infantasia

soon SOPA will be here

2012-02-01T10:36:00.000-08:00

And I won't be able to post beautiful things like this for you anymore.

Stephen Donnelly for Wicklow

I have just come from a 'debate' in the Dáil with Sean Sherlock on the SOPA-Ireland legislation which he is signing. Deputy Catherine Murphy & I submitted amendments which went some way to controlling the damage which may be caused by this legislation, as voiced by over 77,000 people in a petition, by the owners of Irish online companies, by credible copyright lawyers and by the association representing Internet Service Providers in Ireland (whose members include Google).

Not a single letter will be changed in the Government's proposal. Worse, Sean confirmed at the end of the debate that he had already stated clearly before the debate that nothing would be changed. I don't know which I'm more frustrated about - the fact that potentially damaging legislation will now be introduced, which will not achieve the intended objectives of clamping down on copyright abuses, or that our parliamentary democracy has been shown so clearly to be the sham so many told me it was when I first decided to run for election.

Stephen.

ah, sure feck it, why not :)

2012-02-01T07:31:00.001-08:00

sleepyyy

2012-01-31T12:43:00.000-08:00

Do all the stuff. Well. not the phone calls, forgot about them. Work, back home because I picked up Olivia's school bag and brought it with me for some reason, again, back to work, photocoyphotocopy, workworkwork, chatty uninterested students, run up and down lots of stairs, photocopyphotocopy, pick up kids, home, snacks, swimming, worry about Bodhi being freaked out by swimming, petrol, Lidl, home, dinner, inernet, Bodhi to bed, nice story, time to sit down and relax a bit, time to work on other work and class prep: eyes drooping and stinging, my body seems to think it's time for bed, somehow. Sleeeepy.

What to do about the sleepy? Not quite sure!

cruise ships

2012-01-29T11:26:00.000-08:00

If I won a holiday on a cruise ship, I would try to sell it, and feel slightly guilty for foisting a trip on a floating ship of impending doom to someone else. For this reason, I wouldn't give it to a friend, I guess.

Seriously. Obviously people have fun cruises often - I sat beside and Irish lady who was going home to Essex last time I flew, and she expounded the merits of the cruise holiday, and clearly she had never died in a hideous, terrifying watery grave. Or of over exposure cabaret entertainment and elderly people... I also know two friends who had cruise ship honeymoons, one happy, one not so much. Still disaster free, though, in fairness. but, yikes - bad things seem to happen to cruise ships all too often. It seems almost more tragic when it was meant to be a holiday, opulent and exotic.

I say stay away from them.

oh...

2012-01-28T07:39:00.000-08:00

Oh... So my mother's cousin in Arizona, who found me on Facebook, seems to be a 'from my cold dead hands' type, judging by this last post:

A well regulated militia being necessary to the security of a free state, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed.

Well, people use guns to kill people... children kill themselves and each other with guns... I wonder if you're a owner, are you actually more or less likely to get shot? They think guns can save them, like they're some kind of magic life saving device. I'm really not so sure.

2012-01-27T13:56:00.000-08:00

I am fantastically, thoroughly, astoundingly tired. My feet hurt, my back aches, my shoulders are knotted to my ears. I had a nice week of work, but god. I may die. And all this on half days? Yeesh.

I had a nice trip to the book shop and bought books for me and the kids. It makes me moneypanic but I think it's worth it. I hope so.

We went to Rachel Fallon's exhibition, but Olivia was disappointed it was small - she was expecting something gigantic like the thing that was on this summer, not Bray's Signal Arts Centre, which is a wee room. I was going to post pics and all but I can't think straight. I think it's early to bed for me.

Olivia fell on the tarmac in school today and mangled herself - she has a nasty sort of impact cut on one knee and a hot red bruise on the other - it's like the skin was sort of pulled apart by the impact rather than cut. Nasty. They called me at home and left a message but I was in work my phone was on silent and I didn't see it - they wanted me to come up and check on her, but by the time I saw the message I was already late from sitting down to chat and failing to get up and leaving my keys behind. I wish I had got there earlier, arnica works better if you take it straight away. She's quite stiff now. She didn't cry at all though, oddly - she wails like a screaming meanie at the slightest provocation here.

Sorry for the ramble. I have to go to bedddd.

spam ching

2012-01-25T13:51:00.000-08:00

I swear to God, I just got some sort of I Ching spam with all sorts of keywords of the stuff I was just thinking about. How bizarre.

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I've got a certain amount of ... pressure over the last few years for not choosing something I feel would harm my kids. For not putting my happiness before theirs. But I am aware, in my heart, of what I am built for, and am not built for. And it comes home to me now, as I process my feelings, that the chances are that this will always be the way. I'm more than capable of selfishness and neglect. But actively doing something for myself that will hurt someone I love... probably not so much. I guess I did it to my husband, and that haunts me, as do all the things I got wrong in my life, especially around my wedding and my mother.... but if it comes down to an active choice rather than a passive letting it all go to hell... well. No. I won't put my needs first if it hurts someone. I can't say no. Perversely, I have to feel guilty about that too - I don't want to be the martyred Irish mammy, it's frustrating, it frustrates other people, unless they're the people who want things to be that certain way. But when I see where the pain comes from... I'd rather sacrifice myself to comfort you. My feelings are just ... feelings. The people I love are more important, so I can put them away. I'm a soft touch. And this, I suppose, is just how it is.

stomachs

2012-01-23T08:01:00.000-08:00

the smell of melting plastic in the morning

2012-01-23T07:54:00.000-08:00

I thought something had fallen on the hob when Axl was cooking breakfast. Turns out a biro had fallen in the toaster and melted. I can't see any plastic but every time you use it ... the smell is there again.

The biro looked kind of cool though.

more yamamori

2012-01-22T08:38:00.000-08:00

Yamamori have opened an Oriental Cafe in the old Bewley's cafe on George's St, where Cafe Bar Deli were. I am strangely excited about this, despite the fact that I don't go out or into town anymore due to lack of funds, friends, babysitting and clothes that fit me and look nice. But I can live vicariously through photographs! Of other people's dinners, on facebook. Oh yes.

my daughter, my daughter

2012-01-21T09:56:00.000-08:00

Olivia comes home from next door, leaving her brother and friend to watch Nanny Mc Phee. She likes it not.

She had a fever yesterday, and is still a bit under-the-weather. ON the way back in she complains of chest pains - because her little friend, who plays Black Ops with her Dad (hmmm) said something that upset her. They were watching a cartoon, Olivia asked what one character was doing, and Little Friend replied 'he's jumping up and down on his chest to try and break all his ribs and kill him'. Olivia's response to stories of physical violence are very physical at the moment - she got a stomach ache after I told her waht stomach pumping was, for example. This lovely slice of graphic info upset her to the point of tears, despite all her own appreciation of horror and gore. It's a strange conundrum.

Ten minutes later she asks me for my ipod, and tells me of an app you can download called 'Don't Kill the Puppy', where tanks and things try to kill a ... puppy... and you maneuver it to and fro out of the way.

Strange little girl.

my love, like ours...

2012-01-21T05:05:00.001-08:00

I don't like the skeleton... but I'm glad someone uploaded this!

2012-01-20T17:04:00.001-08:00

Alexandra Petracchi

peeve

2012-01-18T06:06:00.000-08:00

When people write normal messages in text-speak, with all the misplaced apostrophes and weird words and numbers - it makes me feel nauseated. Not intellectually (well, ok, kind of, intellectually) but physically - it makes me sea sick to try and read it and work it out.

And it reads way slower than normal writing, giving the person a reaaaaallly slow voice as you read, which doesn't do them any favours either.

Arg! I wish people would stop! Or I could get some sort of magic translation glasses.

sugar

2012-01-18T05:21:00.000-08:00

This looks nice: http://www.organicsoul.com/organic-oatmeal-sour-cream-coffee-cake/

Sigh.

I am considering accepting the fact that I (and, well, no one, really) should not eat sugar anymore. Not often, at least. And this means very little baking. No more cupcake fairy, and cupcake cafe dreams. I'm so sad. But I shouldn't be encouraging people to poison themselves. I know I've talked about this before, but I'm very good at denial. And I love baking. And eating sweet, baked things. The whole situation is depressing. There are sugar substitutes, but most of them aren't good for you either. And, mostly, they just taste ... not worth it. My friend who doesn't eat sugar says she's given up on trying. It's never the same.

I'm going to have to start trying to cook again - at the moment I'm making a Spanish Omlette that isn't going to taste very nice, sadly. Woe is me.

Reasons not to eat sugar

giggle

2012-01-17T04:05:00.000-08:00

“When anesthesia was developed, it was for many decades routinely withheld from women giving birth, since women were ‘supposed’ to suffer. One of the few societies to take a contrary view was the Huichol tribe in Mexico. The Huichol believed that the pain of childbirth should be shared, so the mother would hold on to a string tied to her husband’s testicles. With each painful contraction, she would give the string a yank so the man could share the burden. Surely if such a mechanism were more widespread, injuries in childbirth would garner more attention.” -from Half The Sky (Chapter 7: Why Do Women Die in Childbirth?) by Nicolas D. Kristof & Sheryl Wudunn

I don't actually feel any urge to implement this in my birth space, I have to say. I'd rather have my partner all there, saying nice things to me and rubbing my back when needed. I sent this in to AIMS, where it got this comment:

interesting idea but i cant see the average irish man allowing you to tie the string around their testicles in the first place - can you ? ;)

and my reply?

lassooing lessons as part of ante natal class...

Sometimes I feel my genius goes wasted upon the dessert sands, though...

huh...

2012-01-16T04:52:00.001-08:00

I was just thinking about this this morning. What an incendiary quote, though.

remember halpennies?

2012-01-16T02:23:00.000-08:00

Pronounced haypennies. Or maybe more like, hayp-knees. When I was young, you could go and but one sweet for a halpenny. A tiny little copper coin.

In Dublin we have the Halpenny Bridge, you can work out why... in recent times, couples who are moving in together have padlocked a lock to the bridge as a symbol of good luck for their relationship. Dublin Council officials have recently come and cut them off as they're worried they will somehow damage the bridge. Sigh. Romantic Ireland's dead and gone!

I don't remember thruppence, but I do remember tuppence...

Why all this coin nostalgia? Well, I recently corrected a test by someone named Thomas Halpenny. Which sounded musically like 'tuppence halpenny' - an amount which is just before my time, we never talked about that either, but still, it was in lots of stories. And is a little poem all to itself. Thomas Halpenny is a sweet name.

I liked Irish money. I loved the big round silver one pound coins when they came in, they were like fairtale money, pieces of silver.

Euros are alright, but they're not so magic. Well, ok, I like the chunkiness of the euro and the double-colour of the €2 coin, I'll confess - that always seemed exotic before we had coins like that.

There are no economic comments behind this post, more tactility and nostalgia.

dazed and ... something...

2012-01-09T12:14:00.000-08:00

Oh, man.

So, I grossly underestimated how long that work would take me. I've had no life and have hardly managed to parent for the last 7 days. I feel poisoned with junk food and will be happy if I never see another cup of instant coffee in my life. I had to cancel my little Women's Christmas party on Friday. And I still had to stay up all night long and got finished at 8 am this morning. Booooooo. Boo to it all.

All to do a job nobody else will do, because they have real jobs. I'm the overqualified skivvy. I do not feel good about myself or my life right now. Not in any area. Something needs to shift this year. I'm not sure how, especially when my reaction to the thought of even doing anything about any of it makes me feel crushed, and the thought of staying like this just makes me feel crushed and all in all I'm just stuck under the enormous turnip of all the things that are wrong with me. Right now I'm just so exhausted. And am looking forward this week to:

sleeping more than six hours a night. Or no hours a night.
eating vegetables and cooking stuff.
Not smelling.
Finishing some work I should have had done 6 months ago.
Writing some stories I need to get written.
Talking with Danielle again.
Maybe seeing the friends I had to cancel and having a little laugh. I really really really need to laugh again. I miss laughing. I'm fed up with crushing misery and tears. All the time!

Now. I had 3 1/2 hours of deep sleep this afternoon, woke bolt upright up at 2.30 to realise my alarm hadn't gone off at 2 and I was meant to be leaving right then to pick up the kids. Then we went to get Bodhi from Granny's came home, washed my horrific horrific hair and brought Olivia to art class, went to the health food shop, Supervalu, collected Olivia, Bodhi got his hand stuck in the corner of the door, horror, but no broken fingers just a horribly bruised knuckle and SCREAMING, dashed back to the health food shop to get arnica, met a lady working there who does EFT courses, hmm, interesting, went to Tesco, shopped, came home, Axl was making the kids crappy dinner, and ohhhh it's nice to just not have anything to do right now.

I want soup. Am too tired to chop, boil, stir and blend stuff. Someone come and make me soup.

Patrick Stewart, domestic violence

2012-01-09T11:26:00.000-08:00

I love Patrick Stewart. He seems to me to be an exceptional man, a man to emulate. I'm so sad to hear that this is his story. I love his voice, his words, his honesty. He seems to be such a grand, brave man. I'm g lad that he's lending that voice to this work.

babies

2012-01-05T10:41:00.000-08:00

I don't have time to write about this now, but I love it this - babies' stem cells live on in mothers after conception, and might help to perform healing function.

I think the mention of abortion and feminism is a bit gratuitous so, maybe gloss over that intro.

bankers...

2012-01-03T03:23:00.000-08:00

I went to the bank to see if I could get a loan to pay off my visa bill. They didn't give me any privacy or explain anything about what they would offer. Then they rang to say the loan had been accepted (yay) but when I went down to sign, someone else was at the customer service desk and just handed me a contract to sign. Again, no privacy, no explanations - I struggled to read it and ask questions, but this is not my forte and anything to do with money makes me panic and blind. So I didn't see what the interest rate was (over twice as high as I'd hoped) and part of what I signed was a change of mind waver, she was very vague about why that was part of the deal.

The first payment was meant to go out on the 29th, and this morning I noticed it hadn't - there was a 'returned direct debit' notice of 0 euro. I just rang the bank to find out why, but they won't tell me without my last Visa credit transaction, and I don't know where the bill is.

The reason I don't know where the bill is is because there was €70 interest on it, that I'm told comes from new interest charging procedures - last year I wouldn't have been charged for the period between the bill being issued and the loan clearing it, but now, I am (and I'm also paying the same interest on the loan itself, no doubt)... and it varies from branch to branch.

I feel like I'm being shafted there, but no doubt it's all sewn up. Not fond of AIB. No.

The worst thing is that dealing with this stuff just incapacitates me. Not being able to find out about why the debit didn't go through is leaving me stressed and miserable feeling. Money. Banks. Why all so emotional?

resolve

2012-01-02T04:43:00.000-08:00

All this stuff is what I'm lecturing myself about for the new year. I don't understand why it's so incredibly terrifying to contemplate doing. 30 things to start doing for yourself.

And something amazing found by Nikki Magennis - helpful in the Hobbit countdown: http://www.guylaramee.com/

women! It's all your fault!

2012-01-02T03:02:00.000-08:00

http://articles.mercola.com/sites/articles/archive/2012/01/02/use-of-pill-raise-prostate-cancer-risk.aspx?e_cid=20120102_DNL_art_1

Hmm. I'm not sure I like the title, 'How women may be contributing to men's rising cancer rates'. I think contraception benefits men just as much as women. I suspect it suits men quite well to let women take care of things and be the ones who suffer side effects and possible health risks.

I know someone who works in a pharmaceutical company, and someone there got done for selling the waste water from Pill production to the local pig farm. People...

I wish we could move away from the use of so many chemicals and plastics. And I wish I could find an alternative to soya milk my daughter would drink :/

na na na na, na na na na na na na na na, na na na na, yeah

2011-12-31T14:09:00.001-08:00

NYE

2011-12-31T05:18:00.000-08:00

from www.monpetitcupcake.com

Is it too late for mistletoe? I never got a Christmaskiss.

Happy New Year, everyone.

Axl's not gigging tonight, so he's coming home to Jules Holland and non-celebration. Which is a little awkward, interrupting as it will my usual NYE ritual of half arsed working and crying. I'm really not sure what the protocol is. A polite handshake at midnight? A surly nod, a cynical wish for a happy and prosperous new year? Would it be rude to go be online, and talking to someone else in the other room? I'm sure it would, but the alternative isn't much jollier. Maybe it will all just balance out and we'll see what happens. .

soreness

2011-12-30T03:21:00.000-08:00

Last night, I suddenly got a pain in the side of my heel. I think I managed to snap or pull something by just sitting cross legged on the couch?? It was painful, hard to walk on. A bit red in one spot under the skin. I was reluctant to believe it could be so bad from ... nothing, so I just went to bed on it.

Woke up from a dream where Joey Tribiani was commiserating with for thinking it was morning when it was 3am - looked at clock to discover it was indeed just after 3, and my foot was hurting and throbbing and hot and swollen. I hobbled downstairs for ice and a bandage and remedies. Ones for swelling and tearing and throbbing pain.

Took aaaages to go back to sleep again - I'm getting more hypocondriac, and was having visions of various places on me doing this spontaneously due to some evil disease. I woke up again at 5 and retook the remedies and drifted off again til much later than I intended, given the fact that I had to go run a stupid errand.

I bought a gorgeous, soft wool shoulder bag in M&S the day before yesterday - took it out once and the stud holding the strap popped and it fell in a puddle :( They said they couldn't hold sale items for me to exchange so I emailed the store in disappointment and the manager but one by for me. Always complain! Now I hope this one won't have the same flaw. It's so cuddly. It's huggable. I wish I could knit a boyfriend out of the same wool.

So what is with my foot? I'm hoping it continues to get better.

Happy New Year to you all. I will be working and watching Jules Holland on my own, as usual.

amusing story for the generously-arse among us

2011-12-28T05:25:00.000-08:00

Or possibly for you lean bastards to laugh at.

Whatever.

Once Axl bought me a blue bike for Christmas. It was great but the seat was soooo sore. Too sore to cycle on, really. So I went back to see if they had a comfier one. The bike shop guy was a bit sceptical. I explained I just wanted something a bit broader, a bit comfier. He went away and came back with what he said was the biggest one they had. A black, wide seat with springs in the back, for suspension. Great!

The only problem was, on the back, in gold writing, was written the words...

Big Bertha

Yup. Big Bertha rides again.

Well, I did on Christmas Eve when I had to whizz down and collect the car I'd abandoned the night before. And omg - Axl's bike seat is seriously in need of Big Bertha-izing. Ow! Deep tissue bruised girl places! I don't know how his delicate places stand it.

2011-12-25T06:57:00.000-08:00

I wish you reading time. I am sneaking time to read and eat sweeties. I am cooking stuffing and cabbage. We are chill. I should have gone for a Christmas Walk in the blustery blowy day. But... instead, reading time.

I won't have much time in the next couple weeks, assuming I get to keep this work, so my guilty pleasure, the last Eragon book, will have to wait. I got Hugh FWs veggie book - flicked through it this morning and my mouth literally watered. Looking forward to cooking from that. But I got a Laurel K Hamilton book form the recycling the other day, and it's great, one of the Grave series, not the vampire ones. Gripped. Psychics and serial killers. I do adore trashy Christmas reading.

I hope you get some too.

Happy Christmas, everybody

2011-12-24T11:32:00.000-08:00

I'm finding it spectacularly hard to be sentimental and Christmassy this year. I want to wish you all joy and gladness and so on but my attitude is all wrong. And yet, I just had a lovely afternoon with my godparents, I called in to my father's house and his wife showed us her tree, all perfect in the beautiful sitting room, and I nearly teared up with longing to have that place again. I am a woman of base materialistic desires. I wish I had access to that beauty. I want good wine and cheese plates and lovely things and to do it all effortlessly. I wish I had a place of my own to feel sentimental about without it being sad, with people there to look after me. And thirdly, I ... well, I guess I'm missing people an awful lot more at Christmas time, longing for closeness and celebration surrounded in a fairly light twinkly glow. Cheeeeesey.

I just got an email from work. They expect the 540 exams I picked up on Tuesday to be corrected and returned (included all the checked and and adjusted grades) and returned to them by the 2nd of January. Happy Christmas to me, eh? I need the money... but I just don't think I can do that. Don't know if I can give half back or if they'll take them all away. Mm. Feeling worried about this.

Oh well, now we'll have sushi, maybe decorate some cookies and please god, go to bed so I can do some cooking and wrapping.

Have fun, everyone. xx

hobbit houses

2011-12-23T09:31:00.000-08:00

I think I blogged this before, but... worthy of a reblog!

So beautiful. I would live here. Though I don't think one solar panel would really do, but hey...

The Hobbit is coming, it will be here next December - I have a year to get Bodhi read through it, I will rise to the challenge, I want to bring both the kids to see... oooooo!

dream adjustment

2011-12-22T15:34:00.000-08:00

This morning I dreamed that Axl and I went to an osteopath. He may have been something of a leprechaun osteopath, judging by the photos we looked at in his office, but I don't know that that's relevant. I waited in the car for Axl and the osteo came out and talked to me - he reached through the window (I get this a lot in dreams, things happening through car windows) and fiddled with my shoulder. Then he located a point on the back of my neck and applied pressure, and in the dream my spine was flooded with a warm orgasmic relief and good feeling that flowed about half way down to the bottom of my ribs. It was delicious. I have to admit, my back was much better for the first half of the day, whether that was related or not. We should be able to heal ourselves in dreams... if we can have orgasms, surely a bit of healing is possible too?

Really, though, I wish I could feel that feeling again. The actual sensation of being adjusted osteopathically is far from pleasant. It's fairly unpleasant, I don't like it.

Though the last time I went to the Craniosacral osteopath, feeling my hip finally releasing was quite interesting. They don't do much manipulation, they just rest their hand flat, palm up, under your sacrum, and make tiny adjustments. It took a while, but finally, my right leg, which is always shorter than my left because of my pelvis being so misaligned and my sacrum pushing into soft tissue there etc, well, it let go. I could feel a sudden loosening, and a sensation like my right leg was growing about six inches longer. It just went on and on, it was quite amazing.

The sad thing is, I need to go back often, once isn't enough to hold, and to counter all the everyday stuff that damages it, and I end up back where I started fast.

When I can though, I'll go to a guy my friend is really happy with, someone you check in with every day for a month or so after your initial readjusting, which sounds like exactly what I need.

I've had back problems since I was 18, initiated by the horrible chairs I spent a year sitting in while I repeated my Leaving, and compounded completely by pregnancy. And sitting in this chair I'm in right now, and not exercising enough. Though I went for a walk the other day, and have been totally fucked since. Sigh. Backs and knees. Design flaws...

inettiquette

2011-12-21T16:06:00.000-08:00

My granny sits in her chair in front of the fire, black Crocs on her feet. She doesn't hear the nice lady who's staying the night with her, Margaret, the lady who comes to bathe her on Fridays. I'd asked her about her ankle, recovering from a break sustained while line-dancing.

'Why did you get the red ones?' my grandmother asks, mistaking Margaret's gesturing at her ankle as pointing towards the woman's own red Crocs. 'Were they on sale?'

I have to laugh, at her perfect insult, at the idea that red Crocs are gauche while black ones are acceptable. Of course, they're acceptable ,when you're ninety four with swollen ankles and all the rest. But there's still no call to be rude :)

Christmas moment

2011-12-21T02:07:00.000-08:00

I wish I had something pretty to offer you. I feel so defeated and worn down at the moment. My heart is not glad. I want to write something real for the first time in ages, butwhenI think about it, whingy emo crap just bubbles up.

I've dragged something fine out of my head, though.

When I went shopping in the shopping centre last week and had a materialist fest for the kids, I was walking back to the car (well, ok, I was wandering round a little bit in the process of finding my car, the way I do) and walking up past me was a Polish family, maybe, young, young kids, and the big tall dad was carrying one small child sideways. All I could see sticking out from under his arm was a furry padded hood and a smiley little face. They were having a loud, happy, laughing repetitive conversation that I couldn't understand, but it sounded like the universal, 'You're a sack of potatoes/NO YOU'RE a sack of potatoes' type banter you get in these situations. It was very cute, all the moreso for not being in English.

2011-12-21T01:52:00.001-08:00

please Santa, do my maths for me?

2011-12-18T14:44:00.000-08:00

I don't know where I put the Christmas cards. Given that it's Christmas in a week, I feel this is a sign that I won't be sending any this year.

I have work to finish. Must do work.

I've got the brief for the correcting I'll be doing over the holiday - I have grade according to the state exam curve. Which means working out percentages of grades and sticking to them. ie forcing the grades I give to match them. FFS. It's going to force me to do maths. MATHS. I can't stand it. Also, it will add countless hours to a task that's always a bit hysterical at the best of times. Bangs head off wall*

It makes me slightly sick that the school are buying into the grade manipulation that the State does. We want to be getting rid of this exam, not adopting more of its practices. The administration a teacher has to do is getting more like the workload in England and it's soul destroying.

Oh Universe, can I just get a teaching job again, please?

I have to put a job application in the post tomorrow. The post. Why, school? Why no email? I haven't got any job interviews this year, but I have to keep trying, I guess. But the process... my printer is broken - I have another one to use but I have to go get ink. Then post it. Bah. BAH.

definitive insult of the day

2011-12-17T16:19:00.000-08:00

Bodhi, coming downstairs very angry, shouting back up at his sister,

You're a big fudge poo!

whoopsie

2011-12-16T14:31:00.001-08:00

Slight Chili powder miscalculation. Ah well, you live and learn. And my pipes are being cleaned as we speak.

My Big Bumper Book Of Christmas Failures

2011-12-15T04:42:00.000-08:00

I am extremely pleased by this concept I've just conceptualised. I shall be adding to the list as I go...

topping it now is not getting any cards done or posted, and not yet having sent a little parcel to the States so it will arrive Too Late For Christmas.

My cousin doesn't want us to feel burdened by the gift exchange anymore, and has lapsed out of touch to the point where she no longer responds to emails. Sentimental me, though, I used to love her mother's wonderful big parcels so much, I would have loved to continue that tradition for our kids. I suppose her mother had a lot more money and free time to play with, though, than we do. It's a pity, though, I feel.

I swear - next year, November. November I will organise this stuff and have a big book of Christmas Triumphs. Heh.

Hmm. Strange little side note: My sister messaged me to tell me she's been experimenting with her gf's Ritalin and thinks she has ADHD. It's helped her have confidence. She thinks it could help me too. I won't deny I have all the symptoms on the list she sent me, but my gut feeling is, if I took some cocaine, I'd be more confident too.

Thoughts?

Update: Just to clarify, here is why I mentioned cocaine in connection with Ritalin. I also heard that it's still an experinmental drug, and it was being prescribed for 6 months only, but no one can face the symptoms and so don't come off it. I'm all for people being able to function, but I think there may be other places to look too.

things on my list

2011-12-14T13:58:00.000-08:00

I keep clicking open a New Tab as if the thing I need to read or look at will suddenly present itself to me. It's like staring into the fridge for internet addicts, I guess. I'm feeling a little bit panic attacky tonight. I'm a little bit overloaded. Olivia's being a bitch again, Bodhi is terrified to go to sleep alone anymore and sits in bed crying (I can't do it!!!) and I can't seem to find space or energy to find solutions for them because my heart is beating too fucking hard and someone seems to be standing on my throat. I've been a shitty mother tonight. Things were going well, too. I've just read an article on PND that's made me feel awful, somehow. Not better.

But. I'm going to go make 6 banana breads. And breathe. And maybe get some more correcting done while they bake.

because I love you

2011-12-14T05:19:00.000-08:00

Well, because it tasted so good I feel I should share:

Egg Mayonaisse de Jo:

Boil eggs til well cooked. Hard.

Take out yolks and mash up.
Add some paprika, cayenne pepper, celery seed, wholegrain mustard and salt n pepper.
Mash up some more.
Add mayo to your liking. Less is more.
Mix.

Um. That's it. But it tastes so good.

I love this on soda type bread, or black bread, or rice cakes or whatever you like best, but nothing too soft. Needs a wee bit of chew.

And. Tastes GREAT with something pickled and crunchy. Like pickles. But I just had it with sauerkraut and it was wunderbar.

It makes a lovely lunch for when you're busy. Nom nom.

Fermented food is very good for you. That's all I'll say for now.

Christmas? Hormones?

2011-12-14T02:23:00.000-08:00

EVERYTHING is making me cry. The sentimentality. I'm exhausted by it. I wish it would stop.

poem reprised from trash

2011-12-13T10:57:00.000-08:00

My boots have sprung a leak

I thought they'd see out the year

I guess they were too cheap

But good ones are too dear

Man may not live by bread alone

But Girls have certain needs

And even those with hearts of stone

appreciate dry feets.

*I wasn't going to post this, because - well, you can see why :) But I just read a thing suggesting we should edit less and create more, write a poem everyday. So feck it.

so today I had one of my stupid moments

2011-12-12T11:38:00.000-08:00

I know I've mentioned this recently, but I really do think the dyspraxia affects it ... the other day I was making sushi. Put the rice in the water, then realised I should have rinsed it first. I walked towards the sink holding the pan of rice and water and a seive. As I neared the sink, I tipped the pan contents into the seive. Onto the floor. In days of old I might have berated myself for this and felt like a moron stupid head, but these days I think hmm, synapses not connecting right, maybe.

So today, I hustled the kids out of the house to get Olivia to art and arrived half an hour too early. Forgot it was 4.30, not 4. I saw the teacher's car was there and wondered if they were in setting up, would it be ok to drop her off early instead of hanging around. The teacher's a sweetie man Olivia gets on really well with, and he was fine with that, though as I was leaving he said, 'yeah, it's fine, Phil (the other teacher) will be here in a minute.' I walked out of the hall, and as I was descending the steps, with Bodhi, in the rain, my little brain cogs started moving. Why did he tell me that? Duh. It's because teachers aren't meant to be all alone with children. For everyone's protection. I'm a teacher, I know you're not meant to be a in a room with a kid with the door closed, or alone with them. And I'd just left my 8 year old alone in a building with a male teacher. Or, left him alone with an 8 year old, which ever way you want to look at it. I'd put him in a completely unfair, and not exactly legal position.

THEN I started thinking, well, he seems like such a nice guy. But that doesn't mean anything. Ohh, God. But he's been vetted in order to work with them. But that doesn't mean anything. Do I go back in and wait? Do I tell him I realise that wasn't fair? Will it seem like I'm accusing him of being a child molester? What if he is a child molester! GAH!

So yeah, I left it. And wandered round with my head whirling a little.

After class, I went back in and apologised for being an idiot. He said, yeah, he found himself instantly opening all the doors, but he thought, well, I know Olivia pretty well at this stage (meaning, she's not likely to falsely accuse me of anything) and I knew Phil was on his way in.

So I felt better that his focus was on procedure and teacher protection than me calling him a child molester.

God, I'm a terrible parent, though. Do we have to be paranoid? Or just cautiously suspicious of everyone all the time. I suppose we do. I hate it though, I'm sure I've said that before. Not that that makes any difference to the way I should be protecting my kids. Yeesh.

sniff shots

2011-12-12T10:58:00.000-08:00

Hmm, that sounds a bit perverse, doesn't it?

In the car today, waiting for Olivia to finish art class: I went to the Health Food shop (shout out to Nature's Gold in Greystones, people, it's great and competitive) and bought some Stuff. Veggie gelatin in case I feel like making marshmallows. Hmm. Not confident. GF crackers. Spices. Couple nice things.

In the car I took the lid off the Sauerkraut I'd bought (with juniper berries). I offered Bodhi a sniff and he was intrigued. His little face contorted - Yukky!

The for the good one:

Neilsson Massey Chocolate extract. I've been toying with the idea of buying some, want the almond one too. Oh my god. I held it under Bodhi's nose in the car in the dark. He inhaled and inhaled and inhaled, then collapsed back against his car seat with an ecstatic expression. OHMYGOD THAT IS SO GOOD. He asked for another whiff and his eyes rolled. Heh. Cuteness.

Olivia did exactly the same thing when she got back to the car. Chocolate extract for the win, people, it's so lovely.

Treed!

2011-12-11T11:29:00.001-08:00

I'm alarmed - the tree looked much straighter not in a photo. Ah well. It's a good un this year, though it never comes out quite right on film. I wish I could still find colouredy glowy cherry lights though, I miss them so much. That last string was from Habitat in 1994, I think. Amazing.

Yuletide whinge

2011-12-10T06:34:00.001-08:00

Every year, it's the same. This time of year, I'd like to be baking, crafting, planning, gifting, decorating.

And I'm always working frantically, stressed about money, trying to cram in shopping instead of making carefully crafted, delightful handmade gifts for the people who I'd like to know I care about. If that syntax is decipherable at all. I'd love to go to Ikea and buy Christmassy things and little jars to put delectable home made treats in. Time and money.

Never mind that, I'd like to send some Christmas cards instead of stressing about time and stamps. Last year I even wrote, adressed and stamped some but didn't get to the post office, largely because of the snow. I'd like to be buying extra presents for the charities. I'd like to be having friends over or even going to parties. I've pretty much never gone to parties, though it's all good because I don't have time or anything to wear!

Arg, it's all frustrating. Back to my correcting I go.

free associating

2011-12-08T15:02:00.001-08:00

This morning as I was driving, my thoughts strayed to the idea of driving over a stick which would be driven into the air and through the back of a portly, middle aged man walking up the footpath on the opposite side of the road. I hadn't brought my phone with me: who would call an ambulance. Is sorry good enough, for something that was absolutely not your fault, yet done by your agency alone?

That led me to wonder if it's safer to be stabbed in the stomach if you're fat or toned - what protects internal organs more, belly fat or muscle?

Do everyone's thoughts wander to these places, or is it just strange to be me?

In other areas my thoughts had led me somewhere deeply fearful. I must be wrong... but what if it's right? What's more likely, a miracle or a disaster? I worked myself up into an awful state but last night, a message, worst fears unfounded, all is well enough. And it was like the sun coming out and shining warm relief and gratitude in place of that awful dark fear. I wish I could stop the thoughts, sometimes, and just see what comes.

advice, please

2011-12-07T02:39:00.001-08:00

I live with my husband who is no longer my husband, but is. We haven't really managed our arrangement very well, carrying on with the tested and failed practice of not dealing with anything or each other.

Lots of things he does are driving me insane, just as they did when we had claim to a relationship. I now, however, no longer have the right to ask him to avoid those behaviours and it's even harder to attempt to work together in any way.

My real whinge is, that I can't get it off my chest by writing about it here any more, because I don't feel I've the right to do that either, if I ever did. Maybe I didn't. But when I say get it off my chest, I reallly mean it literally, it builds up into a pressure that makes it harder to breathe. What's the right outlet?

Oh. I should exercise. Of course. Well,. right. Thank you.

love this

2011-12-07T02:37:00.001-08:00

Babies' and mothers' hearts synchronise by smiling :)

not knowing what you've got til it's gone - but I did

2011-12-06T03:47:00.001-08:00

I was reading some snow posts from last year and the year before. I don't seem to be able to write anymore. The thoughts are all gone. I'm sorry. I don't give good blog anymore.

I miss that. And I really miss the comments and chat. I was very bogged down in how sad it all was but my blog social life was good and meant a lot to me. The excitement of posts and comments. And, not to put too fine a point on it, an internet relationship that, while painful, meant a lot to me and made up for a lot. There was a lot of excitement in the day, waiting to see what would come up via posts and comments and chat. And for the last few months, my blogland friendship has been missing due to illness and all is extremely uncertain, and I miss it so much and I'm so worried but such is the nature of distance and the way things roll that I don't know what's going on and my god but I miss the days when everyone blogged and commented and laughed. Now the laughter is missing too.

I wanted to say I was lucky to have that, and I did know it at the time, it saved me. It's feeling a little bleak and lonely right now. I know things like blogs change - you can't sustain it forever, and that's natural. I wish I could sustain the writing though - sometimes I look at old posts and cringe, but some of them I think, oh no, where has that gone? I hope it comes back. I hope it will all be ok.

And... wow - let's end with the thought that there's always someone worse off than you -

what the hell are they thinking?

2011-12-03T14:53:00.001-08:00

Seriously, the world's gone MAD.

Lithium in the water supply, anyone? And we were worried about fluoride.

trouble making oneself understood

2011-12-03T14:18:00.001-08:00

Dyspraxia in adults can create challenges with everyday activities and expectations. Driving is often difficult. Cleaning and cooking can be demanding, as can remembering appointments. Dyspraxic adults can also have difficulty controlling the pitch and articulation of their voice and are easily misunderstood by others.

Yep.

However, as I waited about 3years before taking it, I passed my driving test first time! Unlike some more accomplished drivers I know... I have driven into quite a lot of things since, of course.

photos

2011-12-02T13:43:00.001-08:00

Tell me which one struck you most.

astounding

2011-12-02T12:51:00.001-08:00

Someone told me about his on Tuesday. A doctor of the brain had a stroke, and analysed it from the inside. I'm just amazed. She's wonderful.

I love you baby!

2011-12-01T10:39:00.001-08:00

http://ngm.nationalgeographic.com/ngm/photo-contest/2011/entries/122254/view/

She's screaming 'I LOVE YOU, BABY!' as he comes out. I love it. What a fantastic woman, the shape of her!

I like this so much - I definitely called Olivia out as she was taking so long, though with Bodhi it was more of a hold on not yet not yet!

I don't like how no one's looking after her perineum, though. I really wish there was more of that, generally!

thinking before speaking

2011-11-30T01:56:00.001-08:00

I've started trying to follow through possible interpretations of or reactions people might actually have to the little funny things it occurs to me to say, before I say them. I suppose this is what normal people do?

The thing is, my brain seems to be programmed to respond with funny comments, and my definition of funny (or useful, or whatever) is not widely shared. So I'm working on stopping my kneejerk reaction and analysing possible outcomes, so as not offend/upset and then feel horrible about it for weeks afterwards.

You know what, though? It's exhausting. And chastening. How do people do it? Maybe I should get 'It's Not Funny' tattooed on the inside of my eyeballs and leave it at that.

IT DOESN'T MATTER

peeves

2011-11-29T04:29:00.001-08:00

For an annoying person, a lot of things annoy me. I suppose that's how it works. I'm trying to react and complain less and thereby let go of my sensitivities, but in order not to let things build up:

Hate List

Text Speak - especially in non textular situations.
Apostrophe crime*
(Especially negative) focus on the physical appearance of female public figures is increasingly annoying me
The reverberating snorking sound my husband makes when he sniffs (this cold is going on too long, please, make it stop)
My own procrastination

*Though of course, EVERYONE is entitled to Apostrophe Amnesty. That goes without saying.

Wage Peace

2011-11-27T04:08:00.001-08:00

Wage Peace

Wage peace with your breath.
Breathe in firemen and rubble,
breathe out whole buildings
and flocks of redwing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists and breathe out sleeping children
and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen
and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.
Wage peace with your listening:
hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools:
flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.
Make soup.
Play music, learn the word for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.
Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious.
Have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Don't wait another minute.

I've seen this attributed to Mary Oliver, but the internet says it's really by Judyth Hill.

This is the most succinct thing I've seen in years. I think Ms Moon will like it, seeing as she lives it already.

nostalgia/sense of smell.

2011-11-25T15:18:00.001-08:00

Making apple sauce for Carrot Cake. The smell of the hot, irony apple mush reminds me so much of babies - of weaning time, simple food and simple excitement at first tastes. They loved the apple and molasses. Watching dexterous fingers picking up peas for the first time, grated apple. The smell of the apples sauce rings me in a warm, soft toned bubble, makes me long to be sitting at a table, spooning food into fat little, messy little cheeks, and laughing.

thanksgiving

2011-11-22T15:25:00.001-08:00

I was just reading Ms Moon's pre-Thanksgiving post, and started to comment. I wasn't going to say anything about this, but then I realised I was writing a blog post in her comments, which would be a bit rude, so I figured, oh well, I'd better post it.

My mother used to do Thanksgiving dinners. The works. Turkey and pumpkin pie and all the bits, and guests over. It was an event.

I tried a couple times but it didn't really pan out. My heart wasn't in it, maybe. My mother in law stubbornly, and somewhat rudely, refused to get it.

So I gave up. You need a clean house for dinners. I don't know how my mother managed the banquets she put on, but these days you need money. You need energy and organisation and motivation, and all sorts of things I don't have.

But maybe on Thurday I'll roast some potatoes and make a little apple pie, or a crumble, and sit around with my kids with some candles and dinner and try to find some stuff they're grateful for, amidst all the wishing for things we don't have or have lost.

light

2011-11-22T06:14:00.001-08:00

Sun. Shine. Bright blue cold sky. I plan to go out in it, soon, when I go to buy fondant and cupcake wrappers for vulva cupcakes for a tantric workshop that I mostly likely will not blog about here.. The kids can run on the grass, beneath the trees. We might see a squirrel. We might absorb a little bit of vitamin D and let the breeze blow some of the crabbiness away. Though we'll probably have a row, but, that's just how it is.

I wish they could be more at peace with that, more relaxed about it. Yesterday in the car I tried to tell them how much I cared about them as babies. How much I wanted to feed them well and sleep with them and give them all the love and time I could and how important it was to me. And they just didn't get it. Well, maybe Bodhi does, really, in the right mood. Olivia, no, though. Too much got in the way. Or I just didn't get it right. I know it's too late, but I hope it's not too late in some ways. Though... what's to come doesn't necessarily hold much promise. Deep breaths... walk in the sun.

things to come

2011-11-21T13:57:00.001-08:00

I wrote a miserable post about grief and sadness earlier, but I took the high road and resisted posting it. It will all be better in a little while. I was right, I suppose, if I don't think about anything too hard. My father rang me - my granny is back in hospital - returned lung infection, and this time it's affected her heart enough to put her in the cardiac ward. I think she and my father thought she was dying on Friday night and had a traumatic, panicked rush to hospital. I'm sorry for him. I've been there. It's not something you want to experience.

My granny is 94. This is her first illness, but I don't like that it won't go away. My father thinks it may be the start of the slow slide towards death, now. I know something has to be - no one really wants to be 120, or anything. Well, my friend's amazing grandfather lived independently in a walk up apartment until he was 108, but that's fairly spectacular, isn't it?

Selfish as this may seem, I'm not ready for the bereavement roundabout again. The thought of it makes me quake. I also can't imagine being emotional support to my father. It's all so ... ack. I can accept her dying, at this stage, I think, I really can. It's more the grief itself I'm afraid of, other people's, my own reaction. It's like there's a pit full of it in me, and as soon as the trapdoor is opened at all it wells out like black water. This dark river rushing under the boards, all the time.

spiritual

2011-11-21T04:36:00.001-08:00

I was walking past the rather menacing looking church in Dun Laoghaire yesterday, and there was a dad leading a redfaced, upset looking ten year old boy around outside by the hand. I thought the kid was crying, but I couldn't be sure. I couldn't quite tell if he might have had special needs or not, but he looked upset and a little hard to manage.

As we walked past, Axl snorted - he'd heard the kid shouting, it took me a minute more to process that he'd yelled,

DAD, I JUST REALLY HATE MASS, in an anguished roar.

I know, Son, I know, but it's good for your soul, you see, to be herded into this building to listen to boring, lifeless droning and made to be quiet and told off for not being quiet enough, and having to be taken outside in tears of misery every time. It's all about godliness and spirituality, Son.

For fuck's sake.

beautiful

2011-11-20T13:25:00.001-08:00

Every year for a few days in the month of February, the sun’s angle is such that it lights up Horsetail Falls in Yosemite, as if it were on fire.

I went there! It was amazing. A beautiful, awesome place. I didn't know about this, though.

Steamcleaning

2011-11-20T04:27:00.001-08:00

One corner of the kitchen. With my penguin steam cleaner. As inspired by Ms Moon's gleaming study. My floor beneath the sink is now shiny! I'd say I 'shined my sink', but it's more about clearing gunk off stuff than polishing...

I'd love to keep going, but I should be either working or going out en famille - I think the smallies have decided - a train trip to the Farmer's market and the cinema to see Arthur Christmas. I feel anxious about spending hours out, but I think it's for the best. Yay for the steam cleaning, though.

shame on you

2011-11-19T13:25:00.001-08:00

I have a feeling that the wrong thinking and violence in America is taking a step too far, and may finally eat itself by showing its face too brazenly. The people who are wrong seem to be responding so stupidly to the protests against them that they may end up revealing the truth of what they represent to their supporters and risk losing some of them.

I find this video incredibly affecting - the policeman sprays a group of peaceful, protesting students full in the face with pepper spray as they sit on the ground blocking the path of the riot police. The crowd starts a chant of 'shame on you' and doesn't back down - in fact they slowly, slowly advance, in far greater number than the police... and move them out of their college. It's worth watching. It's a horrible video, it's a great video - it feels like people are waking up. I hope it inspires, in many ways, in many places.

Olivia said she'd be scared to be there. I'd be scared for her to be there too. I'm thinking back to Tinman's post on the student protest we had here, where the police turned violent - his son actually got hit. What are the police here for? To protect the people? Or to protect the State? What is the State?

breastfeeding and reduced breast cancer risk

2011-11-19T13:17:00.001-08:00

Breastfeeding two years or more reduces cancer risk by 50%, apparently. It didn't work for my mother, though, sadly (or at least, she was in the wrong 50%), so I don't know what that says for me.

huddling together for warmth

2011-11-18T13:38:00.001-08:00

I'm finished teaching for the year. Bring on the waves of correcting, the making of vulva cupcakes and the finishing of a long overdue task.

Last week I had some Venetian Italian teenagers, a remarkably educated bunch. One class was a little more lively, a little more fun than the other - I noticed that every time I told them to get into their project groups, rather than spread out round the classroom, they'd all sit knee to knee, three groups of three packed up into one corner of the room.

I observed that Irish students would not do this - we like our space, us reserved Irish, in the main. Certainly the boys wouldn't cosy together knee to knee, at least. They shrugged, and said it was normal for them, when I suggested they take more space if they liked.

'It's warmer this way,' the funny one said.

I laughed and said they could huddle together for warmth.

'Yes,' he said, with quiet amusement, twinkling at me with big dark eyes. 'Like pinguins.'

I ♥ those Italians, I really do.

In the other class I gave them film reviews to read and share, from entertainment.ie. The reviews there are fairly fresh, and one of Weekend was candid about the subject matter - an analysis of one young gay man's emotional life. The reader asked me what 'boy beds boy' meant, and I told him, and then asked the girl who was reading the TinTin review could I help her with what she was giggling about - yep - it was the line the review that described him as little more than an anal boy scout with an inexplicable drive.

So I had to reassure her quickly that it was the Freudian sort of anal, and what boy scout referred to, and how they weren't really connected in the way she was laughing about - but oops, I'd better read reviews in more detail before I hand them out to classes, maybe.

Another great line that I hadn't noticed in another review was 'arse clenching tension'. Which is a pretty excellent review phrase I think, but I was getting a little uncomfortable with the theme that was appearing :)

six minutes of pilates

2011-11-14T13:56:00.001-08:00

I have neglected myself sorely. I am a mess. This, this is needed.

And isn't it pretty?

I don't think I'm quite ready for it yet, though - it's not old crock level, even if it's only 6 minutes.

tee hee

2011-11-13T14:55:00.001-08:00

This really cheered me up :)

sads

2011-11-13T09:25:00.001-08:00

I hate the raw days, where every little mistake and setback is something to grieve over.

I think one of the reasons I can't make decisions is because I've been plagued my whole life with the knowledge that what ever I choose will the the wrong thing.

The mistakes and missed opportunities all fade away, I know, but in the moment it's so hard not to feel anxious, upset and responsible. Things matter, even little things. It's not really possible to just shrug them off.

Ack.

hallmark moments

2011-11-11T16:08:00.001-08:00

Here is a very salient comment left on the post below, that I was going to respond to in comments, but maybe it deserves more space than that :

Dear me

I think I must be a very unusual mother indeed. Reading the lines 'This is the thing that women don’t tell each other about motherhood. That you will never be who you were' made me think exactly the opposite. Before my first child as born, I had an absolutely clear image of myself as a mother. It was laughter, patience, utter engagememt and closeness to my child, effortlessness, graciousness. Seven years and significant expenditure on anti-psychotics later, I wonder why on earth I ever thought that six hours in the labour ward would transform me into an entirely different person. I'm exactly who I was. Entirely untransformed. Certainly parenthood has forced me to engage differently with the world. I am less judgemental, more forgiving of human fraility, more nuanced in my views. But my essential selfish, impatient, intense and quick-tempered self is exactly as she was. I love my children beyond measure but find family life intensely claustrophobic. I'm happy for the lady who wrote this piece she has found such contentment and meaning in her life but honestly, Christ, this stuff is all pervasive and oppresive if you're not so much made never the same again by motherhood as exactly the same but even more so.

Oh, god, here is my confession: I didn't read that post fully enough - I loved the positive stuff, but the irony is that what drew me to it initially was the idea of the loss of self you experience as a mother! I didn't read it as a reinvention in some sort of maternal saintliness, nor mean to push that experience on anyone else. This sentence was what caught me:

When I did get back to me, I was gone. This is the thing that women don’t tell each other about motherhood. That you will never be who you were. That you will not see anything the way you used to see it, you will never hear language the way you used to hear it, music, color, photos, friends, family, career path–nothing or no one came through my transition from single woman to mother unexamined. Least of all myself.

And I didn't stop to realise that her message was a wholly positive one, and I read this paragraph in a far darker tone than the last line actually posits, thinking 'yes! You are lost and nothing is the same!' before I reached the end of the sentence. And then I just assumed the post was about there being a silver lining, somehow.

I can certainly report that I'm a FAR more awful person now that I have children. I too was consumed with their infant beauty but I couldn't cope with anything else and much of the time I just wish I could be off the hamster wheel and just ... be myself, by myself for an unspecified amount of time. And yes, all my negative characteristics and tendencies have been magnified tenfold, and everyone around me is burning like targeted ants in the beam of my ... untransformedness.

Your point about all pervasiveness is really important, and, well, I'm sorry for not reading this more carefully. I thought it was a far more balanced piece than it is. For me, the reality is that I felt all those feelings, but couldn't follow through. I want it all, but never had the gumption to make it real. As for you, I think you're underplaying the importance of your different engagement with the world, but I know exactly what you mean. I'm really glad you commented.

Ok, let's try another post by someone who made a point about bonding and new babies and motherhood and how it isn't the same picture book story for everyone. This moving post from Betty Octopus.

incredibly beautiful description of motherhood

2011-11-11T05:53:00.001-08:00

The yellow from the canvas of day bled all over the black watercolor of night and time became nothing. There was a rhythm of waking of feeding and sleeping. Of changing diapers and cuddling and eating again of sleeping again and I was lost in the curves of my children’s wrists and in the folds of their necks and the freshly baked bread smell of a new baby and the fragile, startling cries that made me gasp inaudibly and sent my heart flitting in my chest like a desperate butterfly.

Click for the link to the post.

blankie

2011-11-10T06:54:00.000-08:00

I was always a teddy bear sort of girl. Loads of them, arrayed around the bed. Until... well, until I moved in with a man, in truth. not a thumbsucker but a nailbiter. I never had a blankie.

But this morning I had ten minutes to spare, and I'd stayed up later than I should've the night before. So I went upstairs and lay down on the bed. There was my manky hoodie, lumped in a pile on the unmade bed. I lay down and rested my head on it. It felt still warm from being worn earlier, though I'm sure it can't have been. Soft from a decade of wearing and washing. My god, it was the comfiest, most comforting thing, and I basically went to sleep for 10 minutes.

I didn't quite realise it before, but my hoodie is my blankie.

wonderful man

2011-11-10T05:30:00.001-08:00

Sorry, perhaps I should elaborate on what this is - this is a man who started out adopting orangutan babies and ended up regrowing thousands of hectares of rain forest - in just a few years.

It's heartening to see this on many levels - that one person can make such a difference, how miraculously resourceful and effective people can be, as well as greedy and destructive. How we could, if we put this model into practice, maybe save the world. That change really is possible - you can regrow an Eden from a poisoned wasteland with some ingenuity and co operation and energy. If he can do it...

beasts and babes

2011-11-08T07:08:00.000-08:00

I fear this amazing place is the Yew Tunnel at Kilmacurra, which I've recently heard is condemned due to disease - a tragedy, and we've only just found it :(

Across the lake - the Beast stalks...

Funny, I could swear I'd never been here before, but the Beast pokes at something familiar feeling. I think I must have gone there with my godparents' family once.

My little Red Riding Hood.

pretty places

2011-11-07T11:30:00.000-08:00

I feel like complaining but someone posted a picture of a white hand holding a withered, skeletal African child's hand on facebook today, and made the point that many people in the world would love to have our lives that we hate. You can't argue with that, so I won't complain about my minor discomforts and stresses.

Instead I'll post a picture Olivia took on our walk into Avondale House on the weekend. It's a beautiful place and the sun was shining. There are trees, and green, and squirrels. Everything was wet from the melted frost (which sadly curtailed our playground activities - and then the other play ground was still locked. And when we went back on the way home, both kids were enjoying themselves but Olivia somehow wet herself and that was the end of the fun. She was quite bothered by that. Should I worry about an eight year old occasionally wetting herself? I think it's probably to do with just not going to the toilet frequently enough. I hope so, anyway.)

ANYWAY. Photo.

If you want beautiful photos and no whinging to detract from them, you should go look at Milk-Moon (see blogroll) that has such pretty words to match.

want... sigh...

2011-11-06T10:07:00.000-08:00

Once upon a time, having one of these meant feeling rich...

I miss that. I miss them too.

oh yes!

2011-11-06T01:35:00.000-07:00

The answer is simple: this time in history demands we be BOLD when we give birth. There is no right or wrong birth choice -- a mother can decide on a natural birth or feel she needs pain-relieving drugs -- but there is a choice. Right now pregnant mothers are making no choices when it comes to childbirth. They are sleepwalking 1950s housewives brainwashed into thinking they are not qualified to deliver their babies and submitting to a medical system that is forgetting how to help women deliver babies beyond surgery.

Great article!

2011-11-05T13:50:00.000-07:00

I was feeling a bit stroppy because some woman I don't know friended me on facebook because we have causes and interests in common, and she's obviously seen my comments and decided she wants in on my facebook life.

I kind of hate that... because I don't want to see photos of random people's kids or lives, on there, it's so gratuitous and cluttered. But it's rude to say no.

She posted a photo of herself all dolled up for a rare night out a while ago, ankle boots and LBD a gogo, and I though, groan, why do I need to see this. But then I just noticed she'd posted one of her husband doing a similar sexy (silly) pose in his gladrags and I suddenly feel all full of the warm fuzzies for them and the celebration they're making out of it and I hope they have a nice night out.

Damn my sentimental, empathetic heart.

unusual

2011-11-05T12:24:00.000-07:00

I just came back from my friend's pristine and beautiful new dream home and cleared the horrible counter beside the sink. Is it the kelp at work?

Normally I just look at it hate the mess, feel ashamed and wish I was dead but tonight I wanted it clean and ... cleaned it. Well, not quite done yet, I don't know how to clean the gunky wall behind it, but, still, it's a clear space instead of a no-go area.

My friend's French husband calls his 18 month old daughter 'mon coeur' and it slays me every time. Slays me.

perspectives

2011-11-03T11:33:00.000-07:00

I was scared of the dark, as a kid. I'm still... conflicted about it at times. Not darkness, just what might be in it. Lurking. Waiting. Breathing.

When we were watching Tremors last week, I suggested to my four year old he stop imagining he's one of the frightened, jeopardised humans being hunted, and imagine instead that he's a hungry wormbeast, on the look out for dinner.

I have no idea why I never thought of that one before.

I was thinking about it again as I walked down our dark lane to get the bins. Why not stop thinking about shadows, and feel your sharp teeth, and growing claws, feel your muscles moving as you ~~walk~~ stalk and your bright green eyes glowing softly in the darkness. Night vision. Hunger.

Then I stood in a puddle.

watch this space

2011-11-02T09:13:00.000-07:00

So years ago, when Olivia was small, a friend told me about thyroid underaction, and taking Kelp tablets for it. And I filed that away, and did nothing with it.

Some many months ago, I posted about being cold, and a commenter who I don't know but appreciate suggested getting my thyroid tested. I googled it, and found lots of relevant symptoms like weight gain and depression and apathy and all sorts of other ones, and thought, wow, I should get it tested, even though it sounds like it's too good to be true, that all of my shit might come down to a physical condition.

So, I hadn't yet committed to the €65 doctor visit and the blood test, but I've been meaning to. You know the way. Today I took the kids to the kineseologist. I wanted to check on Olivia's stomach pains, and the progression of her gluten intolerance (not good. It's time to accept it and deal with it better).

The good news is that I asked her about my thyroid, and Olivia's - and bam. Both of us have underactive thyroids. And no blood test involved.

Now if the idea of kinesiology and muscle testing upsets and enrages you, please feel free to stop reading, because I'm going to write about it, with enthusiasm, from here.

When you muscle test for allergies, the person being tested holds their arm straight out from their body, and tries to keep it level while the practitioner puts pressure on it to try and push it down. You start off like that, so they know how much pressure is normal.

Then you hold the thing you're testing, say cheese, against your cheek. If you're allergic, a most bizarre sensation occurs - all your strength seems to drop away, and you can't stop your arm being pushed straight down. If you're not sensitive, nothing changes.

Today when I held the little thyroid bottle, my arm dropped straight away. It's so weird, the sudden absence of strength. Then I held the bottle together with a small bottle of kelp tablets, and my arm stayed level again, no problem. Now, how many a day?
6? My arm dropped.
9? My arm stayed strong.
12? My arm dropped again, not as low as 6, but it did.

Nine it is.

The first time I was introduced to the idea was at a new agey yoga/shiatsu seminar thingy. The guy doing the course put up a poster of a woman breastfeeding a baby. My sister, who'd been premature and in an incubator alone for a week and never got breastfed, when I did the muscle test on her looking at the picture, her arm dropped away from her instantly, and she got very upset and angry.

It's a simple and fascinating way to answer questions, and find out what you really need, never mind diagnosing diseases or allergies. And it's fun :)

So yes: I will be embarking on a course of kelp tablets, and you can mark its progress on these pages over the next couple months. Will the weeping and misery and low energy reverse? Could I be all better? Or even a little better?

In fairness, you can't see my scary draft folder, which would be the real decider, but that will just have to be that. Imagine, readers, the shit I don't post...

Oh! Also, Olivia's been taking L-Tryptophan, an amino acid currently banned in the EU. However, she's already stopped having the crazed, hormonal, depressive angry weeping fits and fights that were wrecking us all (5 times a day) and is no longer going to bed crying every night, so I'm optimistic about that too. I'm giving it to her for her OCD type hypersensitivity, after seeing that it helps on an internet message board. I checked out dosage and safety today, and I can give her a whole capsule.

I feel optimistic. I feel mildly hopeful. The gluten intolerance is daunting, but it's getting worse, so it's time to just get real and deal with it. So. We'll have to.

dreams

2011-11-02T02:50:00.000-07:00

'This morning I dreamed that I pissed off people working at the zoo with my opinions about insecticide.

They'd melted a glacier they'd found, and prehistoric flies swarmed out. Their plan was to increase the insecticide they sprayed as a way to combat prehistoric lurgies. They didn't like my statement that that wasn't a really great solution. In my dream I wrestled with my need to discuss things and give opinions and the necessity of not alienating people - hey, just like real life. Sigh.

There's not a lot of place for a full length mirror in my house, and yesterday I dreamed that I suddenly discovered we had a corridor I hadn't noticed that I could place it in, and get some perspective on, or distance from? what I looked like. Symbolic, eh?

deja vu

2011-11-01T05:22:00.000-07:00

On a whim, I just had a quick browse through a new incarnation of a group blog I used to write for, way way back in the mists of time.

It's no longer active, but I came across this post and found myself disgusted. I was just about to leave a comment, when I discovered I already had, some time ago.

I'm half surprised by the restraint of what I wrote then, because what I was going to say today was 'fuck you.' Fuck you and your presumptive condescending judgement and distorted sense of entitlement, poster whose name I can't be bothered to look up.

What the hell is wrong with people???

In other news, I just Youtubed the foxes jumping on a trampoline for Bodhi, and the sidebar videos contained a man with a spider living under the skin of his finger (vomit), a gorilla killing and eating a dog in a zoo (trauma!) and a spider biting a killing a cat (which the poster of the video presumably taped from an upstairs window and did nothing?).

This world can be a horrible place.

halloween

2011-10-31T15:27:00.000-07:00

We had a nice Halloween night. Wine and food with friends, with trickertreating and sparklers in between. I trundled two tired, pale faced children with sore tummies home and gave them kiddie painkillers. Yeesh. Parenting Award, please!

Olivia was Captain Jack Sparrow, complete with perfect swagger/mince and longing for rum. Bodhi was a furry monster, and he went out with the big boys and apparently got twice as much loot as everyone else because people kept going, Awwww, he's so cute!!! and loading up his bag. He came home with three. I won't go on about them, or post pictures, because you've probably already waded through a rake of people's little zombies and princesses of facebook, and, well... it's easy to overindulge in that sort of thing, am I right? Speaking of overindulgence as we are, I am full of pumpkin pie and cheese and crackers and Indian finger food and tortilla chips. Faced with a table of food, I just keep eating. Tss.

It was much quieter out and about than last year, with fewer houses looking inviting with lots of decorations and lights and all. Lots of dark doors and closed gates - which is fair enough. It's expensive, it's a pain in the ass if you live in an estate and the bell goes every two minutes. But the people who are into it are heart warming, so generous, and sweet to the kids - they even dress up. That's nice, and it's friendly.

I#m glad to have friends who let us feast on the fat of their estate, and provide us with such hospitality. The kids dived into their bags and watched Hocus Pocus in a very civilised manner. It was all good.

brighter and bleaker

2011-10-29T03:46:00.000-07:00

The tree beside our house is being cut down.

It's a huge fir, 30 years old, and not in enough soil to hold it. If it fell, which my neighbour is assured it will, chances are it will crash into my bedroom or hers. So. Down it comes. Our neighbours on the other side are happy - she's a sun worshipper, and is excited at the thought of how much more light their garden will get.

We will too. And of course, not being crushed in your bed is always a good thing.

But the kids loved it, and spend many happy hours playing beneath it's branches, digging in the needle carpet and hiding around it. Olivia ran to her room when she heard of its sentence, and sobbed that everything she loved goes...

I'm finding it hard to watch. The kids are interested. I just have this sneaking feeling that we underestimate trees, maybe, and seeing it stripped of its branches, chainsaws swiping great scars and gashes in the the bark... it's like Aslan's table and the witch's ritual humiliation of him, and torturous too. It feels like a desecration. It feels like an ugly murder that I've stood by and watched.

I wish I had the money to put something else wonderful there instead. A swing set, a little house. A well grown tree? Olivia suggested a hot tub, which is a fucking fantastic idea but one beyond our means, sadly. I told my neighbour, and she said she did once look into the idea of finding one that didn't use too much energy - and discovered one that went all day on a bale of briquettes! Which is pretty fantastic. But I think the days of hot tubs in Ireland are over for now.

Outside it's bright, and empty, bleak feeling. It doesn't help that it's a grey, drizzly day. I can hear the chainsaws drone, I can see the Bray Head from my window now. I finally got my view.

tremors

2011-10-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

Bodhi watched his first scary movie tonight. We wanted something Halloweeny, and when I told them about Tremors, they were very eager. I remembered the funny bits and tension more than the scariness, so when I got to Xtravision and they had a box set (including the two sequels, oh dear!) I decided to go for it.

He liked it, but it freaked him. But he wouldn't stop watching. And discovered the hiding-under-the-duvet tactic favoured by his mother.

I don't know - if he was my first I never would have let him watch it. Poor kiddie! Olivia loved it of course, and was frustrated the couple times I fast forwarded gory bits. It's a very ketchup-splattery movie, but the tension is good, and the way it sets that up by killing off less important characters so you worry more about the main ones is effective, if you're small.

He was scared of monsters afterwards, though, even though he agreed the Worms didn't look real. So I got into bed with him with the light on, and he was asleep in minutes. I'm anticipating nightmares tonight though. Poor baby. What have I done!

2011-10-27T06:45:00.000-07:00

I can't seem to stay focused when driving. I just don't SEE things. I'm becoming a terror. I need to get my shit together or stop driving completely. I wish I could put all the stuff in my head in a box in the passenger seat, so I can drive a little bit more safely and concentrate better.

OH YES

2011-10-27T02:28:00.001-07:00

thank you, Mary! A good start to the day.

something someone told me

2011-10-26T03:49:00.000-07:00

Complete transformation is entirely possible.

It's a positive message. I wonder if I'd get in trouble for reading this in a Halloweeny light :)

try again

2011-10-26T02:22:00.001-07:00

I need to fail better tomorrow than I did this morning.

:(

2011-10-25T02:28:00.000-07:00

I went to the dentist some time ago.. 6 months ago? because I was worried I had decay in a heavily filled tooth. He said there was no sign of it and seemed very confident. He said, at the end of the consultation, well I can xray it for you if you want me to. In that voice that suggests it's not necessary and he's just humoring me. SO I didn't ask for an xray, because I don't want to have xrays done if they're not necessary - the less radiation the better, you know?

So yeah, that was stupid. I developed a hole and more signs of decay - went today - not good. I have a faceful of anaesthetic as it doesn't seem to really work for me, and my resilience just wasn't there this morning. I nearly cried in the chair. The one he angles downwards to save his back, and it's too tall for me so it destroys MY back as I sit in it for an hour being drilled and injected. And injected and injected til my ear went numb. And it hurts my dodgy jaw to have my mouth open that long.

But there was deep decay, touching the root - which isn't dead yet, but may die and get infected. I may get an abscess. I may have to have this very visible tooth extracted, or get root canal. I have a temporary filling, and a little tube of more of it in case it comes out. And a precautionary prescription for antibiotics in case of an abscess. And come back in two months and see how it's going.

I wish I'd had the xray last time. I wish I was more assertive. I wish I made better decisions. Ah. A pathetic self pitying mess of woe is me.

catching up

2011-10-24T09:14:00.000-07:00

I wish there was someone I could ask questions of who would know for sure the right answer. For certain. Someone with all the answers. I get things so wrong, I follow my gut and then I cringe but then I'm still not sure. I think I'm right and wrong all at once. Which, in my world view, is pretty much how it is in reality. Some people have the gift of black and white vision though. Not me. I view the world through uncertain spectrums of doubt and possibility.

But, aside from that thing I can't really talk about, I had a wonderful morning. I've had the sweetest, bestest class of lovely Italian teenagers for the last three weeks. Today they did their exam that I had them terrified they'd fail - and they all passed with flying colours! I am so happy. I made them cupcakes, and their teacher bought me flowers.

This in itself is a wonderful thing, because only yesterday I was walking past the flowers in the supermarket, eyeing the roses and thinking, I wish I had some flowers. I wish someone would give me some flowers. And wonder of wonders, it came true! They did their tests, I gave them chocolate cupcakes that they all adored, and then I went and got super positive feedback from the examiner - I waited for the But, but it never came! They were all well prepared and they all got As and Bs. I came back in to this chorus of happy faces and tears (I really did scare them too much!).

I'm really going to miss them. Their sweetness and humour and genuineness and happy teenage energy. Lovely people.

Then I went back out into the rain, the rivers and rivulets and pools of moving, splashing water. Oh, is it raining. So hard, for so long. All the drains are blocked, because this is Ireland, and the water is building up and up and it's hard not to splash pedestrians as I go by. Yesterday I was momentarily lost, and while I was looking around to see where I was I managed to miss a red light - and when I tried to brake, I skidded out across the little junction. Luckily they saw me coming and nothing horrible happened. God, I am not a good driver.

My granny got hospitalised with nearly-pneumonia that was affecting her heart, but she seems to be ok now. She doesn't seem to realise that given that she's 94, it's pretty amazing that this is the first illness she's EVER been hospitalised for. She thought she was dying :(
But apparently she should be off the oxygen and IV antibitoics and home on Tuesday. I hope so, anyway. People come out of hospital sicker than they go in these days.

People keep asking me have I any news. Well... there's my news.

a mother's lot somethingsomething pillar of salt

2011-10-19T10:44:00.000-07:00

This morning I went out to teach, in a building with no small children in it. It was immeasurably easier than working round the kids. But I've used up my babysitting time now. So the night-job is left out in the cold. I've been to the supermarket, got some food for us all, I have to go out in the cold dark now to hang out a wash...

I'm trying to write an exam. This involves reading, thinking and hopping between several files at a time.

The kids are playing on the bed that's beside me - their game involves lots of loud, ridiculous, repetitive, shouty fun. On one hand, I'm grateful that they are playing together happily (although, yeah, watch this space, a real time head butt will probably enact itself as I type). Also that they eagerly ate sliced carrots tonight, and asked for More, along with organic hummus, that alone fills me with a relieved glow. However. However. It's really hard to concentrate with this much noise and flurry and impending fights going on around me. It's been like this for weeks. It's not that I haven't wasted time I could have grabbed to myself, I put my hand up on that one.

But this working from home thing, it just doesn't work so well. Not without childcare too. Sigh.

Still, at least it's cheerful, for now.

confronting

2011-10-16T15:20:00.000-07:00

This article is, for me.

I grew up in a house where my mother was often screamy and hysterical, in a disordered, stressed sense.
My father, I have come to realise, used rage and the threat of his rage as a defense mechanism - he never had to deal with anything if he could rant and bellow and scream at it and make it go away. And I suppose that it became a knee-jerk reaction, that and irritability. They were both damaged and depressive, I suppose, at least, so it seems from the hind sight perspective I now see through, through the eyes of parenthood.

I'm ashamed to put this article up here. I have done something I never anticipated - I've allowed my father's way of dealing with stress and demands to manifest itself in my parenting too. Shouting and cursing and menacing, at times. Explosive, trapped, loud outbursts of frustrated, infantile behaviour. I've scared my kids. Not just on isolated occasions, but routinely, and the worst thing is that despite my horror of it, I'll most likely do it again. Maybe even tomorrow.

My first paragraph strains to let me off the hook. It's what I learned. It rose up from the deep, a demon leviathan, squashing all my good intentions, all my intuitive knowledge and research, grew me into the monster Mama instead - instead of the protector, I became the thing to be afraid of. To a degree. That's not good enough, though. Explanations of what damaged my father just made me feel guilty, frustrated, responsible for him. I was not responsible for him. I am not now. I am responsible for me, and my own children. That is the bottom line.

And yet, it's hard. It's so fucking hard. But that's just how it is. I read to the end of this avidly, because I need an answer, a quick fix, and dose of strength and peace. I know it doesn't work like that, but I'm putting it here as a reminder for myself. And naming and shaming myself and my selfish unthoughful parenting.

After twenty years of learning and teaching self defense, I believe the most fundamental skill women learn from this practice is the ability to stand up for themselves. The best self defense teachers structure their classes to rehearse that core experience of stating what we expect, desire or require and having it honored. It becomes normative to be heard and to have our boundaries respected. I teach like this now and I know that it works.

So why not parent this way too? It's not like parenting isn't going to be a royal bitch anyway. There's no way to make this job easy, no way to transform coexisting with a growing little being into living with a rational adult—or into living alone, which is what I secretly crave on my most selfish days, no matter how deeply I love my family. So I may as well cultivate those skills I want for her, even if it means she's not always the "good" kid. The cost to me—if you can call it that—is having to really live my values, having to recognize my daughter's full humanity in every moment. Yes: even those tired, end of the day minutes when we are both coming unraveled, I have hours of work ahead before I can lie down, and I just want her to do what I say. The benefits are myriad, but on the short list is the fact that I can worry about her just a little less as she moves away from me and into the world. She's growing the skills she needs to fight for herself. I've got the bruises to prove it.

remember the green nylon nightie?

2011-10-16T01:25:00.000-07:00

Well, I've yet to come across a representation of what it actually looked like, but in retrospect, I think this is what I felt like when I wore it (I just didn't know it yet :)

Strange the expectations you have about boobs before you actually have them. I remember my sister giving me one of her cast off bras, which was probably a Ccup, and looking at in in incredulous amazement - being me, I said, thanks, but I can't imagine I'll ever need a bra that big. Being my sister, she took offense, laughed bitterly and suggested that I might be surprised.

And... she was right.

what we're like in labour

2011-10-15T03:31:00.000-07:00

Can anyone who will ever be a parent, support a parent or have anything to do with birth please read this?
http://navelgazingmidwife.squarespace.com/navelgazing-midwife-blog/2010/1/20/labor-a-visual-guide.html

It makes me think deeply about how I was and what I needed in labour. I was lucky enough to have manageable ones, the pain of them was not particularly extreme, I wasn't frightened (well, not of the pain, at least, given the circumstances of the second one), maybe the babies were just in good positions to come easily. I still wish I'd had better care for the second, because I think I would have been one of those pop-him-out-with-a-smile mothers if things hadn't gone so pear shaped.

The whole post is SO IMPORTANT and highlights so strongly what it hospital procedure is doing wrong, and doing to women and babies so violently. Our own birth processes have been stolen from us. And it's getting worse - that Midwife and Nurses' bill is going to go through unamended again, ringing a death knell for home birth and independent midwifery. I am no fan of our new health minister, who doesn't even bother to come vote on the bills the government is passing and for the whole health service, who seem to insist on ignoring evidence based best practice.

And to my children...

2011-10-14T11:25:00.001-07:00

I leave... my blog.

Yeah, thanks, Ma.