Monday, January 25, 2010
Abandon All Hope
I've always felt that when Cromwell suggested 'to Hell or to Connaught!' he was uttering a tautology of sorts.
Ah, hahaha, I amuse myself.
Apologies to all Connaughites.
I've just returned from visiting the in-laws in Mayo this weekend you see. And of course I'm not suggesting that my in-laws are minions of the Dark Lord. Heavens no. Nor am I suggesting that the winding roads of the rural Ballygobeelzebub remind me of the circles of hell. No.
I just don't travel well. Nor does Baby Oubliette. She's a champion sleeper. I'm that mam at toddler groups smugly crowing about how she slept right through the night from a day old and how she still takes ten naps a day blah blah blah. Those haggard husks of sleep deprive women hate me...
But in Mayo, Baby Oub has to sleep in the ancestral cot. I'm not kidding. My children have all had a spin in the cot their very own father slept in. Impressive. But unsurprisingly, this cot has seen better days. It creaks and generally isn't up to the princess and the pea standard Baby Oub is now used to.
Invariably, she wakes up in the middle of the night. And this is a baby who doesn't wake up in the middle of the night, so she doesn't know what to do. First she cries. I try to hush her as we're in someone else's house and God forbid we disturbed anyone! Well, okay, I'm not quite so concerned about that. Its more the memory of the first time one of my children woke up in the middle of the night when visiting the in-laws and I was nearly flattened by my mother-in-law in the middle of the night as she rushed to attend to my child.
So, I picked up the little munchkin, and in a technicolour example of the triumph of hope over experience, take her into the bed with us. Sigh. As I said she just doesn't know what to do when woken up - so she lies down to go to sleep with us. But a minute later, moves to another spot. Then two minutes later moves again. Continue for two hours. They're using this technique quite successfully in Guantanamo I believe.
I eventually, at 6 am, chucked her back into the crib/relic and despite a few screeches of protest, she gave up the struggle and went back to sleep.
This has happened every time we have visited the west in the past year.
Bad enough I'm not in my own home. Bad enough my children are being spoilt to within an inch of their lives (oh, the beatings that have to happen once we get to Dublin to remind the children they are not little emperors). Bad enough I have to hear about what happened to Maura, you know Maura? She lives over behind the Kelly's, married to Joe McMurphy? She worked with Aine? You know Aine? She's married to your cousin Jack O'Malley? Bad enough that its raining. Bad enough that...
But I spend the entire visit exhausted and grumpy as hell. It's not my best look.
I just know that when we leave, they tut and shake their heads. 'Why couldn't he have married a nice country girl?'
Worst bit of all?
I never did find out what Maura did. You know Maura?She lives over behind the Kelly's, married to Joe McMurphy?
She worked with Aine?
You know Aine?
She's married to your