17 August, 2018

I met Ger for lunch today

... and we have both decided that being an adult is a load of bollox.   When I was little I wanted to be a grown up so I could stay up late.  Now I am a grown up I just want to go to bed at 8pm.  
We've decided we need a road trip where I can admire cows in the field and we can cloud spot together.  Oh, and laugh.  Laugh so hard we snort. 
Lunch was delightful even though neither of could read the menu.  It was very fancy curly lettering on a page that had a background image?!  We put the world to rights and I came home and napped.   Napping is one of the great things about being an adult .... or a baby lol. 

09 August, 2018

I swear to God ..

Gruncle Bill came to stay yesterday which means on Monday I checked out no. 3's room to make sure he'd tidied for Bill to stay in.  I've been asking him for days and every time I ask he tells me, in a ffs woman, tone of voice 'yes, it's done, I told you I did it".

Yeah!  So turns out no. 3's version of tidying his room and me tidying his room are two VERY different things.   His idea of tidying up is to fuck everything he owns under his bed.  I found two school uniforms under there.  TWO!!  From a school he will never again attend.  I also found many, many odd socks and all his missing pants.  Dirty, for the most part, and stinking up his wardrobe.
It took three hours but that room was spotless when I finished.  There were also two bags of clothes that no longer fit him ready for the charity shop and a very full black bag of broken shit.   My kids take after their dad and hoard.  They hoard everything.  Even if it's broken cos, like, it may come in useful.

Then I went into no. 2's room.  He, also, has spent a large part of the past week tidying the pit he calls a bedroom.  Again, tonnes of bastarding knickers and socks under the beds (he has two singles in his room so even more space to stash shit). Along with a lot of malteaser bags (empty), pringle tubes (empty) and magnum wrappers.... (empty!!!!)

Another two bags of clothes to be recycled and another bag of rubbish to be dumped.  Along with every fucking guitar string he has ever owned ... snapped, no use, but .... you never know when it might come in handy.  

It got to the point that I started crying.  Actually, not crying more SCREAMING that they were lousy, selfish fuckwits who had zero respect for me etc. etc.   Five people live in our house.  Five,  Not 11.  Five!  Yet there were ELEVEN towels over the bannister 'airing'.  Eleven?  Like, how the fuck did they use 11 towels in two days?  There were also 3 empty toilet roll tubes on the toilet cistern, an empty roll on the holder, a towel on the floor and one hanging on the hook.  Six empty shower gel bottles on the edge of the bath and 7 facecloths, in various stages of drying from soaked and smelly to dry as a bone in the bath and draped on the shower screen.  Oh, and a pair of dirty jocks just in front of the toilet where one of the scuts had stepped out of them and left them there for the fairies to pick up. 

AFter I had done screaming and lay, wrecked, and wrung out on the stairs the bastards said 'if you want help you only have to ask'.

Why, oh fucking why, does it take me losing seven shades of shit and most of my sanity before the bastards listen to me. 

03 August, 2018

We have this joke ....

.... about how if no. 2 ever broke a bone or hurt himself we'd just have him put down as he has such a low pain threshold.  
Well. today I sliced the side of my right pinkie with a brand new scalpel blade.  As the blade was super new and sharp I didn't feel it until I noticed blood all over the gaff.

I wish someone would take me outside and put me down.  Fuck it hurts.  

If all else fails...

 .... go the the beach.   We are spoiled on the north side of Dublin.   We have fabulous beaches and cliff walks and one of my favourites is Portrane to Donabate.  There are three reasons for this. 
a. It's pretty.
b. The waterside hotel is at the end of the walk and they have THE most gorgeous melt in your mouth biscuits to go with a cup of tea.  Oh, and you can have your dogs on the terrace.
c. The walk pretty much hammers in your 10k steps.  (which you then negate by having either ice cream in Scrumdiddlys or a scone and cream ( to go with your tea and biscuits at the hotel).

Anyway, went there today and Kima tried to kill Stella.   It's a cliff top walk ffs and she as Stella was chasing her, playing, Kima bounced back and whomped into Stella ... pushing her off the fucking cliff.   All you could hear was 'Woof????' and see paws and a tail flying.  Thankfully she didn't fall far but shes scratched to bits.   Kima is a thug. 

30 July, 2018

Day (what feels like 8,840) of school holidays and .............

...............I'm bored off my fucking face.   

The kids aren't bored.  They are delighted with life.   No. 1 reclining in bed, along with broken arm, until roughly 3pm each day, No. 2 either out with friends or getting up around noon to sit in playroom playing on playstation.  No. 3?  Well he gets up the minute it's bright (sadly not 4am anymore, sob, the long days of summer are starting to fade) and plays on the xbox until you prise him off it.

This leaves me.   Bored off my face.  Too bored to do anything useful like keep up to date with work or even clean the house just b.o.r.e.d.   Why do I have to be someone who goes from chilled to bored off face in a matter of minutes?  I'm so bored I don't even have the whatfor to think of something cool to do.
Chatting with my neighbour earlier and she was off to the playground with the eldest two girls and I was kinda envious.  Which is a load of bollox, obviously, as I remember those days at the park.  Endless hours of hooshing kids up climbing frames they were too small for or pushing them on swings or ... yawn.   Then at the end of the summer, there would be wasps.   Which meant No. 3 would get stung. 

I am a contrary hooer and I accept that.   

In a couple of weeks you will be able to witness my panic at going back to work.  At that point I won't be bored I'll be sick at how I'm going to fit everything in and feed everyone and get everyone to and from school and NOT burning down the building I'll be working in.  I'm actually having nightmares about burning down the building.  I've never burnt anything down and Geraldine told me they won't give me matches on my first day!!!  Yup, yours truly, after 14 years in the wilderness is going back to work, kind of.  I've tried talking to Himself about how we manage to get the kids home from school if it's raining etc. during those first three weeks and his response was 'they'll be fine, they can walk'.  FFS, if they could walk home why the fuck have I been collecting them for the past 8 years???  It's no. 3's first year in secondary school, he's going to be knackered.  I'm going to be knackered and I have a feeling that I will now be working full time, for three weeks (Iknow, I know, and I'm still going to have to do all the other stuff I do (when not bored off face) like feeding kids and dogs, walking hounds, driving kids, housework and cake work and ..... I'm stressed before I've even started.
I'm providing holiday cover as a receptionist for a local, big, business and I am scared shitless.   Like, spider scared.  It's the first three weeks of September and another three weeks over the course of the year and I'm scared.   I used to temp ffs, different company every other week so why I am afraid of three weeks up the road is beyond me.   Christ on a bike but there is no pleasing me.  

Oh, in an attempt to ward off boredom today I went to Homestore and more and spent, to me, a small fortune on pillows for our bed.   I probably should have bought school uniforms but I need a new pillow more.   Worried about how they might not be nice pillows to sleep on I lay down for a minute and woke up 45 minutes later.  They work. 
I also made dinner for tomorrow and dinner for tonight.  From scratch and watched two movies.  Oh and walked hounds.  
I wish I was less contrary.


12 February, 2017

One week down and ... sweet mother of god it just kept getting worse.


Firstly, this week started off so well with the healthy eating and everything but, by the end of it, I was eating anything that didn't move and drinking 2 litres of gin instead of water.  Small kids are gorgeous and so fucking noisy.  Especially the smallest one.  For something as tiny, google munchkin, it's very, VERY, loud.  Also, it never stops moving.  It's a good thing she is so pretty.  Otherwise I would stand on her.  


We're all up with the alarm.  All happy and bright and breezy.  Himself is starting his new job.  Son no. 1 is off to the army for the week.  Son no. 2 is good to go with me, Stella in back of car for our big walk and son no. 3 is off to get his lift to school.
Child drop goes well.  Dog walk goes well, even if I am soaked to my knickers.  Bloody rain.   Home and showered and ready to work by 11???  That's far too late to start working.  Had just gotten into swing of it when alarm went off to say it's time to tidy up and get #3 from school.  Did that and went to arranged spot to meet kids.  Kids didn't show up.  Went to second rendezvous point only to find S but no #3  Mild panic and all into car to boot back to school and find missing child.  Meet missing child on way.  Miscommunication between him and S.  Fed child and started to work again.  Only to have next alarm go off to collect no. 2??!!  Tidy up and head out the door.  Get child, 15 minute scheduled bonding and home.  Think about taking work out but it's time to cook bloody dinner?!?!  Where has the day gone?  I've made a bear!  A fucking bear.  That's all I made all day.  Oh, and a goalpost.  Bed exhausted at 11pm but I've been to the cinema where it was quiet.  Went to see Jackie.  She was an odd lady. 

Dinner is a delicious stir fry and all is healthy and good.  Easy to eat well when there is no one distracting you with 'fancy a coffee and a bun?'

Oh and Himself comes in and starts unloading the dishwasher and reloading it.  Prick.


More or less a repeat of the day before only #2 was sick.  If you believe that.  Dog is walked, freezing today, Irish weather is so mental, floors washed and I'm still only sitting down to work at bloody 11am.  Two little girls made today so that's better I guess.  Alarm goes off for #3 but that's grand, we know exactly where we are meeting.
Home, feed him and me and then look at diary only to have next alarm go off .. but son is, allegedly sick in bed so .. all is good.

Dinner a boring mashed potato (but nice mashed potato as I use the ricer and a tonne of butter, butter doesn't count if it's in mashed potato), fish and peas.  Fiona has bought chocolate and crisps.  Turns out I have no will power. Surprise, not.

Himself comes in and starts giving out that I bought 'Giant' rather than 'Large' dog food.  Bastard.  I noticed it was the wrong food the minute I cut open the bag.  The kibble is the size of rocks.  Royal Canin is sold in the following sizes: small dog, puppy, weak puppy, mid size dog, mid size dog with weight problem, mid size old dog and mid size dog with food intolerance's.  They also break the mid size dogs into breeds!!!  Then its more or less the same for big dogs and, it turns out, that there is a giant dog mix.  Nearly all come in a purple fucking bag and the lady gave me the wrong one.  THE LADY!!!!!!

Very much looking forward to Himself learning about body language next week so he can come in, notice me hunched over the table looking pained and note to himself that it may be best to say 'fancy a cup of tea or gin love?' rather than rearrange the bastarding dishwasher or moan about moon sized dog food.


Sweet fucking jesus.  I have had enough. No matter what time I get up at I still end up not getting to work until 11am.  Today had the added bonus of Stella knocking a woman into the air and winding her so badly everyone in the castle could hear the air leaving her body.
We were halfway through our walk when Stella found another dog to play with. Nothing better than a chase, eh, Stell?  Anyway, the owner of the other dog was running and she called back over her shoulder to me that Stella was gorgeous when ... her dog and Stella, mostly Stella who, while gorgeous, is fucking useless at noticing what is going on around her ... ran straight into the back of her legs.  Which meant she was flipped into the air and flat on her back.  I'm not joking when I say that you could hear the air leave her.  She lay there, crying a bit (I would have been howling), and I was hyperventilating   A lovely old man came back towards us and we helped the woman up.  She was lovely, and kept saying accidents happen and sure what can you do? etc. and I was just frantic.  I don't think I am going to see her for a week or so as I imagine she is very bruised and sore.  Shall have to take to carrying a bunch of flowers around with me every where I go for next week as .. ouch.  Thank God Stella knocked over another big dog owner.  Small dog owners are very cross most of the time.
Walk cut short as my nerves shredded.
Work like a demon and get all cakes finished.
Fiona collects child #3 and S and I clean downstairs.  Amazing how quickly one can clean up when under pressure.  Fiona also cooked dinner .. found something that most of us like.  #2 doesn't care for it (pork, chorizo and prawn pie).  Seriously, what does one have to do to get them all to eat the same bloody thing.
Mind you, think #1 would eat anything.  Army training has him exhausted.
Bed at 10.30 but too tired to read so found The Code on Netflix.  Watch it, it's brilliant.  


Walk Stella at the ungodly hour of 8am to avoid all other dog walkers.  Fear everyone is going to be knocked over like skittles by donkey dog.  Home, showered and text from B. looking to go for a coffee.  Bad feeling.  You know that feeling you get when someone, headmistress, boss, etc. asks to see you?  Well that's how I feel when we meet for coffee.  Never get that feeling when we go for a pint or dinner but coffee is scary.
Right to be afraid.  B has gotten a job.  Which is fantastic.  I am thrilled for her as I know how much it is needed but .. oh fuck, poor me.  I'll have to bake or fold the company or ... fuck, I'll have to bake because I need the money.  Why is it when life suddenly clicks into 'it's all going to be ok' does it go tits up so quickly thereafter??
G. and everyone else I know and love in the cake world offers to bake for me.  Even Himself says he'll bake but .. I think me and G are going to be working together quite a bit. Providing I don't break her.  
Dinner?  Can't remember but lots of chocolate was eaten, ditto crisps.  Drank lots of water (tonic) mixed with gin.  Life less grim.  Oh, we had chilli.


No dog walking.  Am too tired.  Have had enough.  


Met B.work was great but she says the standard is waaaay lower than anything we have ever made.  She wants to work for them part time so, touch wood, we can keep working together to some degree.
Hung out in B's for hours.  Did not want to go home.  Had described the scene, downstairs, to Himself, whilst getting out of bed:

Picture it.... you walk downstairs marveling at how, despite numerous instructions and a map detailing the location of the laundry basket the kids, i.e. eldest and middle, are still dumping their clothes, under the landing window.  Basket hasn't been there in weeks but they still chuck their foul clothes there.  You continue downstairs and stumble over several pairs of shoes scattered about the bottom steps and in the hallway.   You glance into the playroom as you go past and discover that, yes, the blind is still down and there will be a child on the sofa, bowl balanced on arm, watching tv.  It doesn't matter which child it is that is how the room will look.  Also, said child, rather than removing anything that is on the sofa, will use his feet to push everything down to the other end. 
There will be cereal scattered all over the counter and floor and back door will be wide open.  Tv will be on, chances are nobody will be watching it as they will on laptop or DS.
Ironing and underwear that was neatly laid out and sorted to be brought upstairs will still be on the sofa but ... knocked about and no longer crisp looking.
Breakfast dishes will be dumped in sink and .....

That's exactly what I came downstairs to.  I went to B's leaving it like that and Himself came down and cursed loudly because I was right and he doesn't like that.  

Whilst in B's he threatens kids with skinning and losing everything they own.  Which is unfair on the youngest as he does clean up after himself.  #3 is so angry with the injustice of it all he cannot speak.  #1 is grounded and has phone and anything else that connects to the interweb removed from him.  He takes to the bed.  

Now it's Sunday.  I am nervous of what the week ahead brings.  Apart form small noisy girl who never stops grumbling I am enjoying having my sister here.   I even like the small grumbling girl, kind've. 

06 February, 2017

It's been a while, huh?

I bought a journal to give this bullet journal thing a lash.  I is not enjoying it.  My journal is not pretty but ... it is useful insofar as I now have a record of the things I forgot to do and a way of tracking my headaches.  So far it would appear that all headaches have been brought on by stress.  I know this because I had my first headache in ages yesterday, exactly three days after the sister and kids arrived home, to my home, to stay for three weeks.  However, I also had a very fast, very strong gin.
I'll tell you more about that another time, the sister visit that is, the gin?  Nothing to say other than it was needed and I was in bed by 8pm on a Sunday night.  

So the journal thing doesn't appear to be for me but it has made me realise I miss this page.  Not sure why I haven't written anything in so long.  May have something to do with the fact that we have been so under pressure with Himself not working and lack of funds to do fun stuff that I had no fun stuff to do and tell you about.

Here's to that all changing.  As, fanfare now .... HIMSELF GOT A JOB AND STARTED TODAY!!!!!  Isn't that fucking brilliant???  Yup, after eight (you read that correctly) years and two degrees Himself is back in the land where he belongs.  I can't tell you where he works 'cos there is a secrecy form signed.  Not by me mind, but by him and he may not be impressed with me blabbing on the tinternet.  He has told everyone that he is going to be a something something Officer!  An officer I tell you!  But not a police officer and he definitely doesn't have a gun.  Grunkle Bill is convinced he will have a gun. 

So, in the hope of fun money finally being back in our lives I am going to attempt to resurrect this poor thing and give Gertrude a laugh every now and then.  

Also, for the first time in years I am fully responsible for getting everyone to and from school, getting them fed, keeping the house looking as if it's loved and walking the dog.  Oh, and working myself.  Yup, no one to turn to at 1.45pm and say, 'cos I'm up to my ears in icing or it's raining, '.. so, er, you're getting the kids then, yeah?'
Nope, it's all up to me.  If I can do it for the next three weeks when we have guests (are family guests or just a nuisance?)I shall be the mutts nuts by the time his training is finished (9 weeks in total) and the shift work starts.  Shift work means I have to cook a Sunday dinner, meh, and stand at a football sideline every second Sunday.  Double Meh.  Apart from meaning that the buck really does stop with me now I am very much looking forward to this new phase.  Kind've.  No I am.  I am.  I think.

p.s. I am so stressed by having very small people in the house I took the dogs for their walk at 8.40 this morning.  We were back in and showered by 10.10pm.  I have done my full 10K steps and both dogs are still asleep.  It's 4.30!!

22 January, 2017


I'm just home from seeing Colonel Chris Hadfield (a very happy birthday present from Himself ).

I could listen to the man for as long as he had a voice.  He was wonderful and funny and ...wonderful.

He said two things that have really stuck with me.  The first is: Consider your next decision.  That's all that is ever important, it's all that matters.  Your next decision shapes your life.  Life is made of 'next decisions'.

Secondly: You learn more from failure than success.  It's okay to fail, it's good to fail, that's how you learn.

Sigh, I do admire that man.  

04 May, 2016

It's been 7 hours and 15 days

Tonight at roughly 10pm, our time, radio stations across the world are going to play Nothing Compares 2 U, as sung by Prince himself.
Tomorrow, two weeks ago, I was sitting in the car waiting to collect Harry from school when Matt Cooper announced there was to be a breaking news bulletin.  I kept reading my book, thought it was something to do with the government, except it wasn't.
Prince had died.
My Prince.  
Harry arrived seconds later to find me sobbing.
I cried the whole way home and Himself gave me a hug when I walked back into the house.   I rang Colette and we cried together and then I just sat and listened to the radio.  For hours.
The lads kept looking at me like I was mad (I probably looked mad, I was snotty and red eyed and full of fat tears), I mean, I didn't know him.  I'd never met him but .... I did know him.  He has been part of my life ever since I was given Sign o' the times by my mam.  He has been part of every major event in my life and many of the just normal, boring days.  I woke up the following Friday to the sound of Prince on the radio, a bloody brilliant thing to wake up to ... until I remembered why.  If's funny but, you know how, when someone dies, everyone comes together and remembers funny stories, sad times, gossip and, in many a case, the parties?  Well, that's how it's been here.  I have spoken to so many old friends since that Thursday afternoon.  All conversations starting with 'do you remember?' 
I was lucky enough to see him live 4 times and every time was a blast.  Company was always epic and the music was legendary.  I think I cried for all the happy times I had with his music in the background and all the sad times were his music made me feel better, either from dancing or crying.  

As Prince himself said, Life is just a party and parties aren't meant to last.  

Still hurts though.