Lego Boys

Kids have it nailed.  They really do.  We could do a helluva lot worse than choosing not to listen to them. 

Shy Boy had a friend over on a play date recently.  I knew how it was going to pan out before we even got back to the house.

And I let it. 

These two little guys “get” each other.  They just do. 

There is no agenda.  No competition.  No one following the other.  They do their own thing; at times side by side and at other times, alone.

Both choices are ok and both boys are fine with this too.  Comfortable and at ease with it.

This is how the play date started and how it continued as the afternoon grew into evening.

When Shy Boy comes home from school he likes to chill.  He will sit in front of a cartoon for maybe ten minutes and after that he visits the bathroom.  Sometimes he takes his DS with him.

Then he is ready to do other things.

So whilst he was tending to his own needs, there was lots of exploring and walking around being done by our guest. 

With his fan club in tow.  Smallest Boy was thrilled with this new face even though he knows it well.  Lovely Liam was in Holiday Tour Guide mode, making sure his older brother’s friend didn’t miss anything.

Snacks and obair bhaile (homework) out of the way in record time and then I discovered what all the walking around was about.

Lego!  (Lego rocks!  Get some!)

Off they all trooped upstairs to get stuck into Lego City.

And this is what I observed with interest even though I knew it would unfold.

Sometimes Shy Boy moved away from his friend to sit on the stairs and play his DS while his friend stayed in the bedroom building Lego cities. 

On other occasions our friend went into the playroom to draw on the chalk boards and come to the kitchen ask for something to eat.

There was a perfect symmetry there.  Both were content in each other’s company and equally, if one of them needed to move away for some head and body space, that was cool too.

I didn’t ask that Shy Boy stay with his friend at all times and make sure he was ok, that he wasn’t bored, and in need of something.

Never once was there a cross word spoken or a voice raised or an argument over a toy. (Lovely Liam and Smallest Boy don’t count here.)   

They just got on with the play date.

It was lovely.  It was great.

And then the time came for the play date to be over and again there was no fuss from either party. 

I was surprised that Shy Boy opted out of the drive but he also likes to finish his evening the same way he starts; with a little bit of TV and quiet time.

This was ok too.

Kids are relaxed little people.  They just go with the flow. 

We should observe and take a leaf out of their book.  Less stress.  More fun.

Joy Pockets for This Year So Far

First one is a Seasonal one.  And that would be the stretch in the evenings.  Already. Which is proof in light that spring is just around the corner.

Being picked to test some beauty products in a well-known “Wimmins” magazine.   And then discovering I was the winner of some more on Facebook!  I’ll be only gorgeous!

Continuing to have wonderful, inspiring chats with like-minded, creative people.  Both in person and in cyber space.    

Making cops and robbers Lego men with my boys.

Watching MacGyver with Oldest Boy.  He is almost (I said almost!) as impressed as I am with the man.

Receiving wetsuits for the boys in the post and letting them open their own post. 

Having a look under the stairs at the still too large supply of nappies but knowing that once they are gone, I will never have to buy any more.  Operation Toilet Training is pencilled in for summer 2013.

Coming out the other side of another dose of the hormentals!  I cannot put into words how bogged down this bastard makes me feel sometimes.  When I am in the thick of it, I know it will pass.  It always does.  And when it does, I see clearly again. 

Looking at Shy Boy in the pool with just one armband on and the look of sheer pride and delight on his face that he has finally caught up with his older brother!!

Similarly having a lovely week or two with Shy Boy who has started the lovely habit of sneaking up on me to give me a hug and tell me that he loves me.

Going out to feed the birds one morning and seeing, under the white ice and flakes of snow, green shoots pushing their way up through the dirt.  Spring!!!  How lovely to see you!

An early morning run and seeing the sky change from dark grey to brilliant red. 

My choice of music for this month was Del Amitri.  It brought back some lovely memories of handing in my notice when I was unhappy in a crappy job and receiving one of their albums in cassette form (remember those?) from a girl in accounts as a goodbye present.  And subsequently listening to it on a driving tour of the West with Mister Boyfriend.

Bringing Juno for her first ever run with me.  Total success.  She loved it.  There is no going back now that I have a willing and able running partner.

Discovering lovely messages on the chalk board from Shy Boy.

Registering for my second 5k with Ray in The Phoenix Park for the end of March.  And also pencilling in 6^th April for another one in my home town.

Oldest Boy turned 7 and for the third year he had a weather perfect birthday party at home.  There was even a decent snow fall at 5pm which was the icing on their cake.

A week or so later, the same boy discovered an interesting book in a friend’s car; Diary of a Wimpy Kid.  No better gift for a person to receive than the gift of reading. 

Getting a lovely, lovely Facebook message from a follower/fan (ok, she’s my cousin!!!!) but it made my day.  Apparently I have managed to somehow inspire her to start running.         

After twenty three years, meeting up with classmates and discovering that we haven’t changed a bit.  A wonderful night with great music, lovely food, followed by Tequila and cartwheels on the dance floor.

Why I Run

One evening very recently I drew a complete blank and could not for the life of me remember the name of the boy who was standing in front of me.  Talking to me.  It was my son.

Am I stressed?

I had the shopping list in my hand but still came home without some items.

Am I stressed?

I have woken up and had trouble, real trouble, remembering what day it is.

Am I stressed?

A friend of Mister Husbands called to the house.  I knew something significant had happened to him since Christmas.  I could not remember what it was.  I avoided him because I knew it would be expected of me to say something but I did not know what to say about something I could not remember. His mother had died.

Am I stressed?

I allowed my five year old non swimmer into the water without his armbands on.  I turned and walked back into the cubicle where the two smallest were waiting for me.  With the armbands.  Too late.  The five year old had to be hauled up out of the water by his older brother.

Am I stressed?

Another evening my chest was tight and I developed a maddening itch all over my body.  Everywhere.  I clawed at myself looking for relief.  As soon as the noise and the stress of the evening abated, the irritation disappeared.

Am I stressed?

One night I woke up in the boy’s bedroom.  I don’t remember leaving my own bed and walking across the hallway.  But I do remember thinking I heard someone crying.  No-one was.  I went back to bed.

Am I stressed? 

I went for a lie-down one Sunday afternoon and after an hour I heard Smallest Boy crying downstairs.  I bolted out of the bed, convinced it was Monday morning and we had slept in. It took me a few seconds to remember why I was dressed and that it was not Monday.

Am I stressed?

I was nervous driving.  To me, I was travelling in slow motion but the other traffic was moving too fast.  Way too fast.  Traffic lights seemed to appear out of the blue.  I saw things out of the corner of my eye that were not there.  Shadows and movements.

Am I stressed?

I think I am.  Or at least, I was.  I get bouts of this every now and again and I am at a loss as to what to do about it. 

A lovely friend confided that she feels like this sometimes too and we chatted about raging PMS And just getting older.  We laughed and wondered if maybe we should just suck it up. 

Well, I decided to say fuck that instead.

I questioned why I feel so badly in winter and not so badly during summer months.

For me, I feel it has a lot to do with the light and exercise.  There is a definite link there.  Dark mornings, short and stumpy, dull, grey days with early evenings, are not my friend.  I find it hard to exercise in the winter.  I am not a fan of jumping around in front of a DVD in a warm room.  I’ve done it because I have had to but give me fresh air and a half hour outside any day.   

Then I remembered someone asking me, out of the blue, some time back, why do I run?

This is what I told her.

“I run because it's amazing. It didn't start out like that. I did it for a shits and giggles thing, to see "if I could." And I did. The buzz I got that day when I completed my little 3.8k circuit without stopping is still with me. I run because when I don't, I feel like this. Shit! Depressed and stir crazy. It helps enormously with my winter blues and it really, truly makes me feel better. I feel energised and able to face the day and the kids! I should feel that it is also important my kids see me active and sporty, but to be honest, at the moment I don’t give a toss about that. I am doing it for me and the mental health benefits I reap. Initially I started walking to lose weight and running has become an extension of that. Three stone down and still going. I've another 9lbs or so to reach my very pre pregnancy weight of 9.5 stone. The 5k thing, as in a race, gives me something to train for. This year I would like to complete a 10k circuit. I got to 7k last year and hit a wall. But I am determined to get there this year.”

It is now the end of February and it is bright up to and after 6pm of an evening.  The mornings are awake at 7am; birds are singing and there is blessed light.

This last week alone I have been out running five times.  Usually I manage the weekends only.  And a lovely, lovely bonus is I am now bringing Juno with me.

I get the hand licked off me as we run, side by side and thanked in full when we get home. 

If anyone has any tips on how to get her to stop humping me, I would appreciate it!!!!

Dear Reader, running rocks.  It just does.  Try it.  #notsostressedanymore

The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe

“There was an old woman who lived in a shoe.

She had so many children she didn’t know what to do.”

And so the children’s nursery rhyme goes.  I’m not quite that bad.  I don’t live in a shoe, on the contrary.  And I certainly do know what to do with my children.  I don’t think I have too many, but I know I don’t have enough time.

When I take a moment to look at our home, I mean really look at it, I can see how beautiful it could be.  How beautiful it will be.

In ten to fifteen years’ time, that is. 

Just a short while ago, Smallest Boy was clambering up onto a chair to sit beside me at the table, and the seat fell off, so he fell through the frame of the chair.  Except he was quick enough to jam his foot against the side so he was left safely dangling.  The previous evening, I removed another of these chairs because the leg buckled as I sat down and the chair heaved to one side.  That makes two with seats that fall off or if I am to be completely honest, taken off by the lads.  The others are chewed to within an inch of their wooden lives.  (Maybe that’s why one of them buckled underneath me)

When you drive up to our house the first thing that your eye rests on is the toilet roll sitting in the bathroom window.  It is like a beacon and it draws you to the fact that we do not have proper toilet roll holders in our house.  Currently, thanks to having a resident 22 month old and a 7 month puppy, toilet roll has to be placed up high.  Way up high. 

I walked round with a bucket of paint a short while ago, doing a patch up job on areas like the walls at the dining room table, around the sink in the bathroom, the window in the kitchen and around the fire place in the dining room.

Needn’t have bothered.  It is all modern art-ed again.  With Nutella and the colouring materials they received for Christmas.

Our lovely doors, in particular the architraves, look like wood worm has taken up residence.   

On closer inspection you can see that it is not a woodworm infestation, but an attack of the three and a half year old wielding a hammer and some masonry nails.  

What else?  Oh, yes.  Juno, our lovely, shiny black dog is slowly but methodically tearing up the floor. 

Everything is wrecked either by the kids or the dog.  If it is not chewed up, it is written on. 

We do possess one or three nice paintings that we happened upon BC (Before Childers) and as their very nature decrees that they be hung, they are safe enough.  You could get great mileage out of the cobwebs hanging from them though.  I know, I know.  I can’t blame the kids for that one. 

I would dearly like some new curtains.  Proper ones.  With lining.  But there is no way we can hang decent (expensive) curtains at present because we cannot afford expensive curtains due to the need to eat and that other pesky matter of keeping the roof over our heads.

Also the lads would use said expensive curtains as jungle vines.  I kid you not.  They see our furniture as gym apparatus.  The five year old has perfected a somersault off the fridge freezer and onto the couch. 

So you can see how frustrating it would be to invest in some home improvements.  

Yes, we have a home with strong potential to be beautiful.   One that will come into its own when the inhabitants move elsewhere.  In the meantime I am glad of the excuse not to kill myself cleaning.  What’s the point?  The lads will only view my work as a blank canvas for their, not so clean, work.

I am also aware, however, that when that time comes for our casa to emerge from its chrysalis, Mister Husband and I will be making ours.  We most likely will be approaching our wrinkly dotage and if I can’t seem to muster up the energy and/or interest now to give it the care and attention it deserves, that’s not looking like it’s going to happen in the next 15 years either.

After all, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks!

 

Valentine's Day Used to Suck

Today's post is brought to you via the Irish Parenting Bloggers Group and the letter M.  I am honoured and delighted to be included in a virtual baby shower in the form of a Blog March, a cyber-nod to Aine and Lisa, the two ladies who look after us all so well in Blogger Land.    Áine, who is on a blogging break at the moment, had a baby girl, Miss Mouse, in January and Lisa who writes at  www.mama.ie is due to have her baby girl in March, a Little Sister for Little Man.   There will be a post each day to celebrate the birth of their babies.  Last evening,  www.mindthebaby.ie got the ball rolling with A mother blessing for my blogger mama friends.  Tonight it is my turn to lead the celebrations. 

I have never received a Valentine’s Day card.  There.  I’ve admitted it out loud.  Never, ever did our postman deliver to me a pink or red envelope on Valentine’s Day. 

All together now, “awwwwwww!”

All is not lost, however, I did receive a few that were hand delivered but everyone knows that doesn’t count.  The important cards are the secret admirer ones.

One time I even forgot that it was Valentine’s Day such was my poor me attitude.  I was in the dentist’s chair with a numb face and he asked me how many did I expect to get?

For a second I thought he was talking about fillings or extractions.  The semi-botoxed mouth on my face must have registered my “wha?” of panic; he remembered where I was and quickly said, “Cards!  Valentine’s cards!”

That was worse.  At least I knew there would be a filling or two.  The faint prospect of a “maybe” when it came to receiving a Valentine’s Day card was almost too much to bear. 

It’s not all doom and gloom though.

Like I said I did receive some nice Valentine’s Day gifts and gestures.

Once I was even taken out for dinner.  To Abrakebabra.  We stayed in the car and ate our spicy churned up meat stuff on chips.  Then went home.  Stingy Bastard!

I was never was, and still am not, a fan of Hallmark Day, sorry Valentine’s Day meals in restaurants, but even I was a tad embarrassed by that fast food outing.

Another time a gorgeous flower arrangement made its way to my desk in front of 30 odd work colleagues.

Thrilled?  Me?  I was only purple with delight.  (Mister Husband is not a stingy bastard) 

In the same way that Christmas is for kids, Valentine’s Day is strictly reserved for love struck teenagers and newlyweds.  It is a nice sentiment. But that is all it is – a sentiment.

I like to receive chocolates and flowers out of the blue rather than because a date on the calendar dictates that I should.

So for all of you out there embarking on rose mantic weekend breaks away, bling, posh chocolates and bubbly; enjoy.

Because it won’t last you know.

Before you know it you’ll be glad to get breakfast in bed consisting of half boiled eggs, cold tea and toast with bites taken out of it.  Propped up on the corner of your tray will be a card, quite possibly with marmalade on it, made in school the day before. 

But you know what?  Those are the best Valentine’s presents. 

  

Please check back here each day for the link to the next post.  Irish Parenting Bloggers can be followed on Twitter using the hash tags #virtualbabyshower and #BlogMarch. Tomorrow it will be the turn of http://www.thatcuriousloveofgreen.com