Romance Under Another Guise

 

Otters hold hands when they sleep so they don't drift apart. Almost as romantic as my husband via commons.org

Otters hold hands when they sleep so they don’t drift apart. Almost as romantic as my husband
via commons.org

I live in chaos. Our house is chaotic. It’s generally organised mayhem though and I know where most things are most of the time. I don’t enjoy living in chaos but I cant seem to control it. Sometimes though I need to know where things are for example yesterday I needed to know where the poster on evolution that came free with the paper last weekend was. I have plans, at some stage, to move the boy into his own room and I want to hang the poster on the wall. The plans to move the boy are not imminent  nor did I have a burning need to increase my knowledge on evolution ( I don’t fully subscribe to the evolution theory but that’s another days post) but yesterday evening I needed to know where the poster was.  The husband was out. I rang him. ” Where is the evolution poster for the boy’s room”. The husband knew I was collapsed on the couch and not redecorating and that were was no urgency in finding the poster. A person who didn’t realise how mental I am would’ve replied  wondering what the urgency is. The husband didn’t. He told me that while he didn’t know exactly where it is he would find it upon his return.  Panic averted.

Occasionally I wake up in the middle of the night and wonder where our passports are.Always at a time when I have absolutely no need for my passport. I have woken my husband at 3am to ask him location of our passports. He always answers. Is this some sort of reverse OCD or something? Anyway I know it’s not all that normal behaviour but the husband always answers me no matter how mental the question is.

Via bucketsandbows.com

Via bucketsandbows.com

I decided today I could no longer handle the piles of laundry and post and general junk that lives all over my house. I faffed around for hours mainly moving junk from one resting place to another and creating a bigger mess. I then became overwhelmed by the mess. There is one corner in my sitting room where stuff goes to die. There is a box with firelighters and old school books and receipts and just random useless shit. Beside the box is a sideboard/ press/cupboard  yoke. Everytime I look at this corner a little part of me dies. The corner signifies the mess of the whole house. Inside the press lives piles of cards we received when the kids were born, newspaper clippings, board games, many cameras ( I went through three cameras a year at one stage they just kept breaking) and lots of other stuff that needed sorting. I was never going to sort it out. Today when I was busy walking aimlessly from room to room and sighing before giving up and taking to the bed with the boy to watch Star Wars, the husband took on the worst job. The box no longer exists and the press of hell is tidy. He threw out the non important crap and kept the important crap and its neat and now useable.  The rest of the house is still a tip but the world looks brighter as a result. I may actually be encouraged to sort out the rest of the house tomorrow now that this job is done.

On a romance gauge; answering the non important questions that bother me and sorting out the cupboard of hell trump flowers and candlelit dinners every single time.

I’m lucky,sometimes deranged but  very lucky.

 

Happy and Uncomfortable and Digesting Dog Food

So this morning I woke up to the news that my blog has been shortlisted in two categories in the Irish Blog Awards. This makes me happy and uncomfortable in equal measures.

blog_awards_2013_badge_shortlist

The blog has been shortlisted in the personal category and humour category. I feel immense pressure now to over share even more than I ever have and to do so in a humourous fashion. I am actually not a funny person but at the risk of sounding like Mary cheery as fuck Poppins, I do try to subscribe to the, if you don’t laugh you will cry school of parenting.

I started the blog as part of my website for updates . Then I started blogging about more personal things. Then it kind of became my hobby. I’m lacking in hobbies, I can’t bake  or skydive or zumba or rollerskate. I am shit at crafts and I don’t know how to shoot clay pigeons ( but I would really like to be able to shoot clay pigeons or real pigeons for that matter) .  Also I write mostly about the kids as I reckon they might enjoy reading it when they are older and its nice to catalogue some of the day-to-day things that I will forget as time goes by. Of course, I could be writing these things privately and there is probably no need to put my thoughts out online but I try to forget other people can read my thoughts when I hit the publish button. I freeze when people in real life say something about a blog post I have written. I freeze in more spectacular fashion when its someone I don’t know well and I had no clue they read my blog. I am also pretty sure there are people who know me and thing  “who does your wan think she is writing a blog, why does she thing anyone will care what she has to say”. That’s fine. I think like that too a lot of the time.

My blog is semi anonymous. Sometimes I wish it was anonymous because as some people  in real life regularly read  my blog , I have to be aware of what I am writing. Lets be honest my parents really don’t want to read about my sex life do they?

Then on the other hand, it continues to surprise me, that people sometimes do want to read some of my ramblings and some people can identify with my rants about food shopping and school runs, penises drawn in permanent market on my couch, forgetting to take my knickers off when I was in labour and my constant disappointment that my house is always a tip. People send me lovely emails and write comments on my blog that make me laugh and teach me things and I have gotten to know loads of imaginary friends aka online friends as a result and that’s deadly too.

Also I cannot afford therapy and writing my blog is the next best thing and that’s the main reason I do it so thanks to all who nominated my blog and to those who read it. For anyone in a similar position as myself, I would recommend blogging, it genuinely is therapeutic.

In other news, I am pretty sure, I just ate dog food. I swallowed something lumpy when drinking a cup of coffee a minute ago. I looked into the cup and there was a nugget of dog food sitting at the end of it. The three year old assisted in feeding the dog this morning so it makes sense she added some dog food to my coffee. I wouldn’t recommend it as an addition to your morning coffee and I am trying hard not to think that right now my body is digesting it.

Dry dog food deliciousness via cavalierhealth.com

Dry dog food deliciousness via cavalierhealth.com

 

7.30am to 8.15am On A Tuesday Morning

I am on a quest to be more organised this school year. Like most new year resolutions they will fall by the way side soon but so far so ok. The husband has taken over the lunch making in the mornings and I am getting as much ready the night before- thats the extent of my organisation, but it has been working. So normal  before school/ work chaos this morning, all going semi well ,until bang the 45 minutes between 7.30am and 8.15am- all of the following happened.

sun

  • The youngest decided she wasnt wearing the pre planned outfit. Mild mini breakdown, new outfit chosen and she got into it.
  • The boy, he of missing schoolbag fame, misplaced his school shoes. Got him fully dressed bar the shoes. Took deep breaths.
  • Ran upstairs, silently praising my new super organisational skills and was dressed and semi presentable within four minutes. During the four minutes I shouted downstairs ten times that who ever found the boys school shoes would get a euro.
  • Upon my return downstairs the youngest had added a tutu to her outfit. Asked her to take it off. She cried. I thought about crying. She took it off.
  • Walked into the sitting room, the boy who had I left freshly dressed minutes earlier, was lying on the ground beside the dogs bed with the dog. His uniform is navy, the dog is white/golden. The sound I made was a new one for me, or possibly for any human, ever. The dog turned around and put his back to me. Then thought better of it and decamped fully to the garden.The boy had as much hair on him as the dog.
  • Full blown all out rage and hysterics  diverted by the triumphant shouts from the playroom of the seven-year old who had located the school shoes. Relief. The boy has no other shoes at present as the ever shedding dog has eaten them all. The boy is saved from the ridicule of wearing his sisters shoes to school.  Triumphant sounds were quickly drowned out by the three-year old crying again because she wanted to ” win the euro”. Note to self to  stop bribing the  kids and make them look after their things.
Via mindmillion

What I lose per week to my children via bribery

  • We were starting  to verge into possibly being late territory.  Ironically, my kids are sticklers for rules outside the house. The thoughts of being late for school genuinely upsets them. The laugh in the face of rules while at home.
  • Brushed the eldest’s hair. Minimal debate and negotiation and a quick run through the benefits of a standard ponytail over plaits.
  • Rugby tackled  the youngest so I could catch her and hold her still to do her  hair.  I don’t brush her hair so much in the morning. Negotiation and debates take just too much time. Time I do not have at 8am. Sadly this morning the grab and tie motion failed to suppress two of the three dreadlock style tangles she is currently sporting. Two stuck up in large lumps. The boy kindly pointed this out to her. Managed to divert another breakdown with the addition of clips. Hair is not my forte.
  • The boy meanwhile was trying to make his hair stick up in the hall mirror. His sticky up hair went beautifully with the uniform covered in dog hair. I used my other top hairdressing skill of licking my hand and trying to smooth out his hair. Tried to remove some of the dog hair from him. Gave up. Glanced down. All the hair I removed from the boy had attached itself to my black dress. Ran upstairs and changed into another black dress. A shorter one that required thicker tights. Emptied two drawers finding thicker tights.
  • Left the house. Went back into house for the boys bag. Left the house again.
  • Wasp flew into tiny space between my sunglasses and my eyeball. More screaming and roaring from me.Wasp leaves, eye unharmed.
Via naturefota-cz.com

Via naturefota-cz.com

  • I imagine the conversation the neighbours are having about my mental health. I can expect another sympathetic look over the garden wall soon and a hushed “Its hard with young kids, are you ok?” conversation on the way soon.
  • My car is sick but I have a lend of my mother in laws car for the week which I am very very grateful for but it is one-third the size of mine. The argument over who was sitting where broke out. I snapped. Roared at the eldest, the girl, who had been nothing but helpful all morning and had caused me no trouble. Her face dropped, guilt consumed me. Seat belts got stuck. I climbed into the back. At this stage all four of us where in the back of a small car. My arse locked the door and my foot got trapped under a seat. Extracted myself, apologised profusely to the eldest for shouting, guilt still washing over me.
  • Spent the five minutes in traffic trying to remove dog hair from the boys trousers. Another note to self- remove any trace of dog hair from mother in laws car before she comes home from holiday. Fingers crossed she doesn’t read this.
a-boy-band-hair-20

The boys hair looked more styled than above. No highlights on the plus side.

  • Get to school- last-ditch attempt to make the boy look semi respectable. Fails. He walks off looking like he is wearing a teddy bear suit  with hair that resembles that of a boy band member. I bend down to give  another apology to my eldest before she leaves me, can feel draft directly on my bum even through the extra thick tights – dress definitely too short. Guilt still hurting me because I really roared at her  and she says “S’ok Mammy, I love you”. Physical pain of guilt as she walks away. She looks back and gives me a thumbs up and a huge smile, pain goes.

It’s not easy, is it?

I could have done without all of the above this morning. Not the best start to a Tuesday.

The Summer The Age Gap Came Good

Its like somebody flicked a switch yesterday and autumn is here.  As well as the  days and days of proper sunshine and heat in Ireland another remarkable thing happened here this Summer, the age gap between my children came good.

Summer 1

There are 3 years and 9 months between my children. Not the smallest gap but small enough. The first year of the youngest’s life is a bit of a blur and the three and a half years since have been busy. Despite the small gap between them their individual needs were very different and I regularly felt pulled in several different directions. Then this Summer something clicked. The age gap seemed to shrink and suddenly the three of them were on the same wavelength.

The imaginary games no longer needed my referring, there wasn’t so much debate and reasoning over what movie to watch or what book to read. They have always gotten on brilliantly but this Summer they clicked. There were times when I felt almost redundant. They spoke about things over dinner I knew nothing about and laughed at their private jokes that I was not privy too. They  started to sort out their own disagreements. They played and played and played.

They don’t always come into our room now in the morning when they wake, I wake up to the sound of their chatter as they lie in their beds. They call out for each other as often as they call out for me now.

I didn’t have their friends over as much this Summer as before because they were happy and content in each others company. School is only back a week but already you can see their lives drifting back off to their intertwined but individual paths. The spell  weakened not broken as the weather gets cooler and their separate schools, classrooms, routines and activities take up their time. They hugged each other every morning as they left each other at their individual school gates each morning this week and asked each other genuine questions about their days when they were all home together again. This makes my heart hurt a little bit. In a good way.

Heat and the time when the age gap paid off, these are my memories of this Summer. I think my children made life long memories this Summer too. I hope they have so many more like it.