Just the Two of Us

Last weekend, we had two whole nights away  in a gorgeous hotel. As in, Himself and myself, minus the perma-hungry entourage and the minivan. It was our Christmas present from Loverboy's parents - they gifted us the accommodation AND the childcare -  seriously, if Carlsberg did Christmas presents....
I have to be honest though, I did reach a point on Thursday evening when I wondered if it was all worth it. I mean, I'd been looking forward to it for ages, but I'd blocked out how much planning and organization it takes to carve out an extended block of child free time, at this particular stage in our lives.

It's like a military operation - apart from the ten clothes changes, there was the swimming gear, the coats, the welly boots, the Lego, the DVDs, the coke and popcorn (for treats/bribes), the St Patrick's Day 'green' attire, the medicine 'just in case', the special blankie, the toys, the books, the potty...and so on.
Then I had to timetable the birthday parties (present and card in bag 5), cinema outings, (chocolate bars in bag 3) swimming classes,(jammies packed and already in) and all the related dropoffs and pickups. I was exhausted by the time I'd done it all and I hadn't even packed a thing for myself yet!

I do tend to get a bit, shall we say, stressed before I go away. It happens every time - I start to panic about the children. Will they sleep? (They did!) Will they feel settled? (They were!) Will they behave themselves? (They did...I think!) Will Luke poo in his pants? (He did!) Then I convince myself that actually it's all far too much trouble and upheaval for everyone concerned, and what were we thinking, and let's just call it off, sure I wouldn't enjoy it anyway with all the worrying.
At that point, Loverboy said sternly (in quite a rather masterful sort off way if you must know) ' Look, we're going! You always do this and then its grand. You'll be grand, they'll be grand, so stop worrying.... And make sure you pack plenty of wine.'  So I did...and he was right...he isn't always always, mind.. ..but he was this time.

Fabulous dahling!

The next morning when we were lying in bed in the hotel room to die for, lazily pondering whether to mosy down to breakfast or just stay put, we heard the couple, in the adjoining room to us, ring home to THEIR children. We could honestly hear every word, which in retrospect was slightly worrying, but on the plus side it meant we could indulge in an extended session of eariwigging.

After a minute or two Loverboy, ear cocked, whispered confidently "They're Culchies....from the North."
I sniggered, "What is this? 'Game of Thrones? And anyway, pot, kettle, black! Who are you to be calling anyone a culchie?"
'No no!' says he sagely.  'Proper Culchies.  Back o' beyond like, Tyrone, I'd say.'

So now we're snorting and laughing under the covers, but the conversation next door was just getting started.
'Hello Matthew?  It's Mammy! Who's Mammy's boy? Who's Mammy's big man? Did you have a big sleep? Who's Mammy's boy? Hello! Hello! I'm blowing you kisses! Blow your Mammy a kiss too.Yes, put your sister on. Hello, Sarah, its Mammy. How's Mammy's big girl?  Hello! Hello!....etc etc  Are you behaving yourself ? Doing as you're told? Here's your daddy now. He wants to talk to you too. I love you. Love you too. I love you more. No you...etc etc.....Put your Auntie on. What's the state of the house like? Don't forget they've that party at 3.. And make sure they put on their hats and scarves, it's freezing out there....etc etc'

To be fair,  I nodded and smiled in recognition for a while here and there,  but after a good ten minutes of it, we got bored and headed to breakfast. But nearly a full hour later, we came back up and weren't they still at it!?  Only by now she's put them both on speaker and was on a roll, tunelessly crooning their favourite(?) songs down the phone. At this point, I can only surmise that 'Daddy' had slipped into a coma.

Check out those shoes!

Now, on the one hand, I completely understand that it's difficult to stop thinking and worrying about your children when you're away from them, but on the other, what a waste of time for everyone concerned....for them, the kids and their Auntie! 

I would guess that they probably don't get away too often on their own, and yet here they were squandering that precious time, their opportunity to connect as a couple, the chance to not just be 'mummy and daddy' for a  while. Never mind the price of the weekend and the sacrilege of missing a 3 course breakfast!

It actually made me quite sad for them ..and more determined to enjoy OUR time away. Because here's the thing -  having time away as a couple really makes me appreciate the busy day to day of family life more fully...and vice versa. We too rang home for a status report, but when we heard all was well, we relaxed and enjoyed the luxury of 'just us two'....because it would be 'just us seven' soon enough.

And it was - by Sunday night I was back to earth with a bump, 5 loads of laundry and bath night to navigate, but somehow it was easier with freshly charged batteries and a rediscovered mojo...I'll let you know how long THAT lasts. Xxx

PS Please, take a moment and vote for me in the Family Life Category of the MAD Blog awards before 26th March- I'd be so grateful xx

Hotels with Kids...a whole new world!

going on my holliers...

 I think that it would be fair to say that our children don't get to stay in hotels very often. The first time was particularly memorable- we stayed in a Premier Inn somewhere in England last year, while attending a relative's birthday party. With officially waaaay too much family going on, for the so called 'family' room, getting the crew past hotel reception was our first challenge. So after much discussion, we decided to 'divide and conquer', as in 'stay in the car, gimme 5 minutes, then bring in the rest of them', and it really worked a treat.
 That night the party was great craic, although unfortunately the birthday girl didn't actually make it to her own celebrations- she got waylaid at home by her daughter, who was inconveniently delivering a 7th child in her bath at the time. I suppose you can't just pop your head around the bathroom door at that point and say 'That's us now, love. We're off. Don't wait up!'
Later on at the party, just after the mini pizzas, it was announced that baby Wulfric had been born, (entirely naturally), weighing in at an eye watering sixteen pounds! Well, what could we partygoers do only wet his (very large) head?
 Things weren't so upbeat in our overcrowded hotel room later on though-stuffed full of candy floss, cake and coke, a groaning Rory sat up abruptly and hurled all over a sleeping Cormac. At some level, I obviously registered 'Code Barf', and leapt out of bed, completely disorientated, stubbing my toe hard on the travel cot right beside me. The jolt and my subsequent screams of pain, unsurprisingly woke six month old Luke from his slumbers, and as you can imagine, it was all fun and games from there.
Take it from me, there's few things more sobering than cleaning up vomit drenched boys at 3am, and there's few things worse, than nursing the emerging hangover, in that same small airless hotel room, heavy with the lingering aroma of fresh gack.

Close...

Later at breakfast, the boys had bounced right back, (unlike us!), and were busy testing the limits of the 'bottomless breakfast' hotel deal.  Well used to heavy sanctions at home, they made it their sole mission to devour the hotel's entire supply of cocoa pops. Jude alone, managed 6 full bowls. Their poor cousin, arriving after the scavengers onslaught, was understandably gutted to be left with the pitiful choice of Weetabix or cornflakes.
 Our second brief hotel stay was just a few months ago for a family wedding. It should be said that this time, it was in a MUCH fancier hotel, and we had wisely opted for adjoining rooms. The kids were beside themselves with all the freebies- Easter eggs, bottles of water, biscuits, toiletries...there was even a toilet bag with a cuddly penguin and a toothbrush in it for them. But, clearly unused to the concept of hotels in general, and especially those of the 5* variety, the younger two naturally assumed that anything not nailed down was indeed theirs for the taking. In fact, I discovered Rory stashing 'this lovely book', (The Holy Bible), into his case, while Cormac was found squeezing the origami swan shaped towels into his. It seemed that everything in the room was fair game- Rory actually pondered aloud whether the very lamps would match our living room...and whether he could possibly fit them into his case.
Now I've whittered on enough, and I never even got to tell you about last weekend, when my parents, siblings, spouses and our collective twelve children descended en masse to a hotel in Donegal. I'll save that wee gem for another time, but in the meantime, here's a picture taken en route from the front of the car. All I can say is, thank God for in -car DVD players.

Peace, perfect peace.

 And no, they weren't watching Chain Saw Massacre- it was a Disney flick, about a dog that runs away or something. Who gives a shit? Because what you see there my friends, is 2 hours of blissfully quiet car time...just before two whole days of fabulous madness. Happy Monday Amigosxx .

Van the Man is in da house!!



The second hotel..



In the last week, I have stayed in not one, but two hotels! This is a VERY unusual scenario and yet, one that I could so easily get used to. The first, was after a family wedding with all the kids, which was great fun but not terribly restful, as I've found that excitement levels and sleep tend to be inversely proportional! The second was a present for Loverboy's recent 40th birthday, and it included dinner, an 'intimate performance' ( is it just me or does that sound a bit rude?) by Van Morrison, and an overnight stay.  As luck would have it, it happened that I was both the giver and secondary recipient of this gift, but as I assured him several times, he could choose anyone he wanted to be his +1. Ahem.)

 Van the Man was playing, (and staying), in the hotel too and our room happened to overlook the suite he was performing in, so I was glued, glued I tell you, to the window all afternoon, but disappointingly, apart from a few hairy looking band types, there wasn't much to see. Later, after a champagne reception (Fabulous dahling!), and a four course meal, the concert began.

 His daughter Shana Morrison performed first, and later sang one with her dad. I honestly believe that it must be a mixed blessing to be the child of a big star like Van. Oh yes, you get all the networking and a good leg up in the industry, but you'd also be constantly compared and even if you were successful, which history shows us is pretty unlikely, you'd still question whether it was really down to you or your famous parent. I know I would anyway. She does have a good voice, (although it's a bit hard for my taste), writes most of her own music AND  looks great despite having Van's genes. (I mean, let's face it, he's no oil painting).  I'd googled her earlier in the day, and several websites described her as 'Van Morrison's middle aged daughter'! I mean, Dear God,  I know it's to distinguish her from his 4 and 5 year old children, but that's HARSH surely? (And very possibly a little close to the bone - I mean, she's only  in her early 40's!)


The man himself


So after she warmed up the crowd, on came the man himself, and I have to say, he put on a hell of a performance. You hear all kinds of stories about him- that he's odd, antisocial and even blatantly rude, so we really weren't sure what to expect from the show at all. Well, he played with his band for two solid hours, and despite being 67, his voice is as strong as ever. He's obviously very musical, effortlessly playing the saxophone and the harmonica as well.  That said, he really DOES seem to have no social graces whatsoever- he kept his back to the audience for much of the time, and despite it being a small venue AND his hometown, he didn't say one word to us the whole time, nada, zip, nothing. I mean he didn't even smile!! But the audience LOVED him regardless and by the end of the night, the whole place was rocking. He really is a legend - a grumpy dour one yes, but a legend nonetheless.
The next morning while we were having breakfast, there was a little frisson of excitement when he arrived and sat down at a table by the window that was strategically placed behind a pillar. The funny thing was- on stage, with his signature suit and fedora on, he was unquestionably Van The Man, but there at breakfast, he just looked like a short, plump, (ginger!), balding man - He even had a wee old man's flat cap! As he passed us later, he actually nodded to Loverboy and mumbled hello (I know!), and I REALLY wanted to get a picture of him to show you...but I just couldn't pluck up the courage. But, as he walked away I noticed he'd a big old chocolate stain on his cream chinos,  and I was all set to run up and tell him to go and steep them in cold water AT ONCE, but then I thought he mightn't take it too well, so I didn't. Here's hoping he wasn't papped later though!
So even though I didn't  meet Van as such, there were a few other slebs there that I DID meet, AND got the money shots to prove it. so stay tuned....

Ride On....

Christy baby-it just wasn't meant to be.....

I'm supposed to be on the road to Drogheda with Loverboy right now. Oh yes indeedy, we had dinner plans, Christy Moore tickets, an overnight in a hotel and a lie in scheduled. Followed by breakfast and newspapers and endless coffee refills. In a hotel. Did I mention that? One dark, tipsy, Friday night last Autumn, an evening with Loverboy and Christy (you know what I mean!) helped chase away the SADs when Spring seemed so far away. But the best laid plans and all that, because it just wasn't meant to be.

Gutted....

My mum has been under the weather this week- nothing too serious- but despite her inevitable protestations, I knew that the addition of five little houseguests was way too much for her and I pulled the plug. So, instead of flying down the motorway, tall skinny latte in hand ,(yes, I'd penciled that in too), I'm sitting  in the kitchen on the couch. Teletubbies is on- the same episode that I've seen at least 20 times- and it's a horrible rainy day outside. My revised plans for the evening now entails cutting all four boys hair, followed by a production line of showers and hair washing. It also includes making up beds, cooking dinner and washing uniforms. In other words, except for my barber shop stint, it's like any other Friday night round here. No big deal, it's only that my expectations were a little higher and a bit more self indulgent, I suppose. A bite to eat, a few cheeky wines and a bit of 'Ride on' and 'Lisdoovarna', courtesy of Christy. Followed by that aforementioned lie in and brekkie. Ah well!

But sure, you know, it's not all bad- Luke is snuggled up beside me, and I've just had a yummy slice of chocolate cake and coffee made with hot milk, just the way I like it. Loverboy has finished work early and we're going to tackle the boys grooming and bathing requirements between us.  And for the first time in ages, we have a quiet weekend ahead which, after a month  of mad busyness is pretty special in itself. I'm also fairly sure that Christy will sound almost as good in our kitchen later on, especially after I get stuck into that bottle of Oyster Bay in the fridge! Oh and here's a little note I got from Rory this week which made my heart melt and my face smile.... Happy weekend everybody!