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.