It's not you, it's me.

I apologise for not visiting your blog or keeping up to date on your news or even acknowledging your comments.

I’ve slightly overextended myself. Two babies, one husband, lots of family and friends, two cats, 2 websites, a business start up, 3 blogs, 3 Facebook pages, 2 Twitter accounts and a daughter who feeds every forty minutes from 7 til 10 in the evening. Something had to give.

Bear with me you wonderful bloggers. I will find the time to open my reader soon and catch up with you all. I may even pour myself a wee glass of vino as I peek into your lives.

In the meantime, I’m twittering here and blogging a bit here and maybe even right here.

The Big Wuss in the Face of Adversity Award Goes to Me

Saturday morning 9:00.

The kitchen.

Tinyelf is screaming to get out of stupid jumping contraption and to go for a nap.

Crazypixie is roaring with pain, blood is pouring from her mouth, her pyjamas are soaked in blood too and there is a puddle of it staining the tile grout.

Himself is hugging crazypixie and examining the wound while trying to talk calmly to tinyelf.

I'm lying on the floor, in just a towel, overcome by the sight of so much blood.

I was going to elaborate but let’s just leave it at that.

Suffice to say it all turned out ok in the end.

Thanks to Daddy.

Not so much fun

I’m covered in hickeys!!

The purple blotches are on my arms, neck and chest.

It’s not from a passionate night with himself (sigh).

Nor is it from an illicit tryst with a stranger (eew).

Tinyelf is the culprit.

My little leech baby likes to suck. When she’s finished feeding it’s bye bye boobie and hello nearest piece of exposed mummy.

When she’s happy she sucks, when she’s tired she sucks, when she’s bored she sucks.

Maybe it’s about marking her property.

Asgard 2

I wrote this piece a year ago today. It was an attempt to type away my tears. A year on and Asgard has been left on the sea bed and we have no news of a replacement. Coiste an Asgard is still carrying out sail training but we are without a tall ship to carry our flag.


On September 11th 2008, Asgard II sank, and with her something of my youth. I’ve cried the great big heaving sobs of grief. And yet it seems ridiculous, yeah illogical to be grieving for a boat. But as the old hands would say, ‘she wasn’t just a ship, she was a lady….’

I was sixteen when I boarded the Asgard for the first of many voyages. For the next two weeks I became part of a crew, had experiences that changed me forever and fell in love with a gaff rigged brigantine…

Sailing a tall ship was magical; it was the stuff of adventure novels. We did things that pushed our boundaries just enough so that we were stronger more confident young people at the end of the voyage. We climbed up the rigging in heavy seas to reduce sail; we did it because it had to be done, and we did it under the watchful eye of the crew. Sure we were a little scared but when we had that job done and conquered that fear….well we just got on with next job…

Asgard was a relatively new vessel, but she was steeped in the tradition of the sea. The poetry of her rigging echoed the rich lives of ancient seafarers: buntlines and clew lines, braces and sheets, topsail and t’gallant. The centuries old calls of ‘all hands on deck’, ‘bracing stations’ and ‘2, 6, heave…’ became a language we understood. We thought nothing of spending time tying frayed rope to make baggy wrinkles or avoiding the widow-maker during manoeuvres before returning to the dog house for watch duties. We revelled in this new world, learning together.

It was on this vessel that many young people gained a love and respect for the sea and an appreciation of working life. Like many young people I went on board Asgard during that rough rollercoaster of my teens. Onboard everyone was part of the crew, we all worked together and we all worked hard and that was the joy of it. As well as the sailing, there was brass to be polished, toilets to be cleaned, and dinner to be cooked. Every one mucked in, and became firm friends in the process.

Ashore there was the craic, and with a boat full of teenagers, many romances. But this was no summer camp, this was real.

I always felt safe on Asgard. Even in really heavy weather she was solid; a great sea boat. The permanent crew: Captain, Mate, Bosun, Cook and Engineer, took incredibly good care of their young charges and treated us with a mixture of respect, good humour and firm boundaries that ensured life at sea was challenging, enjoyable and safe for us all.

I can’t believe she’s gone. I only hope that this isn’t the end of the wonderful tall ship training tradition in Ireland, and that one day my daughter will have a chance to experience living and working on an Irish Tall Ship.

Life's not fair.

My sis and I were having a cuppa in my sitting room, our tiny ones on our knees and crazypixie busy trying on shoes and hats.

Tinyelf began the theatrics that signal a poo.

My sister asked ‘Does she poo everyday?’

I was confused.

‘She poos about three times a day.’

‘Oh, lilman only poos every three days.’

Every three days!

I was incredulous.

I was stunned.

I was envious.

The day before I had changed seven pooey nappies by teatime. 7, in a day.

She does that a month.

NOT FAIR

Dress code

I usually dress the girls in the morning but sometimes himself, my mother or my mother-in-law does it.
When this happens I try to leave complete outfits ready but there are rare times when himself or the grannies have to pick the clothes themselves.

So until my girls are choosing their own clothes the following tips will be duck-taped to the wardrobe door.


Tips for dressing my girls

Choosing an outfit

Dress for the occasion:
Jeans/trousers and top are appropriate when going to the pool, the woods, the playground and generally mucking around.
For visits to friends and grandparents or restaurants a pinafore (like dungarees with a skirt bottom), skirt or nice trousers and top will do.
For special occasions like birthday parties a dress is appropriate (not pyjama top and jeans, mum).

Colours:
Pink, red, orange, purple; pick one and don’t mix it with the others.
White, green, blue, denim can be matched with any of the above.

Pyjamas:
Are for bedtime only.

Tights and socks:
Should match outfit. See colours.

Shoes:
No matter what your daughter/granddaughter tells you, shoes should be worn in matching pairs.

Accessories:
This is crazypixie’s area of expertise. Let her chose hats, bags and bracelets for everyone.

When you’ve chosen an outfit using the above guidelines, lay it out to make sure it all works together (i.e. she won’t look like a little hooker/homeless child/teletubbie).

Before putting it on the child ask yourself, ‘Is this what my wife/daughter/daughter-in-law would dress her in?’


Always check that the clothes fit and are on properly.

The clothes are inside out if:
The tags are on the outside (take note, husband dear)
The stitching is on the outside.

Clothes are too small if:
Pulling it over her head involves you breaking a sweat and her in tears.
The top finishes above her bellybutton.
The trousers reveal a builders bum when she bends over.
The crotch of the tights is at her knees
Only one of four buttons will close.

If in doubt take a photo of proposed outfit and media message it to Jen for approval.

Life before little ones.

Feeling a little nostalgic while figuring out how to embed video in blogger.

Here's what myself and himself used to get up to at weekends (we're not in this but used to race against the guys that are).