care of crazypixie for 5 whole hours!!
So we dropped her off, sat in the car, looked at each other and asked the inevitable ’what do we do now?’
We decided to head for a forest walk followed by lunch. Birds were nesting, primroses were peeping up in little pockets in the undergrowth, it was enough to bring a tear to my over emotional eyes. We held hands and just enjoyed being together.
We followed this with a walk on the beach, eating ice-cream in the sunshine. One of us would comment every now and then, ‘wouldn’t crazypixie love this?’
After all this we still had two hours left, so nothing for it but home to bed for a bit of loving.

What a wonderful afternoon, and crazypixie didn’t miss us a bit. I haven’t been this chilled in months.

And Plan part B is happening next weekend. We’ve enlisted doting grandparents help again and this time they’re taking over our parental responsibilities for a whole night. We’ve booked ourselves into a hotel, and are looking forward to dinner in the restaurant, a full nights sleep and breakfast and newspapers in bed.

With littlespud due in under 2 months it’ll be a while before we get this opportunity again; but we’re already planning for October………….

Thanks mum and dad………

Domestic goddess.....not!

2009-04-11T11:08:00.000+01:00

Crazypixie is having a nap and I’m turning my back on all things domestic to escape online for a while. This is a very regular occurrence and partially explains why I’m such a disastrous housekeeper.
I love my home, and I love when it’s clean and organised. It’s just that I’m not very good at keeping it in that state.

I blame my mum, and she blames hers (as my daughters will surely blame me); she was brought up by the superhuman, ultra organised, spot-dust-from- two-streets-away woman that was my Gran.
So my mother’s rebellion lay in the chaos of our childhood home. In her defence it was a 4 storey thirteen room monstrosity of a house miraculously still standing despite dry rot, wet rot, rising damp, missing roof tiles and the penury of my poor parents in the 80’s.
Our bedrooms were our lairs. Huge spaces with open fireplaces and wooden shutters on the windows, epic wardrobes that would have been at home in a C.S.Lewis novel and wallpaper that could be peeled back to reveal the decorating trends of the 1800’s. My room was always knee deep in clothes, paper, paints, and stacks upon stacks of books. It was my mess and nobody bothered me about it.
I do remember cleaning alright; it was always just before my Gran came to visit. The panic would creep through the house; we’d be assigned a room or two each and then ensued three days of making the place presentable.

So, I never got proper training……………………..well, that’s my excuse (pathetic, I know).

Now, don’t be calling social services. I don’t do filthy. We keep, what I like to call, a basic standard of hygiene. It’s just that stuff builds up everywhere. Not helped by the fact that, of himself and myself, I’m the tidy one.
He is one of life’s hoarders. The attic is full, the shed is full, the two of us packed a four bed house and all its storage space even before crazypixie was born. Himself has his college books (just in case) in the attic, every old computer is saved for parts (you’d never know), there are bikes that we never use, bits of boats everywhere (a catamaran parked outside the sitting room window as I write - temporarily , you understand, until we get around to repairing it), spare paint and tiles for every room, lengths of counter top (someday it’ll be just what we need), at least two tents, air beds, hill walking gear, wetsuits, dry suits, oilskins, body boards, dozens of safety boots, hardhats and high vis vests. And then there’s the stuff bought for projects we haven’t got around to yet: copper piping, shelves, rolls of insulation and stacks of floor boards. We’ve only lived here 6 years and with the arrival of crazypixie you can add buggies, cots, and the EU toy mountain.

So, with a second baby on the way, himself has decided it’s time for a bigger house. I’m just going to nod and smile and leave him at it. In the meantime I’ll keep sneaking stuff off to the charity shops and do my best to ensure a few hygienically clean play spaces for the crazypixie.

We’re having a……………..

2009-04-09T16:31:00.001+01:00

Girl!

Yes, I saw it with my own eyes. Well, the obstetrician pointed out the relevant bits that apparently resembled a ‘burger bun’ (we’re still debating what he would have called the corresponding male part, ‘hotdog’ maybe?). So we’re going to be mama, dada and the girls.

I’m just beginning to get my head around it. You’ll have to be patient with me today and understand that I have been accused, frequently, of over-thinking things.

I had never pictured myself as the mum of girls. I mean, I’m not exactly your typical girl myself; among my skills I can list currach building, single-handed sailing and the ability (presumably now lost) to knock back copious amount of beer. Now I do like to cook, and I even bake, but up until recently most of my friends would have described me as ‘sporty’ or ‘a tomboy’ or maybe even ‘wild’ (and other less favourable terms I’m sure).

But having a little girl has definitely changed me.

It began when crazypixie was a few days old. I lay in bed nursing her and I just felt so womanly, so connected to the earth (ok, it may have been more of those hormones, but hey, hormones are me too). I had this image of my daughter and I being part of an unbroken umbilical line of women stretching back to the beginning of humanity and before. I felt more in tune with other mothers, even my own, and began to really appreciate the wonder of my own body.

Yet, despite my earth mother moments I was adamant about not gender stereotyping my child. We were definitely buying into the pink princess thing. I bought her clothes in every colour but pink; sensible yet cute tops and trousers. The frilly knickers we got as presents were bundled off to charity shops She had a truck long before she had a dolly, and woo betide anyone who dared to comment on her ‘prettiness’ (‘alertness’, ‘brightness’ or ‘determination’ were all considered acceptable)..

She does take after her mummy in some respects; she loves swimming and being out on her bike and she’s a right strong willed little miss.
But she is teaching me lessons already. Yes, she is definitely her own person. At 13 months old she likes nothing better than to sit in front of a mirror brushing her hair, the cats ‘hair’ and everyone else’s. When visiting friends what toys does she go for first time, every time? Yes, the dolls. And wouldn’t you know it, the colour that best suits her complexion is pink.

So, I’ve chilled and become more philosophical. Friends are commenting that I’ve ‘gone soft’ but I think I’m just a lot happier in my own skin (and boobs).
Some of it has to do with being a mother to any child but the thought of raising a little girl has really encouraged me to look at my whole attitude to femininity and gender in general. My copy of ‘The Female Eunuch’ has long been gathering dust, but Friedan has been a recent bedside companion. At the risk of sounding totally self absorbed, I reckon my quest to understand my own identity as a person and a woman is a lifelong one.

I can only hope that I can keep my own issues in perspective and be the kind of mother that inspires her daughters to embrace their own identities and strengths, respect those of others, and question and work to improve the world they live in.

………………………….

Oh, I almost forgot: what was himselfs reaction to the prospect of having two daughters?
‘Oh my god, all your periods will synchronise and I’ll be in a house full of PMT.’
Ah, the male mind………..

Different the second time?

2009-04-07T18:00:00.002+01:00

With the reality of having a second baby in two months time sinking in, my thoughts turned to a question I was asked recently. ‘What will you do differently this time?’
Don’t worry, I’m not going to analyse every parenting decision we’ve made over the past year. Well, I do that all the time but I’ll refrain from subjecting innocent blog browsers to my hypercritical self analysis.

There are a few obvious things though.

Firstly the birth……….
I don’t care if this baby wants to arrive two months late; I AM NOT BEING INDUCED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES. Let’s just say that it was not the most pleasant 24 hours of my life and leave it at that.
This time I plan on waking up one morning to find that I’ve slept through most of the first stage of labour, that contractions are five minutes apart and it’s time to go to the hospital. Like my birthing CD promises, gentle surges will help my cervix to open like a rosebud and my baby, who is the perfect size for my body by the way, will emerge gently. Through it all I will remain focused, calm and in control. Don’t argue with me, this is the way it will happen!

Secondly, I will accept more help…
I may have mentioned the control freak aspect of my personality before. I think this may have played no small part in my three bouts of mastitis as I tried to be all to my wonderful new daughter. I will remember my limitations, and those of himself, this time round and gratefully accept all offers of help (it’s my catholic upbringing making me sound contrite , I can’t help it).

Lastly, less obsessing……
Ok this whole control thing is becoming a major theme, but last time round I was so obsessed with just making sure my daughter survived (she was perfectly healthy) that I may have compromised the enjoyment a little. Now I know the extra crazy hormones (as opposed to the average crazy ones) will take over but I’m going to work at keeping things in perspective a little.

What do you know, I feel better already. Nothing like a good ole self therapy session into the anonymous void of the blogosphere.
We will not only cope but it will be a wonderful experience. And one thing I know for sure is that crazypixie will be a great big sister.

Be careful what you wish for........

2009-04-06T08:23:00.001+01:00

After a weekend of single-parenting by yours truly, himself arrived home, exhausted I might add, after a weekend of proving his manhood on the water. Immediately crazy pregnant lady (I’ve been possessed, and take no responsibility for my words or actions)) berated him for being absent during crazypixies terrible weekend of teething and sleepless, for not being attentive enough to his seven month pregnant wife, and for his existence in general. He then thanked her for all she was doing and offered to share the night shift. Thus ruining a perfectly good argument and underlining the futility of lying awake fuming…….

So, the plan was, he’d take the first shift and we’d switch at 1 am so we’d both get at least 5 or 6 hours sleep. Crazypixie dutifully fell asleep for seven and I headed to bed armed with chocolate biccies and book. This was going to be great.
Crazypixie woke at 8 and I hid my head under the duvet (shame on me) and himself went in. Now bear in mind that for the last three nights when she’s woken it has been at least two hours before I could coax her back to sleep, and then she’d only sleep for 40 minutes. Enter wonder daddy. Two verses of ‘row, row, row your boat’ and………..silence. So off he goes back downstairs to watch the grand prix.
I lie awake in the deafening silence, unreasonably peeved. Time for the relaxation CD and sleep. But, no. wakey time for the littlespud, and mummy’s bladder is as good a trampoline as anything. Several trips to the loo, and wee bit of bonding time with my baba later and it’s definitely sleep time now. Coincidently, just as the chocolate biscuits are turning out not to be such a good idea at bed time. Up and search for gaviscon………..damn, finished bottle last night. Nothing for it but prop up with pillows, ignore burning sensation in chest and repel thoughts of himself chilling in front of the television.
Sleep…eventually.

Awake again at 1. Himself arrives in and heads towards bed. ‘How was it?’ I ask sympathetically. ‘Fine’. She’d slept through so far. Hmmmmmmmm…

We decide to move her into her cot so we could both sleep in our own bed as opposed to me camping with her on the mattress in her room again. Bad idea. She wakes screaming.
Himself heads off to bed. I head to the nearest phone booth to turn in super human soother and nurse her to sleep.
She dozes off, but is sleeping so lightly that I dare not move even a finger. Re-enter chronic indigestion and bladder bouncing littlespud. Eventually though, sleep.

4:30 insistent little hands pulling up my top, the human soother is called into action again.
5:00 wide awake crazypixie attempts some sort of manual dental surgery on mummy.
5:15 crazypixie attempts to batter down bedroom door (mummy hides under duvet, feigning sleep, in the hope crazypixie may join in).
5:30 crazypixie reads mummy stories, while sitting on her head (mummy still feigning sleep).
5:45 crazypixie decides mummy need new hairdo. Mummy attempts a rendition of ‘row, row, row your boat’, but to no avail.
6:00 time to open all the drawers and empty the contents onto the bedroom floor.
6:15 mummy relents and takes crazypixie down stairs for brekkie and toys.

And last night is the most sleep I’ve got in over a week.

little did we know...

2009-04-02T13:02:00.001+01:00

So there we were at midnight; himself, myself and the crazypixie, sitting in bed eating bananas and toast and laughing at how we’ve mellowed over the past year.

Pre-crazypixie we would look at other kids and parents and sagely (or so we thought) shake our heads, saying ‘we’ll never do that’. Our kids would only eat in the kitchen, have beautiful wooden toys (no plastic allowed) that would be passed down the generations, and they would never, never be snotty. Yes, I admit, himself and myself are both control freaks and perfectionists (who else would have us?)

Well, little did we know…

We’ve now learnt that a teething baby is a snotty baby and besides attaching a little snot catching trough under their nose there is no way to keep it under control.

We do have the wooden toys but we also have the plastic ones, but do seem to have avoided the worst of them – you know those that sing alphabets at you incessantly in an English or American accent. Guess which ones crazypixie prefers?
And, I admit, we have even, on occasion given her boxes of tissues and tubes of nappy cream (shock, horror) to keep her amused for a while.

As for eating in the kitchen, well that does happen most of the time but we have had a pizza picnic on the sitting room floor (the carpet will never be the same) and last nights midnight feast to lighten the tedium of another bout of teething was a welcome break from the norm - mind you sleeping in toast crumbs and banana mush is a tad uncomfortable so we may have to rethink future menus.

On the other hand I never thought I’d be breastfeeding a 13 month old, with the prospect of tandem feeding growing ever closer, not to mention carrying her in a sling while seven months pregnant. Nor had we imagined the strength of personality of our crazypixie and how we would have to work out ways to live together as opposed to us just imposing our ideas on her.
Yes, the past year has definitely been both a humbling and learning experience.

As a result, we so do not judge other parents anymore (well, a lot less any way). We know that they, mostly, are just some poor eejits like ourselves struggling to do their best for their little ones.

sleep deprived drivel

2009-04-01T15:58:00.000+01:00

I need a sleep fix. Right now.

I’ve taken on the demeanour of a serious addict, my black ringed eyes look about furtively for places I could just catch a few minutes and I’m eyeing strangers wondering if I could leave my daughter with them for just an hour or so. I’ve tried calling in the family but obviously I’m failing to get across the seriousness of the situation and ,inconveniently, they seem to have their own lives.
I’ve tried just closing the bedroom door and leaving the crazypixie run riot in there as I doze, but the attraction of jumping on a sleeping mummy or exploring her nose has proved too much for my darling daughter and severely hampered sleep attempts.
I’ve been tempted to try the ‘drive til she sleeps’ trick and then catch some kip myself in a quiet carpark, but I don’t think I’d be safe driving today, and honestly someone could kidnap the poor child from the back of the car and I’d probably snore through the experience..
I’m not even beginning to let my mind venture to what I’ll do when we also have a newborn in June, but at this rate the crazypixie should have a full set of teeth by then (ah, is that sleep deprived optimism I hear talking?)

I swear, if himself comes home from work complaining about being tired………..

warning:serious moany bitch

2009-03-27T11:23:00.003Z

We are not having a very auspicious start to the day.

I went to bed early last night as I had stomach cramps and indigestion and was just exhausted. The aforementioned symptoms may have been a result of the litre and a half of grapefruit juice I drank yesterday in one of my more misguided pregnancy craving moments (mm, mental note to self…….).Then poor crazypixie, the teething monster, went on a boob binge from 2 til 6.

This morning I arrived down to a manky kitchen, and himself all apologetic. I hung out the nappies and put on a wash only then to discover that my wedding and engagement rings were no longer on my hand (they have been very loose of late). Cue tears, followed by himself using his powers of deduction to work out that they were in the washing machine and then successfully retrieving them from a soapy heap of wet clothes.

Crazypixie has been demented with teething pain (four molars on the way), has a snotty nose (the one that usually augers a really decent cold) and was due to get her MMR today. We put that off for another day after she vomited up her breakfast (all over the cream carpet, need I add).

It was then time to call in the troops. Wonderful sis, elfenpants, arrived to hold baby as I cleaned up the vomit. While knee deep in pre-digested porridge and sultanas I got two phone calls, one that a friend of my parents had passed away and the other that my 34 week pregnant friend is in hospital being monitored for pre-eclampsia.

Ah well at least it’s not raining……………………..

Half assed parenting

2009-03-26T18:00:00.000Z

Crazypixie always starts the day beautifully clean from the preceding evening’s bath and dressed in a colour co-ordinated outfit. I carry her down to the clean kitchen and after breakfast we open her toy box and take some toys onto the rug.
By the time himself gets home from work however, she is usually just in vest and top, trousers have either been covered in banana, pee, unidentifiable muck or a combination of all three, and sure there is no point replacing them a few hours before bedtime. Her face has usually taken on an orange tinge by this stage too from whatever tomato based product she ate and her hair has been fashionable styled with the now familiar mixture of porridge and yoghurt.
The kitchen looks like something from Gordon Ramsey’s worst nightmare and the living room like Santa’s workshop after a week of work to rule by elves when the cleaning staff was on strike.
As for mummy………well she hands over crazypixie muttering that her nappy may need changing and collapses with a cup of tea in front of the PC to catch up with all her virtual friends.
That night order is restored and preparations are made for the following day’s activities.

A fairly typical day for a stay at home mum you may say, but why do I feel it could be better?

I enthusiastically start each day like the New Year, full of plans and optimism but things seem to deteriorate as evening approaches. Now, we usually have great fun together, eat well and generally have what I’d consider a good day. It’s just that some inner bitch is always there to remonstrate with me for finishing my cup of tea instead of changing a dirty nappy immediately, for heading out for a walk with crazypixie on her bike instead of doing the mornings wash up or lurking online instead of catching up with the ironing during nap time. It may be the catholic upbringing, the feminine mystique, that particularly Irish ‘what would the neighbours think’, or my own very well developed sense of inadequacy that has me at my low points questioning my parenting abilities.
Thankfully I have a wonderful husband, family and friends who are very forgiving of my shortcoming, and most of all I have a very happy daughter.
I think the way forward is to embrace the chaos as being part of happy family life, and to stop putting pressure on myself to be the ultimate domestic goddess, perfect parent, successful woman, sex goddess, and all round superwoman.
Ok, that’s enough of that……….I’m going to hang out on the floor with himself and crazypixie for an hour and I may even go to bed early without doing any ironing, washing or baking…..

yippee a poo...

2009-03-24T18:17:00.001Z

Mammydiaries has whupped my ass into posting. Pregnancy laziness has been setting in……mmm couch and comfort food……
Anyhoo, for the updates:
The sleep plan is seriously working (or it may have nothing to do with our efforts at all, who knows). Crazypixie spent the entire night in her cot and himself and I spent it in our bed, oh the little pleasures…………..
As for operation pee-pee, we had a breakthrough there too. Well more like mummy managed to spot a poo in progress and got crazypixie onto the loo in time for the first performance. Well if anyone had seen me dancing around singing my new composition ‘poo-poo down the loo’ I’d surely have been locked up (did I mention my needing to get out more often?)
So, ‘tis all go here.
Was also at the gp today, the one who thinks I’m bonkers to be breastfeeding while pregnant, and all is well with the littlespud. Roll on the summer and baby chaos!!
Now must get my ass in gear tonight and do a bit of work on the new website……more of that anon.

Happy mothering sunday...

2009-03-22T10:33:00.000Z

I love being a mum.
It’s my first mother’s day as a mother!! I missed it by 2 days last year. Forgive me if I get a little maudlin and teary eyed.
I’ve done some pretty rewarding work in my time and held a lot of responsible roles, but nothing compares to being a mum.
I love to watch my daughter as she plays away, oblivious to my parental eye. I see her gentle nature emerge as she cuddles dolly and plays with our cats, I admire her adventurous spirit as heads, tentatively at first and then with great determination, up the stairs for the first time and then later out the front door into the garden. I feel privileged to see her wonder as she learns how to interact with this world of ours.
The enormity of emotion I feel when she turns to me for comfort or reassurance is beyond words and I really do treasure our days together.
Anyhoo, enough of that self indulgence, the nappies won’t wash themselves………

yet more cunning plans.....

2009-03-20T13:40:00.001Z

Well, ‘the plan’ is progressing well. She was asleep by 7:30 last night and didn’t wake once until 12:30, then had a bit of restless patch but was easily settled (magic human soother that I am) and the alarm roused her at 7. We’re definitely on the right track

Operation pee-pee is in its second phase now too. Phase one was mostly ‘look mummy’s doing a pee-pee’ or ‘are you doing a poo-poo? Good girl that’s a poo-poo’ phase two involves actually encouraging her to pee-pee and poo-poo on the toilet. We’ve got one of those little padded seats for her precious tooshie and a range of reading material that we explore while waiting for the big event. No results yet but she’s very happy sitting on the loo chatting with me so it’s only a matter of timing I reckon. I’ve noticed she disappears into a corner to produce her number twos so I’m being vigilant for the opportune moment. Anyway, we’re in no rush…….as opposed to the sleep issue there is no urgency with operation pee-pee and we’ll just enjoy ourselves!!
And there are people who say I need to get out more often…….

Progress!

2009-03-19T08:52:00.000Z

We’re slightly less sleepy today. Not the resounding success I’d hoped for (ah the innocent enthusiasm of the first time parent) but a good night nonetheless.
The afternoon nap didn’t go quite as planned. Attempts were interrupted by a poo and after 4 mins of the human soother there was nothing for it but into the car again. Now for crazypixie to fall asleep in the car we need a bit of open road so we can the speed up, so today wasn’t the day to get caught in a funeral, or behind a tractor. As I’d glance back to look for the tell tale sleepy eyelids all I could see was a determined little miss trying to figure out how to get her socks back on…..She feel asleep – eventually, and I caught a few minutes shut eye in my drive (the neighbours already think we’re nuts).
So all was relatively on track until after dinner when I went to grab a quick shower while himself looked after his darling daughter. Now you would think just before bedtime might not be the best time for playing drums, building camps and jumping around to the smurfs theme tune. My husband is a very intelligent man but sometimes I could just cry…..
This was followed by the now really wound up crazypixie running laps of the bath and pouncing on duckies. Then there was pyjama wrestling, book frisbie and, my favourite, another forty minutes of the human soother.
Eventually I came down stairs and told himself he could wind her down. Half an hour later himself was very contrite and poor crazypixie was crying with tiredness. So I settled her down – two hours later than ‘the plan’ and with mummy quite close to tears at this stage.
Himself took the 11 to 4 shift again and apparently had no worries settling her quickly the few times she woke (so the poor man won’t fall asleep at his desk again today). I took over gave her a feed, the first since eight thirty I might add and she pretty much nodded off until seven when I got pounced on.
So off we go again today; same plan, but a little less bleary eyed implementing it………….

the latest plan.........

2009-03-18T12:51:00.000Z

A bit more cheerful today, so no random ranting………
Himself did the 11 to 4 shift last night so I got some sleep – I love that man. We’ve hatched a new cunning plan which involves getting the crazypixie out of bed at 7 and ensuring she gets two naps in. I’m sure this is going to work (though I’ve also been quite sure about every other plan since December)!
So this morning was spent driving around for two hours, firstly to lull the crazypixie to sleep, then to keep her asleep. I made a few attempts at pulling into car parks and catching a bit of shut eye myself but she was well wise to that and was having none of it. I’m sure I’ll be reported to the Gards for suspicious behaviour as I’ve driven through the village at least 6 times already! We’ll attempt the afternoon nap in her room, in the hopes that mummy will get a bit of sleep and not just be a human soother for an hour and a half……
Love the little nutter to bits anyway………

Lá le Pádraig

2009-03-17T20:04:00.000Z

On this national day I wonder about us, the Irish people. Who are we? What are we about?

Disillusioned as I am with the boys club that passes for our political system, and the way we’ve become so focused on being an economy that we’ve lost sight of ourselves as society, today I’ll look for the positives.

There’s the weather - bear with me on this. It does piss rain a lot, but there is no one who appreciates a sunny day quite like an Irish person. Of course if the sunny spell lasts to long, we’re all wistful for rain again but hey, changeable weather suits us- it keeps conversations going and has us planning for all eventualities.

And there’s…….

Well, there goes that burst of enthusiasm…..

I’m stumped…..

There used to be so many things: the sense of community, the love of family and the Irish mammy, the craic in the local pub, the humour in the face of adversity…..

But sure now we park the about- to-be-repossessed four by four next to the almost paid for extension and nod curtly at neighbours whose names we don’t even know while we busily unpack the kids without the help of grandparents who live two counties away while we look forward to spending the evening working out how to pay the exorbitant mortgage with job cuts looming on the horizon.

Happy St Patricks Day my arse…….

Remember sleep?

2009-03-16T21:19:00.001Z

My current obsession is sleep. I’m sleep deprived as only a parent can be. Over the last three months we’ve had six teeth cut through, a bout of vomiting bug, two colds and a chest infection. All of which seem to require all night breastfeeding to soothe. Which might be more manageable was I not six months pregnant, but hey, it’s all fun and games. Well actually the crazy pixie appears to think so. It is very difficult to convince a happily adventuring baby that 3 in the morning in a very unsociable hour for shrieking at the cats or chasing mummy to the bathroom.

Tonight the puzzle gets more complex; she’s fed, appears well, went to sleep at her bedtime, had her nap today and yet has woken every 20 minutes since going down. She’s obviously distressed and we can’t figure out why – not being able to understand her needs is so difficult……I can only imagine how frustrating it must be for her.

Now there are those who say a night or so of crying it out will sort the problem, but that’s not the parenting path we’ve chosen. ‘Trust is more important than sleep’ is my mantra which, I admit, does occasionally ring hollow after another bleary eyed night. Venting does help (thank you blogosphere, and very patient friends), and at least himself is superbly supportive and appreciative of my efforts.

And as for tomorrow morning………….well, she’ll be bright as a button and raring to go as she attempts to drag mummy out of bed by the ears. That’s my girl……..

Baby Babble

2009-03-15T18:16:00.000Z

Resurrecting the ole blog isn’t as easy as it first seemed.

Maybe it’s pregnancy or just hanging out with a one year old all day, but clarity of thought eludes me…….I’m afraid it’ll probably be rambling baby focused sentimentality for the next year or two. There’s nothing for it but to embrace it…..It’s not as if I had much of consequence to contribute in my former existence anyway...well besides the whole peeing in the wellie incident.

Roll on the baby babble…….

The dead arose and appeared to many.....

2009-03-14T12:34:00.003Z

Yes, I dropped off the face of the planet.......There were things I couldn't even share in cyberspace...........I abandoned the blog world and retreated into my shell!

And here is why:
The last time I posted was just after finding out I was pregnant, didn't let the secret out though, and then had a scan which seemed to indicate we'd miscarry........

Then followed a tense few months.......

Anyhoo........more than a year and a half later we have a wonderful one year old crazy pixie and number two is on the way in June.

And the novel....well let's say it's on the back burner for now while other cunning plans are underway....

I've been tagged

2007-07-17T10:40:00.000+01:00

With my recent distractions I haven't keptup with my fav blogs so have only now noticed that Baino tagged me - first ever!!
So 8 things you didn't know about me:
1. I'm crap at being a girl, although I do try to express an interest in all things girly, I usually find it easier to communicate about real stuff as opposed to celeb gossip (I don't have a clue) or shoes(only mild interest).
2. I used to have an outey, then I grew outey and now it's an inny.
3. I'm one of the messiest people on the planet, second only to my darling husband - we have stuff everywhere.
4. I really like cauliflower - I'd sit down and eat an entire plate of it. Yummy.
5. I adopt everything. Strange pets I've had include, Ernie the fly, Hoppity the hare, Sheila and Sean the snails (who used to live in the top drawer of my dressing table), and numerous beach crabs who all committed kamikaze down the kitchen drain, much to my parents delight.
6. When I was six I sent my glasses to India and never told anyone, the result - my eyes weren't corrected and I need glasses to this day (but hopefully someone in India has great eyesight now).
7. I'm left handed, and so's himself actually, so we have a lefthanded house (fight the power).
8.I'm a big wuss. I've been known to cry at episodes of Star Trek!

Well, I don't know who to tag, so anonymous reader, I tag you!!

Method to my madness

2007-07-17T10:34:00.000+01:00

Had to remove this post as apparently I was breaking a confidentiality agreement, more of this later.
For now let the mystery remain.

Fear not!!

2007-07-11T11:32:00.000+01:00

Contrary to popular opinion, I have not disappeared totally. I've just have had to abandon my office for a while.
In fact, I’ve been reduced to minion status with the upcoming family nuptials. My little banger has been co-opted for chauffeuring duties (driver included) for those family members who cannot drive, are not insured or who would prefer to have a few drinkie poos.
One wedding tomorrow and one next Thur and a birthday party, a kitchen party, a rehearsal, 4 farewells and the in-laws to stay in between.
But, I will return! Whatever is left of me.

Butt love

2007-07-05T17:09:00.000+01:00

Spent this morning at doctors surgery and out of desperate boredom ended up flicking through a ‘woman’s mag’. Leaving aside the glorification of those who could obviously do with a few good meals, and the scrutiny of Brad and Angelina’s latest spat, one of the letters jumped out at me. Well the letter was not as remarkable as the reply.
Some poor young one feeling insecure had written something to the effect ‘I’m twenty something and my bottom is beginning to sag, what should I do?’ The advice included two options, a bum lift or implants.

I'm sure the rest of the waiting room must have been amazed at the amount of steam that came out of my ears.

For god’s sake you do not need to get cut open just because you feel your butt is sagging. This is not a medical condition. If you’re really worried about said sagging butt try going for a walk three times a week.

Better still, love your own butt and the changes in your body as you grow older!!!

I think I'll do a chapter on butt love. I'm currently trying to extricate my heroine from a deadend argument over nothing which has been blown out of all proportion and she's not even sure how it started anyway. A little autobiographical maybe?

Later.

approach with caution

2007-07-05T10:36:00.000+01:00

Being going through a real hormone rollercoaster lately, won’t bore you with the details (relief all round I hear), suffice to say I’ve had the attention span of a gold fish with a really short attention span, and I’ve been as irritable as a traffic warden in a hailstorm. A pleasure to be around, I’m sure.
Anyway, I just have to get on with things and that means choosing my college modules for next year. I’m debating between taking two or three -ah, the joys of mature studenting. Three will mean an increase in workload but a degree in less time. On the other hand my writing is now taking off, I’m actually getting articles published and writing poetry as well as the ole masterpiece. Well, I have another month or so to decide.

In the meantime it’s still pissing rain here. Hoping for a break in the weather tomorrow to take the boat out (ironic I know, but I’ve become a fair weather sailor). I hope the rain holds off for Elfenpants big day next week, I think we’ll have to invest in some bridal umbrellas just in case.

family time

2007-07-02T22:06:00.000+01:00

Well the ole writing is taking a back seat at the mo. Little furry bro is home on a visit from the wintry antipodes, elfenpants wedding is next week followed by Lady A’s the week after – so mucho bridesmaids duties.
Furry bro has begun sporting facial hair so we (myself, himself, and my folks) greeted him at the airport wearing dwarf beards, much to the amusement of the other waiting families.
Ah there’ll be some craic over the next few days

feminist disturbance

2007-07-01T11:35:00.000+01:00

I think all this feminist literature I’m delving into is having an impact.
Last night I found myself oddly disturbed while tuned into a new chat show. This chat show is fronted by one of our foremost female current affairs presenters. This is the woman who chaired the leaders’ debate in the lead up to the last election and she is the face of Ireland’s investigative current affairs programme. She also, I found out recently, has 8 kids – mucho respect for her energy.
What had me disturbed was seeing her, in a pretty cleavage revealing frock, four times as much make-up as usual, chatting inconsequently. I had to turn off – I felt betrayed.
Why? I’m still trying to figure out. I’m not sure if that’s I feel she is capitulating to how (male dominated) society prefers women to be perceived. Or is it because her costume for this production emphasises the need for women to disguise themselves, to dress for the part when a male journalist can do the same job in a suit with no need to worry about how his image will be perceived.
While I understand, that like the rest of us women, she is a multidimensional character with ,no doubt, many inconsistencies, and that this is perfectly ok, I feel as a role model she has slipped.
Many it's my inner angst being projected here but this a tough world in which to be a successful woman and when a strong intelligent woman opens herself up to being judged on her image before her brains, we all lose.
Ah, my head hurts.

Adventuring

2007-06-26T14:13:00.000+01:00

Spent this morning adventuring with a 4 year old I occasionally borrow. We went too our favourite spot - the forest. Armed with Dora backpack, picnic and raincoats (ah, summer in Ireland)we went exploring. He is now 4 1/2 and as he was only four the on our last expedition we could do considerably more this time. He climbed his first tree, scrambled over rocks to get down to the beach and slid down the cliff path to the car park on his own. As usual I returned him covered in a layer of muck and suitably tired. I'm noticing however that the older he gets the less tired he becomes and the more tired I get.
He's been hinting at a sleep over in my house for quite a while now so I'll have to start preparing the hubby for a night of making camps from the sitting room furniture, exploring the garden by torch light and examining interesting bugs, and of course something for the kid to do!

At 6,500 words and came up with an interesting sub plot over the weekend that I'll have to figure out how to work in.

Peeing in a boot

2007-06-25T11:00:00.000+01:00

Some of you doubted it could be done - but yes, it is possible for a woman to pee in a boot. I would recommend double lining said boot with plastic bags (see photo of experiment set up) and the addition of kitty litter does help with the clean up operation. Don't panic, I will not by trying out murdering techniques in order to make my plot more plausible.

Had my girlie weekend away and almost totally failed at relaxing. A spa weekend while in the middle of reading Naomi Wolf's The Beauty Myth leads to a lot of mixed emotions. However, dinner was fab and the company was good.
I do find it hard to relax when my mind is in creative mode and I managed to scribble on every bit of paper I could find in the hotel room and I think I talked incessantly for at least 6 hours ( and I drink green tea not coffee). That said, I'm definitely less wired than when I left on sat.
Maybe I've exhausted myself out as I could not get my ass out of bed this morning (lucky that I have that luxury I suppose) and am now going to spend the rest of the day trying to catch up on myself.

2007-06-22T17:53:00.000+01:00

Well the weekend is beginning early and from the looks of it there won't be much writing until Mon.

Elfenpants (went through a phase of giving everyone I know Lord of the Rings names - hilarious after a few) is getting married in a mere 3 weeks so the females of the family are heading off on a pampering weekend.

I must have been a little stressed lately as himself was muttering last night about how much i could do with a massage and that he was looking forward to the return of a calmer wife.

Did I snap his head off? Of course I did - I'm premenstrual and therefore entitled to.

As for my heroine (note extra e denotes character as opposed to drug of choice), I've got her out from under the stairs, but not before she had to pee in a boot. She is currently in the pub where I plan on being myself in a very short time.

real blogger now

2007-06-21T22:09:00.000+01:00

Big day today - posted first comment on another blog and got two comments in return. Ah it's the little milestones. Thank you Baino and Dario Sanchez I feel like a real blogger now.

I'm sure as I get used to this I'll let go a little more, I'm still quite nervous of getting out there but sure i suppose that's only natural.

Got some fab news today, crazy lady (who i love dearly) got the all clear from her last cancer removal op - so on the piss for the weekend.

Not only that but i'm here writing into the night ( and kind of sulking too, if I'm honest)and current word count is 5102 - so doing well. In fact I'm giving my heroine a blog too so I'm justifying this as research of a sort. At the moment the poor girl is locked under the stairs with a volatile stranger lurking outside. Not sure how long I'll leave her there -two chapters is prob as far as I'll stretch it. I'm no Stephen king.

Goals

2007-06-21T09:19:00.000+01:00

As I can be quite a scatty person and not just a little disorganised I'm going to set some goals for myself.
Firstly: write every day
Secondly: at least 1,000 words per day
Day one, end of day total was 2121 words and by the end of day two that total (cumulative) had climbed to 3239.
This is not an extra ordinary amount of work but it is getting me started and it is achievable. I'll reassess in a week or so and see how I'm doing.
At the moment I'm leaving out descriptions which I plan to go back later and fill in, and instead I am concentrating on getting the plot developed. So many ideas - it's quite exciting.

Day Two

2007-06-20T18:09:00.000+01:00

Well, day two of the great novel. and life is already getting in the way!!

Correction, life is more important and I still managed to get plenty of writing done today.

I had the interesting experience of visiting the bob the builder website with a 5 yr old today and sending bob e-cards from him to his cousin and friends I thought might enjoy a laugh - ah, I'll always be a kid on the inside.

As usual I'm trying to do a million things at once, but that has always worked for me in the past and at the mo I'm writing a short story for a competition (grade me, grade me), touching up a poem for another competition (ditto) and of course continuing work on the novel that the world has been waiting for!

Not to mention, cleaning, cooking, babysitting and visiting my folks and it's not even 7 o'clock yet.

Must clean my office as I reckon it's symbolic of my chaotic state of mind. Won't clean it up too much, I like a little bit of random chaos. I'll post a photo when I unearth the camera, in the meantime here's Loui and Therms in their favourite place.

Introducing Loui

2007-06-19T19:55:00.000+01:00

This is my trusty steed Loui who sits on my keyboard, stands infront of my screen and generally makes herself useful.

She likes nothing better than when we spend a day in the office. We spent a lot of time there today. Her brother prefers his own company and spent most of today asleep on a pile of clothes in the bedroom

When she lets me I'm trying to just keep writing and worry about structure and research later. It seems to be working and a plot is definitely emerging as my fingers type out stuff it didn't even know was in my head. Characters are appearing at a fierce rate and it's all I can do to keep up with the outpouring of words.

Every now and then I need a little think so I go and do some ironing or another mundane task that lets the grey cells churn away.

virgin blogger

2007-06-19T11:22:00.004+01:00

I set up this blog a wee while ago but have found myself reticent to contribute anything. I figure it's time I just start writing and feck the perfectionism and paranoia.

My new blog coincides with my attempt at writing a novel (yes, I'm another one of those) so I'll probably use this to track my progress, frustrations and hopefully ultimate success.

A word of warning, I'm going to think of this as a venting facility and use it as such!!

I've begun my novel writing with an ending and I haven't quite figured out how I'll get to this ending but at least I'm writing. The main character and the topic I'm dealing with are not too far from my realm of experience so that should make it a little easier- or harder, I'll find out.

I've written quite a bit of stuff in the past but it's only recently that I'm beginning to find my own voice. The column I write for a local mag has really helped me with that, as have the various college essays I've had to produce in the last year. This whole mature student thing is great for streamlining my thought processes and making sense of the fuzziness.

Well, that's my first entry written - another milestone.