Feeling a Little Proud

It's a big day in the Oub household.

A child of ours is participating in a sporting final!!!

Ok, it's actually Bowling - a sport only marginally more strenuous than darts. But we are thrilled all the same. No Oub family member has ever before shown an aptitude for anything that involved hand/eye coordination.

So, we are very excited for second eldest son. For it is he who is in this final as part of his Cub Scout troop.

Representing Lucan!

Goooooooooooooo Lucan!

We need to bring some pride back to Loverly Lucan. It's not that we don't love those most famous sons of Lucan - Jedward. But you can love something without being particularly proud of the fact. Like me and french toast and bacon drizzled with maple syrup, mmmhhmmmmmm. I'm not proud of my self there. Or me and the celeb gossip pages on the dailymail online. REALLY not proud of myself there. In fact, deeply, deeply ashamed. And I probably shouldn't go into the contents of my iPod... (for every White Stripes track there are at least two from Step etc) But enough of the self flagellation. It isn't even Sunday.

Just took a phone call from Mr Oub. The bowling is underway! Exciting!

Before they headed off I oscillated between informing son that it was the taking part that counted, and telling him to kick woggled arse. I'm a pretty inconsistent mother as it is, so a little more on the mixed message front isn't going to make much difference. The savings account is already open for the intensive therapy they are all going to need. So I may as well get my moneys worth and really feck them up.

I'll let you know how it all goes later :)

9 out of 10 D'Oubs didn't complete suck at bowling.

And then tomorrow second son is in action again. This time it's piano grade exam time. Poor fecker. But he has nerves of steel so isn't that bothered. Me? I'd be more nervous than a bomb disposal guy with sudden onset Parkinson's.

We're terribly proud of him again here as he seems to have inherited Grandad Oubs musical abilities. Which are considerable. But what makes second son so special is he is this odd freak of nature - I must have been sent home with the wrong baby - he actually works hard too. Once he has finished his homework, he puts his bag away and immediately sits down at the piano to practice. His brother (whom I do love too, I promise) has to be injected with 10ccs of Cattleprodadrine to get him to do his practice (Also very talented, just a little motivationally deficient. Definitely the correct baby sent home with me there.)

Second son is a great child. I was informed at his recent Parent/Teacher meeting that he had placed on the 100 percentile for his English and Maths aptitude scores. Teacher said it was quite rare for a child to score top for both disciplines. He has a great bunch of friends. Lovely kids. Teacher said he is well able to stand up for himself, but he also looks out for others. That he is kind. He writes wonderful stories and is one of the top in his class in Irish.

At home he gets his sister her breakfast in the morning and packs all the lunches while I look after baby oub. He is a great conversationalist and I enjoy his company.

Could I gush more? Probably!

But you see, second son had a tough old start in life. He was plagued for years as a toddler with health issues - nothing serious, but just enough to involve regular pokings and proddings from doctors of all sorts. And hospital stays and all that unpleasantness. He has execma. And hayfever. And multiple allergies. He currently needs eye drops and eye cream twice a day for his Atopic Eye Disease, which hurt. And he will need these for a few years yet. And most difficult of all is for years he had Speech and Language Disorder. You couldn't understand a thing the child said. Can you imagine, a child as smart as he is, unable to be understood by anyone. It was awful. He was miserable. Rarely smiled. It took years and so much hard work to get him to a point now, where at 9 years old, people wouldn't know there was ever a problem.

And through all this he never complained. He put up with everything with a stoicism a person thirty years older wouldn't have had. And still today, morning and evening when he flinches as we put the drops in his eyes, never a word. He looks a little mournful when reminded that we have to do this for a few years, but no tantrums. No giving out. Just sucks it up.

GUSH!

Feeling a Little Proud

It's a big day in the Oub household.

A child of ours is participating in a sporting final!!!

Ok, it's actually Bowling - a sport only marginally more strenuous than darts. But we are thrilled all the same. No Oub family member has ever before shown an aptitude for anything that involved hand/eye coordination.

So, we are very excited for second eldest son. For it is he who is in this final as part of his Cub Scout troop.

Representing Lucan!

Goooooooooooooo Lucan!

We need to bring some pride back to Loverly Lucan. It's not that we don't love those most famous sons of Lucan - Jedward. But you can love something without being particularly proud of the fact. Like me and french toast and bacon drizzled with maple syrup, mmmhhmmmmmm. I'm not proud of my self there. Or me and the celeb gossip pages on the dailymail online. REALLY not proud of myself there. In fact, deeply, deeply ashamed. And I probably shouldn't go into the contents of my iPod... (for every White Stripes track there are at least two from Step etc) But enough of the self flagellation. It isn't even Sunday.

Just took a phone call from Mr Oub. The bowling is underway! Exciting!

Before they headed off I oscillated between informing son that it was the taking part that counted, and telling him to kick woggled arse. I'm a pretty inconsistent mother as it is, so a little more on the mixed message front isn't going to make much difference. The savings account is already open for the intensive therapy they are all going to need. So I may as well get my moneys worth and really feck them up.

I'll let you know how it all goes later :)

9 out of 10 D'Oubs didn't complete suck at bowling.

And then tomorrow second son is in action again. This time it's piano grade exam time. Poor fecker. But he has nerves of steel so isn't that bothered. Me? I'd be more nervous than a bomb disposal guy with sudden onset Parkinson's.

We're terribly proud of him again here as he seems to have inherited Grandad Oubs musical abilities. Which are considerable. But what makes second son so special is he is this odd freak of nature - I must have been sent home with the wrong baby - he actually works hard too. Once he has finished his homework, he puts his bag away and immediately sits down at the piano to practice. His brother (whom I do love too, I promise) has to be injected with 10ccs of Cattleprodadrine to get him to do his practice (Also very talented, just a little motivationally deficient. Definitely the correct baby sent home with me there.)

Second son is a great child. I was informed at his recent Parent/Teacher meeting that he had placed on the 100 percentile for his English and Maths aptitude scores. Teacher said it was quite rare for a child to score top for both disciplines. He has a great bunch of friends. Lovely kids. Teacher said he is well able to stand up for himself, but he also looks out for others. That he is kind. He writes wonderful stories and is one of the top in his class in Irish.

At home he gets his sister her breakfast in the morning and packs all the lunches while I look after baby oub. He is a great conversationalist and I enjoy his company.

Could I gush more? Probably!

But you see, second son had a tough old start in life. He was plagued for years as a toddler with health issues - nothing serious, but just enough to involve regular pokings and proddings from doctors of all sorts. And hospital stays and all that unpleasantness. He has execma. And hayfever. And multiple allergies. He currently needs eye drops and eye cream twice a day for his Atopic Eye Disease, which hurt. And he will need these for a few years yet. And most difficult of all is for years he had Speech and Language Disorder. You couldn't understand a thing the child said. Can you imagine, a child as smart as he is, unable to be understood by anyone. It was awful. He was miserable. Rarely smiled. It took years and so much hard work to get him to a point now, where at 9 years old, people wouldn't know there was ever a problem.

And through all this he never complained. He put up with everything with a stoicism a person thirty years older wouldn't have had. And still today, morning and evening when he flinches as we put the drops in his eyes, never a word. He looks a little mournful when reminded that we have to do this for a few years, but no tantrums. No giving out. Just sucks it up.

GUSH!

And I Ain't Counting Sheep...

As the great poet Cliff Richards once intoned - it's so funny, how we don't talk anymore.

It's true, I have been giving you the silent treatment. I've been quiet, uncommunicative. Sullen even.

But believe me, it's me. Not you.

But today is February 29th. The day women are traditionally allowed to propose.

So, I am going to propose something.

I am going to be a better blogger. I will talk to you when I am feeling cross, I won't bottle it all up and make you think it's you whose done something wrong. I won't shut myself off and make you guess what's up. We can get counselling if you want. If it makes you feel better. We gotta do this for the kids.

Mammy, blogosphere, don't you love us anymore?? Boo Hoooo.

(But in the meantime until I have something worth blogging about - check this site out - 9 Foreign Words The English Language Desperately Needs . Mr Oub says I am a Kaelling but I reckon he is most definitely a Pilkunnussija)

And I Ain't Counting Sheep...

As the great poet Cliff Richards once intoned - it's so funny, how we don't talk anymore.

It's true, I have been giving you the silent treatment. I've been quiet, uncommunicative. Sullen even.

But believe me, it's me. Not you.

But today is February 29th. The day women are traditionally allowed to propose.

So, I am going to propose something.

I am going to be a better blogger. I will talk to you when I am feeling cross, I won't bottle it all up and make you think it's you whose done something wrong. I won't shut myself off and make you guess what's up. We can get counselling if you want. If it makes you feel better. We gotta do this for the kids.

Mammy, blogosphere, don't you love us anymore?? Boo Hoooo.

(But in the meantime until I have something worth blogging about - check this site out - 9 Foreign Words The English Language Desperately Needs . Mr Oub says I am a Kaelling but I reckon he is most definitely a Pilkunnussija)

Definitely This Year

2012

D'Oub plans for 2012.

1) Write more. So far, have written either a flash fiction piece, or the first paragraph of a new short story. Haven't decided which it yet. Have also written a few lines of a blog post. Result.

2) Give up coffee. This one is a toughie. I love my lattes. I reckon the impact on the economy by the end of January could be drastic. But sometimes one has to think of oneself and not ones fellow man. I've been trying to save this stoopid country single-handedly by spending, spending, spending - a high proportion of that on lattes and cake - but so far we seem to be still requiring bail outs faster than the Titanic.So, I must think of my waistline and my wallet.

Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!

3) Go to bed before 2am. I spend much of my days in a sorta zombie haze. I pity my poor children, being raised by a zombie mother. It's surprising that Baby Oubs first word wasn't 'Brainzzz.' But I am such a night owl. I could be crawling through the day, my energy so low from tiredness that I'd sell the children for a half pack of hobnobs, if I could take a daytime nap. But, hit 10pm and suddenly I could run a half marathon. What's that you say Mr Oub? Watch a movie even though its five minutes to midnight and the movie is three hours long? Capital idea!

4) No more over-committing myself. Life had gotten a tad crazy round the D'Oub house by the end of the year. We had the most busy insane six months of our lives. It wasn't anyone thing, just a celestial convergence of events that meant we only had about two weekends free from one commitment or another from August to the end of December. Combine that with me going out roughly four out of five week nights (writers group! pottery class! scrapbooking workshops! Other stuff!) Then combine that with the sleep deprivation and the coffee addiction. How I am still standing I don't know. (It could be the medicinal Christmas Cake that saved me.) So, 2012, I'm saying no. No to doing everything and yes to trying to be a bit more selective. It'll be hard, but suspect it's a good idea.

5) On my bike! Due to the aforementioned schedule craziness, the D'Oub family who had all possessed new bikes for months, hadn't been able to go out on them :( This made us very sad. But, new year, new opportunities. We've been out three times since the new year, Baby Oub has her little bike seat, so everyone is go, go go.

It is amazing that with the giant heads we posses that we were able to find cycle helmets to fit us all. Giant I tells ya.

So, what do you think? Achievable. Should be.

We'll see if Christmas 2012 sees me lithe, literary, alert and latte-free.

Just don't surprised if it's more corpulent, critical, catatonic, and caffeinated.

Definitely This Year

2012

D'Oub plans for 2012.

1) Write more. So far, have written either a flash fiction piece, or the first paragraph of a new short story. Haven't decided which it yet. Have also written a few lines of a blog post. Result.

2) Give up coffee. This one is a toughie. I love my lattes. I reckon the impact on the economy by the end of January could be drastic. But sometimes one has to think of oneself and not ones fellow man. I've been trying to save this stoopid country single-handedly by spending, spending, spending - a high proportion of that on lattes and cake - but so far we seem to be still requiring bail outs faster than the Titanic.So, I must think of my waistline and my wallet.

Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!Iloveyou!

3) Go to bed before 2am. I spend much of my days in a sorta zombie haze. I pity my poor children, being raised by a zombie mother. It's surprising that Baby Oubs first word wasn't 'Brainzzz.' But I am such a night owl. I could be crawling through the day, my energy so low from tiredness that I'd sell the children for a half pack of hobnobs, if I could take a daytime nap. But, hit 10pm and suddenly I could run a half marathon. What's that you say Mr Oub? Watch a movie even though its five minutes to midnight and the movie is three hours long? Capital idea!

4) No more over-committing myself. Life had gotten a tad crazy round the D'Oub house by the end of the year. We had the most busy insane six months of our lives. It wasn't anyone thing, just a celestial convergence of events that meant we only had about two weekends free from one commitment or another from August to the end of December. Combine that with me going out roughly four out of five week nights (writers group! pottery class! scrapbooking workshops! Other stuff!) Then combine that with the sleep deprivation and the coffee addiction. How I am still standing I don't know. (It could be the medicinal Christmas Cake that saved me.) So, 2012, I'm saying no. No to doing everything and yes to trying to be a bit more selective. It'll be hard, but suspect it's a good idea.

5) On my bike! Due to the aforementioned schedule craziness, the D'Oub family who had all possessed new bikes for months, hadn't been able to go out on them :( This made us very sad. But, new year, new opportunities. We've been out three times since the new year, Baby Oub has her little bike seat, so everyone is go, go go.

It is amazing that with the giant heads we posses that we were able to find cycle helmets to fit us all. Giant I tells ya.

So, what do you think? Achievable. Should be.

We'll see if Christmas 2012 sees me lithe, literary, alert and latte-free.

Just don't surprised if it's more corpulent, critical, catatonic, and caffeinated.

I've Put A Bloody Poem in a Bloody Shop! Finally!

I cracked it!

I wrote a poem!

I was in the shower this morning. While washing my hair I spent a few moments pondering my friend, the Shower Spider. He lives in the top corner of my shower. He's been there aaaaages. I'd really hope there weren't enough flies knocking around my bathroom to keep him fed. But he has been there really quite some while. Hmmmmm.

He migrated briefly to the sink area, but that didn't last. He was soon back. Most sane people would have removed him by now, but I must admit I'm kinda fond of him. And the adrenaline rush each morning, wondering will this be the morning he finally falls on my nudee body, really sets you up for the day.

Well, anyway, whatever it was about spending some quality time with my arachnid friend, but a poem popped, practically fully formed, into my head! It's not Yeats. It's not even Pam Ayres. But, it is a poem, it is festive and it is perfect (enough) to PUT IN A SHOP!

YAY!!!

So, while doing my Christmas shopping, poem clutched to my sweaty little hands, I set about joining the illustrious ranks of the International Put Your Poem In A Shop Month brigade.

I wasn't very brave, I went into Homebase. Homebase near me is always deserted. I could probably run a writing summer school in the soft furnishing aisle and would be left unmolested the entire time. Sure, yes, it was missing the frisson of danger, but my life is just one wild crazy ride as it is, so it was no harm to dial down the insanity for a few short civilized moments.

Anyway, fifteen minutes later, I left Homebase with one really nice candle and without one really brilliant poem.

And here is the evidence -

Would you pay 15.59 (down from 17.99) for a 'handkerchief' vase? sounds unsanitary personally...

The close up!

And here it is just in case even my bestest writing isn't enough...

Dear Santa,
I've been a little bit naughty
But I've also been a little bit nice
What say you still give me a pressie
And we'll go halvsies on the price.


Hurray!!!!