Monday 31 August 2015

Back to School Holiday Report


I went back to work today after a three week siesta of sorts.  Seeing as it’s Back to School season, I thought that I’d rate my holiday in a school report style.

CATCHING UP WITH FRIENDS 

95% Maith an cailÍn.  A gallant effort was made here, particularly with friends of the Long-Lost variety.  An extra 20% has been awarded for travelling with two children, beating the heads off each other, kicking the drivers seat, fighting over the radio, etc.

LIE INS

A big fat FAIL.  0% was achieved in this area.  Mostly because of the little people.  The only morning they were interested in a lie in was on the morning that they were due to return to school last week.  20% should be awarded for effort for the persistent begging for a lie-in, even if it came to nothing.

READING

(A)   Catching up on unread novels and other grown up reading material, like newspapers.  8 % awarded for the good intentions. 4% of that deducted for the rainforest of unread material.  Tut tut.  How totally un-environmentally friendly/

(B)   Reading with children.  50% awarded for summertime bed time readings, but 25 % deducted for failing miserably at the library Summer Reading Challenge.  One book ONLY read by each children.  Both books and the unread ones now wildly overdue to the library. #ParentalShame

(C)   No, flicking through the Lidl freebie flyer does not count for extra marks  0% (even though there was 70% off, get it ???)

WINE CONSUMPTION

60 %  The early holiday intention to drink a ‘hape’ of wine were largely achieved, with seemingly little effort.  Marks were deducted for the inexcusable purchase of ‘low-calorie’ wine.  Two bottles of the stuff.  Like c’mon !!

ABILITY TO ATTRACT A CRISIS

 78 %  Worryingly high.  Incident A : When you arrive in the door of your friend’s house, after a car journey from hell with devil children and friend announces that she is heading off to A&E with no 1 son who had a nasty collision, involving a smashed tooth and nose.  Okay, no blame could be attributed, but when you feel helpless, you kinda feel a bit guilty.  The biggest crisis that night though, was discovering the afore mentioned low calorie wine.

Incident B : Scalding one’s daughter with boiling tea, albeit accidental was pretty horrific.  It was reassuring to know that her lungs are in fine fettle, as she could be heard screaming in Cork (by phone).  The daughter thankfully recovered more quickly than the mother.

ANIMAL HUSBANDRY

70 %  A vast improvement here, with  regular long walks for mutt and vaccinations sought for both the overweight dog and the scrawny cats.  (Marks were lost here for letting mutt get so porky in the first place).  Further reports will be made in a follow up blog.

GEOGRAPHY

39 %  This mark could have been greatly improved if one had remembered that the ‘N’4 and the ‘M’4 are NOT the same road.  The signposts for ‘Tullamore’ and then ‘Moate’ should have been sufficient to suggest that one was not, in fact, heading for Castlepollard.  The ‘N’ for national and the ‘M’ for motorway should have also assisted in the assessment.  A hard lesson has been learned here on half-listening and half-googling.  Consulting with an old fashioned map is highly recommended, as is refraining from obscene language in front of two children.   One could blame the children for beating the heads off each other, or the drivers excited anticipation in meeting up with afore mentioned Long Lost Friends, but really, Moate ??

DOMESTIC SCIENCE
71 %  Isn’t it great what you can achieve when you put your head down to it ?  Holidays or no holidays.  The decluttering, shining and polishing were unprecedented and let’s face it, are unlikely to be repeated.  The Nigellaesque Domestic Godless feeling was good while it lasted, although there was no low cut slinky number in my kitchen.

SCIENCE
85 %  Awarded for the regular, close examination of ‘science in action’.  A good old poke at Road Kill comes to mind, the stinkier, the bloodier, limbs missing and more maggot infested the better.  A particular badger comes to mind.  Examination of multi coloured/textured chicken poo comes a close second.  What the hell was that chick eating ??  And as for the poke in the compost bin – hours of disgusting fun guaranteed.

PREPARATION FOR BACK TO SCHOOL
75 %  It appears that lessons were learned last year and everything was not left until the last minute. School bags packed and labelled weeks ago.  Oh, that smug feeling of being organised !  Mother of the fecking year award.  All was well until the first morning of BTS last week.  Oops …  No new school trousers for the boy ...  It was KINDA his fault though, refusing to try on last year’s threads all summer, but his thunder face said that it was ALL MY FAULT, his school year ruined, temporarily anyway.    

OVERALL COMMENTS
It appears that Lucina is a well-intentioned young lady, if a tad hyperactive.  It is recommended that she considers a holiday abroad next year, one that involves being tied to a sun lounger with the hape of novels that she didn’t read this year and the ones that she buys in the coming year.  It is also recommended that she brings a babysitter and avoids low alcohol wine as it doesn't seem to suit her

Saturday 29 August 2015

Loosing Your Va Va Voom


Three glorious weeks out of the office and I should be feeling relaxed, refreshed and good to go for the usual hectic autumn period.  Truth is, I’m banjaxed.  I haven't been sleeping well.  I’m wondering if I can do a surge of recharging in the next 48 hours before I return to work, but with two little people asking ‘what are we doing next ?’, it’s looking unlikely.

One of the things that I was most looking forward to on my time ‘off’ was writing.  I was overflowing with ideas for blog posts.  I thought about stock piling a series of blogs, quickly drafting them all, ‘leaving them settle’, to return to them for a final polish over the coming weeks.  I wrote the one that I NEEDED to write, one about my relationship with my step daughter Zara, to mark her wedding day (on the first weekend of my holidays).  I had been thinking about it, and fretting about it, for weeks beforehand, wanting to write it and then to ‘do an Ed Sheerin’ and think it out loud.  It was a public declaration of sorts.  There were a few tears (mine).  It’s funny how I could write something about this and yet I’ve never had the - would you call it ‘courage’ ? - to say those words on a one-to-one.  I’m glad that I wrote it.  It was from the heart and from that place, you can’t go too far wrong.
Since then, I’ve mostly been driving, cleaning and making soup.  All cathartic exercises.  All with my little people on tow.  Driving to visit some of my dearest life-long friends in far flung places across the country.  Talking about my newly established ‘single’ status - It sounds better than ‘separated’, don’t you think ?  Feeling like a failure.  Feeling positive and optimistic.  Feeling exhausted letting it all out.  Feeling exhausted keeping it all in.  Feeling exhausted keeping the brave side out.   

I’m physically tired from cleaning.  The attic, under the sink, wardrobes, the linen cupboards, reorganising the house.  All long overdue, mind.  It’s all that I’m fit for these days.  No deep thought required, but the act is cleansing nonetheless.  Coming across mementos that have taken on a new meaning now.  No meaning now.  Mementos that the children cling onto, that I simultaneously want to let go of. 
Meanwhile, I’m anxious that I haven’t been writing, something that has given me solstice, distance and a new perspective in the last few years.  I missed a deadline for the ‘MS and Me’ blog last week.  I feel guilty, but can’t muster the energy to write it, even though it’s written in my head.  I haven’t even opened last weekend’s newspapers.  Full of atrocities that make the way I am feeling seem self-indulgent, petty and trivial.  

Only yesterday, it dawned on me what I have been doing.  I’m busying myself to run away from reality.  That’s what my working life has allowed me to do, or it’s what I have allowed it to do.  This new found summer holiday free time (albeit with two seven year olds swinging out of me) has created head space that I’m not comfortable in filling right now.  I don’t want to go THERE. 
I haven’t been on form for gardening, which is very strange for me, but actually not that strange, when I think about it.  There is something very primal about working with the soil that only fellow gardeners will appreciate.  I feel that if I did get ‘down and dirty’ that I might dig myself into a hole, cover myself with clay and just stay there.  And aside from that, the weather hasn’t been great. 

I am hoping for a rest over the weekend, one that involves very little cleaning, maybe a bit of pottering in the garden, but eitherway, one that involves spending time with my precious little people, having a bit of craic.  It may be coming into darker evenings now, but I’m looking forward to brighter days.  There shall be hilarious blog posts soon about my new ‘status’ and a handbook of how to cope with singledom in your VERY early 40’s.  There is life in this dog yet.

Post Script :  I wrote this last night, for review this morning.  In the meantime, I’ve been snuggled up with the children watching cute cat and squealing goat videos on Youtube.  How could I have forgotten about the power of t’internet to heal ?   

Saturday 15 August 2015

A Good Old Root In The Attic


I didn’t set out to tidy the attic.  I am on holidays after all.   I was only looking for a long lost pair of sandals.    I’d been meaning to get up there all summer, but let’s face it.  It hasn’t been much of a summer, weather wise, so far so I managed just fine without exposed toes until now.  But I have a little guna that would be lovely with this particular strappy pair, so fashion spurred me along.

Ideally, tasks like attic foraging should be carried out, without little ones being present.  I had to weigh it up – If I did this while Home Alone and fell, I’d be a long time hollering before anyone heard me.  If I wait til my children are home, they will, inevitably, want to ‘help’.  I opted for the latter.
Wrestling the step ladder into the Hobbit House, without breaking a light fitting, is always a challenge.  I was rather proud of my three-point-turn skill in this regard.  The Children  + Ladders combination present its own risks, but I work in a local authority that screams ‘Health and Safety’ at every turn, so I felt well equipped to assess the dangers, prepare a method statement, etc.  The biggest risk was the precariously balanced table lamp, required to quite literally, throw some light on the subject.

Guessing that this was going to be a dusty job, I put on my walking trackie bottoms and runners.  The dog got very excited, as he assumed that we were going for a dander.  Sorry mutts.  Later.

I’ve two attics.  The problem was that I didn’t know which one the afore mentioned sandals were in.  Attic no 1 is stashed full of Christmas decorations and an array of barely used baby mobiles and play centres.  Perfect charity shop fodder.  The problem was that they were all dismantled.  I wasn’t in the humour for scrambling on my hands and knees retrieving the parts, so I left them there, depriving some child of endless hours of fun. 

Two little people were fighting in the hall about who came up the ladder first.  The compromise was that the person who had to wait for the second climb could stay up longer.   I'm getting good at this bargaining malarkey.

‘What’s in that huge black bag Mam ?’  

I pretended that I hadn’t seen the bag that I had tried (obviously unsuccessfully) behind tinselly stuff.

They both seen it.  I’m a terrible liar.  I admitted it.  It was a huge stash of huge teddies. 

The pair rejoiced as the stash emptied onto the sitting room floor.  They wondered how some of their teddies got up to the attic without them noticing.  I wondered too ... and felt a little guilty.  In my defence, I did say that I live in a Hobbit House, so I don’t have much room for ‘stuff’ and they have a huge collection as it is.   However, the teddy-find was a useful distraction, with the first Teddy Hospital being established at Poppy Cottage.  Another find, a seatless doll's buggy, was used as a wheelchair.  I continued with Attic no 1 rummaging’s uninterrupted.    
A series of further three-point-turns and I was in Attic no 2, the bigger, more interesting one.  There they were, my sandals, as lovely as I remembered, in a bag of other ‘summer footwear’, most of which were instantly bagged for charity shops.  I found a bag of clothes too, with a deadly top that I forgot I had.  Made up, I was.   There were lots of pairs of shorts too that I hadn’t even noticed as missing.  Hopefully a late heat wave will let them see the light of day again soon. 

I found a heap of cushions, a heap of them and bags of hard-back books that I didn’t have the heart to send to charity shops, many of them souvenir purchases or gifts, but now looking so tatty that they will someday be assigned straight to the bin.  But not today.  Maybe I’ll get that extra bookshelf for them ?  My boy, AKA, Hawk Eye spotted a Transformer toy, one that transforms into a gun thing that sits on your arm.  It makes noise, a lot of it.  He was thrilled and delighted.  Me, less so.
Every time I appeared from the attic, with bits for recycling/dumping/charity shops, I stood on a teddy, was shot in the back by my son, was run over by a teddy wheelchair, or was tripped up by my oversized dog, ever hopeful that we were actually going walkies.

Seeing as it was my holidays and because it was flipping roasting up there, I stopped for regular tea breaks and yes, on one occasion, a wine and crackers break.  It helped with the dust, you know ?   That yellow insulation is quare itchy stuff, especially when you are a dope like me and wear a woolly top with the trackie bottoms.  A rather fetching look all the same.   

I’m starting to feel itchy again just thinking about it.   A quick shower to wash the imaginary itch off me and it will be time to reunite my sandals and top with the world, methinks.  Then I’ll think about building an extension to accommodate the teddies.  As for the flipping Transformer arm gun thing … I can’t say that my intentions are quite so honourable …

Wednesday 12 August 2015


Today, I  chose …
To get up at 7am and pick white roses from the garden, instead of having my much talked about, longed-for lie in.

Fashion over practicality and wore black waxed jeans.  I looked fabulous, while sweating like a pig.
To send my children to a summer camp, instead of hanging with them (and I admit it, it was purely for ME time and not for them to spend time with their friends, although that was a bonus, obviously).

Wine over green tea at lunchtime and felt suitably decadent.

Vitamin D over sunscreen and now feel a little stingy.

A long walk, instead of a run, to avoid further sweating like a pig (although I guess that I could have just changed my trousers).

To only check my work emails once and not follow up on any of them.  Now, that’s progress !

To turn my ‘thinking chair’ into an outdoor writing space – my first al fresco blog, woo hoo !

To generously water my garden, meter-free.  If you Irish Water customers wish to gripe, I’ll swap my septic tank associated bills (e400 this year) with you.  And guilt free too, as I am an eco-bunny at heart and do rain water collection too, okay ?

To trample into the house with mucky flip flops and not wash the floors.  As my Nana Bride used to say, 'unwashed dishes won't melt.'

To weed my flower beds (as much as one could in the heat) and resisted the temptation to go out and buy more plants.

To not fight with the children over their 5-a-Day, or protein intake.  It’s pasta and pesto for tea.  Both red and green pesto.  That’s balance, right ?

To eat a cream pie and not offer one to my children, even though there were three in the packet.
To NOT break up a fight between a hen and a cat, who were looking for crumbs from my outdoor table.  Vicious it was, vicious ! 

To wear flip flops while gardening.  It seemed like a good idea at the time, but my feet now require powerhosing.

To not eat the black bits in a banana to set a good example to the children.  No explanation required.
Wine over food for tea, because it’s my holidays !!

 

Monday 10 August 2015

My Step Daughter Got Married

When I was a teenager and thinking of options for the future with the career guidance teacher, becoming a ‘stepmother’ wasn’t discussed.  Nor was it listed on the CAO form as a course of third level study.  Connotations about what a stepmother might be had already been shaped by childhood fairy tales.  The stepmother figure was always a bit of a wagon, wicked in fact, treating some unfortunate orphan stepdaughter really badly.  The abuse always seemed to go over the hapless father’s head.  The stepmother usually had a hairy face, dodgy dress sense, spots and a pointy chin.  Not for me, thanks.

Fast forward to my late twenties and there I was, a stepmother-to-be, without training, or even a manual.   As it happened, a number of my friends found themselves in similar circumstances around the same time.  At least we could exchange stories to guide us through these delicate situations.  For children to find themselves in the role of ‘step-child’, there has been a traumatic situation in the past, whether it’s a relationship break up, or indeed, a bereavement.  None of this can be taken lightly. 

With your own children there is that blood connection that seems to force you to love each other, unconditionally.  You also have from the infant years to get used to each other’s ways of being in this world.  To earn their respect.  Would it be fair to expect, or assume any of this from your step-children ?  Hardly.
My two step-children-to-be Dylan and Zara were older teenagers and half-reared when I met them.  They had got along just fine without me up until that point.  They didn’t need me and I didn’t want to force myself on them and into their lives.  I just wanted them to like me.  What if they just didn’t like me ?  What if I didn’t like them ?  Eek !  How could I prepare myself for this ?  Like my other stepmother friends, I couldn’t really.  Just go for it with an open heart.  ‘Be yourself,’ my Mam said.  Thankfully, I think we all ‘liked’ each other.  The family connection strengthened when my children were born and Mya and Leon became ‘half’ brother and sister to Dylan and Zara.  I don’t like the ‘half’ description.  It's a bit odd.  Which half ?  From the waist up ?  Or split down the middle ?  My stepdaughter Zara had a baby girl, Sienna ten months after my two were born.  So now only was I a new mum, I was also now a step-granny, at the ripe old age of 34 and my infant children were an aunty and uncle.   Are you still with me ?  It’s all very confusing. 

Zara got married last weekend, to Gareth, Sienna’s dad.  The title, ‘step mother of the bride’ made me feel very WKD and I checked my face for stray hairs appearing and my chin protruding.  The wedding brought up lots of thoughts, about my ‘place’ in all of this.  Over the years, I have felt a range of emotions, some of which now seem irrational. 
Jealousy.  Yes, I admit it.  That horrible, pointless emotion.  Jealous that I could never compete with Zara's lovely mum in providing for her emotionally, financially, or otherwise.  But did I ever need to ? No ! Now that my children are older, and I am too older and somewhat wiser, I see how ridiculous this was. 

Seven years ago, I worried about how Zara would juggle new motherhood and college, and if she would be able to manage both, hoping that she would complete her studied.  She did, with flying colours.  One thing that I will take credit for, is that I was a ‘breast feeding role model’ for her.  Not many 21 year old mothers choose breast feeding, but my step daughter did, giving her little woman the best possible start in life.  I minded Zara as much as I could when she stayed with me when she was pregnant and doing work experience for college in Athy.  I showed her how to make a mean veggie lasagne … although she has yet to make one for me in return …. cough, cough !!
I have pride in watching Zara develop into a lovely young woman.  Seeing her grow as a mother.  Balancing motherhood and her career.  Her beauty and sense of style.  Her kind nature.  Her circle of friends that she has held onto and extended. 

I regret that we live so far away from each other.  Kildare to Sligo is a fair old jaunt and not one that you would make at a whim, especially with two impatient little ones on tow.  So, we don’t see each other often as I'd like.  But we soon make up for lost time when we do meet up.

I’ve known this girl since she was 15 and now it’s her wedding day.  Imagine.  Leon saying over and over that he ‘can’t believe’ that his sister was getting married.  Excited and proud. 

And there she is, walking up the aisle, looking beautiful, happy and confident.  Her wedding day is like one of the fairy tales where the girl does gets her prince (albeit in this case, a prince with a Sligo accent).  The WKD stepmother doesn’t interfere.  Instead, she stands back and feels nothing but love for this girl and wishes that she and her prince live happily ever after.

Thursday 6 August 2015

Out of Office

For the last three weeks or so, I have had a sick feeling most day and waking early, worrying about my work load and all that I had to do before taking my holidays from work, which were due to start today.  I even contemplated deferring my holidays until September, when my children would have returned to school.  A sure sign that a gal really does need a holiday. 
The nature of my work is that I may have a plan for the day, but that often goes out the window as the vibrant office where I work is like a train station.   I really need to learn to hide in my ‘secret office’ in Athy more often.  To alleviate my stress, I’ve been making lists of Things To Do and taking pleasure in striking a line through what I had completed, or better still, referred to someone else for their attention.  The problem is that I don’t write lists in straight lines.  They are more of a mind map of sorts, so it would be easy to miss something.

None of this has been helped by my children’s summer timetable.  For the last few weeks, they have been going to bed at Stupid O’Clock.  It is often 11pm before I get them settled, a little late for turning on the computer to play catch-up with work.  Regardless of sleep time, my boy has stuck to his 6.45am wake time – except the GLORIOUS Saturday when he slept until 8am.  Okay, he was lying on my arm which was looking a little purple, but hey ! Any exhausted parent would sacrifice a
limb for a lie on.

I was delighted to see some dark, dull evenings recently, so that I could coax them to bed a little bit earlier.  It seemed that I was wishing the summer away, before it had even started.  My window boxes echo my sentiments, having gone by their best and looking decidedly, what can only be described as ‘autumnal’.

At 4.20pm today, I set myself a target – to have cleaned my office and to be out the door at 5pm.  I had hoped to spend the whole day doing an overhaul, but in hindsight, 40 minutes meant that I was ruthless.  The important looking glossy reports that I never read, the invitations to national events on pretty paper that I didn’t attend, the odd shaped envelope that I was waiting to find a use for, all went in the bin.  Ruthless I was.  I found three coat hangers, e2 in change, buttons, a pot scrub, a toilet roll, some reports that had gone astray and 4 bottles of red wine.  I did save one or two really beautiful images to include in my personal stash of ‘inspirational items’.  I was assured that the artworks currently stored in my office would be moved very soon, the random submissions for Per Cent for Art schemes collected and that very soon that my office would no longer be a similar health and safety risk to asbestos roofing.  I might even be able to host meetings there sometime soon.  Eimear, you would be proud of me.

One of those things that I got brought in on through my work is the centenary commemoration of the 1916 Rising next year.  Such projects can allow you to reinvent yourself and to learn something new.  However, I imagine that I am not alone in saying that I am jaded by the 1916 commemorations before they have even started.  As a result, I didn’t get to finalise the 2016 arts related commemorative programme today.  I just couldn’t face it.  But it will still be waiting for me when I get back.  Still, I was mightily chuffed to have our Culture Night brochure in the bag.  Thanks Federica !

I am patting my back for being a total genius this year and getting all of the Back to School gear before I took my holidays.  Last year, I seemed to spend some time every single day of my holidays looking for one particular item.  This year, the new term’s school bag is already packed, uniforms folded neatly in waiting.  One of those rare Organised Parents moments for me.

I left the office shortly after 5pm.  I pretty much hopped, skipped and jumped out the door,with the smug feeling that a clear 'inbox' allows.  The relief that I felt was like lancing a boil on your bum (not that I have any personal experience of this, I assure you).  I swore to myself not to check work emails, although I have already checked in twice since I left the office.  It will take me a few days to wind down.  It always does.  I’m looking forward to lie-ins (hopefully with my children following suit), reading newspapers (okay, looking at the fashion/style/lifestyle stuff), blogging, digging holes in my garden, planting stuff, catch ups and of course, celebrating the wedding of my gorgeous step
daughter Zara and Gareth this weekend.  More about that in another blog.  Happy August people !