The tiny one is in bed. We live in hope that he stays down until 11 when he will feed again. No doubt he will wake up several times a night and anytime between 3 and four for a feed again. think the endless sleepless nights are the hardest part. It makes everything just that little bit tougher. But we will get there. I know we will.

Today we celebrate our Mother. Or rather being a Mom. My jury is still out on the whole thing. The adjustment is mind bending. Looking down at my littlest boy in his bath it is all swimmingly wonderful. The crazy vulnerability of a naked baby just pulls my brain out through my heart. Happiness is a floating four month old. He smiles up and pulls on his testicles (this obviously start early) and just looks delighted with himself. Twenty minutes later he screams as he is going to sleep - for over ten minutes. This is how it is at the moment. The screaming will stop at some point and he will learn to sleep like his Dad, I am sure of it.

I am at home for the moment - redundant from outside work. At times this being at home lark is wonderful but by the end of a week I feel like a crazy person. A friend reckons one needs a certain kind of zen in order to be at home with the kids all day. I am searching...

ouch

effing heartburn.


Cat not helping by kneading

Another Scan

Last week - before the great yawn I had a scan. All is well and we know the sex of the baby. Now all I need to do is get bigger and get the house ready.

Scan Today

Today I got to confirm that there is indeed a tiny little one inside me. No I wasn't imagining it at all. We could see the heartbeat so very clearly and it was terribly exciting. Shame the pictures aren't clear but I think that is fairly common.

The day was marred slightly by the nurse telling me to watch my weight and that begin pregnant didn't mean I had a licence to eat what I wanted. FFS I know I have been slightly over weight for a few years now but I could have done without being made to feel crappy about how I look right now. Now I am feeling completely paranoid and freaking out about what I should and should not eat.

Finally

I am starting to feel like a person again. Not just a vomiting slug. There are still some weird things going on but the endless sickness and darkness appear to be lifting.

I am looking forward to cleaning the house. It has become a dust covered den in the last two months. Cleaning just doesn't feature when all one can think of is sickness. And although himself "tries" to clean, things get missed with only one person on the job. Besides I was given an article to read one day from New Scientist that proved men just don't see dust. Ha! Spurious was the word that came to mind. Perhaps he had falsified the entire issue. Actually there was very little proof and more conjecture as far as I was concerned. Apparently it would seem to be a good excuse for the dust bunnies under the couch.
Either way the house is a mess and I have written a five page list that outlines everything that requires a scrubbing. This includes crazy pregnant stuff such as washing the brush and pan.

Rubber gloves and scrubbing brushes are calling for the weekend.

Next Door People

Argh. FFS etc.

I cannot go outside either back or front without getting some comment from my neighbours. They are a retired couple and extremely house proud. Also very nosey. They have ever twitching curtains. I have been out sick recently and over the last few days of my absence from work J(the husband) comes outside when I am out the back and makes remarks at me.

"Oh I see you are still out, I suppose it is lovely weather" and "well as long as you have a sick note you should be fine".

WTF. I am not his 20 year old child. I am 32 and it is none is his business. They are always making remarks about how we plant things in our garden. What we like and what they think we should have. They are always telling me what I should do with my house. It makes me insane that I cannot go outside without someone popping their head over the wall and making pointed remarks. Grr.

The Good Room

A friend's email sparked a few memories for me. Did anyone have a good room in their house or remember their mates parents having one? I didn't grow up with one myself but I do recall the freakiness of them in my friend's houses. They were always freezing and eerily quiet. Being a child of the '80s the ones I remember had giant floral couches, some crystal bowls and thick carpets. If we were caught sneaking in to jump on the couches we got a good telling off and thrown into the playroom. Another room we didn't have in my house yet somehow we did manage to play.

I do recall my Granny having a good room when we visited her and before we bought her house. It was in the back and she referred to it as the drawing room. It was dark and cold. The decor from my young memory (under four) was navy and mahogany. It was filled with her creepy and extensive doll collection. She had a particular love of flamenco dolls although I doubt she had traveled to Spain at that stage. I can only imagine what the parish priest thought on his visits drinking his tea surrounded by frilly frocked staring dollies. Although our PP had spent some time in the Popes gaff in the Vatican so maybe not.

Eggs

I had the pleasure of minding a pair of urban hens the other week. A friend had ferried off to England with the family. I was tasked with giving the hens some free range goodtimes. Twas a delight. I would imagine they are used to roaming about the garden most of the day so they were terribly excited to see me of an evening. I was after all the freedom giver. We had some fun together. Well they had some fun checking out the flower beds and hopping about the place. I watched em and collected their eggs. They lay two everyday.

Normally I am not a big egg fan. I only eat them as omlettes or maybe pancakes. These eggs are incredible, amazing, delicious. Everyone should eat some free range fresh eggs sometime. YUM.

I am considering getting some hens.

Eventually.

Cycling Stuff

Spent some time today with a couple of lovely bike nerds. Not only have they cycled about 600km between them (in races) since January but they have watched about 600 hours of the men in lycra riding as fast as they can. As you can guess they were watching a race which was set in Belgium and nerding it up trying to guess which team and participant would win.

The ads during the race were kinda odd. Especially the one with the Italian bike champ stripped down to his tattoos, nicely greased up and only hiding his gears with a pair of runners. Most disturbing I tells ya. I had no idea how homo-erotic cycling is until today. Although I should have guessed really with all the lycra involved.

Smells - the moan.

Everything has a strong smell at the moment. Which could be great in a kind of smelling the roses way. But oh no. Everything smells BAD.
I have to wear a mask opening the fridge.
The other half has to eat his dinner in the other room...if it comprises of veggie sausages.
The new tyres on DOC's bike stink up the room.
Coffee which has been a constant love of mine since my teens now smells YUCK. I am devastated about this.
Cooking sends a wave of repulsion down to my stomach.
I have to pass the canteen in work on the way to the lift. The smell of whatever grease is cooking today sends nausea inducing shots down my nostrils.
The car smells funny although in fairness it does need a good clean.
Even the cleaned stuff smells icky. I actually had to change the brand of dish washing liquid because the smell made me gag.
WTF .....feck of smells. I cannot wait to return to normal and once more become oblivious to our stinky stinky world.

CURRENT MOOD

drowning.

Must stop this current mood lark and get another mood

Onwards

Taking a step back from it all

gotta stop the spending

I want to travel next year - badly.

So have to save - something I am terrible at doing.

I am more of a live for the now kinda person.

Life of the edge - edge of nothing

Anyway I am saving saving saving my pennies. Literally unfortunately.

I now have a fiver in the piggy bank.

YIPPEE!!!!!

back from the parties

weddings are a funny old time
everyone thinks that once you are over thirty you must give up the finger and bless it with some symbolic jewel
when you are at a wedding people take the opportunity to give advice on the state of your relationship
how they feel it would be better to get hitched, give a day out.
I've never understood the pressure spoken of in those rubbish chick lit books and movies until this year.
They can all fuck right off now

MISSING

Times have flowed on and changed. I miss seeing my friends everyday. I have no idea if the friendships will last past the final clock out. I just hope they will.

Memories of the times
A thicket of blonde appearing over the green boards. Coming down to chat to me about the latest book readings. Relieving the utter crushing boredom of a job with no challenge. Creating smiles that change the entire face.

The other blonde peering around the far dilbert with the wide eyes thinking us all in
giving opinions freely.

Sitting in a circle talking nonsense and sense.

We had way more fun than we should have had I'm sure of it.

But where is it all without the silliness.

It is all in a haze now and I miss it much.

Times move on, move on, move on, move on.

Farewell

THEY HAVE KILLED OFF THE MOST INTERESTING SKINS CHARACTER

I THINK THEY ARE A PACK OF WANKERS

Spreader

I have had the clogged nose, the streaming eyes and the general grumpiness.
These are all associated with the Cold.
I have no idea who gave it to me however I intend to spread it around.
It has seriously impacted my weekend.
Also the M on y laptop is sticky.
Let the spreading begin.

I am at home sick today

So watching Oprah at some stage in the afternoon is a must.

Now I have not had the pleasure in quite a while.
Jaysus the contestants are all sitting around a counsellor bitvhing about how a long over (9 yrs ago) divorce hurt them so much. I do not want to have my sick time invaded by three middle class young adults sniveling about how they feel they are unable to open up to their parents.

Does anyone want to open up to their parents or have the other happen...they open up to you. YIKES! My parents are great but I think it would kill them off if they knew what went on in my head and I am fairly certain a frank discussion the other way would have me running for the kitchen knife.

My advice to these well dressed young folk to get themselves a drinking problem like most of Irish youth and kill off any brain cells that would enable you to discuss emotions properly.

Maybe I should stick with Seoige and O'Shea where they are doing an item on tarot readings...Will different tarot readings be consistent for the same man? Effing tarot readings? How far has Grainne fallen since the newsreader days.
Still even I fancy the lovely Seoige....everytime I see her I imagine her in black with a large whip in hand.

Did I just fall into a weird fantasy land..did I mention I was sick?

Must turn TV back on to find out if GS thinks Irish men are bad husbands.
I'm guessing the target audience for this show are kinda sad.

ladies hair

What is is about my present surroundings that makes me feel the need to shave parts of myself?
I hate that my armpits look like I haven't hit puberty yet.
As for pubic hair - why would I want to look like a nine year old? Beside the re-growth itches so badly.
I would rather just look furry naked than be caught trying to itch my nether regions at work. Imagine getting into a good scratch and having it interrupted by your new bosses stares. Not a good introduction.

Still I did go for several years without shaving anything when I was younger. Then I got together with a friend of mine and I could see his face when he first noticed my legs. Which are not terribly hairy but it was noticeable nonetheless. Now he only did a brief double take but women are sensitive to these things so I shaved them the next day. I have never gone with the whole natural thing again.

I resent my bowing down to this social limitation. Particularly when I like men's hair. Why do they get to look so lovely with their soft hair smelling of goodness and I have to strip myself down.

Crazy

I envy you

the lack of involvement
ability to be close enough without truly blurring your feelings
the thickness of your hair
the soft strong voice
the closing off

Getting Home

I still feel out of step with the rest of the world here in Ireland.
Just a few seconds behind the reality of life.
It appears to make everything clearer and allows me to make decisions quicker than ususal.
Everything here is like one of those black and white movies of footballers. The ones where they run around like maniacs kicking the ball in an old fashioned way.
All mania and no style. I will continue after my dinner guests leave...