I ask you, who is the child here?
While walking down the path to the shops at the end of the road…
Mister Man: Stop.
…
MM: Stop.
…
MM: Stop.…
MM: Stop, Mommy!Me: Stop what, James?
MM: I said STOP, MOMMY!
Me: Stop what, James? I’m not doing anything.
MM: Say ‘Hammer Time!’, Mommy!
If there was ever any question that he was mine…
Since my posting seems to be in a bit of a lull, I thought I’d post pictures of Ireland that I had never posted before, mostly because I’m not a particularly good photographer, and often time I forget. But, Ireland is pretty beautiful, regardless of the deficiencies of the person taking the shot.
This harbour is only about a kilometre from our house and an area we go past every single day on the train into town. This particular day at the end of April I was taking a photo of the green sea since the colour was so incredibly vibrant. What I didn’t notice was that looming black cloud to the left which was coming straight toward us and left us running from huge hail stones 15 minutes later.
Right behind us is The People’s Park, somewhere we go every Sunday because of the great food market that comes in. We brought my mother a few times during her last visit for dumplings and cider and, once, while looking out at this view of the sea said, “Wow. You are so lucky to live here.”
Instead of agreeing, Bub and I both stopped and looked at each other in shock. My mother accepting Ireland? Thinking I’m lucky? Is she drunk? Are we?
Seeing our faces, she quickly amended herself, “Well, you know. Whatever. I didn’t mean it.”
That’s better.
Mister has had a traumatic life, what with showing up early, and hanging out in a PICU for a few weeks. He’s sort of always in trouble. The weird thing is that he is so mild-mannered about life in general but he keeps getting himself into hiccups that leads me to believe that he will get a girl pregnant by the time he’s 15 or become a kleptomaniac.
Both of these things lead to the same anxiety level.
Thursday was no exception. After a morning outside, his teachers lead him and the 15 other kids back inside the school. Except they got side-tracked and confused and left our son outside in the car park.
IN THE CAR PARK.
Well, not really. They left him on the stone stairs that lead down to the car park. Dangerous and wrong but not as horrifying as leaving my kid in traffic.
Bub rang after he spoke to the head of the school to tell me the news, except he did it like this:
Me: Hello?
Bub: Hi. Everything is okay. Have you heard?
Me: Um…? Heard what?
Bub: When you hear what I’m about to tell you I want you to remember that everything is okay. I’m angry and upset but everything is all right.
*click*silence*
So, I’m thinking he lost his job. Bub works for a rather large company and if there were big layoffs, or it was sold, or it went bankrupt, it would instantly be on the news. Him asking me if I heard meant that I should check RTE, and then start practising on a pole because I was going to need a night job.
Hm, what would my stripper name be? American Annie? Luscious Lizzie? Do strippers have special names?
He rings back a moment later.
Me: Really??
Bub: Sorry. I knew that was happen, too. Heh.
Me: WHAT HAPPENED?
Bub: Okay. It’s fine. But the crèche rang and they lost James for a minute.
See? Not what I was expecting. Which is why I think I had such a cavalier attitude about it. I was upset that someone could misplace my child in one of the most dangerous areas of the school (besides the nails, knives and scissors room), sure, but at the same time I was so happy that I wouldn’t have to invest in pleather thongs that I think the severity of the situation was lost on me.
Bub was not so fine. He was outraged and I can see why. I pay them to think of my child’s welfare 100% of the time during their workday when they’re not having a break, eating lunch or on the toilet. The rest of the time they should be, ideally, thinking about the well-being of the children who have been put into their care for an exorbitant price.
But this isn’t an ideal world; this is reality. In reality, my parents lost me in Macy’s during Christmas time. In reality, Bub used to hide in clothing racks from his mother for a laugh. In reality, we think we’re being 100% the best parents/caregivers ever, but you never will be. I can’t worry about what has already happened, I can only worry about what will happen in the future and after a scare like this, and the awkward phone call that followed, and the many subsequent chats we have had with the staff since, I genuinely do not think that they are being negligent with our child on a regular basis. Or even a semi-regular basis. I think this was one of those ‘99% of the time I am on top of my game and I hope I’m asleep that other 1%’ sort of situations.
If something had actually happened; if he was hit by a car or wandered out into the street or wasn’t found within a minute I’m sure my feelings on the matter would be very different but since he is fine and happy and now has a story to tell the whole world every chance he gets, I’m finding my own happy place and getting over it.
I swear to you, I have never been so proud of myself for being so zen. Must be all that coke I’m not drinking.
A few months ago I wrote about my 2012 new years resolutions: to floss daily and to drink less coke for three months.
I was mildly successful.
Straight up – I didn’t do the flossing thing. It lasted for a month, maybe, and after that I would floss every other day or so when the mood struck me. The problem is that I’m usually running late in the mornings and I have to decide whether I want to have flossed teeth or eyebrows and eyebrows usually win. Because walking around without them is creepy as hell. I’ve scared a lot of children that way.
There was a time for a while where I would put my eye makeup on at work when I got in and these were days when I would get out the door on time and make the 7.52 train. Why does it take so long for me to put on eyeliner and mascara? I don’t get it. When I think back to the mornings I’ve applied them both it doesn’t seem like it’s something that should take an extra 10 minutes. But if I want eye makeup, eyebrows and flossed teeth, I might not get in until noon.
Sorry, gums. You’re welcome, Dalkey Dental Clinic.
What I find hilarious about my dentist’s site is that there are dental before and after pics and one of them is of a filling. I swear the internet gives people too much freedom to express themselves… says the blogger.
The coke resolution, though, has been a wild success. I did it. I have made it three full months, including an extra day because it’s a leap year, of no soda. Not one drop. No gingerale or rootbeer. No sprite or 7up. Not one drop of Pepsi or Coca-Cola has passed these lips.
As embarrassing as this it to say, I’m proud of myself. I’ve never successfully completed a new year’s resolution before and this was one properly difficult for me. There were days I craved a coke to go with Pizza Tuesdays (yes, we have Pizza Tuesday around here) or a chinese delivery on a weekend but I would take a deep breath and had some sugar-free lemonade instead.
In short, this is me giving myself a pat on the back for a job well done. As of 4pm today, I still haven’t had the coke I feel I’ve earned after three months because I’m waiting for the perfect moment. Liquid sugar is something I really enjoy and, from now on, I want to have it sparingly so I can think of it as what it really is: a sugary treat not meant to be consumed with every meal, but instead like a bowl of ice cream or a chocolate bar; every so often and when you get a craving.
So, yay me.
Yesterday, over on Pinterest, Ladies Home Journal (they’re cool now, I swear) starting posting items in gradients which were eye catching and pretty and I instantly thought “Ooooh etsy” because I don’t feel the need to ever leave the house to look at or purchase pretty things. Or to food shop. Or to make friends. Thank you, Al Gore.
Except, they didn’t call them gradients, they called them ‘ombré’ and this seems to be a word everyone knew about but me. Since I’m not french (it apparently mean ‘shade’ in French but I really think it means ‘pretentious’). I’ll stick to gradient.
Enjoy.
 Blue Friendship Bracele… $14.00
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 bzr Ombré tights in Su… $45.00
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 Ombre Moth Shower Curta… $65.00
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 Dragon Scales Ombre Ame… $105.00
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 COLORFUL OMBRE Full Lac… $699.99
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 Ombre Glass Drop Earrin… $34.00
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 fingerless gloves, extr… $78.00
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 Sea and Sky Ombre – 8×1… $18.00
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 Hand Dyed Blue Ombre Li… $99.00
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 Peach Moonstone Ombre H… $38.00
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 Spring Ombre Hot Pink M… $55.00
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 Wall hook – chevrons – … $30.00
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Keeping with my trend of always being two weeks behind on the cool kid things, here is by far the funniest viral video I have ever seen. I’ve watched it over and over again and I have tears every time.
Downton. Oooooooh Downton. I’m so late to the party. I’m the girl who has had a few shots while still walking through the door to be sure she can catch up. My coat is off, my shoes have been left in the kitchen, and my dignity was lost somewhere between kissing the host’s spouse and spilling a martini on her shoes. I’m a mess, it’s rushed but I am here and I am loving it.
I purchased seasons one and two on DVD Saturday evening with vouchers from Christmas. Everyone had been talking about Lady Mary and The Countess Dowager. Even my mother who knows nothing more than what is in her high-ball glass watched Downton Abbey.
I ache with Edith, I cheer on Sybil, and I smirk with Mary. Thomas and O’Brien deserve to be locked in a dark dungeon, and I want to give Daisy a big hug.
In honour of Downton, I’ve put together a treasury of Edwardian items I could see on my favourite aristocratic family.
Enjoy. (And be sure not to post any season two spoilers — I start that DVD tomorrow!)
 Custom Size Peach and i… $275.00
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 Men’s Hat Classic B… $200.00
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 Peg Doll Downton Abbey $15.00
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 Mint Chocolate Edwardia… $295.00
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 Red Hunting Swallowtail… $395.00
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 Antique Diamond Ring – … $2850.00
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 Shabby Chic Lace Cloche… $85.00
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 COME COME oversized pos… $1.75
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 Long black pearl neckla… $98.00
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I know, I know. Who isn’t writing this post on their blog today? The video about the man monster who is abducting children and turning them into soldiers has been absolutely everywhere and that is exactly what the people behind Kony2012.com want. They’re crafty like that.
After seeing it being posted on blogs, Facebook and twitter, I finally watched it a few hours ago and I instantly wanted to post it here. So, regardless of that fact that I know my readers are up-to-date and savvy people so they will have already seen it and know all about Kony 2012, and have probably already bought a kit for Cover the Night and will, in fact, cover the night, I’m going to post it again because this is the stuff that needs to be circulated until we all at least care a little. Because even if you don’t want to participate, you should care that somewhere in the world children are being stolen from their families and made into killing machines to save their own lives. Your brain should have to wrap around that and then we can sit back and go, “Well, this recession is the freakin’ worst, isn’t it?”
Take 30 minutes, watch it and learn somethin’. (I did.)
Also, you never know, this could be on Jeopardy one day.
Also, for anyone in Dublin, here is some information for people wanting to take part on April 20th. Temple Bar, 9 Crow Street. Check back to that page for more information.
ETA: And, quite predictably, people have come out against Kony 2012. I think they deserve a place here, as well, because if you’re going to do something, you should be sure you’re comfortable will how you’re going about it. I was smacked in the face with my urgency to jump on a cause last night when a friend on Facebook linked to this blog:
http://visiblechildren.tumblr.com
And Invisible Children’s response.
In my mind, advocacy has proven a powerful tool in the past year for mobilising masses into getting things done. You might want to do this through Kony 2012. You might want help instead through the charities named in the tumblr above. It’s up to you. The whole point is that NOW YOU KNOW. You know something you might not have known yesterday and that’s important.
Martini over at A Martini Always Helps (so true) has listed 10 random things about herself and has asked readers to do the same. I am because my brain is completely void of all useful content for this blog. My days are spent like this:
Wake up
Go to work
Come home
Try to parent effectively
Think about what typeface to use on the banner of this site
Dance in my kitchen
Sleep
I’ve already written about most of these things ad nauseum. Let’s try for something new, okay?
1. As a kid I really wanted to be a ballerina and a Catholic and I failed completely at both. I never even got close to either, obviously. I always thought it was neat that some people went to class on Sunday. Neat in the way that I got to be in bed and think about it while everyone else was at church. Just as neat as I thought it was to dance on your toes. Oh hi there, atheism.
2. There is a part of me that will not accept that I am over 23. I also think I’m thin. It’s a real terrifying experience when I look in the mirror.
3. My favourite food is cheese. By far. My second favourite food is anything processed.
4. I’m from a small, mountain town in Northern New Jersey where people go to pumpkin pick and ski. It got it’s first franchise in 1998. Banner year. It’s weird but I’ve nearly lived in Dublin longer than I lived in that town but I still consider it home.
5. I’m scared of swimming in anything that isn’t chlorinated. The bottoms of lakes, oceans, rivers, and seas just creep me out. Puddles, too.
6. I have an intense and genuine fear of lotus pods (I can’t believe I was able to even type that) and anything that is small, round and in a bunch. Like how brussel sprouts grow on their stalk. Annndd now I feel itchy all over and a little ill. Ugh. Okay. Find a happy place.
7. My favourite cities in the world rank as follows: NYC, Paris, Dublin, Rome, Boston. I’ve been to Boston the least amount of times and I suppose it would be a toss up between NYC and Dublin for the most.
8. If I won the Euro millions I know I would show up to work the next day and the day after that. I dislike change just that much. I would throw a hell of a party on my last day, though. Be prepared, guys!
9. When I go to bed early I still feel like I am missing out on something big, just like I did when I was six and 10 and 18. Do you ever shake that feeling?
10. I never liked Seinfeld and continue to think Family Guy is boring. Sorry.
That’s it. My list and my life in 10 small snippets. Do the same and link in the comments so I can read about how weird you are and feel better about myself.
A few months ago, on a random Thursday, Bub asked me if I wanted to go see Florence + The Machine in March, taking the best Christmas gift he could have ever bought me and giving it away for free. That would have completely cleared him for our anniversary, Valentine’s day, my birthday but he asked causally like it was no big deal and I accepted.
It was a big deal.
I love her. I LOVE HER. Her music is happy and high energy and loud, even when it’s a little sad and slow and at a low volume (so, opposites, yeah?). In the evenings I do something I call ‘bopping’ where I put in my headphones and embarrass myself by, em.. dancing? around the kitchen for 45 minutes. It’s mostly jumping with some uncoordinated kicks. I shake things. It’s not good. I just feel so uplifted by everything she does that I can’t help myself.
On Friday, we went to the O2 to see Florence and it was all I spoke of for about two weeks to anyone who would listen. We went and we sat in the furthest seats from the stage and when the lights dropped, I gasped. Like, Oh! She’s here! She’s going to sing! WHAT A SURPRISE!
Why do I get like that? I was taking to Bub one second and then next, as soon as the lights went down, I was pinned to the back of my seat like Robert Pattinson just walked into the room and was headed straight for me with lust in his eyes. (Rawr.) Shock, surprise, awe and the desperate need to go pee is what I felt. I started clapping and NOTHING HAD HAPPENED YET. I was clapping at a dark stage of nothingness. The giant rugby player man next to me had to have rolled his eyes. (Later, he was clapping so hard and so out of rhythm that I couldn’t dislike him.)
She came onstage, she did a few moderately known songs (they were brilliant!) and then she did “Dog Days are Over”, her first real hit and a song everyone in the place could sing. It was the song when people decided that even if you were sitting, that portion of the night is over and now the standing portion will commence. It’s the reason you don’t wear heels to a concert, ever, even if you think the band will decide that you are the most awesome woman in the venue, based solely on your footwear, and ask you to join the tour.
Half way through the song she instructed the audience to start jumping in place, something she apparently does at all shows, and to do so until you can not jump any longer. I thought two things:
1. I’m not sure my bra can withstand this sort of pressure; and
2. MY TIME HAS COME.
I had been training for this very moment. All of those nights spent in the kitchen jumping up and down in place to her music and now I was going to do that very thing. And I was going to do it in public! She wants me to jump in place like a kid on pixy stix and fling my hair around. She wants everyone to do this! And she’ll do it too!
And I did it. I bopped so good. If there could be an award for bopping, I would have won gold. I didn’t stop. I didn’t have to stop! I could have jumped in place for ages, only pausing briefly to carbo-load and refill the nalgene bottle.
The song ended, and the jumping ended with the song (I could have kept going – BELIEVE IT), and I spent the rest of the night with a smile on my face, knowing that I am the queen of the bop, and that Florence helped me achieve that perviously unknown goal.
See you in July, Flo!
