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. 

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

Monday:  

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.  

Monday:

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.

Tuesday:

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.

Wednesday:

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.  

Thursday:

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.

Friday:

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

Saturday:

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. 

I am a bad blogger

I really am.  Funny things have been happening, tedious things too . . . I just haven't told you any of it.  

I bought a new laptop though so, touch wood, I shall be blogging away merrily from the sofa in the near future.  I'm blaming the 'held together with sellotape and spit' laptop that you couldn't move from the table for fear of it falling apart on my lack of blogging.  Something very bleagh about being made sit at the table to write.  I feel like I'm being punished or made do my homework.

Right, going to have a hoosh through photos and see what's what, shall tell you about the new dog (who has been living with us for 7 months now) and how we can no longer watch the telly or dvds as the wagon has eaten all the remote controls.

Oh, about the whack a mole rat, how no. 2 pushed no. 3 and blamed the not very christian Christian and how BOB rang to say she was lost! 

Let's talk about er, you know yourself.

I'm only telling you this story as my friend Karen nearly peed with laughter when I mentioned it to her the other night.  She said you'd all love it so, here goes.

A couple of months back we were all sat down to dinner.  I'm not sure how it happened but we've all got our dedicated places at the table.  Very Walton Mountain.  Anyway, as you look in towards the kitchen you will find no. 3 at the head of the table, no. 1 on his right hand side and no. 2 on his left.  I sit beside no. 2 and Himself beside no.. 1.   I like it, means I'm not the one hopping up and down getting whatever has been forgotten when the table was laid (Ha, I like that.  "Table laid" . . . yeah, no. 3 crashes some knives and forks down where people sit, with such good grace I never ask him to put out glasses).

We're all sat there and everyone is yapping away and I'm wondering how is this my life (in a good way) when no. 3 pipes up.  "I know how babies are made"  "Oh really?" says I.  "yeah" he said, "Me and no. 2 saw the book you bought no. 1 and we read it'"

Ahhhh balls.

Now, the book in question, is a cartoony, sketchy kind've book for 12 - 14 year old boys.  Though, my gut tells me 14 year old boys are far more advanced than that book lets on, but that is neither here nor there.  The book says things like 'testicles' are another name for your balls, scrotum, nuts, ball sack etc.  Quite informal stuff.  Also tells you that you really should shower more than twice a week and that you will get hairy, interested in girls, spots, tired and discover the joys of er, alone time.  Thankfully it doesn't spell out what that alone time entails or no. 3 would have us driven demented.

"Yeah', he says/  "The man puts his penis into the woman's vagina and th. . .  . ."

Cue no. 1 going 'ah, jesus' and no. 2 covering his ears and going lalalalalalalalalaalal.  Me?  I was torn between the two.  Himself just laughed and kept eating his dinner.  

Then, as no. 3 kept babbling on nd on he asked "but how does the penis go into the vagina????"

I think himself had an out of body experience or something because, before you knew it he had . . . jesus....

Okay, time for some audience participation here.  Taking your left hand, join your pointy finger and your thumb together to make a circle . . (you following me??  you blushing yet??) then, using the pointy finger of your right hand . . . yup,  slide your pointy finger into the circle and remove.

The kids nearly pissed themselves laughing.  I nearly died on the spot.  Himself went puce and rejoined our little world.

I don't know which of the five of us was more gobsmacked.  They pissed themselves laughing, I begged for a bit of . . . niceness, PLEASE?????

Needless to say, they still do it.  Just to wind me up.

I don't think either myself or Himself will ever be asked to give talks on, the other thing, you know yourself.

A funny twist.

# 1 began winding up #s 2 and 3 the other day about how they were in fact monkeys.  Not little boys at all.  Himself joined in and explained how he had to shave # 2 every other night but only had to shave # 3 once a week.  The latter because the youngest chap is fair and a lot less hairy than # 2.  We've been pissing ourselves over it as they're not quite sure how to take it all.  I mean, it's one thing for # 1 to wind them up but for Himself and Myself to add our tuppence worth??

So, imagine our delight today when the following picture was published in the Irish Times.  Yup, Lena has had a baby.  Happy Mother's Day to her (and aren't you a little thrown too by how alike we look to apes?).

Photograph: Conor Healy/Dublin Zoo

You can find the full article here.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I have a friend who describes a visit to Liberty of London like that.  That's how I feel about the web at the moment.  There are some fantastic sites out there, mostly I go for the baking ones (then I found LTG which led to a tonne of cool/geek chic ones) and .. . .  you find a great blog.  Then you check out who that blogger is following and so on and so on.  Today I have discovered three great bloggers and from there?  Who knows but I'm loving it.

Had a wonderful day with my godson and his mammy and his brother and sister (who despite being the only girl in the gang has managed to become bigger and tougher than the lot of the boys combined - a fact she is delighted to show off) at the zoo.  We actually managed to see some animals this time (normally we just make it to the city farm and the elephants).  But, to #3's huge disappointment, the giraffes refused to come out and play.  Don't blame them either.  It was freezing.  Bumped into lots of people C knew (she knows everyone) and then her lovely, unidentical twin sister whereupon the date was set for our Trip to Belfast.  L and L go clothes shopping and me and C go 'pretty things for the house' shopping.  Unless of course I manage to shift 4stone by the middle of Jan!

Recap!

I'm sitting here in my pj's, cos this blogger ain't getting dressed today if she can help it, listening to #3 having a meltdown over a present they got.  It's not bothering me.  I am finally, finally chilled out.  Himself is cleaning the oven.  #2 is still Anakin Skywalker and #1 is causing #3's meltdown.  

Me?  I'm in my pj's typing this.  Happy, happy days.  In my defence I am going to start the ironing now.  Whilst watching one of our many cool Christmas present movies. 

We had an absolutely fantastic Christmas.  It started with lunch in Malahide on Christmas Eve and ended with me driving the Brazilians and Eoin home at 1am on Christmas morning.  We had everyone over for dinner on Christmas Eve as is our new habit.  Himself cooked a fabulous dinner as I had bailed to bed (started vomiting the early hours of Friday and was shagged) and I came down in time to set the table.  11 of us in total and it was brilliant.  We were like the UN.  Everyone was talking and translating and miming.  Carmecy mimed eating the bone from the beef and I was thrilled as it meant she felt at home (Carmecy is Isabella's mum and Eoin's future MIL).  Ibo was delighted as everything was cooked so separately there wasn't a chance of him accidentally getting sausage juice, ick, on his food and Fiona washed her face and teeth before she kissed her hubbie Merry Christmas.  

Then it was presents all around.  Knackered kids were put to bed at 10.30 and then we played Just Dance on the Wii.   Brilliant.  Photos below to prove how brilliant.

Forgot the Christmas Crackers.  Forgot to make a dessert but it didn't matter cos everyone was stuffed.  Dropped everyone home and drove home in the snow in the stillness of the night and it was lovely.  I love driving at night.  Especially when the radio is good and everyone is where they are meant to be.  

The usual quiet panic ensued once I hit home, cup of tea had and then . . . . . and then bed.  Really feel like my head only hit the pillow before we were woken up by 3 small ones bouncing on us.

Okay, #3's whinging and whining getting to me . . .  chilling feeling is wearing off. . . . a moment please.

Right, small bouncing kids.  Stocking emptied.  Santa seemed to have misplaced or lost the usual socks and undies he gives me and Himself.  But he remembered everything else although he did give Arthur a game that his nana and granddad had also bought him which led to some mad panicking and running around trying to rustle up  new presents.

Big sleep whilst everyone else watched Despicable Me and then showered and dressed and off to the in-laws.  Another big dinner and more presents.  Catch up, eating, sleeping and home.

St. Stephen's Day.  Kildare.  More great company, great food (especially the ham, not a turkey person.  I'm with my da on that one) and dancing.  Home.  Cup of tea and bed with book and great radio.  

I'm a really happy, relaxed camper and today I'm not getting dressed.  A very happy camper indeed.

 The family.

 Eoin, Carmecy, Isabella and Anna

 Carmecy giving it loads

Himself and Carmecy getting into the swing of it all

 Fiona and Eoin - doesn't Eoin look, er, interesting

Us and Dinner!!!!!!

 # 1 - Got Iron Man 2 I'm guessing

 # 2 got Toy Story 3

 # 3 is very pleased with his movie and his book

Balls

The boys are officially off school.  Both schools are closed due to snow.  Okay, so it was snowing last night but it's pissing down with rain now.  Why couldn't they go in?  Yeah, I know, they're all sick but c'mon!!!!  How do they cope in countries that get real snowfalls?  I want my kids away from me.  In the nicest possible way.

Hmmmmm?

# 1 is puking.

#3 is pooping.

# 2 is barking, and 

himself is snoring.

God knows where the dog is!

I am ironing.  And putting on a wash.  And playing on this.  And yes I know one shouldn't start a sentence with the word 'and' but I don't know why that is.

I've accepted that the kids won't be going to school tomorrow due to above and the latest sodding snowfall so I've decided to get ahead of myself (never a good thing) and do the ironing and put on another wash.  Catch up on some telly whilst I'm at it too.  That way we can all be bored together tomorrow.  I'm laughing, I'm laughing!!

Everyone is c-c-c-coughing

Both # 2 and 3 have croup.  Aaagh.  Thanks to advice from the lovely Urban Stems I am keeping the heat on in the bedrooms and keeping it on low and, touch wood, that's helping.  But God, the coughing.  It's awful.

No other news as such.  Had a lovely afternoon in the phoenix park with the boys and dog.  Then got completely fleeced in the Interpretive Centre for 3 small hot chocolates and 2 coffees.  €26!!  1 cookie, 2 muffins and a beetroot and chocolate slice for me.  Is that expensive or am I naive?

I was meant to be working the market in Balbriggan.  Myself and M had a stall organised where we were going to be selling our wares.  It got cancelled yesterday at 3pm which was a complete and utter pisser as I had stayed up all night before making bloody fairycupcakes.  Still, it could've been worse.  I could have iced them!

Our puddings are going to be the big hit I think and that's what we're going to go hell for leather on.  

Too tired to be either funny or insightful so going to go now rather than bore you further.  Nice of me, eh?

Here you go though, some fab photos of the snow.  Some fab photos of our puddins too.

Stay warm, drink lots of tea and enjoy both.

Sorry, the house is a mess

This is what my lovely neighbour said when I called in to say I was too tired to come out and play yesterday.  I don't know where the mess was but my home can knock hers (mess-wise) into the hal'penny place.  It made me think . . . what do people who don't have kids in their houses/lives/whatever do with their time?

Me and yer man have 3 (all boys, all mental) and the borrowed boy to worry about.  We also have a dog, a lizard and a tortoise to consider.  We have no time?  I can't remember what we did before kids.  We didn't have a car so we didn't go away on weekend breaks etc.  I used to go to the gym on Saturdays then meet a friend for lunch, catch up with my dad and then  meet another friend for a quick drink in the late afternoon before heading home.  On Sundays we . . . . . can't remember!  We must've done something.  At that point in my life I was easily bored and sitting still and alone for anything more than 10 minutes wore me out. So what did we do?  I mean, right now, I'd give my right arm to be left alone in a clean, tidy house for a day (two even).  Back then my house would've been always tidy 'cos there was only two of us and we didn't have many toys.  

So?  What did we all do with our time before kids?  

I can't remember!  

Cos I'm tired.  

Oh, and had an eureka moment today.  I actually think I don't actually have SAD I think I'm just frickin' knackered.  Just worked that out today. I'm not blue.  I'm not down or depressed I'm just exhausted.  Phew!

What happened to the sodding hurricane?

Okay, this is pants.  I had all these plans made for the wretched weather weekend we were forecast.  Things like, baking, movie watching, soup eating, movie watching, popcorn etc.  Okay, so we were going to eat and watch TV but you get my drift.

Today I had to take 3 kids and a dog for a big run around.  They were going stir crazy.  D. had offered to take them but I needed fresh air.  The alternative to fresh air was staying in and re-cleaning the house.  Have you any idea how crazy it is to try and walk a dog and keep an eye on 3 kids on their bikes.  By a lake??????  It's er, put it this way, you don't want to get distracted by the pretty leaves on the trees.  Or distracted talking to your cousin on the phone.  That's how the dog fell in.  He was barking and barking and I had to keep asking M to repeat himself so I threw the dog a ball and . .  . he went into the lake.  The car smells like wet dog.  So do I.  Mike Wazowski might like the smell of wet dog but I don't.  

Still, came home to lovely clean house and the smell of lamb cooking.  To #3 it's beef (for some reason it's less horrible to kill and eat a cow) but it's lamb we're having.  Here's the recipe.  I used half a leg (doing a loaves and fishes thing here today as asked sister and bro-in-law over) so watch the time.

You'll need:

1 leg of lamb, about 2.5kg 

Olive Oil

3-4 sprigs of rosemary (when I came in D said he didn't like the look of the rosemary in the garden so didn't use it.  Just as well he didn't, he would have been using oregano)

Sea Salt

For the red wine gravy

1 onion, chopped

2 garlic cloves, bashed

1 carrot, peeled and roughly chopped

300ml red wine

500ml lamb stock (if you can find it, I used vegetable)

1 tbsp redcurrant jelly (forgot to buy it so . . .  went without)

Then you:

Heat the oven to 190c/fan170c/gas 5.  Put the lamb into a shallow roasting tray and rub olive oil all over the surface.  Make holes in the lamb with a small sharp knife and stick a few sprigs of rosemary in each.  Sprinkle with sea salt.

Roast for 1.5 hours.  Leave to rest, loosely covered with foil for at least 30 minutes while you make the gravy.

To make the gravy, fry all the vegetables in 1tbsp olive oil until well browned.  Add the juices from the lamb, the red wine and stock.  Simmer until reduced by half.  Stir in the redcurrant jelly until dissolved.  Strain the liquid into a warm jug and serve piping hot.

It's meant to look like the picture below (mine more or less did only without showing as much leg) and the recipe originates from the BBC Good Food magazine.  I think.  A recipe I tore out many, many years ago.