Smashing

Yep, it's Halloween tomorrow and the official beginning of the fast spiral towards Christmas. I've actually already bought a few presents. It's just, every week that it gets closer things get harder and harder to do - for example, you cannot park anywhere near downtown within one month of Christmas. I'm serious. And even when you do get there, by bus, you can't even get a leg into many of the stores. It gets that crowded. I might end up making a lot of Christmas presents this year - not to be cheap, but because I might do Christmas baskets for customers of the food biz. Might as well make some extra jars of Superchocolate sauce and millions of cookies and give them away to a) not be a Scrooge b) turn my back on the compulsion to buy things and c) give myself free advertising.

Check back soon - myself and my two children will all be matching for Halloween tomorrow. I'll give you a hint: you can make pies with them. And smash them. And name bands after them...

no news is good news

Ah, it's great to have my husband working from home. When he emerges for coffee breaks, he can join the baby in the audience of my soliloquies. On Newstalk radio today, there was a woman going on and on about how she had been through this horrible trauma of taking her child swimming at a Dublin pool where they did not allow strollers. She had to (yikes) wear her one-month-old baby in a sling the whole time and (horrors) carry the changing bag too. It was sooo awkward. OK, I mock, but I too have been through this over and over again and love to bitch and moan about it.

I said to my husband, "In any other country, they would have built a pool, and said to themselves, 'we will have swim lessons here. Therefore we shall make room for strollers, and a big changing room, and build a large parking lot so that people may enjoy our pool.' But not in Ireland, oh no, they just slap it up, have loads of problems, and don't fix any of them. And that's your news for today."

"You're telling me this!" he said, beating a speedy retreat.

In the no news stakes, there can be some pretty edifying stuff. For example, the Minister for Defence told someone to F off in the pub last week, and we spent two whole days talking about that on the news. He even went on the radio himself, claiming the person gave him a hard time about the latest government fiasco and that he told them to "bunk off, or something." Thanks for clearing that up, Minister.

good old Heidelberg

I just got back from a trip to my old hometown, Heidelberg, Germany. My old friends and I had a little reunion during the Herbst festival - an amazing event where the entire Medieval town of Heidelberg comes alive with bands, sausages, and all kinds of interesting things. I went alone, and boy was it weird to be without my two babies. Enjoyed it though. Also drank beer, which I have totally stopped doing since I left Germany, as it is just not as good.

Look at the nice underwear you can get there: (sorry it's sideways)

markets and me

My day at the farmer's market on Friday was pretty good...sort of. It was another slow day at the market, but a couple of good things happened: I had customers just walk up to my stall and buy like, 6, and go. I didn't have to have a big chat about explaining ice cream sandwiches at all. Someone also came in looking for me - she said she heard the sandwiches were incredible. So I rate it as a good day.

I might change markets though. As much as I enjoy the one I'm in, it is sooo quiet. I think I'd make a lot more money at one of the outdoor weekend ones where there's lots of falafels and crepes, and kids running around. I have to keep reminding myself, the markets are not the end of the story though - hopefully I will get into a shop somewhere, someday. Or a restaurant. Or something.

My baby yelled "Daddy! Gimme!" today. I think it was his most articulate moment yet.

Beautiful

I have a sick fascination with celebrity chefs. The Irish answer to Nigella Lawson - a lovely, demure blonde woman who cooks things like jam tarts and chorizo omelets on TV for all of our edification - was on the cover of our TV guide last week. My husband, to wind me up, said, "I reckon you cook better than she does." I shouted, "I bet I do! And she knows it! Look, she basically follows me around and copies everything I do." I based this comment on the fact that she was wearing jeans, converses, a cardigan and a scarf in the photo. Hello? I do watch her show. Also, I know someone who claims her as a close friend. Hopefully I'll meet her soon and can blog about that.

I'm currently ensconced on the couch watching Jamie (Oliver) at Home, cooking a bizarre chicken thigh-potato-tomato-rocket casserole, that I might have to try over the weekend. Feeling really out of the blogging loop. My internet connectivity died a while ago and I failed miserably to resurrect it until now. Turns out it was the wireless transmitter...if you're interested.

I put my back out just before launching Beautiful Ice Cream Sandwiches. Hub had to "roadie" for me my first 2 markets, but it was totally worth it, as I sold out to my enthusiastic customers. People who know me are full of requests for parties and the like. It's great, but I hope that someone who does NOT know me asks me to cater eventually - that will be a major milestone. Although, a woman at the market did ask me if I would do her daughter's wedding - which is kind of Yay and kind of Yikes. I gotta work out how I would execute that one.

back to school

Going on vacation just before starting school/starting a new business is probably not really a good idea. I just did it; it wasn't so bad for the school part (I made sure we had all uniform components and books beforehand) but the fact I am launching a business on Friday has had me really losing my mind.

For some reason I decided to get Ye Olde Irish Country Printers to do my banner and biz cards, since, oh, I was on hols out in the sticks and they'd probably be cheaper. Well. I don't know about cheaper (not having solicited quotes) but they were super friendly and fun, and, late. I'm back home and still have nothing to show. Fate is now in the hands of couriers. Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh.

I made my initial batch of ice cream sandwiches tonight - the kids' one. Gooey chocolate chip cookies with vanilla ice cream, shaped like stars. Heart-shaped white chocolate and raspberry I'll do tomorrow, and the carmelized Brazil nut ones Wednesday, I think. Thursday I'll bake random nice-looking cookies to sell non-frozen for the non-ice cream oriented ones among us. I think I'll do giant chocolate chunk and jam tart cookies.

Also: need to buy display basket. Napkins. Bags. Go to bank and get loads of change. (how much? No idea. I'm guessing I sell about, oh, three ice cream sandwiches the first day so maybe my own change jar will do.)

Starting a business is kind of obnoxious!

brain on ice

Yes, well, all five of you are probably wondering why I haven't been posting. This is gonna sound bizarre, but it's because I am starting a business in about a month. No, it's nothing to do with marketing. Nor technology. It's... Ice Cream Sandwiches!

I've been spending all my free time slaving over the hot freezer trying to perfect my cookie recipes, freezing techniques, and decorating fu. Also ringing my long-suffering graphic designer brother over my precious logo. And surfing the web looking for the perfect collapsible catering table. Etc.

The fun begins September 7, when I make my fabulous debut at our local farmer's market. Will the people shopping for gourmet cheese, vegetables, fresh bread and jam be interested in fancy organic ice cream sandwiches? I sure hope so.

Hub is complaining that he is going to get fat. Little girl is complaining that I won't let her have enough of them. In-laws expecting me to win the local Millionaire Mom competition (don't ask.) I think I'll be celebrating if I sell more than ten.

Back soon. x

Conversations with babies (5)

Overheard during recent toy wrangling incident:



5 year old: Give me that.

Baby: Aaargh!!

5 year old: You think you can have everything! Well you're wrong. You think you can have all the toys. You think you can have mommy all the time. Well, she's not just your mommy. She's EVERYBODY'S mommy!

party like you're 19

To celebrate the end of breastfeeding (read: taking advantage of the fact that husband can now get up with baby) I went out on the tear last night. Firstly, I went out to dinner with about 10 of my favorite people in a really nice restaurant. By the time we left everybody was in extremely high spirits, so we went on to a nightclub where our gay friends got us in for free, without queueing.

I spent the rest of the evening dancing with myself and my new gay friends. I didn't realise there were straight people around until the end of the night when two different guys came up to me and said something like "you look good" or "how's it going" (my memory is a little fuzzy) and then taking hold of me and trying to kiss me on the spot. I was like, nooo! what?!

The gay lads informed me this is the norm on the club scene these days. I guess, thinking about it, since the night is over and everybody is herding out the door, you have nothing to lose, eh? Makes sense. Took me by surprise though.

I got home after 4. My lovely stapless green silk dress got a bit dirty, but I don't mind.

A OK

Well, I went to see the dragon lady of neurology on Monday, and she was uncharacteristically chipper.

"So! How are you doing?" she asked, fluffing her cardingan and peering over her reading glasses.

I said, "Fine. Great. I had my MRI two weeks ago. That went well, I think." Which was completely asinine, really, as how can an MRI go well? I guess I was patting myself on the back for not moving a muscle for half an hour. I remember apologizing to the technician for swallowing, which turned out was fine. What a relief.

Anyway, it went well in a more real sense, as it showed that everything was just fine. So I guess I won't have to go back there again. And I can stop being paranoid about having assorted neurological disorders.

I arrived home in fine fettle, at which point I checked my email...and discovered that my tax bill is exorbitant. So exorbitant, in fact, that if (big if) I can figure out how to pay it, I will be coping with repayments for years to come. Word to the wise: don't liquidate annuities. It's charged a LOT more than capital gains.

So I am happy, in that I am not overly happy. (Thanks, Guildenstern.)

will the real Small Baby please stand up

so, since I am currently in the habit of posting FAScinating things that inspire a vast amount of correspondence, the latest is that my Baby (age 1 year and some weeks) has now started doing things like:
- push chair over to fridge. Climb up on chair. Open fridge. Climb inside. Throw glass jars on floor
- climb on toilet. Catapult self into bathtub
- throw whatever can grab (unopened mail, Barbies, mommy's sunglasses) into a) toilet b) bathtub c) trash

very exciting

I'm sitting in the dining room hosting a play date. Two five year olds are screeching and the baby keeps crying, either at them or at random. He missed his nap. I'm impressed I can string a sentence together right now... Rain is coming down in sheets outside, but the upside of all this rain is, my lawn sure is green. And my flowers are really growing nicely, even the impossible sweet peas.

Not sure why I am bothering to write a blog right now. I guess when my mom was here I got used to adult company in the midst of the child madness and now I have no one to talk to.

moms

My mom was here for two weeks visiting. It was great. I did all kinds of things that I never get to do, like scrape the greenfly off my roses and move my furniture around. Another pair of hands sure comes in handy. I think she had fun. Her goal was to play golf, which was not met, but she did get to go to a driving range where she was driving into a field of grazing sheep. In disbelief, she mentioned this potential hazard to the people at the driving range, who said "Oh, they'll get out of the way." And they did.

I am now in panic mode about filing my (late) US tax return. I could be in trouble... Also I had an MRI today which was not a happy-clappy experience. Although, I almost fell asleep during it. Something about having to remain absolutely still for a long period of time kind of makes me shut down I guess. But I'm glad I went for it. I asked the radiographer if she saw anything interesting. Her reply was, "Even if I did, I'm not allowed to tell you." Does that mean she didn't see anything of note? I guess I have to go and see the neurologist-on-high to find out. Who, incidentally, resembles a member of the Addams Family in support hose.

qi

I am struggling to understand what I may be letting myself in for in trying acupuncture. Everything I've read on the web so far basically says that acupuncture is accepted as a possibly beneficial complementary therapy, but it only works on some people, sometimes, and for a handful of conditions. I didn't run across any posts or articles that talked about episodes of fatigue and emotional upset following a session.

In case you are interested, I felt fine after my session, but after that things went rapidly downhill and I really was feeling dreadful all weekend. My exhaustion peaked, I felt really angry and I cried a few times. What is that about? Coincidence? Or does it have to do with restoring the flow of Qi?

A week later, I feel relatively normal. I am really tired right now, as that baby got me up at 5:45, but over the last 7 days I have for the most part forgotten about the Bell's Palsy. I just don't feel it every minute like I did before. I should film myself with the web cam to verify it's still there. Or...maybe I shouldn't.

The Irish elections are over and the same government has been returned to office. According to David McWilliams, Irish economist and journalist, this is simply because people want to maintain their house prices. This government orchestrated the overinflated property market and everyone wants prices to stay up; we are supposed to be at the edge of a crash, but no one believes it. How I cope: I repeat the mantra "I am not a property speculator. My financial future does not begin and end with my house." At least, I won't admit that it does.

I'm a porno queen, me

Yep, the weirdness of the web hit me today - a couple of pervs were unwise enough to put me on their lists of contacts on Flickr. (side note: I find flickr a pain to use and haven't gone near it in awhile). I realised that yes, there are people sad enough to troll Flickr for appealing photos for their imaginations. This wouldn't be a problem, but there were a few of my darling child when she was only 2 - and I really was shocked. Looking at some of my pics through a pervert's eyes I can see how it would appeal, though. A beaming pregnant woman in a tight tank top? An adorable toddler wearing towels around her midriff and head? People lying on the grass in boob tubes clutching glasses of wine. Yeah. Family memories to me, god knows what to the next person.

It's all classified private now, sorry.

I guess we'll curtail the ol' photo posting now.

p.s. I went for acupuncture. It made me have the worst (psychological) weekend of my life. Unless that's just a a coincidence. My neighbor (we'll call her Louise) thinks the treatment made my deep feelings come rushing out of me.

Killjoy

I have done a terrible thing. I have decreed that we are not doing a massive birthday party for my daughter this year, with 50 children, a magician, a face-painter, a clown, a bouncy castle and a chocolate fountain. Which will likely be confusing for her, as pretty much everyone else we know has had one of that ilk this year. I just fail to see the value in doing that every year. What do you do for a "special" birthday if every year is an extravaganza? *

This could be an Irish phenomenon. Case in point: I met a friend's babysitter a few weeks ago, and she was about to celebrate her 21st. These parties are often as expansive, and expensive, as wedding receptions. "I don't like the massive parties," she said. "I'm just going out to dinner with 30 of my friends, and then to a club..."

Um. That sounds like a big party to me. Obviously I'm a bit of a hermit.

This is before I start telling you about the madness that accompanies events like first Communions, Confirmations, stag nights, etc. On one hand, I am firmly in the "any excuse to party" camp and love the whole party milieu, but on the other, if the point of it is to have a special day/night, you have to exercise some kind of moderation. Especially with children. I can honestly say, that after doing anything and everything to make a fuss over my first-born (so she wouldn't feel psychically maimed by having a demanding baby brother), that yes you CAN spoil a child. You are better off just trying to include them, communicate with them, and show them you love them than trying to compensate. Taking my daughter out to lunch, shopping, etc has had no effect whatsoever other than leading her to expect special treatment. Laughing at her jokes, though - she likes that a lot.

So the Irish elections are coming up, and I am shocked and horrified at the bizarre jibes and promises of Fianna Fail and Fine Gael - if they do even one of the things in office they say they will, this economy will undergo some seismic effects. It's as if they are desperate to get (or stay) in power. The debate between the sparring PMs is on tonight, which should be entertaining. Enda Kenny resembles a sort of hollow-cheeked brainy scarecrow, and you always get the feeling Bertie Ahern is just waiting to wake up from a dream where he says "Bejasus, I had a dream I was Taoiseach! Mad stuff! Get us a cup o tea, love." Apparently he spends something like 5000 Euro a week on makeup. (Presumably for all his TV appearances, unless he has a well-concealed drag queen career.)

*just fyi, we are having a family party with 3 of her little friends in attendance and I have bought pink plates, cups, ballons, streamers, Barbie bubbles and lots of presents. So I'm not completely evil.

Baby air travel

Well, the trip to Kerry had its ups and downs, but the takeaway is this: no more travelling with that baby until he is old enough to a) walk without falling down all the time and b) understand rudimentary instructions. At the moment travelling with him is like trying to manage a wild animal in captivity. It simply doesn't work. And, as we all know, babies out of a controlled environment are a lot of work for moms. So for the rest of 2007, the only trip we are planning is a few weeks in a nice big holiday flat in Sligo, which is thankfully only a short drive away - if we can do it during naptime so much the better.

We're encouraging family and friends to visit us. Trust me, it'll be better than us descending on you with our baby wrecking machine.

p.s. I had milk fever last week. Let me know if you want to hear more about this

The Rest

My visit to my doctor went well yesterday. I came clean to her about the huge amount of coffee I drink during the day and my bad habit of drinking wine at night and gave her my theory that I am in a cycle of trying to compensate for my tiredness but using stimulants and depressants to get through the day.

"Wow, that sounds like the Valley of the Dolls," she said.

Anyway, they're gonna check my blood platelets, thyroid, etc and in the meantime I'm trying to sleep more and drink less (coffee and alcohol.) And I am not going to go on Prozac, yet.

If you're not already asleep from boredom, other news is that my lovely baby is walking. It's so cute. He likes to make a clicking noise with his tongue while he does it and smiles as if he is very pleased with himself indeed.

I'm flying with the kids today to my in-laws for a visit until tuesday. I really hope I can manage to enjoy myself. You know how it is. In-laws. Things can easily go pear-shaped. Plus they have an obnoxious dog. Plus for some reason my mother-in-law keeps talking to me about women that Paul could have married. One in particular, who we see often and is extremely beautiful. What is she trying to tell me? I confuse easily. I may load some new things on my MP3 player and try to spend the weekend with Bach or Miles Davis.

Head Wreck-a-thon

OK, I have been trying to wade through the weirdness all around me lately about whether
a) I have any right to be depressed
b) I have any right to take Prozac (or whatever)
c) I really look messed up.

Re: a, I think my husband and mother have put paid to that notion. My life is great and I obviously am being retarded if I think I have a problem.
b) is harder, as it is kind of tempting. Would I feel better if I took meds? I sure would like to ditch that middle-of-a-shining-day feeling that my world is crashing down. What I would like, really, is a pill to pop whenever I start wanting to cry. Is Valium the name for that? I'll ask my doc tomorrow at the blood tests.
c) took some digital photos for a quick appraisal. On that score, OK, I think I probably am not that badly off. In a still photo it's hard to see anything...the problem is mostly in my head...(no pun intended)

I am hoping that either lack of sleep and/or anemia is the answer. After all, if our bodies are failing, our minds often follow don't they. Maybe I should say to myself, "hey, you're a size 0. That's wrong. You sleep 3-4 hours a night. That's also wrong. No wonder you are having health issues. Eat steaks!!! Go to bed after the news, not after surfing the web for hours!"

Mental health

I've never been great at taking advice from people. That said, for some reason I listen to doctors; they have knowledge that I don't. I've become more and more demanding and sceptical over the years though. Last time I brought the baby into the doc it was practically a showdown.

He said, "I can't find anything wrong with him. See how he is in a few days."
I said, "He has been freaking for days. I am at the end of my rope. He is not well. Give me a prescription or I will kill you."
He said, "No."

Sigh.

So I have been watching myself since my GP told me to go on antidepressants. I didn't complain to her or indicate I was unhappy (I'm not unhappy, how could I be) but my guess is that when she saw how much weight I have lost and I told her how little sleep I was getting together with being ill she made some assumptions. Either that or she is a body language reader. And I did burst into tears when she said it.

I guess what is annoying me most is that the Bell's Palsy is not finished. I look relatively normal now, but still not the same as before. And it still hurts sometimes. I still can't blow up balloons. My cheek is still frozen, but I can flare my nostril a little which is good...

What I need to do, I think, is be fucking grateful (sorry for the language) that I at least can close my f-ing eye, smile, and speak. The truth is, when I got to this point, around Christmas, I was soooo happy just to be able to seem normal. And you know, it's fine. My doctor (the only person who has admitted this to me) said that she can see that the Bell's Palsy is still there. Everyone else has been saying No! You're fine! for months. I wish I knew just how weird I still look. Not that I was any oil painting to start with - but wow, B's P is sure character-building.

I have an appointment on Wednesday with a physical therapist to do some electroshock/acupuncture/other witchcraft to see if it helps.

Quote of the day II

I heard our Taoiseach (Prime Minister) say this on the radio yesterday:

"I try not to be too gloomy. If I wake up in the morning, to me that's a bonus."

Yeah. No, that's not at all gloomy.

Quote of the day

I told my mom about my doctor suggesting I take anti-depressants, and among other things(very kind and helpful comments. she does love me) she said, "Well, I guess some people just deal with life and soldier on - and you are just not one of those people."

Chris Isaak II

Sorry for my previous all about me-me-me post. The show was actually good. Even if you never heard of Mr. Chris, you could enjoy it. Good accessible handling of American yee-haw rockabilly + Elvis. Kind of. Granted, he himself is no spring chicken, but Chris Isaak could potentially get less geriatric band members though - just for image purposes, as I feel certain guitar playing only improves with age. But for the show. It could be beneficial. Sorry for that very shallow notion.

I don't even know if he ended up with Helena Christensen (again, sp? and, right model?) but c'est la vie. If there had been an after party hopefully I'd be full of info, etc.

In other news, my doctor wants me on antidepressants, based on my scattered recollection to her of how I've been sick, how much weight I've lost, and how my bell's palsy is still hanging around a year later. For fuck's sake. (Sorry. I know this is supposed to be a family show.) Do I take the meds? I don't want to. I'd have to stop breastfeeding, for one thing. Why can I not take a vacation from my life.

Chris Isaak

My three nights out last week culminated in a brush with a total collapse of my nervous system. Getting up at 6 a.m. with a baby is not the end of the world, generally, but. By Thursday my sanity, liver, and common sense had all gone on strike. I looked like a heroin addict.

Anyway. Most notable was the night out at the Chris Isaak concert, where shortly after arriving a crew member with loads of arm tattoos and a backwards baseball hat asked me if I wanted to dance with Chris Isaak.

"Potentially," I said. "Under what circumstances?" I pictured Chris and I swing-dancing in front of a glittering orchestra.
"It's something we do during one of the songs of the set," he said. They needed three girls (why three? Still don't know) and I agreed because in return I got a pass that said "VIP, After-Party". The friend that brought me is a big, big fan of Chris Isaak so I reckoned that the after-party was a good reason to do it - maybe we could meet Mr. Isaak and he'd be delighted.

So, at said friend's suggestion I "milled into the wine" and trouped onto stage at the agreed time and did in fact dance. It was fun. The other girls were really nervous for some reason. Chris turned and looked at us briefly, then picked a mad-looking woman from the audience, who was about the size of an eight year old girl but with peroxide hair, lotsa makeup and really tight pants. "You look like a professional dancer," he said to her. "Why not show us your stuff?" or something like that. He implied heavily that she was a pole dancer and got her to basically do a pole-dancing type demonstration on stage. It occurred to me that maybe one of us three stage dancers was supposed to come up trumps on the pole dancing cue. Obviously my laughing and grimacing at Chris' mirror suit (yep, he wore a suit made of mirrors) plus my lack of coordination were a dead giveaway that I was not in fact an exotic dancer. Hmmph. That does beg the question why did they pick me then.

But let's not go down that path today. I was a bit indignant that there was no after party at the end - despite the onstage chat about how they were staying up all night, there was no such thing whatsoever. I still have the VIP sticker though. Maybe I can sell that on EBay.

personally

Sorry to post general blog housekeeping issues, but not sure where else I would bring up these things... Since it HAS been a year, and so far no evil dark forces have started threatening me since I started this blog, I was considering ditching the painful anonymity (referring to my family in a cumbersome fashion as My Four Year Old, The Baby, My Husband, My Sister-in-Law, etc) and using all of our real names. Or, is there some value in the descriptive verbiage of the anonymous labels? I suppose if you logged on to this blog for the first time you wouldn't be too informed by hearing what Jorge (fictitious name) was doing. On the other hand (It seems I have three), does it really matter at all, given that most people reading this got here, I gather, by accident.

In other late-breaking news, I am going out 3 times this week - a world record for me since I had Child no. 1. Tomorrow, I'm going to the Chris Issac (sp?) concert (no, I hadn't thought about him for a few years either, hopefully he's not bald, ha ha), Wed for a walk on the sea and a drink with an old friend, and Fri for a Mom's nite out with my neighbors on the cul-de-sac*. Which will be the most titillating?... Very, very hard to say. And for which night should I save the shrunken pink jacket and high boots? I'm thinking Friday.

*another word for cul-de-sac: dead end. Discuss.

no...

no one was forcibly removed from the premises next door, at least not as far as I know. There is some noise from there at night (as in 2:00 a.m. I tend to have ritual wakings, even if the children are quiet, just to reassure myself that axe murderers are not breaking into the house), that sounds like the banging of garden gates and some scraping. I have come up with a theory, a la Desperate Housewives, that they have locked somebody up somewhere in the house and have to come by every so often to feed him/her. That would make sense, as they are rarely there, don't stay, are not exactly house proud, and don't even put out their bin on trash collection day.

I'm just having a little fun here. It almost never occurs to me to wonder what, if anything, is going on with any of my neighbors. As long as they are not bothering me. Maybe I will focus on watching/speculating on the ones mentioned though...it's a puzzle...

On another note, I am starting to make myself sick with how much I adore that baby. These feelings are at the root of the Irish Mammy syndrome, I am certain. I keep having Mrs. Ramsay moments where I am holding him and he laughs and gives me his hilarious baby-teeth grin and then bites me really hard on the cheek/chin/shoulder and I think, wow, this is amazing. And, ow. This vampire-like behaviour is gonna have to stop sometime...

creep out-ville

I feel safe posting the following, as I have never known my next-door neighbors to one side, and doubt I ever will. They are extremely odd!

We know this first of all because they have one of those bizarre security bars that rises up behind their parked car in the driveway. This could be understandable, but the car is something kinda "whatever", I think a sporty Mazda or some such. I really don't mean to sound like a big snob here, but come on, if you're gonna steal a car, why not a Jag XK or a Porsche? Plenty of them in South Dublin. So why the bar. It's just weird.

Also their attendance at the home in question is erratic and whereas we have I think 26 varieties of flora in my garden, they have about...one. They had grass, but paved over their sad little lawn last summer and now have exactly one bush that they ignore and a barren back yard.

Today they pulled up in the car (a man and a woman) and didn't get out for about 10 minutes. I have a sort of picture window in my upstairs bedroom and just happened to be sitting there idly staring, and they were so paranoid! They kept biting their lips and staring at the kids playing in the street. Eventually they got out and rushed into the house, glancing all around them. I will not be surprised if a couple of X-Files types bum rush the house tonight and drag them away.

I almost hope this happens, as this post makes me look like a sad old lady looky-loo...

1 year

...anniversary of this blog is around the corner. Cool! I did something for one year. Never mind whether it is a good thing, or a productive thing...

Yep, it is Easter Sunday and I am sitting at the same table in the same city (Dublin, Ireland.) At this time last year I was expecting The Baby Boy, and now I am the proud mom of 2. Well, proud-ish. When they're being good anyway.

We spent Easter day first of all witnessing the small girl's egg hunt (husband from bed) and the rest of the day having Easter lunch at my sister-in-law's. Geez, last year she was supposed to have her Baby Boy the day after Easter - and I have a valuable photo of her drinking a beer. They made lamb with green beans, carrots and roasted potatoes. I was especially enamored of the potatoes. As if you were interested.

Another couple with a small baby were there, and I was contemplating them with newfound awareness. They're Irish celebrities, you see, but not to me. Mostly because I don't listen to /watch the shows they present, but also because I am not Irish and haven't followed their whole history. Also, they're in the family and I see them regularly. They appear to be normal humans...

I was an eejit and actually admitted to being in-lawed to these folks to my neighbors the other day, and was a bit flabbergasted by the enthusiasm. For god's sake, I thought, they aren't out there curing cancer, having controversial views, or dating Brad Pitt. They're just nice people, who happen to be in the media business. After I said a few things about them (where they live, details of the party they had for the new baby) I realised I could be in trouble. Maybe I shouldn't disclose such information about people who are apparent paparazzi fodder?

Yes. Well, again I realise that not watching much TV has its pitfalls in life. My husband sternly cautioned me: he said, first, Don't talk about people. That's lame. Second, you could appear to be name-dropping, and that's just sad. I was appropriately chastened. I would never name-drop, if I realised what I was doing. I guess it's just hard to see people you know as celebs. Hmm.

vacation?

We just got back from a 3 day vacation in the lovely Sligo, where my husband works. He didn't take any days off, we just all crashed at the Radisson hotel together and I took the chickens in the pool/to the beach while he was at work. All of us living in one room had its challenges at night - you can't ignore crying, for one thing, or make any noise after the baby goes to sleep. We watched episodes of theWest Wing on the portable DVD with our headphones. That was fun. I got very little sleep though, what with the baby demanding attention/feeding every 2 hours. What is it about babies in hotels?

Also, babies on the beach. Something in me does not like the idea of them loose in the sand, but I had to give in eventually. I couldn't pace around with him in my arms forever. So, he ate sand and got sand in his eyes/clothes/nappy/etc but it was basically OK. It was a mess, but what else is new.

I'll post photos soon.

Clarification

I thought I should admit that what I was referring to in a previous post as "Irish Mother's Day" is just the standard Mother's Day celebrated in March, rather than May as in the US. Mother's Day is celebrated in March in most of Europe, I think. It isn't, as I wouldn't blame you for assuming, a holiday for IRISH mothers. (or, Irish mammies, as shown in the picture.) Although that would be a fine thing, wouldn't it? In case you were not aware, Irish mothers are a separate breed from other mothers. Irish moms (or, mums. or mammies for that matter) will do things like steal their son's girlfriend's makeup (so that the girlfriend will be on her back foot, not necessarily because she wants it for herself), be offended by Jane's Addiction album covers, and rear sons who do not know how to operate washing machines, dishwashers, or vacuum cleaners.

If you are dating an Irish man, ladies, this could make you run for the hills - but don't worry, if you can produce one healthy breathing grandchild, you actually supplant your husband on the hierarchy and you will have your grapes peeled for you.

Watch out for your new Clarins moisturiser though.

oh, honey

I am currently in "health limbo", a vaguely ominous state. The baby had gastroenteritis on Monday, throwing up all over me copiously three times in the process. I had to change my entire outfit, including underwear - it was that bad. Also, at the best of times, the child does things like try to eat my nose. I'm like a petri dish of his germs. So I am going around now just WAITING to get sick. I've felt a bit miserable for days, as if about to get the flu. Headache, achiness, vague nausea...you get the picture.

Soooo, I have been plying myself with echinacea and high-strength Manuka honey. Have you heard of the latter? Apparently this is nature's latest gift to our health and well-being. It cures pretty much everything, including acne and burns, so I mix it into my daughter's cereal every day and use it to make green tea more palatable. After some Googling I learned that it can treat gastroenteritis as well! Holy smokes!... But, the key word here is Treat - i.e. not Prevent. Dang. But I have hope. I am also currently trying to meditate the gastroenteritis away every night. (Bet you didn't know that was possible, either.)

Irish Mother's Day

...was today. I got: coffee and a banana in bed and a very large brunch made by my husband consisting of: huge spinach omelette, toast, doughnuts, orange juice and champagne. I was pretty full, I can tell ya. In the afternoon I took my little girl on a rare outing without the baby to meet her granny for tea and cake in Harvey Nichols' cafe and a poke around the shopping mall. There were a lot of moms with screaming youngsters in the mall, but there wasn't much evidence of moms being taken out to lunch as far as I could see. Weirdly, yesterday was St. Patrick's Day, which is a pretty big deal around here (this being Ireland.) We even have a 3 day weekend for it. I suspect the integrity of Mother's Day may be eroded by the mad Paddy's Day festivities occurring just before it. Lunch with your mom isn't really what you want to do the day after you've been drunk and reeling in the streets...

Well. In fairness I have never bothered to go to the parade, or anything else connected with the day. For one thing, like magic, spring always turns back into Arctic winter during St. Patrick's Day (it snowed today). For another, when are parades really worth it? You can watch em on TV if you're that interested. For the party crowd though, I'd say there's a lot of craic in the pubs and nightclubs on the night. All week long on Dublin talk radio, people were going on about it being "an excuse for drinking" and bemoaning Ireland's place at the top of the leader boards for binge drinking. Especially female binge drinking. Apparently it's just my generation that started drinking pints of Guinness (we used to only be allowed a little glass) and some people are still shocked by that.

I don't drink Guinness too often myself. Every time someone gets pregnant though, a friend will certainly buy her a glass of it - apparently doctors admonished the generation before us to be sure and drink a bottle of Guinness a day. I think this could have been a marketing ploy by Guinness to ensure a whole generation of people would be born with a taste for the black stuff..

spoiled?

or, spoilt? Can a child be spoilt, or just egg custard?

Yes, this discussion has been coming for some time, but it appears that my 4 year old is really now officially spoiled(t). It is very hard to impress her; and she now makes day-to-day things difficult, as she deems it a huge chore to a) take a bath! b) eat a meal! or c) put away her shoes! It is really making life less enjoyable around here. Lately I've been concerned that the 9 month old arrival of her brother has been affecting her badly and I should give her extra tlc - and the net result is that she is ever more demanding. You can't please her. (for long.) What used to be a huge treat - i.e. an ice cream sundae - lasts as long as it takes her to eat it. It depresses me.

Do I need to go backward and stop allowing such things for a while? Maybe I should read the next range of child raising books. I'm not looking for reassurance here - as in, 'it's just a phase', as I have given up that ghost - but if you have any advice I'd gladly hear it.

Lemon-roasted chicken

Just a quick detour from mom central to share my latest culinary excitement: lemon-roasted chicken. I first tried this when I had a few leftovers from a lemon tart I baked for my mother-in-law's 59th birthday; had chicken - had loads of lemons - stuffed chicken with cut lemon halves and handful of parsley, and prepared a rub of lemon juice, olive oil, garlic and lemon peel. It was so good I had to try it again - and sure enough, I think I have cracked roasting chickens. The neat thing is, despite all that citrus, the chicken does not really taste lemony. It just tastes moist, and really good. Even the gravy comes out brilliantly. All you get is a slight tartness, which really works with the chicken. I have a funny feeling this may be something that everybody who cooks already knows?

I'm nowhere near as thorough as one man's ceiling about food things, but I enjoy reading that blog so much that I reckoned I'd share the lemon chicken concept. If you still eat chicken that is. The horrors of chicken farming could scare a lot of people, including me. I try to buy chicken responsibly, looking for organic or at least free range. I hear that these classifications can be dodgy too, though - but that's another blog to be writing...

great buns

Finally, someone had the sense to import food coloring PENS to Ireland - with quasi-appetizing results at my house.

K was ready to eat them, anyway.

end of weekend

so, it's Sunday night I am in end of weekend mode. I'm tired. Having to cook three meals a day for three different palates (baby, 4 year old and husband) is tiring in itself, not to mention all the other things that go on when there is no school!...

We went over to a bachelor pal of my husband's for dinner, which was an adventure - the baby got really dirty from crawling on the floor, and we had a curious dinner of chicken, rice and potatoes cooked by the new girlfriend. She said they were up late and got up only an hour before they had us to dinner. Mm-hm. They also served technicolor cheese for a final course.

In fairness, I ate it all, with gusto. Sod the lack of vegetables.

Nappy-ness Is

Conversations with babies (4)

Walking home from school:
(birds fly by, chirping)
child: did you hear that?
mom: the birds chirping?
child: those birds' heads were very conspicuous.

So much to say

It is amazing how little it takes to throw me off track these days - even a little shift in the routine, and all my priorities get thrown out the window. For example, after our trip to San Diego at Christmas, I became consumed, for weeks, with:

1. trying to get the children over the jet lag
2. trying to get myself over the jet lag
3. sleep training the baby
4. sleep training myself

You get the idea. Edging the lawn, shampooing the car upholstery, and doing my nails have all been bumped right off the timetable. To add to my laundry list of excuses, for the last few weeks we've been taking turns getting stomach flu (nice!) with the baby getting off the most lightly because, apparently, breastfeeding gives him the right antibodies in advance. The more I learn about breastfeeding the more amazing I think it is. People who give it up early must be lacking information. Although, in my case, it's a choice largely of convenience - I don't have to worry about running out of formula or toting bottles around which for me is a big bonus, as I am disorganised and also not a fan of carrying big baby bags.

Anyway, on my list of things to do is answer my fellow blogger's challenge to list 6 weird things about myself. So far all I can think of is that fact that I salivate twice as much as is normal (according to my dental hygienist). I am not sure whether that is good or bad. Bad, probably. It could cause foaming at the mouth.