Back on the Bus

Well, seeing as I'm not allowed to drive for six weeks post c-section (see last post!) I have to take the bus. And seeing as in this weather the only bus risking heading out is the Poetry Bus, I guess I need to renew my frequent travel ticket, and hop aboard!

Now, you'll have to forgive my effort this week, it's not exactly high brow, but hey, baby steps...

This weeks task is to write a poem about the worst present you ever received. See the other passengers here...

Gift

The worst present I ever got
was the one that you forgot
what am I, chucked chopped liver?
It's so hard to be a present giver?
So this Christmas it's a lump of coal
and a dark dank curse upon your soul.

Back on the Bus

Well, seeing as I'm not allowed to drive for six weeks post c-section (see last post!) I have to take the bus. And seeing as in this weather the only bus risking heading out is the Poetry Bus, I guess I need to renew my frequent travel ticket, and hop aboard!

Now, you'll have to forgive my effort this week, it's not exactly high brow, but hey, baby steps...

This weeks task is to write a poem about the worst present you ever received. See the other passengers here...

Gift

The worst present I ever got
was the one that you forgot
what am I, chucked chopped liver?
It's so hard to be a present giver?
So this Christmas it's a lump of coal
and a dark dank curse upon your soul.

Best Christmas Pressie Ever...

Introducing, at 11 days old, the lastest D'Oub creation!

Here's Lily!

Oh but my last post was a challenge to fate. It was a chin jutting, in your face, come and have a go if you think you're hard enough challenge that fate couldn't back down from. So there was vomiting, chest infections, sudden onset of the dreaded Obstetric Cholestasis. There was admittance to hospital. Hints of pre-eclampsia as well. Drugs that made me sleep away a weekend - but thank God asleep I couldn't feel the all over relentless confession inducing itch of the Obstetric Cholestasis.

Then, at only 36 weeks preggers, there were the very bad liver bile acid test results and baby's heart beat going mental on the fetal trace. Within the hour, via emergency c-section, my daughter was born. Brief interlude of enjoying the new arrival was cut short by a bad reaction to the whole procedure. My insides said 'urgh, I don't think so.'

Cue vomiting, while clutching pillow to c-section wound. Cue feeling like dying. Mr Oub sleeping on two pushed together chairs by my bedside as I lay there suffering worse night ever. Wasn't allowed pain killers, food, water. I let them give baby a bottle of formula, breaking the tradition of Oub babies never supping on any milk that isn't 'home made'. The doctors spoke of putting probes down my nose, to my guts, to wake 'em up. I didn't care. But, slowly, over 24 hours and dedicated, brilliant care from brilliant midwives, I made a slow recovery. Phew.

They let me home a week ago. I'm in rag order still. But baba is a dream, and it's Christmas Day tomorrow. So, I am happy.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Best Christmas Pressie Ever...

Introducing, at 11 days old, the lastest D'Oub creation!

Here's Lily!

Oh but my last post was a challenge to fate. It was a chin jutting, in your face, come and have a go if you think you're hard enough challenge that fate couldn't back down from. So there was vomiting, chest infections, sudden onset of the dreaded Obstetric Cholestasis. There was admittance to hospital. Hints of pre-eclampsia as well. Drugs that made me sleep away a weekend - but thank God asleep I couldn't feel the all over relentless confession inducing itch of the Obstetric Cholestasis.

Then, at only 36 weeks preggers, there were the very bad liver bile acid test results and baby's heart beat going mental on the fetal trace. Within the hour, via emergency c-section, my daughter was born. Brief interlude of enjoying the new arrival was cut short by a bad reaction to the whole procedure. My insides said 'urgh, I don't think so.'

Cue vomiting, while clutching pillow to c-section wound. Cue feeling like dying. Mr Oub sleeping on two pushed together chairs by my bedside as I lay there suffering worse night ever. Wasn't allowed pain killers, food, water. I let them give baby a bottle of formula, breaking the tradition of Oub babies never supping on any milk that isn't 'home made'. The doctors spoke of putting probes down my nose, to my guts, to wake 'em up. I didn't care. But, slowly, over 24 hours and dedicated, brilliant care from brilliant midwives, I made a slow recovery. Phew.

They let me home a week ago. I'm in rag order still. But baba is a dream, and it's Christmas Day tomorrow. So, I am happy.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

Doctor D'Oub is in the house...

So, you know, maybe I should be making that supreme effort and blogging more. In a matter of weeks, when the latest drain on my life force latest wonderful bundle of joy, arrives, I suspect I'll have even less energy to inform you about the minutiae of my mind.

And even though I'm just coming up on 35 weeks preggers, it could be as little as two weeks before this babs 'arrives'.

Y'see, my dodgy liver appears to be acting up. I'm a carrier of a gene for the liver condition Alpha 1 Anti-Trypsin Deficiency. Thankfully, only having the one defective gene I've been spared this awful condition, but, if my liver is under particular strain, like when I'm pregnant, bad things do happen.

The bad things? My dodgy liver causes a pregnancy condition called Obstetric Cholestasis. (I am all about the scrabble 50 point words today...) What does that mean? It means that my entire body itches. And there is no relief. I was diagnosed with this condition when a doctor in the maternity hospital noticed the deep scabbing wounds I had gouged into my legs with my desperate fingernails.

Nice :)

Unfortunately, this isn't the only downside of the condition. It also increases the risk of stillbirth. Even typing that sentence is enough to freak one out. Moving on.

So, what they do is get the baby out at around 37 weeks. Thankfully, as I grow them big and fat, they have usual emerged at that gestation like a five year old with an obesity problem on Jeremy Kyle.

But, hey, this is me, Domestic Oub, even with all this fun, there has to be an extra little complication? Of course. I would hate to disappoint. Over my four pregnancies I've been trying to accumulate the full 'Most Common Pregnancy Complications' collection. Just like baseball cards or novelty teapots...

So, first off we had pre-exclampsia AND Obsetric Cholestasis, Check! Check! Second time around, a little disappointingly only the Obstetric Cholestasis. Check. Third outing I endured Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD for short). Check!

I reckoned that this time I just had to come down with Gestational Diabetes. I was convinced. It was one of the most common complications and I hadn't had it yet. I have all the risk factors - family history, old age, plumpness. And, without me even having to say a thing, my doc sent me for the test.

I couldn't believe it when it came back negative. So disappointing. Was this going to be a bog standard, run of the mill pregnancy?? Of course I always had the Obstetric Cholestasis to fall back on, but, y'know, been there, done that.

Well, can you imagine my delight when doc announced a number of weeks ago that babs was breech. In fact, not only was s/he breech, but was actually in a transverse lie position - which obviously, this happening to me, is worse than breech. At least a breech baby can get out the 'ladies special place' (I had to call it something for the kids..) but no sideways baby is getting out normally without a copy of Houdini's Great Escapes.

Or a c-section.

Of course there is time for the little rotter to get off his/her peachy downy ass and rotate! But, what with him/her already measuring big (less space to move!), and a potential 37 week deadline (less time to move!) we could be looking at an untimely plucking from me belly.

Check! Hurray, I've collected a full set.

But I have an appointment with my nice doctor on Monday, and hopefully he'll tell me that this little munchkin has done us all a favour and made friends with my pelvis.

Sadly, then I won't get my 'Most Common Pregnancy Complications' commemorative plaque. Drat.

And I am NOT going again.

I really mean it this time.

Honest.

Doctor D'Oub is in the house...

So, you know, maybe I should be making that supreme effort and blogging more. In a matter of weeks, when the latest drain on my life force latest wonderful bundle of joy, arrives, I suspect I'll have even less energy to inform you about the minutiae of my mind.

And even though I'm just coming up on 35 weeks preggers, it could be as little as two weeks before this babs 'arrives'.

Y'see, my dodgy liver appears to be acting up. I'm a carrier of a gene for the liver condition Alpha 1 Anti-Trypsin Deficiency. Thankfully, only having the one defective gene I've been spared this awful condition, but, if my liver is under particular strain, like when I'm pregnant, bad things do happen.

The bad things? My dodgy liver causes a pregnancy condition called Obstetric Cholestasis. (I am all about the scrabble 50 point words today...) What does that mean? It means that my entire body itches. And there is no relief. I was diagnosed with this condition when a doctor in the maternity hospital noticed the deep scabbing wounds I had gouged into my legs with my desperate fingernails.

Nice :)

Unfortunately, this isn't the only downside of the condition. It also increases the risk of stillbirth. Even typing that sentence is enough to freak one out. Moving on.

So, what they do is get the baby out at around 37 weeks. Thankfully, as I grow them big and fat, they have usual emerged at that gestation like a five year old with an obesity problem on Jeremy Kyle.

But, hey, this is me, Domestic Oub, even with all this fun, there has to be an extra little complication? Of course. I would hate to disappoint. Over my four pregnancies I've been trying to accumulate the full 'Most Common Pregnancy Complications' collection. Just like baseball cards or novelty teapots...

So, first off we had pre-exclampsia AND Obsetric Cholestasis, Check! Check! Second time around, a little disappointingly only the Obstetric Cholestasis. Check. Third outing I endured Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD for short). Check!

I reckoned that this time I just had to come down with Gestational Diabetes. I was convinced. It was one of the most common complications and I hadn't had it yet. I have all the risk factors - family history, old age, plumpness. And, without me even having to say a thing, my doc sent me for the test.

I couldn't believe it when it came back negative. So disappointing. Was this going to be a bog standard, run of the mill pregnancy?? Of course I always had the Obstetric Cholestasis to fall back on, but, y'know, been there, done that.

Well, can you imagine my delight when doc announced a number of weeks ago that babs was breech. In fact, not only was s/he breech, but was actually in a transverse lie position - which obviously, this happening to me, is worse than breech. At least a breech baby can get out the 'ladies special place' (I had to call it something for the kids..) but no sideways baby is getting out normally without a copy of Houdini's Great Escapes.

Or a c-section.

Of course there is time for the little rotter to get off his/her peachy downy ass and rotate! But, what with him/her already measuring big (less space to move!), and a potential 37 week deadline (less time to move!) we could be looking at an untimely plucking from me belly.

Check! Hurray, I've collected a full set.

But I have an appointment with my nice doctor on Monday, and hopefully he'll tell me that this little munchkin has done us all a favour and made friends with my pelvis.

Sadly, then I won't get my 'Most Common Pregnancy Complications' commemorative plaque. Drat.

And I am NOT going again.

I really mean it this time.

Honest.

Well, I never...

I have 55 minutes to publish a blog post or I will have gone an entire month without having enlightened the world with my wonderful musings for the first time ever!

Am currently too pregnant to function. We're down to mood lighting around here.

Blogging is, like, waaaaaaaaaaay out of my reach right now.

So, for no reason other than to say I didn't miss November entirely, here is a picture of my three year old daughter making a rude hand gesture.




I'll be back, if my brain is ever located again.

Well, I never...

I have 55 minutes to publish a blog post or I will have gone an entire month without having enlightened the world with my wonderful musings for the first time ever!

Am currently too pregnant to function. We're down to mood lighting around here.

Blogging is, like, waaaaaaaaaaay out of my reach right now.

So, for no reason other than to say I didn't miss November entirely, here is a picture of my three year old daughter making a rude hand gesture.




I'll be back, if my brain is ever located again.

Finally, a solution

Now, I know my children are brilliant.

I know they have an intellectual sophistication rarely seen in beings so young.

For example...

Toddler Oub has mastered the art of Flash Fiction - verbally of course as she likes to write all things using only the letter 'O', which obvioulsy hampers written communication...

Here is an example of her work -

"Spiders scary. Legs!"






Eldest Oub offspring is galloping ahead in the emotional intelligence stakes.

For example...

His latest catchphrase (when speaking to his father) is 'For gods sake do what she wants, she's pregnant!' - I love the boy.

But possibly the most disturbing/impressive is middle Oub child. It turns out he may be a budding economist.

For example...

We're sitting in the car and I'm torturing myself as I usually do listening to talk radio and the blathering on about the DEFICIT and the BUDGET and the LEECHING MULTI-GENERATION LIFE FORCE DESTROYING ECONOMIC HORROR... I like to take these times to educate the kids on basic economic concepts. I was wondering how much really went in. Cause, really, the topic is obviously right up there with X-Factor and Super Mario for things kids are interested in. Also, I have my doubts about my knowledge/sanity/impartiality when it comes to imparting these things.

But it looks like my vitriol might not have been wasted after all. To quote Middle Child after someone on the radio said they were going to raise taxes...

"I don't think they should raise taxes. They should cut them. Then people would have more money. And there would be more jobs. They'd (the gov)be getting less taxes, but there would be more people paying, so it would all add up."

He's 7.

This is impressive as I suspect my grasp on my times table was probably quite ropey aged 7. I can't imagine I was contemplating economic theory quite yet.

This is scary cause if a 7 year old can grasp theories that appear beyond our glorious leaders we're even more fecked then I previously thought. And I wasn't being very optimistic to begin with.


So, here's the plan.

The D'Oub family are going to stage a Coup.

Unleashed, with a bunch of coke and chocolate in their bellies, the kids can better any army - the Irish interpretation of this concept should crumble in moments. Once installed in government buildings, I shall appoint Toddler Oub as Minister for Propaganda. "It's ok! I help!" will be the slogan to lead a nation out of it's darkest hour.

Eldest Oub child will take responsibility for Health, Education and Social Welfare - he won't be able to actually help anyone, he'll just make everyone feel better with his wide-eyed, misplaced optimism and line in awful knock knock jokes.


And of course Middle Child will be appointed Our Glorious Leader with complete power to do whatever he feels necessary to steer us out of this hideous quagmire of debt and deficit and depression.

And really, will they be any worse than the muppets in there at the moment?

ALL HAIL OUR GLORIOUS SAVIOURS OUB OFFSPRING!!

Finally, a solution

Now, I know my children are brilliant.

I know they have an intellectual sophistication rarely seen in beings so young.

For example...

Toddler Oub has mastered the art of Flash Fiction - verbally of course as she likes to write all things using only the letter 'O', which obvioulsy hampers written communication...

Here is an example of her work -

"Spiders scary. Legs!"






Eldest Oub offspring is galloping ahead in the emotional intelligence stakes.

For example...

His latest catchphrase (when speaking to his father) is 'For gods sake do what she wants, she's pregnant!' - I love the boy.

But possibly the most disturbing/impressive is middle Oub child. It turns out he may be a budding economist.

For example...

We're sitting in the car and I'm torturing myself as I usually do listening to talk radio and the blathering on about the DEFICIT and the BUDGET and the LEECHING MULTI-GENERATION LIFE FORCE DESTROYING ECONOMIC HORROR... I like to take these times to educate the kids on basic economic concepts. I was wondering how much really went in. Cause, really, the topic is obviously right up there with X-Factor and Super Mario for things kids are interested in. Also, I have my doubts about my knowledge/sanity/impartiality when it comes to imparting these things.

But it looks like my vitriol might not have been wasted after all. To quote Middle Child after someone on the radio said they were going to raise taxes...

"I don't think they should raise taxes. They should cut them. Then people would have more money. And there would be more jobs. They'd (the gov)be getting less taxes, but there would be more people paying, so it would all add up."

He's 7.

This is impressive as I suspect my grasp on my times table was probably quite ropey aged 7. I can't imagine I was contemplating economic theory quite yet.

This is scary cause if a 7 year old can grasp theories that appear beyond our glorious leaders we're even more fecked then I previously thought. And I wasn't being very optimistic to begin with.


So, here's the plan.

The D'Oub family are going to stage a Coup.

Unleashed, with a bunch of coke and chocolate in their bellies, the kids can better any army - the Irish interpretation of this concept should crumble in moments. Once installed in government buildings, I shall appoint Toddler Oub as Minister for Propaganda. "It's ok! I help!" will be the slogan to lead a nation out of it's darkest hour.

Eldest Oub child will take responsibility for Health, Education and Social Welfare - he won't be able to actually help anyone, he'll just make everyone feel better with his wide-eyed, misplaced optimism and line in awful knock knock jokes.


And of course Middle Child will be appointed Our Glorious Leader with complete power to do whatever he feels necessary to steer us out of this hideous quagmire of debt and deficit and depression.

And really, will they be any worse than the muppets in there at the moment?

ALL HAIL OUR GLORIOUS SAVIOURS OUB OFFSPRING!!

Baptisms, Wee and Other Stories.

I've not been posting much.

Too busy. Some good stuff - seeing lots of lovely friends. Some boring stuff - domestic frenetic treadmill. (Roll on the mid-term break)

But today was fun. We had a Christening. Not for us you understand, bump is still firmly in situ and enjoying his/her state of grace. Nope, was baptism of chums baby. I got to be Godmother! Yay!

Now, saying he is a baby is a bit of a stretch. Due to unforeseen circumstances, my chums weren't in a position to get the little guy christened until now, and he's a strapping toddler. I was quite looking forward to seeing how the whole show would go when the object of the exercises wasn't a compliant and oblivious new born.

It didn't disappoint.

With appropriate suspicion, the child eyed up the priests approach with the chrism oil. He looked suitably surprised to have it dabbed on him. But the real fun came when the old water poury bit took place. The priest managed to get water in his eyes. Who here has gotten water in a toddlers eye? What happens? Yes, toddlers go mental. So, child basically wailed for the entirety of the rest of the ceremony and flinched each time Fr came anywhere near him. (Again, some would say and entirely understandable response :)

I spend most of the time trying to remember what my responsibilities were. And hope that no one could see my knickers through my very see through linen trousers. I know that wearing see through trousers to a church ceremony is just asking for trouble, but hey, when you're six months plus pregnant you don't always have alot of choices. And maybe it distracted people from the wailing toddler.

And speaking of toddlers - Toddler Oub out did herself. Obviously unhappy not to be the centre of attention she wet herself a few pews back. Lol! It's funny y'see, cause me being Godmother meant Mr Oub was left to deal with the whole piddle puddle horror all by himself. Of course, I'm not laughing at darling Mr Oub, but it is nice sometime not to be the one who is at the epic-epi-centre of one's children's marauding terror.

But I was a bit distracted knowing there was a wee on the loose behind me somewhere. One doesn't want to let down ones friends by having their christening remembered as the Pee Christening. Thankfully though no one managed to put their handbag into the mess and there was an Aldi straight across the road from the church and Mr Oub manfully managed to nab a few supplies to rectify the whole sorry mess.

And as he said, at least she didn't poo herself.

We must look for the silver lining in all our travails.

So lovely post ceremony party at friends house, Toddler Oub managed to redeem herself by charming everyone with how she cheats at 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'.

Kids were also fed, which saved me a job.

Then home again.

X-factor.

Tea.

Cake.

Sigh.

Bed.

Night night all.

Baptisms, Wee and Other Stories.

I've not been posting much.

Too busy. Some good stuff - seeing lots of lovely friends. Some boring stuff - domestic frenetic treadmill. (Roll on the mid-term break)

But today was fun. We had a Christening. Not for us you understand, bump is still firmly in situ and enjoying his/her state of grace. Nope, was baptism of chums baby. I got to be Godmother! Yay!

Now, saying he is a baby is a bit of a stretch. Due to unforeseen circumstances, my chums weren't in a position to get the little guy christened until now, and he's a strapping toddler. I was quite looking forward to seeing how the whole show would go when the object of the exercises wasn't a compliant and oblivious new born.

It didn't disappoint.

With appropriate suspicion, the child eyed up the priests approach with the chrism oil. He looked suitably surprised to have it dabbed on him. But the real fun came when the old water poury bit took place. The priest managed to get water in his eyes. Who here has gotten water in a toddlers eye? What happens? Yes, toddlers go mental. So, child basically wailed for the entirety of the rest of the ceremony and flinched each time Fr came anywhere near him. (Again, some would say and entirely understandable response :)

I spend most of the time trying to remember what my responsibilities were. And hope that no one could see my knickers through my very see through linen trousers. I know that wearing see through trousers to a church ceremony is just asking for trouble, but hey, when you're six months plus pregnant you don't always have alot of choices. And maybe it distracted people from the wailing toddler.

And speaking of toddlers - Toddler Oub out did herself. Obviously unhappy not to be the centre of attention she wet herself a few pews back. Lol! It's funny y'see, cause me being Godmother meant Mr Oub was left to deal with the whole piddle puddle horror all by himself. Of course, I'm not laughing at darling Mr Oub, but it is nice sometime not to be the one who is at the epic-epi-centre of one's children's marauding terror.

But I was a bit distracted knowing there was a wee on the loose behind me somewhere. One doesn't want to let down ones friends by having their christening remembered as the Pee Christening. Thankfully though no one managed to put their handbag into the mess and there was an Aldi straight across the road from the church and Mr Oub manfully managed to nab a few supplies to rectify the whole sorry mess.

And as he said, at least she didn't poo herself.

We must look for the silver lining in all our travails.

So lovely post ceremony party at friends house, Toddler Oub managed to redeem herself by charming everyone with how she cheats at 'Rock, Paper, Scissors'.

Kids were also fed, which saved me a job.

Then home again.

X-factor.

Tea.

Cake.

Sigh.

Bed.

Night night all.

Poetry Bus Happiness

Okie dokie.

Poor D'Oub has been under the weather a bit the last three or four days. I took to my bed. I reckon it's no coincidence that my illness coincided with 'Black Thursday' last week. My health appears to be inextricably linked to the financial health of the nation. I have a rallied a little by today - though the ripples from the child benefit withdrawal in the UK threatened a fiscal relapse on my part this morning. I'm being stoic. So, worried that I may risk further deterioration to my precarious health, I have decided not to stretch myself and compose a new poem for the poetry bus. The mental energy needed might just be my tipping point. But, here is one what I wrote only a few weeks ago. Needs a little work. It's not quite about happiness - more soppy mushiness - but it makes me happy, so there we go...

Ruby

You are no energy saving light bulb
But a proud old-fashioned kind.
You light up instantly,
no lukewarm waiting.

Your grin feeds a grid
enough to power a nation
Careless, wanton excess!

Melting hearts as fast as
polar icecaps
Our lives flooded, overcome by you.
Only 3 years old, but already
more powerful than the sun.

Poetry Bus Happiness

Okie dokie.

Poor D'Oub has been under the weather a bit the last three or four days. I took to my bed. I reckon it's no coincidence that my illness coincided with 'Black Thursday' last week. My health appears to be inextricably linked to the financial health of the nation. I have a rallied a little by today - though the ripples from the child benefit withdrawal in the UK threatened a fiscal relapse on my part this morning. I'm being stoic. So, worried that I may risk further deterioration to my precarious health, I have decided not to stretch myself and compose a new poem for the poetry bus. The mental energy needed might just be my tipping point. But, here is one what I wrote only a few weeks ago. Needs a little work. It's not quite about happiness - more soppy mushiness - but it makes me happy, so there we go...

Ruby

You are no energy saving light bulb
But a proud old-fashioned kind.
You light up instantly,
no lukewarm waiting.

Your grin feeds a grid
enough to power a nation
Careless, wanton excess!

Melting hearts as fast as
polar icecaps
Our lives flooded, overcome by you.
Only 3 years old, but already
more powerful than the sun.

The D'Oub -Team!

Ten years ago a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These kids promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Lucan underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...

The D'Oub -Team!

The D'Oub -Team!

Ten years ago a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn't commit. These kids promptly escaped from a maximum security stockade to the Lucan underground. Today, still wanted by the government, they survive as soldiers of fortune. If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire...

The D'Oub -Team!

Bus time!

Look, the Poetry Bus is going to be a five o'clock on a Monday thing for me - I'm just not organised enough to be at the stop on a Sunday.

Okay, now that we've got that clear, here's this weeks challenge. Set by the talented Ms Rachel Fox we were asked to write about a childhood tv/book/comic character. I chose my beloved Mr Benn. And as if by magic the poem appeared...

Should Have Known, You Lived on Festive Road

Oh, Mr Benn!
My favourite among men,
when I was five years old.
I thought you were delish
Despite the fancy dress fetish
And the fact that you were
probably gay.

Bus time!

Look, the Poetry Bus is going to be a five o'clock on a Monday thing for me - I'm just not organised enough to be at the stop on a Sunday.

Okay, now that we've got that clear, here's this weeks challenge. Set by the talented Ms Rachel Fox we were asked to write about a childhood tv/book/comic character. I chose my beloved Mr Benn. And as if by magic the poem appeared...

Should Have Known, You Lived on Festive Road

Oh, Mr Benn!
My favourite among men,
when I was five years old.
I thought you were delish
Despite the fancy dress fetish
And the fact that you were
probably gay.

Complains, strains and automobiles

Oh so busy.

Summer amnesia made us all forget that come September our lives would be turned upside down. I realise now that I should have been making like a marathon runner and training all summer just so I would be able for the pace once school started up again. (Or at the very least put some heavy investment into a decent selection of amphetamines.)

Gluttons for punishment we have added Cub scouts, Beaver Scouts, Junior Book club, Montessori (for Toddler Oub), and possible cricket to our list of activities. This joins swimming, running and music lessons on our schedule. Feck, I'm exhausted just reading that.

We did drop tennis though. (Didn't think they were going to make my fortune anytime soon with a tennis racket. Potential future earnings are my main criteria for the sports my children are signed up for.)

We're living the suburban middle-class dream. All I need is a cigarette, a pointy bra and a cheating husband and I'd be perfect for the cast of Mad Men.

So, what else is new?

We're getting a new car.

I say 'new' but obviously what with spoiling our offspring with the wealth of activities they do (and will no doubt look back on and resent us for - not enough alone time? exhaustion? burn out at aged 11?) we cannot afford a new car. Nor can we actually afford a good second hand car.

But, seeing as our current lemon has let me down again repeatedly this week (when one has to rely on a neighbour one barely knows to ferry one about the neighbourhood collecting children -my own, you understand, not just unfortunate children who happen to be loitering...) you know it's time to call it a day.

So, we've found a suspiciously cheap six-seater being sold by some dodgy looking bloke. My kind of deal. It arrives on Saturday. It's big enough to accommodate the new arrival when s/he arrives at Chrimbo. I think I'll be delighted if this car is still actually running by then.


Sigh. I best go. I guess I should have a look the speech therapy homework the therapist gave parents last week. Eldest child is doing group sessions for his stammer. Typically though the Oub child is the square peg. A huge part of the therapy is dealing with the child's stress/anxiety to do with the stammering and the vicious circle of stress/stuttering. What does my child answer to the questionnaire they gave them? Question One - How do you feel about your stammer? - Oub child answer - 'I don't care.' Question Two - Does it upset you? Oub child answer - 'See Above'. (he actually wrote, 'see above.' cheeky get...)

Sigh. We'll get there eventually I imagine...

I'm so tired.

I think I'll go back to bed.

Bye

(ps this post was written under extremely trying circumstances. I was made get up and dance by a semi-naked toddler to stoopid primary coloured creatures on children's tv, then she transformed into the Oubasaurus and attempted repeatedly to bite off my nose, and finally settled upon her dog impression where she kept licking my face. It's a tough life. So, if there are any typos, you understand...)

Complains, strains and automobiles

Oh so busy.

Summer amnesia made us all forget that come September our lives would be turned upside down. I realise now that I should have been making like a marathon runner and training all summer just so I would be able for the pace once school started up again. (Or at the very least put some heavy investment into a decent selection of amphetamines.)

Gluttons for punishment we have added Cub scouts, Beaver Scouts, Junior Book club, Montessori (for Toddler Oub), and possible cricket to our list of activities. This joins swimming, running and music lessons on our schedule. Feck, I'm exhausted just reading that.

We did drop tennis though. (Didn't think they were going to make my fortune anytime soon with a tennis racket. Potential future earnings are my main criteria for the sports my children are signed up for.)

We're living the suburban middle-class dream. All I need is a cigarette, a pointy bra and a cheating husband and I'd be perfect for the cast of Mad Men.

So, what else is new?

We're getting a new car.

I say 'new' but obviously what with spoiling our offspring with the wealth of activities they do (and will no doubt look back on and resent us for - not enough alone time? exhaustion? burn out at aged 11?) we cannot afford a new car. Nor can we actually afford a good second hand car.

But, seeing as our current lemon has let me down again repeatedly this week (when one has to rely on a neighbour one barely knows to ferry one about the neighbourhood collecting children -my own, you understand, not just unfortunate children who happen to be loitering...) you know it's time to call it a day.

So, we've found a suspiciously cheap six-seater being sold by some dodgy looking bloke. My kind of deal. It arrives on Saturday. It's big enough to accommodate the new arrival when s/he arrives at Chrimbo. I think I'll be delighted if this car is still actually running by then.


Sigh. I best go. I guess I should have a look the speech therapy homework the therapist gave parents last week. Eldest child is doing group sessions for his stammer. Typically though the Oub child is the square peg. A huge part of the therapy is dealing with the child's stress/anxiety to do with the stammering and the vicious circle of stress/stuttering. What does my child answer to the questionnaire they gave them? Question One - How do you feel about your stammer? - Oub child answer - 'I don't care.' Question Two - Does it upset you? Oub child answer - 'See Above'. (he actually wrote, 'see above.' cheeky get...)

Sigh. We'll get there eventually I imagine...

I'm so tired.

I think I'll go back to bed.

Bye

(ps this post was written under extremely trying circumstances. I was made get up and dance by a semi-naked toddler to stoopid primary coloured creatures on children's tv, then she transformed into the Oubasaurus and attempted repeatedly to bite off my nose, and finally settled upon her dog impression where she kept licking my face. It's a tough life. So, if there are any typos, you understand...)

Memes and other fun stuff

Oh today was such a domestic, excitment-free day. A day that makes single, childless people look and point and laugh in ones direction.

Do you want to know what we did?

Try and stay awake.

1) We had to buy a new tumble dryer. The old one, for some reason decided after being run every day for the past ten years, to suddenly give up. Wimp. And seeing as Ireland has reverted to type, and is raining like the end of days at the moment, (and I have three children so inclined to dirt that it surprises me that social services haven't been round) a dryer is a necessity.

2) I bought a couple a new beakers for Toddler Oub.

3) A new kitchen timer was purchased.

4) We did the grocery shopping. Lidl for the bulk of things, Aldi for all the posh stuff. Tescos is like Harrods to us.

Really, I know, you would love to be swapping lives with me right now.

The highlight of the day though was that I paid a quick visit to TK Maxx. In the craft section I found a four pack of American Craft Thickers for 8.99! Of course, 99.9% of you now are going 'huh?!' But there is that .1% of ye who are going, 'What, a four pack of American Craft Thickers for only 8.99!! You jammy bastard.'

All this was done today with a poor sick Toddler Oub in tow. She woke up last night barking like a circus seal. My mammy sense tingled and I diagnosed a case of the croup. Poor baby. But really, nearly as embarrassing as the wimpy tumble dryer. You expect your kids to pick up more colds etc once they start preschool - but really, she's only been there a week - and for three days of that there were no other children!

But, just so the day won't be a complete waste, I'm going to accept the meme challenge laid down on Titus' blog.

Eight questions to be answered...

1. Why did you start blogging?

Probably as a way of avoiding all the things I should be doing. But I think I felt driven to start blogging by various female newspaper journalist who write regular columns on domestic life. I felt I could do better. Hmmm. Lets just say, two years on the paper editors have yet to sack those writers, and I'm still languishing, unappreciated, in my damp oubliette.

2. If you could travel anywhere in the world with no restriction of costs, where would it be and why?

Can I answer 'Everywhere'? I love to travel, and I find it hard to pick one place over anywhere else. All I ask is that I travel in complete luxury, nothing less than first class and five stars.



3. Did you have a teacher in school that had a great influence on your life? If so, what?

My mother said that if she went to one more parent/teacher meeting where she was told I was 'very quiet' she'd tear her hair out. So, Mrs Quinlan my history teacher gets the nod here, as she was probably the only teacher who could have picked me out of a line up. That said, her name wasn't Mrs Quinlan, I actually can't remember what it was, so in a way, the tables have been turned, and they're all an anonymous irrelevance to me now...


4. If you could spend the day with a famous person, who would it be, and what would you do?

Easy. It would be Eric Cantona. And what would I do? I'd try to snog him. The whole day.


5. Toilet paper – over or under?

This question caused a little uncomfortable confusion over on Titus' blog when she posted it. To answer it clearly, I am a firm believer that OVER is the only way. The true and right path. Toilet roll must be hung, with the sheets hanging over. Anything else offends the natural order of things.


6. Name one thing in your life that you would do over if possible.

I'd actually value my size ten figure and try and hold onto it with a drowning man's desperate clawing, grasping, frantic, manic, crazed, rabid, demented, grappling determination.

7. Tell about your pets – if any.

No pets. Allergic children. Bah.

8. Do you live in a small town or a large town.

We live in a delightful suburb of the largest city in the country! Yes. We're number one! We're number one! In your face Cork!


Now, there you go. Well, to finish my over exciting day I'm off to watch X-Factor and convince Mr Oub to put the kids to bed. Sigh, domestic bliss.

Memes and other fun stuff

Oh today was such a domestic, excitment-free day. A day that makes single, childless people look and point and laugh in ones direction.

Do you want to know what we did?

Try and stay awake.

1) We had to buy a new tumble dryer. The old one, for some reason decided after being run every day for the past ten years, to suddenly give up. Wimp. And seeing as Ireland has reverted to type, and is raining like the end of days at the moment, (and I have three children so inclined to dirt that it surprises me that social services haven't been round) a dryer is a necessity.

2) I bought a couple a new beakers for Toddler Oub.

3) A new kitchen timer was purchased.

4) We did the grocery shopping. Lidl for the bulk of things, Aldi for all the posh stuff. Tescos is like Harrods to us.

Really, I know, you would love to be swapping lives with me right now.

The highlight of the day though was that I paid a quick visit to TK Maxx. In the craft section I found a four pack of American Craft Thickers for 8.99! Of course, 99.9% of you now are going 'huh?!' But there is that .1% of ye who are going, 'What, a four pack of American Craft Thickers for only 8.99!! You jammy bastard.'

All this was done today with a poor sick Toddler Oub in tow. She woke up last night barking like a circus seal. My mammy sense tingled and I diagnosed a case of the croup. Poor baby. But really, nearly as embarrassing as the wimpy tumble dryer. You expect your kids to pick up more colds etc once they start preschool - but really, she's only been there a week - and for three days of that there were no other children!

But, just so the day won't be a complete waste, I'm going to accept the meme challenge laid down on Titus' blog.

Eight questions to be answered...

1. Why did you start blogging?

Probably as a way of avoiding all the things I should be doing. But I think I felt driven to start blogging by various female newspaper journalist who write regular columns on domestic life. I felt I could do better. Hmmm. Lets just say, two years on the paper editors have yet to sack those writers, and I'm still languishing, unappreciated, in my damp oubliette.

2. If you could travel anywhere in the world with no restriction of costs, where would it be and why?

Can I answer 'Everywhere'? I love to travel, and I find it hard to pick one place over anywhere else. All I ask is that I travel in complete luxury, nothing less than first class and five stars.



3. Did you have a teacher in school that had a great influence on your life? If so, what?

My mother said that if she went to one more parent/teacher meeting where she was told I was 'very quiet' she'd tear her hair out. So, Mrs Quinlan my history teacher gets the nod here, as she was probably the only teacher who could have picked me out of a line up. That said, her name wasn't Mrs Quinlan, I actually can't remember what it was, so in a way, the tables have been turned, and they're all an anonymous irrelevance to me now...


4. If you could spend the day with a famous person, who would it be, and what would you do?

Easy. It would be Eric Cantona. And what would I do? I'd try to snog him. The whole day.


5. Toilet paper – over or under?

This question caused a little uncomfortable confusion over on Titus' blog when she posted it. To answer it clearly, I am a firm believer that OVER is the only way. The true and right path. Toilet roll must be hung, with the sheets hanging over. Anything else offends the natural order of things.


6. Name one thing in your life that you would do over if possible.

I'd actually value my size ten figure and try and hold onto it with a drowning man's desperate clawing, grasping, frantic, manic, crazed, rabid, demented, grappling determination.

7. Tell about your pets – if any.

No pets. Allergic children. Bah.

8. Do you live in a small town or a large town.

We live in a delightful suburb of the largest city in the country! Yes. We're number one! We're number one! In your face Cork!


Now, there you go. Well, to finish my over exciting day I'm off to watch X-Factor and convince Mr Oub to put the kids to bed. Sigh, domestic bliss.

Lessons

OMG

You know how I said I was exhausted last post?

Well, double that and put a hat on it.

Toddler Oub has started playschool.

Well, except that in a way she hasn't.

Explanation?

Well, she was signed up for a nice little pre-school. Middle Oub child had gone there during his psychotic stage and everyone emerged unscathed (relatively speaking) so we quite like them. So we showed up on Monday. She would have empathised with Patrick Kavanagh's words...

"Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight
Of being king and government and nation.
A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king
Of banks and stones and every blooming thing. "

ie - she was on her tod. Only little monster there.

It was always going to be a small class. Good news. But in a perfect toddler storm, each of her prospective class mate had withdrawn from the class for one perfectly reasonable reason or other.



Sigh.

What do you say to the embarrassed child care workers whom you've know for quite a few years?

Not much. You leave your child there and stomp off in a bad, bad mood.

Could this situation get any worse?

Of course it could!

When I returned the required two and a half hours later - the preschool manager had appeared. No special reason, just it was time for her to show her face. But, of course, this being my life, it was a new manager. A woman who I knew. A woman with whom I had a big problem and hadn't seen in about a year. Perfect.

So, what did I do?

Well, in true Irish style, we both pretended to be delighted to see each other and pretend we hadn't parted on difficult terms! Hurray for denial!

She muttered a few things about the missing classmates, muttered a few things about how she was sure they'd pick up a new one or two soon.

All the while my little darling ran around like a mad thing, obviously delighted to have made out like a posh rich child with their own private tutor, and private classroom, and all the toys in the known universe. Any surprise she had a blast??

So what to do?

Its a toughie.

Well. We brought her for the past three days. I'm not one to make snap decisions.



She's starting somewhere new tomorrow.

Lessons

OMG

You know how I said I was exhausted last post?

Well, double that and put a hat on it.

Toddler Oub has started playschool.

Well, except that in a way she hasn't.

Explanation?

Well, she was signed up for a nice little pre-school. Middle Oub child had gone there during his psychotic stage and everyone emerged unscathed (relatively speaking) so we quite like them. So we showed up on Monday. She would have empathised with Patrick Kavanagh's words...

"Oh, Alexander Selkirk knew the plight
Of being king and government and nation.
A road, a mile of kingdom, I am king
Of banks and stones and every blooming thing. "

ie - she was on her tod. Only little monster there.

It was always going to be a small class. Good news. But in a perfect toddler storm, each of her prospective class mate had withdrawn from the class for one perfectly reasonable reason or other.



Sigh.

What do you say to the embarrassed child care workers whom you've know for quite a few years?

Not much. You leave your child there and stomp off in a bad, bad mood.

Could this situation get any worse?

Of course it could!

When I returned the required two and a half hours later - the preschool manager had appeared. No special reason, just it was time for her to show her face. But, of course, this being my life, it was a new manager. A woman who I knew. A woman with whom I had a big problem and hadn't seen in about a year. Perfect.

So, what did I do?

Well, in true Irish style, we both pretended to be delighted to see each other and pretend we hadn't parted on difficult terms! Hurray for denial!

She muttered a few things about the missing classmates, muttered a few things about how she was sure they'd pick up a new one or two soon.

All the while my little darling ran around like a mad thing, obviously delighted to have made out like a posh rich child with their own private tutor, and private classroom, and all the toys in the known universe. Any surprise she had a blast??

So what to do?

Its a toughie.

Well. We brought her for the past three days. I'm not one to make snap decisions.



She's starting somewhere new tomorrow.

What D'Oub Did Next

D'Oub tired. D'Oub exhausted.

D'Oub is in a near coma.

I doubt there will be a poetry bus contribution this week.

Why so shattered?

Exhibit A

Electric Picnic

I was lucky enough to join my Poetry Diva sisters performing at Electric Picnic on Friday evening. We recited, and forever changed the face of modern poetry with our collective brilliance.

This is the tent we performed in - but that's not actually us. Unless five of us turned into one chick and a bloke with a guitar - that said, our poetry was so brilliant that we may have bent reality and altered the universe for a period.

Two blurry Divas

So, Saturday consisted of nothing much - apart from me going 'meep' alot and heading back to bed. The Picnic was just too much. When I bring my vision to the people, it takes me some time to regather my emotional energies.

Exhibit B

Allotmenting

The poor Allotment hasn't been getting the attention it should - not due to lack of enthusiasm, more life getting in the bloody way. So, today was a big, drizzly, shout at the reluctant kids, fecking weeding, 'dammit are those rat bites on the courgettes?', duty day at the allotment.

The 'Lottie' about a week ago when the weeds had only conquered 95% of the known universe. It's a deceptive picture, as things don't look too bad. But don't be fooled. The weeds had donned their camouflage gear when they saw the camera come out. Bastards.

No picture of the place today, as we were too busy in hand to hand combat with the weeds. But thankfully we did actually get to harvest stuff! Potatoes! Mystery gourds! Puny garlic! Burly mange touts! Gnawed courgettes! A true bounty...

We then released the child slaves, and they ran wild. Feral chidren.

Exhibit C

D'Oub on the Radio!

I was also on the radio AGAIN today! Back, Back, BACK! By popular demand, poor old Various Cushions succumbed to the mass mailings and Internet campaign to feature moi once again. It's tough being this popular - exhausting even! - but hopefully I didn't let my many, many, many fans (hi mum!) down today with my oh so witty show. I am sure, if you were being held hostage today, shackled in an attic, gagged and sedated (the only reason you'd have missed the show of course) Ms Cushions will have it pod casted HERE real soon...

Exhibit D

D'Oub Shows She has No Sense At All...

So, reason four D'Oub is so tired these days and shouldn't really be be gallivanting to music festivals, and radio shows and vegetable allotments...

Well, D'Oub decided there just wasn't enough D'Oubiness to go round, so being the creative sort, she roped in Mr D'Oub (tmi) and as if the world wasn't over populated enough, is in the process of cooking another little D'Oub junior. God help us all.

There endeth the post.

Jeez, and now I feel even more tired.

Goodnight!!!

What D'Oub Did Next

D'Oub tired. D'Oub exhausted.

D'Oub is in a near coma.

I doubt there will be a poetry bus contribution this week.

Why so shattered?

Exhibit A

Electric Picnic

I was lucky enough to join my Poetry Diva sisters performing at Electric Picnic on Friday evening. We recited, and forever changed the face of modern poetry with our collective brilliance.

This is the tent we performed in - but that's not actually us. Unless five of us turned into one chick and a bloke with a guitar - that said, our poetry was so brilliant that we may have bent reality and altered the universe for a period.

Two blurry Divas

So, Saturday consisted of nothing much - apart from me going 'meep' alot and heading back to bed. The Picnic was just too much. When I bring my vision to the people, it takes me some time to regather my emotional energies.

Exhibit B

Allotmenting

The poor Allotment hasn't been getting the attention it should - not due to lack of enthusiasm, more life getting in the bloody way. So, today was a big, drizzly, shout at the reluctant kids, fecking weeding, 'dammit are those rat bites on the courgettes?', duty day at the allotment.

The 'Lottie' about a week ago when the weeds had only conquered 95% of the known universe. It's a deceptive picture, as things don't look too bad. But don't be fooled. The weeds had donned their camouflage gear when they saw the camera come out. Bastards.

No picture of the place today, as we were too busy in hand to hand combat with the weeds. But thankfully we did actually get to harvest stuff! Potatoes! Mystery gourds! Puny garlic! Burly mange touts! Gnawed courgettes! A true bounty...

We then released the child slaves, and they ran wild. Feral chidren.

Exhibit C

D'Oub on the Radio!

I was also on the radio AGAIN today! Back, Back, BACK! By popular demand, poor old Various Cushions succumbed to the mass mailings and Internet campaign to feature moi once again. It's tough being this popular - exhausting even! - but hopefully I didn't let my many, many, many fans (hi mum!) down today with my oh so witty show. I am sure, if you were being held hostage today, shackled in an attic, gagged and sedated (the only reason you'd have missed the show of course) Ms Cushions will have it pod casted HERE real soon...

Exhibit D

D'Oub Shows She has No Sense At All...

So, reason four D'Oub is so tired these days and shouldn't really be be gallivanting to music festivals, and radio shows and vegetable allotments...

Well, D'Oub decided there just wasn't enough D'Oubiness to go round, so being the creative sort, she roped in Mr D'Oub (tmi) and as if the world wasn't over populated enough, is in the process of cooking another little D'Oub junior. God help us all.

There endeth the post.

Jeez, and now I feel even more tired.

Goodnight!!!