Tattoo Anyone?

My lovelies, I've something to share with you and I don't quite know how to say it so I'm just going to say it really fast - I'MTHINKINGABOUTGETTINGATATTOO! Thinking about it, haven't completely decided yet but seriously considering it. I know what you're thinking, and yes, I'm getting a distinct whiff of midlife crisis about the whole idea myself, but is that a reason NOT to do it?

Because this isn't something that I wish I'd done when I was younger- Oh No! I was the goody two shoes who wouldn't even get her ears pierced twice, never mind get a tattoo and I remember saying, with all the sweeping arrogance of my twenties  'Oh no! Imagine getting it now and then going off it. Or worse, being eighty and ancient and all wrinkly with a tat!'

Now though, and (only just !) past the midway to eighty point, I think 'Feck it! I don't care if I'm eighty with a wrinkly tattoo.' Frankly, I think I'd just be happy to still be around and I rather suspect my concerns would be more about being healthy, living a good life and loving my family, rather than worrying what others thought of Granny's tramp stamp.

Anyway, the cheeky, bold and utterly thran part of me (yep, it's there!) might even be inclined to flaunt it on occasion, just for my own amusement you understand, at the chiropractor's office for example, or the bridge club or even in the Classic department in Marks and Spencer's. Who knows? And one might even argue, that it would hint at a life lived fully... chances taken.... being comfortable in ones own skin?

 First, of course there's the very important decisions of what to get and where to get it, and this is where I'm a bit stuck.  I thought about getting it on my upper arm, but there's NO WAY I'm drawing more attention to the bingo wings - I need arm spanx for those bad boys, not a tattoo.

So I thought for about a microsecond about getting one on my hip or my stomach, but only when hell freezes over would I allow a tattoo artist anywhere near my 'zone'....and anyway, I'm blessed to have acquired a few 'natural' tattoos there thanks to five big babies.

Are you sure????

And as for doing a Cheryl Cole- puh-leez! I mean, what's the point when no one would ever get to see it? (Loverboy doesn't count.) For goodness sake, I couldn't even see it myself without a full length mirror and I'm fairly certain it would cost an arm and a leg to get my (rather more ample than Cheryl's) derrière  covered with roses.

Sooooo, so far I've narrowed it down to three body parts-the back of my neck (which you'd only see when my hair's up), my ankle or my inner wrist. I'm thinking fairly small and discreet- no giant spider webs, reptiles or anchors. Oh, and definitely no writing in languages I don't understand, which always seems a leetle bit pretentious, and anyway it could be list of groceries on there and I wouldn't know the difference.

I kinda like it!

I think my problem is, knowing what I don't want but not what I do, but I'm pretty certain my lifelong love affair with leopard print or shoes isn't likely to wane anytime soon, so that seems like a good bet? I may even combine the two?

 Or perhaps something more meaningful- like a few inspiring words or one with a family oriented theme? Or maybe I'm just over thinking it and a butterfly or a star or a cute little dolphin would be just the ticket.

So there you are, Peeps, I've put it out there and now I'd really love to hear your thoughts and opinions on the matter-for or against, I don't mind! And as long as it doesn't include my birth date in Arabic, a Chinese proverb or a dripping bleeding heart, I'm open to any and all suggestions as well.
Laters lovelies, Emx 

All Change

Changes are afoot this week. Almost as soon as we made the recent decision to remain living in the country, the scales fell from my eyes and  I realized that I simply couldn't live with the kitchen wallpaper a moment longer...or the sunroom...nor the hallway. So now, at this very moment, there's a whole lotta stripping going on!

 Someone once confided to me, that in their (admittedly elevated) opinion, there was simply no luxury in paint, and that was clearly the view held by the previous owners here too. The problem is, that although their choice of wall papers may be fussy, its good quality and wearing irritatingly well as a result.

Combine that fact with my our prior plans to move, and suddenly there's absolutely no justification or motivation to make changes. So you live with it...and you live with it, even though its not you, and it annoys you, so then you just detach yourself from that bloody wallpaper...and then the whole bloody house as well, cos whats the point? We'll be leaving and it'll be someone else's problem anyway.

 I know everyone has times when they're fired up and motivated to work on or redecorate their home, and other times when life's too busy, or money's too short, or you just can't be bothered.  For me, it was definitely a bit more than that though because when I had cut myself off emotionally from the 
house, I had made it yet another another reason to leave.

Later, when the decision was reversed and we took the house off the market,  I knew almost instantly that I WANTED to bond with it again, to make it ours, and removing the previous owner's taste in wallpaper  became inexplicably important. No matter how superior or luxurious their taste might be, it ain't mine and I want this house to feel like mine again...I  want it to feel like home.

 So finally, after seven years of living here, its goodbye fussy checked paper, hello 'soft white glow'. You see, it may be only a fresh coat of paint, but it feels suspiciously  like a fresh start. Is that silly? And maybe it IS too much to ask of a lick of paint, but it's a helluva lot cheaper and less disruptive that moving house, and I think that definitely makes it worth a try. 


PS-I've joined up with Sarah Miles at Hello Wall today-go on over and take a peek at the rest! 

Made for TV

Ahhh-those were the days....

A few weeks ago my little sister Mary had a beautiful baby girl whom she's named Orla Grace. (She's adorable and I'm clucking like mad, but that's beside the point!)
 Little Orla has one other sibling - her 'big' brother Senan who's almost two, and this was a conversation I had with Cormac (age 8) shortly after he learned of his new cousin's arrival.
 Cormac: 'Mammy, you know the way all the families on TV have two children, and the older one's a boy?
Me: 'Yeeeeeesss?'
C: Well, Auntie Mary has one of those families now!'
M: 'Are those the only families that are on TV?' 
C: ' Emmmmmm, I can't think of any others....and there's DEFINITELY none as big as ours!'
Yep, he's definitely got a point, and unlike me, he's much too young to remember The Waltons. G'night John Boy! G'night Mary Ellen!

Movies, Hens and Weddings!

No admittance without these!

Do you know, I've so much to tell you I just don't know where to start! The kids went back to school on Monday,  and it seems like all I've done since then is back books, write cheques, put dates into calendars and shout a lot.
I had big plans to write a long chatty post about last weekend, which included a World Movie premiere on Friday, (Yes, its true! My blog is now SO famous that I'm being asked along to premieres), and then another one all about what we got up to on my sister's hen night last Saturday... But I just haven't had a chance, and now there's a whole lot of other stuff coming up THIS weekend, and as you can probably gather, I'm all in a tizz. So I forced myself to sit down and  write something, rather than nothing at all.
First of all, the movie premiere (which Rory kept calling the Premiere Inn by mistake). It wasn't in Hollywood  (or even Holywood), because it was, in fact, a combined film project between our's and our neighbour's children. The actual movie was about half an hour long, and was made over the course of a year and then the editing process took a few weeks after that. There was a (somewhat loose) story line, plenty of fake fighting scenes and a good bit of general posing, but they did every bit of it themselves- even adding music and credits at the end.

Ready for her close up...

Premiere Night had been planned for months, was kindly hosted by our neighbour's, and I'm fairly certain that no more effort goes into the Oscars. The kids had all pooled money and bought decorations, cake and nibbles. They'd made passes and invitations for everyone and we were all given an assigned seat and instructions to dress up.
The starring actresses were in full evening dress, and the actors (much more reluctant about the whole 'dressing up' thing) were bullied into a shirt and jacket. During the afternoon, our sunroom was transformed into a beauty parlour - nails were painted and hair was teased into elaborate styles.
After the lights were dimmed, and silence called for, the movie was shown on a big projector screen. Afterwards, there were  photo ops and interviews with the stars.
A barbecue and dancing outside followed, and as an extra treat they all then slept outside in a tent, and enjoyed a midnight feast. It was a really lovely evening with family and friends, and a fitting end to a film project that had blessedly kept them all busy for many a long day. Filming has already begun on the next one.
The very next morning, it was time for my sister Clare's Hen. (Quick recap- she's getting married next week and there's TREMENDOUS excitement. My brother is coming home tomorrow from California specially with his fam, and our Anna, my other sister Mary and myself are bridesmaids.. (OKAY!! Matrons of Honour). Oh and Mary and I are also singing at the ceremony AND did I happen to mention that she's 9 months pregnant?! (NOT the sister getting married, the other one!)

Elegance Personified!

Anyway, back to the hen night. It was in the lovely medieval town of Carlingford, about an hour from here, with cobble streets (NO friend to killer heels), lots of wee pubs and great music. We stayed in the fabulous Ghan House, where we started with a champagne reception and then had a 3 course meal served in a private dining room, and then after the obligatory cheeky hen games, off we all clipped to paint Carlingford red.(Even my mum and aunt came along for the meal, although they were gently but firmly shifted on to bed before the Hen games began).
During the day,  we went to Carlingford Adventure Centre, which I was SURE wouldn't be my cup of tea, and I'm not saying that I would necessarily choose it over shoe shopping, but it turned out to be great fun. I even did zorbing -  it wasn't initially planned but a few of us threw caution and dignity to the winds and bounced downhill in a giant bouncy ball just for the craic of it.

The Merry Hens

Getting into the ball was the hardest part. There's 2 holes on either side  and for balance sake you and your zorbing partner have to throw yourselves into the ball in opposite directions, at the same time, and then get strapped in.
When I heard this, I wanted to back out then and there- I mean that hole was bloody small-I knew that there was NO possible way I was going to be able to just 'throw myself in'. But he refused point blank to let me go in feet first and if I didn't at least try, then poor Julie would have been partnerless!
Well, all I can say is, thank God there's no photo evidence, because believe me when I say that it wasn't my finest hour. At the count of three, Julie popped elegantly through, while Tinky Winky here got stuck in the hole so had to be shoved through (rather roughly) from behind. To add insult to injury, I then fell into the ball headfirst and found myself lying like a crab on my back, on the  bottom of this giant sphere. I was desperately trying to work out how to somehow get myself up and into the straps, when I got a cramp. It was utterly mortifying.
 Julie, by now efficiently strapped in, was laughing down at me, while the two instructors peered through each hole in disbelief, that someone could be so completely uncoordinated and inept. FINALLY when I could move, I somehow managed to shuffle upwards and backwards into my harness. That's when the fun really began- Check us out and listen carefully for the squeals!






So, all in all,  I think that we gave Her Ladyship a good old send off and now we're on the count down to the big day itself! Which happens to include a dress fitting for Yours Truly tomorrow......so say a wee prayer that the zip goes up! Laterssssssssssssxxxx

Rainy Days and Mondays

So, if you were thinking this might be a cheery, uplifting kinda post on an August Monday, just stop reading now. Actually, run as fast as you can and don't look back, cos I feel a mind dump coming on, a need to share, to get things off my chest and once I pop I just won't stop. (God, it must be bad if I'm quoting the Pringles ad). 

It's nothing serious - just post holiday, bad weather, Monday morning, dirty nappy blues. With a little bit of PMT, feeling fat, and a shit load of laundry thrown in for good measure. ( There's a country song in that, I just KNOW it).

First, the post holiday stuff, which I suppose isn't technically true, it just sorta feels that way. Loverboy is back to work today, which is grand except that we're up here in the Caravilla, so it's a bit..weird. And quite frankly, a lot stressful so far, on account of the torrential rain outside and the 5 kids inside.
To be fair, the weather has been gorgeous for the last few days, so we're due a downpour, but close your eyes and  imagine for one long delicious moment, the logistics of torrential rain, Himself working, on important conference calls and the like, while trying to stop 5 kids bickering and bouncing off the (very thin) walls, less than two feet away. The fun just never stops! I'm actually afraid to look at the weather forecast now. It's always wrong anyway, but if they tell me it's gonna be like this all week, I'll have the car packed and be screeching my way back over the Glenshane, before he breaks for tea and a hobnob. 

Another problem is the laundry - let's just say that on my caravilla shopping list for next year, is my very own washing machine. Lots of people have them in their sheds up here, (everyone has a shed for 'stuff' out the back of the Caravilla), and when I'm hanging out my washing, and hear our next door neighbour's machine, unmistakably entering it's final spin cycle, I'm OVERCOME with jealousy.
The rest of us have to go down the 'laundry room' route, which I HATE. You have to buy these stupid cards for a euro each in the site office and it takes 3-4 for a wash. The main problem, is that the office seems to be closed about 50% of the time, which means unless you have a stockpile of the cards, washing wise you're f**ked.
This week, those (lazy sods) manning the office, have inconsiderately taken themselves off to England for a family wedding, so it's been shut for days. Days which inevitably, were only the best drying days of the entire summer. So now, I have a pile of laundry so big, it should be paying rent, but instead, it's piled up in the hall so high, the kids have to climb over it just to reach the toilet.
The problem now, is that even in the unlikely event of the office opening today, the chances of getting any washing dried outside in that rain are almost nil, which only leaves the 'sell a kidney'  tumble dryers option. But SOMETHING must be done, as the situation is now so dire, the boys are, as a man, down to their last clean whips. Which means that the inevitable next step is turning them inside out, or worse going commando, both of which makes their eventual washing even less appealing. 

Luke, on the other hand, is still in pull ups, which has its own pros and cons. It seems that for him, a fresh pull up indicates the optimum time to test it's capacity.  Certainly not in the one he's had on all morning - no, no, it MUST be the very last new one I have in my handbag. Once on, he positions himself at the arm of the couch, knees slightly bent, bottom out, slightly furrowed brow and gets to work. If I catch his eye, he smiles cheerily, points in the general direction of his bum, and chirps 'Stinky Nappy!', as if simply passing the time of day. All of which tells me he's ready for potty training, but despite having ordered the creme de la creme of potties, with the lovely padded seat, I just can't face it yet. Soon though, definitely soon.

Anyway, I feel much better now after dumping that on you, and while I was writing this, the sun made a brief appearance and I actually managed to craftily bribe all the wee-ans to push Luke to the sweetie shop and back, so right now I'm necking the coffee, ignoring the laundry and  enjoying the peace. Hope Monday's good to you all, emx

Look who's a Teenager!

From this

Just over thirteen years ago, the two of us became three.
Our first baby, and (as it turned out) only daughter, was born on a hot day in July, in Reston,Virginia in the US of A. The first grandchild on both sides, her photos were viewed with great excitement in Ireland ON THE VERY SAME DAY. ('Looks like that old internet might be useful for something after all!')
 Has it really been thirteen years? Is she really a teenager? (Did I really look that young?)

To this...(with her 'little' brother Jude)

To this...

To this...

To this.

Our lovely girl, now with four younger brothers.. truly a rose among thorns! Happy thirteenth birthday, Anna Banana xxx

Questions of a Bloggy Nature....

Well helloooo there! My goodness, how I've missed you! I mean it's been a whole week and that's the biggest break I've taken from blogging since last September! Well, that's not entirely true... I DID actually post last Monday, but it was all a bit grim, which was hardly surprising given that I was on a bit of a downer. It was up for a few hours, and maybe some of you even read it, but then a well meaning friend urged me to take it down and I did.
I'd had a 'everything's getting on top of me I'm pulled in all directions and totally unappreciated and here's 5 kids for sale' sort of few days, and I put those feelings out there. Then, because I was feeling low, I trusted my good buddy's kind judgement over my own and pulled the post, and I STILL don't know whether it was the right thing to do or not. I suppose that it really got me thinking this week, amidst Easter holidays and family get togethers and even a wedding, how much I do/ should share on here. Now, I do understand that I'm making the outrageous assumption that you might actually be interested in what's going on in my tiny corner of the world, but let's just say for a moment you are-what am I prepared to share and what do you want to read?
For me, it boils down to -why am I writing this blog and for whom?  The biggest reason for it's existence is as a creative outlet- it is MY place to make sense of the day to day of family life, to help me organise my thoughts, and to find humour where I can along the way. So many older parents tell me, that the best times of their lives were when the children were young, and that if they could turn the clock back they definitely would. I appreciate when they remind me of this, because it's so easy to forget when you're in the thick of it, and caught up in the seemingly endless chores, responsibilities and needs of a busy household. I also worry that my children will only remember a bossy, busy frazzled mummy and not the chilled, fun mummy that I want to be.
 If this blog does anything, it shows me that good times should be cherished and remembered, and bad days do pass, and can often teach a lesson before they do. In all honesty, the very last thing I want to do is to present a sugar coated, half truth of my life to you, but nor do I want to sacrifice my family's integrity, or bore you to death with the negative and utterly mundane. I guess it's trying to find that balance, isn't it? I'm still working out how to do that, just as I'm learning how to formulate my thoughts into something worth reading, while learning on the job how to be a better parent, a better wife, a better friend. So there you are, that's what's been on my mind this week, and if you have any  thoughts, insights or opinions on the matter, I would honestly love to hear them. More than that actually, I would truly value them. Till next time amigos, emx

A Small Slice of Life

I have quite the weekend ahead. For the next forty eight hours I have places to go, people to see and things to do. Some of that time will be filled with joy and excitement, some of it with sorrow and reflection. The mother of one of my oldest friend's died yesterday- I can still picture her in my head laughing, as she did the 'slush' with her sisters, at her daughter's wedding. It was their signature dance and now she's gone. Tonight I'll go to her wake, and tomorrow to her funeral.
My mum had a birthday two weeks ago, but because my brother is home from America, we're going to her favourite restaurant tonight to celebrate. Another great friend is tying the knot in a few weeks, and this happens to be her hen weekend, so tomorrow evening I'm off to Carlingford to help give her the send off she so richly deserves. Then, on Sunday afternoon, the whole clan is coming to ours for lunch- a sort of 'last supper' for my brother who is heading Stateside again on Monday. Phew!
The thing is, that last night when I was thinking of all the plans, and running through the organizing required to make it all work, I found that I was feeling a bit, well, stressed. And kind of wishing the weekend away, just so that I could get to Sunday night, and finally be sitting down with a cuppa and everything ticked off my list. But then thankfully, I realized that I was looking at it entirely the wrong way, and completely missing the whole point in the process. This weekend actually represents a little slice of life - there's celebrations of life, and death, and quality time with friends and family, and surely that's what its all about? So, instead of viewing it as a whole entity, I looked again at the individual parts, and began to feel a lot less of the stressed and much more of the blessed.
 I'll celebrate my mum's birthday with family tonight, while my good friend stands at her mother's grave tomorrow- it will be my privilege to be there and stand alongside her. I'm able to spend time with my brother, who lives 6000 miles away, when recently an acquaintance told me, that her brother hadn't been home for ten years.  I've also waited months to celebrate our lovely Nuala's impending nuptials in a wholesome and sensible way (Ha!), and this Saturday night we'll do that in style! And as for the full house on Sunday? Well, everyone's bringing something, and they'll all muck in, and sure the craic will be ninety. So here's to this weekend, which I think I can say with some certainty, won't be a boring one ....let's be having ya!!

The Town Mouse and the Country Mouse

Oh dear, how I hate January! Despite the fact that I'm definitely ready for Christmas to be over when it rolls around, I always wish that I could just  fast forward to the first week in February, and thus bypass the whole January buzzkill completely .
For me, along with the extra muffin top and the school runs in the dark, my annual country vs city struggle inevitably reaches it peak right about now. It tends to build momentum as November closes in, is temporarily sidetracked by Christmas, and then returns full throttle in the New Year. Oh yes, as you can probably imagine, Loverboy just LOVES me in January! I know that he grits his teeth as I do my nightly online property search, scouring suitable houses within the city limits ( OK then-it's mostly BT9,) for our tribe to move to. Unfortunately though, unless I plan on selling a kidney, or a couple of children, they're few and far between.

My favourite magazine.....no, not really!

Out here in the country, we're lucky enough to have lots of inside and outside space- a real necessity with a big family. What we DON'T have is proximity and convenience to pretty much everything and I find that a real drag. Growing up in the city meant that I took for granted being able to walk to chic shops, numerous restaurants, gourmet cafes and friends' and family's houses. Our previously unplanned decision to move to the country six years ago, was driven by a house sale falling through and our fourth child's imminent arrival. (Oh and for the record, I don't believe that Loverboy has ever REALLY appreciated the depth of trauma suffered, on moving here a short month after Starbucks opened at the end of our street - just saying.. )
I think it's probably what you're used to-what you grow up with, I mean- because I remember years ago, on first contemplating a move to just outside Washington DC, several people here cautioned ' Are you sure you want to move to the murder capital of the world?'  Then, when we got there, and folks learned we were from Belfast, THEY shook their heads and sympathized 'I'm sure you're glad to be out of war torn Belfast!' Similarly, but less dramatically, when we mentioned that we were moving from the city to the country, shocked Belfast people clucked reassuringly, 'Don't worry, it's not forever', while country people congratulated us on getting out of the dirty old city!
I suppose that everyone wants to believe that where they live is the best. And maybe it is...for them. As a city girl, I HAVE found aspects of the transition tough. (Really!? I hear you say disbelievingly!) I find that I miss silly things like footpaths and chimney pots and horns beeping.... and family. But thankfully, as February creeps in and with the promise of Spring just around the corner, I begin to notice and appreciate again all the really great things about living here. The wonderful school, the best of  friends, the real sense of community, the idyllic childhood our children love, the space around us, the changing of seasons...and as for the rest-well, a diesel car, a good taxi firm and filling our lives and home with friends and family all helps.

I'm getting me one of these bad boys..

You see, I'm only too aware that it's not just all about me, me, me-there are six others living here as well, and we DO have a good balance for now. That will naturally change over time, and if I'm honest, I know that we won't be here forever - as the children gradually migrate from our little corner of the world, I'm pretty sure we'll follow. But in the meantime, during the winter, and most especially in January, I'm sucking it up, knowing that Spring is a-coming and anyhow, I know how to make a skinny extra hot latte even better than Starbucks!