Joy Pockets for March

These joy pockets are all about the Easter holidays.  Either before, during or after.  It really was  lovely month.  Weather aside, there was a definite hint of Spring in the air. She may have been still in her cave sleeping but the brighter evenings and mornings made me believe she was finally stretching and thinking about coming out to play.

In fact, the weather has had such a bearing on my mood of late; I am no longer in doubt that the winter and I are sworn enemies.  That in itself is a joy pocket because I have realised it is not me, it is just the way my head works at that time of year.  All my little tricks didn’t work a damn and I feel I have something to really work with now.  In the same way I know Oldest Boy will have to spend July sucking on his inhaler so I have to build up his resistance in June, I too may put in place, a winter killing blues arsenal.  I am doing my research on this as I type.

But as it is starting to look like this post is rapidly becoming a Stress Pockets post instead of a joyous one, I will crack on with my giving thanks for the month of March.

Good weather. There are a couple of lethal holes outside our back door courtesy of the boys.  They spent hours in them one day, in the dirt, in their bare feet. One of them came in and asked for his swimming trunks.

 

A wonderful night out in the pub. Really really wonderful.  Must do that more often.  Can you tell I Don’t Get Out Much?

A lovely Easter egg hunt on Easter Sunday morning with friends.  Despite the freezing cold wind that threatened to turn us all to stone, hot beverages and warm chat kept the adults going and the kids opted to sit in the cars to enjoy their spoils.

The change in the hour.  Definitely springing forward is miles better than falling back.  Brighter mornings and longer evenings.    

Easter holidays from school with my boys.  They were great.  The holidays I mean.  Really enjoyed them. There were lots to do, places to go to and it took the burn off the summer holidays which are just round the corner.  Where is this year going???

Having lovely play dates on those school holidays with the lads.  They were happy.  Their friends were happy.  And I was happy out sitting at the kitchen table drinking coffee all afternoon with a lovely friend.  Just shooting the breeze.

Swimming on Thursday mornings followed by pancakes and hot chocolates. 

Running in the Ray for 5k in the Phoenix Park on 29^th March.  What an almighty buzz!  Literally ran it with a smile on my face for the whole thing.  I love running.  #foundmything 

Massive joy pocket alert.  Being contacted by an editor who asked me what my going rate is.  She also called me a free-lancer!!  I felt very professional.  Good things to come!  Chasing this gig for ages now. 

Music choice for March was The Lumineers, an American folk rock band.  Am particularly fond of “Flowers in Your Hair” to get your feet stompin’.  Have a listen to them.  You won’t regret it.  Ho Hey!

The Lumineers

Organising a holiday for the summer.  Another week away in Ireland.  When I say organise, I mean taking phone calls from my sister in law who is doing all the hard  organising work and telling her everything sounds fantastic.  Which it does. 

Running another lovely 5k in my hometown at the beginning of April.  The first in hopefully an annual event.  It was great.  I loved absolutely every single minute of it.  Even when I was getting carried away with the thoughts that it was looking like I was going to be the first “lady” across the 5k finish line and then my competition appeared as if from out of the hedge.  Whooped my prideful ass and made me second “lady” instead!  Great fun run!

Lovely Liam absolutely insisting that he goes to sleep with me because he “wants to mind” me.

What do you give thanks for this week/month?

Am I Odd?

Am I odd?

Don’t answer that just to be clever.  I know we are all a bit odd, a bit eccentric in our own right, it’s what marks us out as individuals but sometimes I wonder am I just plain outright odd?   

When people say to me that they enjoy the noise their kids make, I think they’re cracked.  When I’m told that it all goes past in the blink of an eye, I mentally rejoice and urge myself to blink faster goddammit!  When they intone that one day I will look back and miss the noise, the craziness, the mayhem, I think they’re the ones who need their heads examined.

I know there are people out there who openly admit to keeping their smallest a baby regardless of that child’s age, because they are the youngest in the family.

Am I odd because I cannot wait for my baby, who will be two years old next week, to finally get the hang of feeding himself without pouring milk and sauce down his face and all over the floor?  For him to be finally out of nappies.  For him to be again, that little bit older so I can just let him run wild with his older brothers and not have to keep checking on him all the time.

Am I odd because for the last 18 months I have been all over a “this time next year” mind-set?  Practically wishing their little lives away.

And my own. I tend to forget that. 

As much as I am looking forward to them being teenagers, it also means I am going to be 5 or 10 years older too. 

I might be looking forward to them becoming teenager but I am not looking forward to the teenage years.  I am dreading it.  Dreading the testosterone riddled house I am going to find myself in.  I used to joke when people pointed this out to me and I reassured them all it will be ok because I will be drinking again by then.

Reaffirming the Irish stereotype that alcohol solves every little ailment.

I’ve said it out loud, twice I think, this year already that youth is wasted on the young.  Mother Nature got that one so wrong.  Maybe she was having a little laugh at parent’s expense. 

There are so many things I want to do.  I discovered running 15 months ago and for the first time in over twenty years I am writing consistently and regularly. 

I love both. The trouble is I want to do them all the time.

All. The. Time.

Well, not running because that would be exhausting.  But I would dearly love to be able to get up and within an hour of waking, go for a run. At least four times a week.  And not when I can fit it in. 

I do know fitting it in is better than not being able to do it at all which is the case for me in winter. 

As for writing.  That’s a different kettle of fish altogether. With writing, I could sit at the table from early morning and still be there late that same evening. 

And I want to. 

But in the words of Scooby-Doo, “those pesky kids” kind of get in the way. With their tummies that need feeding, their minds needing education, bums and noses wanting wiping every Nano second. 

It’s a hard knock life for me 

Sometimes, usually on the really, really shitty cabin fever days, a little ghost from my past, the teenage me puts in an appearance. She gets in real close and pipes up in my ear, “I told you so.  I told you this is exactly what it would be like.  But you wouldn’t listen.  So suck it up!!!”

(You can almost hear the unsaid bitch at the end of that sentence, cantcha?) 

So for the foreseeable future it looks like I will just have to do exactly what my teenage me ghost says.

P.S. I actually had a lovely day when I wrote this piece.  Tuesday 2^nd April 2013.  The kids were/are still on Easter holidays and we had been to Lovely Group that morning.  I ran a 5k in the Phoenix Park with Ray D’Arcy of Today FM fame on Friday and had a wonderful night out in the pub on Saturday night.  I was practically glowing from all the fun I had.  

School holidays are great.  There isn’t a parent in the world who would be without their child, regardless of how they came to have them but by god, nothing sucks up your time like school runs, lunches, uniforms, homework and clock watching.  Kids are little time suckers in their own right too. 

So I am in good form lately and I’m great craic at parties but sometimes, just sometimes all I want to do is write.  And write.  And write.

Linger

As part of the Parent to Parent Support course I have been doing, the first day was an introductory day.  It was all about awareness.  Awareness of ourselves and most importantly, if we are going to be a support network, awareness of others.

“Forgive others, more so yourself.”

My eyes were opened.  Big time.

And like every new discovery, every new challenge, one that went on for 8 hours, I was exhausted when I got home.  I tried to read over my course notes and complete my evaluation form but there was nothing there.  My mind drew a complete blank.  I had no idea how to answer the questions asked of me.

So I went to bed.

When I woke up the following morning, I had my answers.  All of them clear, concise and honest.

I learned a lot that first day.  I learned a lot from the other people on the course.  And I learned some things about myself.

The exercises put to us were designed to draw us out.  To make us think.  Think outside the box.  To be introspective.

To remember what it is like to be that first time mother of a “shiny new baby, with whom you are passionately in love” and not the jaded mother of today, gasping for a cup of tea and ten minutes to herself.

“Understand that everything you meet in your path will teach you something about life; what you can become and what you will not allow”

It was an exercise encouraging us to be mindful of how someone else who has not yet travelled the length of the parenthood road, someone who is still at the starting block, is possibly feeling. 

A lot of memories were raked up for some people that day.  Some of them not so good.  Not so warm and fuzzy.

My own were called to mind.

They pop up every now and again.  Like the little festering thoughts that they are. I questioned why I hang onto these.  Why can’t I just cut them free and let them go?   I am a much different person today.  Older and wiser and not so quick to be hurt and even slower to dwell.

But I had my answer.

I’m not done with those festering thoughts yet.

I am not hanging onto them as a primitive scoring system, nor are they in my head rent free.

They are still there because I am not ready to let go of them.  They still affect me.  They still piss me off. 

I am still learning from them.      

I think this is ok.  It’s human, it’s natural and it’s a defence mechanism.

“Carry with you the lessons of the past but not its crippling pain.”

That is hard to do but I’m trying. 

Thank You

To the man in the coffee shop who watched me struggle with the door that went PULL instead of PUSH.  (I was coming in)  Thanks.  Thanks a bunch.  Thanks for letting me battle with that door and a double buggy.  Thanks for sitting there and yelling at me to “push.”  You, a mere man, telling the mother of four kids how to push? The irony was completely lost on you.  But a sincere and heartfelt thanks to the fella in his 20’s who did open the door for me.

To the yummy mummy who insisted on driving up my arse.  What was your rush?  We were the only two cars on a straight stretch of road.  Instead of overtaking, as you could have, you preferred to dangerously tailgate me.  All the way to crèche to pick up your kids.  You silly bint!

To the middle aged lady in a “type” of car who blocked an entrance when I had the right of way. Who then drove up another foot or more to further block me, blast the horn and wave me back aggressively when I tried to pull over to allow a school bus to overtake me.  We might have been as bad as each other, but you old bitch! 

To the lovely lady in the supermarket and all the others before you, who let me go ahead in the queue even though I had just as many items.  Simply because I had the kids with me and they all knew “what it’s like trying to shop with them in tow.”    

To the driving instructor all those years ago who thought he was a Formula One racing driver.  You did nothing for my confidence.  You knew I was nervous, you knew I was a learner driver and you still told me I was shite and my car was shite.  But thank you.  Thank you for honing my asshole radar.

To the lads who pack my groceries in the supermarket.  Just a little word to the wise though.  I’m only small and I’ve got teeny tiny muscles.  So please don’t put all my tinned goods in the biggest bag you can find.  I’m not able to hoist it out of the trolley so haven’t a hope of getting it into the car.  

Thank you to the lovely lady driver who waited a moment when she saw me walking with two small kids and pushing a buggy.  We were heading towards the supermarket where we had parked and she wasn’t to know that I was walking in there.  She still stopped and waited until I had rounded the corner.

And a big massive, huge thanks to the impatient driver/s behind her who sat on their horns and blasted her out of it for the very, very long five seconds they had to wait.

Thank you to the lovely lady (Karen) behind the counter in the café where we like to have our morning coffee.  She always has a word for our boys and she gives a great top-up.  Best cup of the day!