A Mighty Girl

Yesterday was a gorgeous evening. I must say that I love the contrary way Ireland surprises us sometimes with the weather.

You get a few weeks when it seems certain that Autumn is well and truly here, and depressingly it's time to pack away the shorts and do a quick boys' anorak try on, when out of the blue we get summer's last Hurrah.

 It's kinda like finding a rogue twenty quid in an handbag you're about to chuck in the bin.

Anyway, the fields surrounding our house were getting their last cut, (thank God, no more slurry), and the kids were out watching the tractor mold the grass into straight lines for baling. 

Only this time it emerged that it wasn't a crusty old farmer driving the tractor with the spiky thing behind it, (the name escapes me!), but a lovely young girl.

 

Now obvs, this was a Girl Power photo opp that I simply couldn't miss, and so I was away across the garden,  under the wire and into the field like a whippet...or at least as fast as my wedge heels would allow. (Very nice neutral ones with a buckle, since you ask -surprisingly comfortable too.)

I admit, she DID seem a little surprised to see me as I teetered towards her, iPhone in hand desperately trying to flag her down,  but she covered it well...AND I got the pics. 

So peeps, say hello to Laura- a mighty girl farmer in a (still mostly) man's world, who also just happens to be DDG*. You go girl!

*DDG- Drop Dead Gorgeous

Coffee?

I heart coffee, I really do....in a 'I can't live without it and don't want to anyway' kinda way. A friend  once told me  'Don't be a snob about anything...except coffee,' and I absolutely agree.

The truth is, I'd rather drink tea than instant coffee now, (and that's saying something), even though I guzzled that shit down for years.

Maybe its a bit like the rank wine we happily knocked back, luke warm, from plastic cups as students - Blue Nun anyone? We just didn't know any better and let's face it, alcohol was alcohol but once I discovered Villa Maria, I could never go back.

Anyway, over the years we've tried every coffee making device known to man - percolator (great for serving big numbers), cafetiere (good quality but way too much waste), filter machines (okay if you like it brewed to death), and finally last Christmas, after poring ('scuse the pun) over 'Which' online we bit the bullet and went for a Gaggia ...just like Starbucks, only smaller.

But, erm,.....call me a dizzy ginger, but I haven't actually learned how to use it yet. It's got an instruction booklet like an encyclopedia and somehow I've never been arsed found the time to read it. Anyway, it's really Loverboy's baby and to give him credit, he does make a mean cup of coffee complete with a lovely foamy milk on top.

I know I shouldn't say this but *whispers* it all seems like an awful lot of bother to me - all that rinsing and filling and clanking and banging metal attachment thingies against the sink, and don't get me started on the (inevitable)  sprinkling of coffee and little brown puddles on the worktop. (He'll deny that of course, but we all know its true.)

Then this summer, I threw myself into finding a Caravilla coffee solution. Cafetieres were our previous option, but there was always way too much coffee if I made a big one, and nowhere near enough with the small one AND it cooled down really quickly regardless.

So yet again, I hacked into my Dad's online 'Which' account and began my research. An hour later and I'd sourced, selected and bought a dinky little Dolce Gusto pod coffee machine - and the truth is my life is now complete. How I have lived until now without this beauty, I simply don't know. In fact, I've now become so attached that I had withdrawal symptoms when I last left it at the Caravilla, but blessedly it's now happily tucked in beside Himself's big brute of a thing at home.

I love it so much that if our house was on fire, after my family, and my leopard print spiky shoes (obvs), it would honestly be the first thing I'd save. Coffee to die for, easy peasy to use, and lots of choice, I ask you, what's not to love?
(PS Just a thought but I could SO go on TV and sell this baby. I'd be cheap too-they could pay me in coffee pods!)

A Reluctant Reader

We really try and encourage reading in our house- we've got shelves heaving with books for all ages and stages, and I've read aloud to the children since they were no age at all. That said, I've usually found that a child usually only chooses  to read after checking first that the iPad, the DS, Minecraft and the TV are all off limits.

Why? Because they're the easier, lazier option, requiring no real effort at all.  I have to confess that they can also be really really useful, and I'm as guilty as anyone in relying on them when it suits me, but deep down I know they're no substitute at all for reading.

As a child, I loved to escape into books (and my Granny's Women's Own magazine) but then again, I didn't have all those other distractions vying for my attention. In recent years, I've read less than I should - less time to sit down is the official reason, but zoning out on the iPad  may be the more truthful one. In regard to the former, I finally discovered audiobooks, so now I download them on my iPhone and it's such a luxury to be read to while walking, cleaning or driving. But is it multitasking at its very best, or the absolute height of laziness? I can't decide.

Of the children, some are naturally drawn to the books on their bookshelves, while others (well, one in particular) would rather do almost anything else -for example, a recent excuse was ' But I can't read now, I have to cut my toenails.' A surprising choice I thought, given his usual complete disregard for personal grooming of any type.
      
Believe me,  finding books that appeal to this particular boy is a real challenge, and then last week while tidying and rejigging the shelves, I came upon an old favourite that had belonged to his older brother. My Dad - an old pro at choosing age appropriate books had bought it for him a few years back and I'd forgotten all about it.



It's called 'The Rover Adventures' by the inimitable Roddy Doyle- this copy has three books in one. Perfect for boys because it focuses a lot on dog poo, it's a whole lot of fun, and for the first time ever, his response when I ask him to read  isn't a deep groan or a 'Nooooooo!', or a 'Can't we do it tomorrow instead?'






















 It's original, funny and clever, the pictures are fabulous and importantly  it has really short chapters - this boy checks the chapter length and initiates negotiations on number of pages he has to read before he even gets started.   Best of all,  when my boy's reading AND smiling, I know I'm on to a winner.

Bah Humbug

 I realise this won't win me any popularity contests, and maybe it's because I've been in a caravan (notice how it's been downgraded from  Caravilla) with torrential rain, five kids and a whole LOT of damp washing, but I'm sooooo over the whole Positivity Challenge thing doing the rounds on Facebook.

 And don't even get me started on the Proud Mammy nominations....oh alright, then, I will...Call me an old cynic, but is this not just a clever, (slightly cheesy) chain letter/photo opp showcase for  the blissful mammy/cute baby pics?

Which I'm not saying is a bad thing in itself- God knows, we all do it- and maybe I'm missing the whole point here, but isn't that what Facebook's for, all the time anyway?

Personally, I prefer to post pictures and show off a bit when I'm actually feeling the love for my five little darlings (usually when they're fast asleep), and not because I'm prompted.
Not that I mind being prompted by the way, but at this point in August (Rolllllll on September), stuck in a 400 square foot box (downgraded again) with the rain bouncing off the roof and the whiff of damp pants and old farts in the air, I'd  happily sell  all five offspring on Gumtree....and I'm pretty sure the feeling's mutual.

And honestly? It's the crappy icing on my wonky looking cake when I then see so many other Mammy nominations with words like 'blessed' and 'angels' and 'gifts from heaven' in them. I mean, I'm trying to be happy for y'all, but depending on my mood, I'm usually either cackling 'Pass me the bucket right now!' or wailing  'What the hell am I doing wrong???"

And before you rush forward with my 'Mother of the Year' Award, let me just say that I DO feel blessed and grateful for my five healthy children....and no, despite what it looks like, not only when they're sleeping / visiting Nana / back at school.

But at this moment, with seven weeks of back to back 'quality time' in confined spaces under my belt, when the opportunity arises for me to publicly express how utterly blessed I feel to have brought each of my five treasures into the world... thanks, but I'm gonna pass.

And the Positivity Challenge thing? Well,  I really like it in theory - hey, I even kept a gratitude journal for a while - but turned out it didn't mix too well with raging PMT. I DID try, but the best I could come up with was 'I'm grateful for only eating my own weight in chocolate last night and not the combined weight of the children as well.'

So in the spirit of this optimistic mindset, I came up with the anti positivity challenge instead, which was actually surprisingly therapeutic and I highly recommend it. (Of course, I also secretly hope it'll go viral and earn me millions.)
Here's my much watered down Facebook version-believe you me, I could have put much worse on there.

'Thank you BM and TD for nominating me for a Positivity Challenge....but unfortunately, I'm just not feeling it today so I decided an anti positivity challenge would be much more satisfying and appropriate given my thran mood. Here goes-
1. Trying to dry three loads of washing in a caravan when it's pissing down outside. Throw in five bickering children and you're living the dream.
2. Wasps- I've personally killed dozens and been stung only once. It's a gift.
3. Loom bands. So over them.'

Oh my, I feel better already. And breathe.......

An Offer I Couldn't Refuse...

Preparing dinner, my mind on other things, I gradually become aware of an insistent little voice following me around the kitchen,
'Mummy!' It said and then again, more irritated, 'Mummy!'

'Yes?' I answered distractedly, turning around to see from whence the voice came.
Now, I've seen and been asked many things in the last fifteen years as a parent (I SO wish I'd written them all down) but never, until now,  a bare bum reversing its way around the kitchen island behind me.

Then Luke's face appeared, peering around his own full moon,
"Mummy, he reproached me, "I've been trying to tell you! My bottom's itchy! I need you to scratch both sides of it for me! "

Cartoon Moment #15

Looking back, my Ma must have had Vandar on the pay roll. Sizzlers from Primark anyone? 

An Anniversary Note

Eighteen years ago today we said 'I do'.  So hard to believe, my love, and yet not so hard at all. Being blissfully immersed in literature and culture all week left me little time to write a love letter, so I'm cheating - these are last year's words... but I still mean every single one.  Happy Anniversary babe xxx

For Loverboy

Seventeen years is a long time. Enough time to move overseas, buy a house, have a few babies, turn thirty, gain weight, make friends, get a degree, sell a house and move home again.

Enough time to have a couple more babies,  sell another  house, feel rich, buy a minivan, move to the country (I know!), lose weight, have another baby, feel poor, turn forty, buy a caravilla and get a dog.

Enough time to sometimes ponder why, in all that time, I never thought to glance down other paths, which might have meant a career with coffee breaks and benefits, better holidays and good handbags, and a car of my own with no crisps on the floor and baby wipes in the glove compartment, just in case.

Enough time to realise that nothing is perfect, and everyone makes compromises, and mummies with careers sometimes feel guilty and frazzled, and mummies without them sometimes feel frustrated and frazzled, and that everyone is in the same boat anyway, just doing the best they can.

Enough time to learn that every season passes, sleep deprivation won't kill us and babies grow into toddlers and children and teens.

Enough time to understand that every choice we've made together over the last seventeen years, has led to this busy, crazy, wonderful life we share today.....and I wouldn't change a single thing.

Enough time to learn that love changes and grows, and if you're lucky, and you hang on really tight, it just gets better and better.

Enough time to feel grateful and blessed that today, seventeen years ago, we said 'I do'.... and to hope
 and to pray that we're really only getting started.

 Happy Anniversary Babe xx

A Story of Two Dogs

Oscar Wilde once said, with his typical acerbic wit,
'To lose one parent may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness.'
I wonder if  the same applies to dogs, because unbelievable as it may seem, we as a family, have lost two dogs in one short year.

Arthur

The first was Arthur, a black cockapoo puppy, who confusingly for all involved was actually called Coburn first. Don't even ask why we had to change it, it's just too ridiculous, and as it happened, we needn't have bothered, because he had such a short little life anyway. He died instantly under a tractor one blustery October morning when he was only five months old.

The boys saw it happen and they took it very hard. We just hoped that in the long run, they would learn lessons about grief and dying and perhaps ultimately, living.
So four months later, and not wishing this sorry experience of dog ownership to be their sole and lasting one, we acquired Dora, a lovely white four year old Bichon frise cross, whose owner had just started college and with her parents working , this meant  Dora was alone for most of the day.

At first she seemed perfect- no horrid housetraining , no manky dog breath  (unlike Arthur- maybe its a boy thing?), very little shedding AND she kept herself very clean. Being four and past the puppy
stage, she wasn't completely mental either- she didn't obsessively steal shoes, chew everything in sight and roll ecstatically in slurry. It was all good.

But then gradually problems emerged. Despite putting her bed in a 'quiet'  utility room, our house must have been noisy and mad and strange to her.  Clearly unused to children,  she quickly developed a preference for Himself, and worryingly, occasionally growled when Luke petted/pulled/ tortured her.

Dora

Of course, this put my guard up immediately, especially after I googled growling, and learned that this usually happened when a dog felt threatened and worse, often preempted a bite.
After that, I  never left them alone together, just in case. I"m pretty sure I put my own bonding with Dora on hold at this point too.

There was the manic barking when anyone approached the house, which got old really fast, but it was when she snapped at two  neighbours' children, simply because she hated their bicycles that we made the tough decision that we had to let her go- there are some risks just not worth taking.

Thankfully her old owner was happy to take her back, and changed circumstances meant that Dora would no longer be left alone all day.




Hindsight is a wonderful thing and I suppose that looking back, we should have known that an adult dog would find it very difficult to adapt to a much noisy, busy household, especially after growing up in a quiet house, with no children. We should have known, and we didn't, but now we do.

So what now? Speaking for myself, I  feel a bit drained after trying to bond and adapt to two different dogs over the course of one year, and honestly, if it were up to me, I'd draw a big old line under the whole dog  thing and tick that box in my head.  You see, it feels as if we've had all the emotional investment, teething problems and settling in issues of getting a dog, TWICE, without ever reaching a plateau of calm predictability with either. If I'm honest I even feel a little cheated.

And yet our family dog experience won't end there, it just can't and I know this. The older four wept bitterly and railed against the difficult decision we had to make last week, cajoling and begging, unable to understand that really, there was no decision to make. It was very hard to say goodbye, aided only by the fact that deep down we all knew Dora would be more settled and happier for it, and really, she was going home.

 So now here we are, back to square one as a dog free household once more, except this time we're a little more experienced and a little less blasé about it all. The leads and the chew toys, the bowls and the dog bed have quietly been moved into an old cardboard box in the garage....at least for now.

Almost Perfect

There are some moments as a parent that I couldn't possibly make up, and If I'm honest, I wouldn't actually want to. Yesterday held one such moment.

We had just enjoyed a spontaneous early evening swim in the ocean, which was just as wonderful as it sounds-that precious combination of a balmy evening and a beautiful Donegal beach just couldn't be wasted so off we went- Himself, myself and four of the kids, a blanket, a towel and two spades between us.

And having read this and having done this , I was determined not to let my jelly belly and wobbly thighs get in the way of a frolic in the sea with the children. So I braced myself and stripped off and after the first few excruciating moments it was fine, and we played and splashed and swam and dunked.
Then after a wee while, it was time to go - toddlers still get tired and boys still start bickering, even on the most gorgeous of evenings, and very quickly the perfect moment had passed and it all became a 'Right! Let's get this feckin' show on the road, ASAP'.

 I was just drying off a whinging Luke when Rory suddenly stopped mindlessly kicking sand over the blanket, stared transfixed at Luke's tummy, and declared 'Woah! what's that horrible stuff coming out of his belly button?'

 I looked down swiftly, at a belly button that certainly appeared to be oozing something green. Dear God, had he contracted some kind of gross belly button infection that I'd somehow missed? Should we bring him to hospital right now? Would he need an antibiotic?

 Meanwhile,  Rory was now kneeling down and examining Luke's belly button with fascinated interest, before nodding slowly and delivering his verdict,
 'It's okay, don't worry, it's just snot! He's got bogers in his belly button! Then he added delightedly  'Ugh yuck, that's disgusting!'

As I calmly wiped the offending belly button with our communal towel, I simply felt relief that no
trip to the after hours trip doctor was required, while Luke beamed proudly as the tale of the gross belly button was relived with relish all the way back to the Caravilla.

Viva Las Vegas!

Ka-ching!

What can I say? It feels like it was all just a dream, and the jet lag sucks but it was sooooo worth it. Before I went my brother told me confidently, 'Vegas is the bomb, you're going to love it!'


And he should know- while living in California he managed to average two visits a year.  Meanwhile, at the other end of the spectrum, my Dad mournfully shook his head, 'Awful place', then seeing my face amended with, 'But I suppose it's probably worth seeing.' Oh, right.

 

A TV in the bathroom mirror!! I IKNOW!

And me? Wellllll- I LOVED it! (Sorrreee Daddy!) Admittedly, not in a ' I want to move there right now' way, like I feel when I go to New York... or San Francisco... or Dublin.....(or Belfast!), but in a 'I SO want another playdate there'  kinda way. Because that's just what Vegas is - a playground for adults!

It's unreal and OTT and flashy and fabulous and so hot- my goodness it's hot! My fair Irish skin prickled every time I walked outside-I was the whitest person on the Strip by far! And there's palm trees and rocks and desert, and roads named after Frank Sinatra and Dean Martin and Sammy Davis Jr- imagine! But there's no rain so virtually no grass and hardly any whitish blue hued people with ginger hair, but lots and lots of fake boobs and amazing tans - I gotta say, the people watching was second to none!

St Mark's Square....only not as smelly!

Just one cornetto!

Paris

The Big Apple-kind of!

And the hotels! Come on,  where else do you get Venice at dusk 24/7? And Paris in the Spring? And The Statue of Liberty and the Empire State and an enormous Eygptian pyramid? And huge fountains that rise and fall in time  to Andrea Bocelli's 'Time to say Goodbye'? All on the same street!

Couldn't resist!

And don't even get me started on the shopping * closes eyes in rapturous memory*   Two enormous outlets, people! One on either end of the four mile Strip- I thought I'd only died and gone to heaven.
(Loverboy? Not so much.)

We caught a show too-aptly named 'Vegas, The Show' in Planet Hollywood- Frommers gave it 3 stars so that was good enough for me. It charted the amazing music and entertainment of Vegas from the 1940s til today- the showgirls, the Rat Pack, Sonny and Cher, Elvis, Elton John. And it was every bit as glam as it sounds and more! ( I almost booked Donny and Marie as well, but then caught Loverboy wincing and just couldn't put him through it.)

Culture vultures  might be disappointed, mind you- because unless you fancy the Elvis-a -Rama or  Erotic Heritage Museums you're outta luck, but lookit,  plenty of other cities scratch that itch, but how many give you a giant frog in a real waterfall singing Garth Brooks songs? Or the largest chocolate fountain in the entire world? Or a fiery volcano that erupts spectacularly on the hour?
Yep, that's Vegas baby-fabulously grotesque, wonderfully tasteless and utterly unique.... I adored every single amazing moment, so thanks for the memories xxx

(PS Stay tuned  for my shopping guide to Las Vegas, as well as a sneaky peek at a few cheeky purchases)

Himself and Myself after a cheeky prosecco or 3!

Friday Quicktakes

1. It's exam week here for the older two so naturally I've been trying to keep them motivated, focused, well rested and well nourished ....so how's that working out? Well, what can I say except that I'm doing my best and turning a blind eye on the messy bedrooms, the skiving off of household chores, the utter lack of music practice and the endless bickering in the car. Thankfully they're almost over except for two on Monday that I'm told will  be 'wee buns'...which only makes me nervous.


2. Jude's long awaited birthday present arrived bang in the middle of exam week and I didn't have the heart to hide it from him till they were over. Let's just say that his revision immediately took a back seat to Criss Angel!

He's mad about magic, especially card tricks and if you come to our house you will undoubtably be cornered and asked if you want to see a magic trick or ten.

He sheepishly told me the other day that he had a dream  that Dynamo got a caravan beside us in Donegal, and the two of them became best mates (obvs) and then Dynamo taught him everything he knew. Now that's a dream and a half, although to be honest, I couldn't get past the image of Dynamo pegging his smalls on the whirly line out the back, or hauling his empties over to the recycling bins.

3. I'm flying solo this week as Himself is off for a work trip to the USA and as always when he's gone, I find myself marveling at how single mummies(and daddies) do it, day in, day out, because it is HARD parenting alone. And he's just away for a few weeks which I know isnt the same thing AT ALL, but it always gives me a taste for how much tougher it is emotionally when there's no one there to run stuff by, or to vent to, or just to be reassured that you're making the right decision about someone or something, even if it makes you unpopular in the 'hood.

It also makes me more appreciative of the numerous practical things he does for all of us every day -all those little kindnesses that I'm ashamed to say I usually take for granted. The night time cup of tea, filling up the cars, taking the dog out for last walkies, locking up, magically fixing the sky remote, the morning school runs, carrying in the groceries from the car.. Turns out the old cliche is true after all-absence really DOES make the heart grow fonder!

4.Speaking of travel-Oh I do love a seamless link- and I'm going to savour this because I may never get the chance to utter these words again.... in a few short days *jumps up and down* I'LL BE IN VEGAS BABY! ............No, you shut up!

Short story-Himself is there working ( translation- free accommodation ) AND I've never been there before AND there's Britney and Celine and Elton and Donny and Marie and Cirque de Soleil and shopping and more shopping  and yes, it's true, I'm pretty excited. (Turns out Criss Angel is there too...Jude is GUTTED.)

If I'm totally honest, a really kitsch loving, tacky part of me even wants to put on a veil and renew our wedding vows in front of Elvis in The Little White Wedding Chapel.
Yes, I AM serious actually, and yes, I 'm also aware that it's probably my mid life crisis talking, but I could care less!

5. Of course, the inevitable downside to all this fabulousness is that the closer I am to getting on a plane, the bigger the knot in my stomach gets about leaving the kids....I mean, I KNOW they'll be fine-they're between my parents' house (their second home as my Mum reminds them) and their Uncle, Auntie and cousins so they're really excited.

And I absolutely feel so very grateful and blessed to have family who would do this for us. So why am I worried? I don't know-why is the grass green? Why does the world turn? Maybe guilt and worry is just part of being a parent? Because I think that no matter where I go, part of me will always be with the children, even when I know that they're grand, and probably even when they're no longer children. It brings to mind something Elizabeth Stone said about having kids.
 'It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body.' 
And personally, I think she nailed it. 

More is more.

6. But in the meantime there's no time for naval gazing because there's lists to write and bags to pack and schedules to sort, so I'm trying not to dwell ... and alcohol on the plane will definitely help...and it's a great comfort to know that my nails are Vegas ready even if I'm not.














7. As for Boogie in the Car Seat...how could I not? You know you love it.....Laters Emxxxx


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Cooking With Em- Easy Peasy Pasta Bake

I don't profess to be a wonderful cook, but needs must and all that and sometimes I feel compelled to share a recipe that I use a lot because it's pretty foolproof and/or goes down well with the masses.

This  pasta dish is stolen adapted from a recipe by Nigel Slater and really is easy peasy. It's also been universally well received, which is always a bonus...  except for the peas obvs, because don't you know there'll always be little faction who rages against the veg regardless.


 Ingredients
250g pasta (any type)
12 rashers of smoked streaky bacon or pancetta
4 peeled garlic cloves thinly sliced
400ml creme fraiche
200 ml of vegetable stock
salt and pepper
large handful of frozen peas
grated parmesan

1.First of all, cut the bacon into pieces (or make it easy and just buy the pancetta) and fry with the garlic until they start to crisp.

2. Meanwhile, cook the pasta, and when almost done, chuck in the frozen peas and cook them together for a few minutes. Then drain and cool in a colander. Top tip-use the boiling water for making the vegetable stock.


3. Next, put the drained pasta in a mixing bowl with the creme fraiche, the vegetable stock ,the bacon and garlic and season with salt and pepper. I sometimes add a little milk as well at this point.

4. Toss everything together, then add to a baking dish and scatter the surface with a good handful of grated parmesan and bake at 180 for about 30 minutes till the surface is lightly golden.

 5. Serve with a green salad....although of course this will be eyed with suspicion and inevitably rejected if you live in our house.

I should also mention that this serves four so I just double the amounts for my greedy lot AND it freezes pretty well too. Hope you like it-  and do let me know how it goes down in your house if you give it a whirl.
Later lovelies xxx

Friday Quicktakes

Gorgeous girlie!

1. I looked after my delicious niece Rosa overnight this week, and I had a bit of a moment when I realised that mashed up vegetables, car seats, nappies,  bottles, bibs and naptimes are all things of the past in our house. I mean I knew this, of course I did, and yet for the longest time my days were punctuated by naps  and feeds, and nappy changes and now they've taken on a different shape...not necessarily better, or worse, but different.

 I now have little pockets of time at times of the day that I never had before. Take now, for instance- I'm writing this in a quiet house before I grab my keys and rush off to lift Luke from nursery- even a year ago, that wouldn't have happened. Similarly, my precious quiet evenings that I looked forward to, sometimes from noon on a particularly 'challenging' day, and guarded so jealously that I resented even answering the phone, are now filled with teenagers making late snacks, hogging the  TV and endlessly FaceTiming their buddies.

Oh my goodness...there's my feet! (in Fly London FYI)

2. On Wednesday,  I took Luke to meet his P1 teacher and see his new classroom for the first time. All around me were first time mothers and fathers, blinking at the novelty of it all, scarcely able to believe that their first born was actually going to school. There were baby bumps and toddlers on hips and I realised that I was one of the older mums, an old hand who rocked in fashionably late, timing it perfectly to miss the headmaster's speech and the traffic jam in the car park.

Old. I saw it in their eyes when they asked how many kids I had and what their ages were, and as they shook their heads in wonder because 'big school' and teenagers was like light years away. I wanted to tell them that it wasn't that long ago I was exactly where they are now, and it wouldn't be too long at all before they stood in my shoes too. But I didn't, and they wouldn't have believed me even if I had. I just gazed wistfully at my baby as he played happily with the teapot house and understood that unlike them, P1 would for me be a series of lasts, not firsts.



3. Yikes, midlife crisis anyone? On a lighter note, Dora the dog is obsessed, OBSESSED with zhu zhu pets- those annoying electric hamster things that get under your feet and squeak a lot? Well, the younger kids have a selection  of them- at £1 each in Home Bargains- I pushed the boat out- and she just tracks them all around the house.

There's been a few casualties too- I came across two that had been mauled- wires hanging out, squeaking stuck on a loop, clumps of fur all around- it was a crime scene-so they've taken to hiding them in high places. Here's Dora tortured with longing, leaping up and down knowing that her nemesis is hiding just behind the picture...she stayed like this for an entire hour.  



4. Call me a saddo, but tonight we're off to see Bagatelle - they're playing in tent at the top of our road as part of the annual GAA festival and I'm VERY excited. I've never seen them live before and they are legends- an old school local band that provided the soundtrack to long ago days. *faraway look*  Many's a snog I enjoyed with 'Summer in Dublin' playing in the background and I remember listening to their Greatest Hits album on cassette as I 'revised' for my finals....good times.

5.So, given this, Boogie in the Car Seat this week has to be Bagatelle. Enjoy my lovelies, and have a good weekend, Em xxx

Shoe of the Week #8 -A Tale of two Sandals

Update-Part 1

Reader, I bought them. After an evening perusing Fly London's entire sandal range, while half watching Posh Pawn- ( I wish I could discover an ugly looking necklace in my drawer worth ten grand)-I opted for these beauties.


They ticked all my style boxes AND I got thirty noops off the £80 price tag- I mean seriously, how could I not? And having worn them exclusively for the last three days, I can vouch that they're super comfortable too, despite blessedly being neither Birkenstocks or Crocs ( aka the ugliest shoes on the planet.)


I decided on the red, after somewhat excessive deliberation, but it was a tough choice because they also come in a gorgeous acid yellow and beautiful aqua tones. Eventually though,  I decided that the red would clash least with my bluey white ankles work best with my skin tone.


Part 2
In the interests of full disclosure, I should also mention another teensy purchase which arrived all the way from China earlier in week. (It was a late night purchase...there may or may not have been wine involved).

Ahem, remember all that stuff I said last week about high heeled sandals being terribly impractical yada, yada, yada? Well, scratch that, because I'm now the new owner of the silliest and least practical high heeled sandals ever made.

 But while the mere thought of navigating these bad boys around the caravan site is frankly laughable, there must surely be an exception to every sensible rule, non? Or have I lost the plot and gone a step too far...so to speak... if you will?

I'll be honest, I'm not quite sure yet what to wear them with, except that I know it should be fairly understated, because these babies will be doing all the talking. Comfort wise, they're better than they look, probably because of the humoungus wedge platform thing going on, but they're still firmly in the 'car to bar' category, with an elevated risk of ankle fractures.

Another slightly unnerving aspect was the creaky sound effects while parading them around the bedroom for Himself, and I wondered aloud  if this possibly had to do with the fact that they're made for a teeny weeny chinese lady and not a chubby big boned Irish woman, but (with a snigger)  he assured me that a squirt of WD40 will work wonders.

 NOT that any of this will stop me wearing them of course,  because despite, or possibly because, of their showy, zebra, squeaky mad heeliness, they are utterly fabulous, dahling!
 Look, if I wanted Hush Puppies, I'd have bought them!

Have a good weekend, my lovelies, Emxx

First Holy Communion

We went over the responses and prayers for weeks, to make sure he was word perfect... and he was. He had confided to me that he was a bit worried he wouldn't 'do it right', so I told him that there was simply no way he could do it wrong.

Later, as I watched him walk carefully up to the altar, his hands joined, an expression of such earnest concentration on his face, I felt myself tear up, so I studied the booklet in my lap instead, read this 'Parents' Blessing' on the back page.....and lost it completely.

 When you were born
Our hearts were so full of happiness
That there was no room in us for words.

When you were growing
Our hearts were so full of care for you
That we spoke soothingly
And sometimes sharply.
Fearful for your safety,
But always in the deepest places of our hearts
We spoke lovingly.

Today,
As we watch you
Moving forward with your friends
We marvel at all you have done
And become
Our spirits sing praise to God
For the gift that is you.

And, though our hearts
Have stretched to love others,
Yet, there is still a place within us
That is yours and only yours,
Always.

For the light you have shone on us,
For the life you have called us to,
For the special gift of God
You are now, and will ever be,
Thank You. 

		But there was no time to be sad, not with a house full needing fed and some serious bouncing to be done. And despite the rain, and a barbeque cooked under an umbrella in typical Irish style, it was a day to remember...and we even got a photograph with everyone looking  and smiling at the same time!

My Book in the Loo-Cartoon Moment #6

$800 well spent if you ask me! On the two hour drive to the caravilla, I want one of these bad boys so badly I can taste it!

Friday Quicktakes

1. Loverboy treated himself to a new toy recently. Its a radio controlled quadcopter, which flies around and takes aerial photos and video and he is LOVING it. To be honest, it IS pretty cool,  seeing aerial views of your house and surrounding countryside, especially as I have such awful bearings.

He brought it with us to the caravilla and got some gorgeous footage of the coastline. Turned out it was a great talking point too, because every single time he had it on the beach, somebody came over to see what it was and to ask him questions about it. Which I suspect gets old pretty quickly because it's essentially the same conversation over and over, but as I told him, that's the price of owning such a cutting edge toy.....Which incidentally cost about the same as 10, maybe even 15 pairs of shoes......just sayin'!



 2. The following words actually emerged from my mouth the other day (and in a suitably outraged tone as well!)
'You know what I'm going to do ? I'm going to go down those stairs this minute and ring 1800 TOOTH FAIRY because this just ISN'T ON !'

This was in response to the tooth fairy not turning up.... 10 days after the tooth first came out. Shocking service, I know. In her defence though, we were all away over Easter and the dentally challenged boy only went and left the tooth at home, and then there was the added distraction of chocolate and Easter and more chocolate, and hell, somehow it was all forgotten about... until we came home that is.

And just between you and me, as this boy is now ten, I strongly suspect that he's adopting a 'don't ask, don't tell' policy where the tooth fairy is concerned,  thus making an easy few quid while he still can. Or maybe I've got it all wrong and he's actually weeping with disappointment  into his pillow at this moment.... Oh crapola.

 Update- The Tooth Fairy just made a highly unusual daytime delivery, sent her apologies for the delay and even stuck in a bit extra for the inconvenience.....one classy chick if you ask me!

Further Update-He SO knows. I cunningly made him check under his pillow for jammies that needed washing., and down he came without a word about cash or tooth fairies, but his all knowing smirk told me all I needed to know. Cormac 1, Tooth Fairy 0. 

3. Holy Communion prep is now into its final stages and I must admit, occasionally at times like this I long for a small, polite family, who would celebrate by going  for a perfectly affordable, delicious meal in which table manners would be observed at all times, and then returning to a impeccably tidy house where I'd put my feet up and catch up on the latest Grazia.

NEVER GONNA HAPPEN. Not with forty people and a bouncy castle coming.  A new barbeque has been ordered especially for the event. An industrial sized Tesco delivery will arrive midweek. Thankfully it includes lots of prosecco.

The most untidy boy in the entire world will be coereced into a suit for his big day, and then bribed to keep it on for the photos. I give it an hour til the crocs go on. There'll be babies crying and kids bouncing and money being indiscreetly counted in the corner by Communion boy and his brothers.

 There'll be grandparents and cousins and brothers and sisters, and godparents and aunties and uncles and friends.  There'll be noise and laughter and mess, and shouting over each other and joking around because that's the way we do Communions...and Christenings and birthdays and Christmas around here.

And honestly? I wouldn't have it any other way, because they are ALL my tribe and I suppose that this is what love looks like in a loud, messy, bigger family than most kinda way.
As Yoda would say, Blessed am I.

4.I'm back on the 5:2 program because I've put on half a stone since last summer. But here's the thing-I never actually stopped it....except for holidays obvs, so I may, in fact, be the only person on the planet to put on weight on while doing it.

I blame my (barely)over forty metabolism. That, and the fact that on reflection, I may have more than slightly ripped the arse outta the non fast days, in a caramel square, wine and chocolate sort of way.
So me and My Fitness Pal are keeping a close eye on the portion sizes and a ban on all caramel squares is in force until my 'just checking' dress zips up without cutting off the circulation to my head.
 Oh and wouldn't you know-here's the book our Rory  just happens to be reading right now-bad karma or what?


5. Speaking of  fast days, I've discovered zero noodles- Nigella loves them- apparently they've almost no calories, are very filling, and are good in stir fries.  I ordered them online but when they arrived and I showed them to Loverboy, he just raised his eyebrows, then tore a bit of cardboard off the packaging, handed it to me and said "Look toast! no calories and for you only 3 quid a slice!" Cheeky sod....I'll show him...and give you my honest verdict next week, peeps.







6. Boogie in the Car Seat. A great song with an important message....and it also makes me hold my head just that little bit higher!
Enjoy and have a good weekend my lovelies, Emma xx

Four Today.

My baby is four years old today. He's for P1 in September and that 'll be a whole new stage for both of us. Mixed feelings anyone?

Another step away from babyhood, another step towards the day he packs a bag and heads off round the world to 'find himself'.

Or maybe I'm getting a bit ahead of myself...he IS only four after all.
The difference, I think, is that this time there's no baby coming after him.

Which actually, is a little unfamiliar, and ever so slightly scary, but also quite exciting too in an uncharted territory, filled with possibilities kinda way.
Did I already mention the mixed feelings part?

Here's what I wrote about him two years ago when he became a toddler....and now just like that, he's a boy.  My sentiments however, remain the same.
Happy 4th Birthday wee man xxx
                                                
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The night before the big day

My baby is two years old today. Two years ago, just about now, I was sucking back the gas and air for dear life, and a few hours later our fifth child, and fourth son was born. This time, we knew we were having a boy- he was the only one we chose to find out, but we told few.

I remember The Killers had a song out at the time which began 'When there's nowhere left to run, is there room for one more son, one more son?' and it used to make me cry. I suppose that I wanted to get any guilty, crappy, disappointed feelings about not having a girl, out of the way before our child arrived...And of course I did, and now, looking back, I'm incredulous and slightly ashamed that I ever felt that way at all. But then I tell myself that that was before I knew him, and held him, and loved him.

From the moment he arrived, he was everyone's baby. Every morning, I would discover Cormac lying on the bed beside his cot, gently holding his hand, waiting for him to waken.  Rory sang songs to him that mostly featured the name 'Luke' monotonously over and over. They all fought over whose turn it was to hold him and suddenly he was 'Lukey', and it was as if he'd been here always. I remember reading somewhere that there isn't a finite amount of love to be shared among your children - with each one the heart miraculously expands and love multiplies ....and it's just so true.

Before his op in the hospital

First Birthday

He didn't give us the easiest of starts. I was more tired this time around, which probably had to do with being pregnant at 38, not 28, and now having 4 other children to care for.
Then, in the last two weeks I started going into spontaneous labour- once we even made a late dash to the hospital - only to find that it would peter out, leaving me exhausted and weepy.
Much later, both sets of parents disclosed their fear that something was wrong with the baby. When he was born, it was with the cord round his neck and he was blue and silent, but the midwives rubbed him and he quickly pinked up and when he cried, we cried too.

 Then at five weeks old,  after weeks of projectile vomiting, it was discovered that he had a condition called pyloric stenosis that required a one off operation on his stomach muscle. One of the happiest moments of my entire life, was giving him that first feed afterwards- he had been starved for almost 2 days before the op, which was truly awful to watch - so he guzzled the milk down and then lay back on my lap like a wee drunk man...and kept it down. Sitting there, at that moment, I thought my heart would burst.

The Man himself

And now he's two and he's leaving his babyhood behind and that does make me a little sad. But then I really love this next stage, (despite tantrums and potty training!), because his personality is really emerging and every day brings new words and games. He rules the roost, with his brothers and sister catering to his every whim, while he, like an imperious mini dictator ponderously selects who will carry him, or bring him to the 'bouncy' (trampoline) or push him on the swing or just watch Teletubbies.

So, a very happy 2nd birthday to our precious Luke - You were meant for us and we were meant for you and I'm so thankful every single day that we didn't stop at four...but then we never were sensible!
Thank you my little man for all the joy you've brought us already and all that is yet to come. Xxxxx