I know it sounds pretty boring. Hell, it probably is pretty boring, but I quite like reading this sort of thing on other people’s blogs. Sometimes those ordinary moments can be sort of fascinating. In a not fascinating, totally boring kinda way. So here we go, a day in the life of my life. Buckle up.
Read the rest.
We finally got the wedding albums finalised and printed, and last week they arrived. They’re fab! We researched a tonne of different photobook services but ended up using Milkbooks, who are based in New Zealand. I know that seems slightly insane given that we’re on the other side of the planet, but we loved their templates and the software worked really well. More importantly, the print quality is perfect and they weren’t ridiculously expensive, particularly with the 25% discount that the site was running at the time. The photos (mostly by Savo) look amazing and I think there’s a great sense of the atmosphere and the venue.
Here’s the rest of the album.
Sometimes I leave the house
Look at me! That’s what I look like when I don’t have a baby hanging off me. Naturally I had to document it. For the blog. Which usually involves the baby. But not so today. Today it was Wicked. The Musical. At the Grand Canal Theatre in Dublin. It was very awesome. Now. Photos. Why are these sentences so short?
Read the rest right here.
My little Badger is a year and a half, wow! I think the biggest change in the last few months has been her speech. She’s been honing her extensive set of animal noises, including the excellent ‘raarrr’ for tigers, ‘owww’ for cats, ‘mmmmooo’ for any large creature, and ‘or or or’ for horses. (We blame Ylvisfor that one.) Her favourite word at the moment is ‘no’. She says it with this ridiculously posh accent which, were it not followed by a cutesy shrug, would probably get quite irritating.
Read the rest.
Thus ends three days of epic gardening. I know, it’s sexy and exciting. But seriously, this garden makes me want to be a better person. Oh no wait, that’s something else. But still. It is so friggin tidy and manicured and weed free and beflowered (that’s not a word, obviously), it makes me very very VERY happy. My Dad needs to take most of the credit here. I pruned a bush, got freaked out, dragged him in for a “consult” and then watched (and helped, a bit) him turn a sad, neglected back garden into a really really tiny Versailles without the fountains. READ THE REST ON MY ACTUAL BLOG. I HAVE A NEW BLOG. THIS TUMBLR ACCOUNT IS TOTALLY DEAD TO ME. IT’S LIKE IT NEVER EXISTED. I MISS YOU, TUMBLR. BUT NOT ENOUGH.
My baby is coming home tomorrow! Not my real baby, my big hairy bearded bush-lurking love muffin. That’s right, I have nearly survived six days of lone parenting. I even went out drinking one night and got half a book read and kept the house reasonably clean and roasted a chicken and ate that for every meal for 3 days. I fixed my own internet for god’s sake. This shit is EASY.
Read the rest on my OTHER BLOG.
Day 2 without husband was pretty good, I’m getting used to this. Maybe I should change the locks?
Badger has been sleeping really well and spent a huge proportion of the day repeatedly hugging me. Hugs from curly haired 1 year olds are basically the best thing on earth. The dog has moved into the bedroom, so between the two of them I’d say they’ve got most of the bases covered. (No, I am not having sex with the dog, you sick fuck.) Read on!
I’m very lucky. I got to marry the best man on earth. That’s right, ladies, he was here the whole time, or at least since he escaped the bushes of South Africa when he was 18.
Now I know that things didn’t go strictly to plan, what with the baby happening before the marriage, but I actually think it’s a credit to us that we still liked each other enough to want to after that first year of sleep-deprived paranoid hell that is keeping a newborn alive and not putting it into the washing machine and instead babywearing your dirty laundry. Not only liked, but loved, and even loved a bit more. All the things that make him a great father – particularly the way he makes her laugh hysterically in the evenings before bed – has given me a hundred more ways to appreciate just how awesome he is. Read more
I’m the worst procrastinator in the world. I don’t know why I inherently leave everything to the last minute, but I do. Constantly. And by ignoring things I leave them sitting there in the back of my brain like an annoying kid with his hand up who keeps asking questions. (But WHEN are you going to do it, WHY aren’t you doing it now, and WHY do you put things off to the point where you end up completely stressed out?) Read more
The problem with heartfelt posts in public is that you can’t continually gush about gratitude or people will want to stab you. Conversely, it seems a bit cheap to switch from that kind of philosophical introspection to ‘last night I got shitfaced’, but really, what choice do I have? Read more
I can’t pinpoint what’s started this, but I feel like I’ve had an awakening this week. Perhaps it’s because I am over the tax thing. That’s been my mental blockade for months. Life was due to resume once the Revenue deadline had passed. It’s done now. No more excuses. Read more
New blog new blog new blog new blog IS HERE:
This is my new home on the intro-net. I will send a few more links from my Tumblr home to my new Wordpress home, just in case y’all forget to add me to your super duper favourite bookmarks ever (sorry, I’ve been drinking), but after that, YOU’RE ON YOUR OWN.
My new blog is called The Airing Cupboard. And why the hell not? Some Irish people call that cupboard where you stick your clothes to dry (nay, to AIR) the hot press, but thankfully they’re wrong. Because it’s actually called the airing cupboard by decent folk of decent descent. And luckily for me, that implies all sorts of interesting double meanings and whatnot. I’ve been drinking. Night night.
1. I found out that my little badger is allergic to strawberries. I kept wondering what was causing the little hives on her cheeks and after EXPERIMENTING ON MY CHILD (ie feeding her half a punnet of strawberries for breakfast) I can now confirm that she has an allergy. I have it too (though my reactions are less severe - to the point that I eat them anyway) so it’s fine, she’s in with the cool crowd.
2. I am officially moving to Wordpress. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, and yes, I know I talked about this ages ago and never actually did it, but I’m really doing it this time. I’m importing my Tumblr account as we speak. I know we’re not actually speaking. Or we certainly won’t be once I abandon you and move to that other blogging platform.
It’ll probably take me about a week to get it all sorted. Or possibly another year. But it will happen. Don’t worry, I’ll keep you informed. Things, they are a changing. And it’s EXCITING.
3. Zombie baby. More on that later.
Now I haven’t talked about shit in a long time, primarily because I’m not dealing with it eight times a day plus bonus jobs at night (IT’S ON THE BEDSHEETS, THIS IS WHY WE’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO CO-SLEEP (or change nappies in bed?)), but also because I’m fairly desensitized to these things, not to mention over-share.
But over-share I shall because I waited ALL day for my child to crap and crap she did not until we got in the car to pick up her Daddy from the train station at 6.30pm and then, well, crap happened. And it was… extensive.
So we get home and Brendan conveniently “needs to pee”, so I’m left holding the not-so-metaphorical shit-covered baby. And I manage to wrangle off her shitty clothes and my hands are now covered in another person’s faeces (Amelie’s, not Brendan’s) and she has shit on her back, shit on her shoulders and yes, shit in her hair. And I know that there’s very little hot water left in the tank so a shower is definitely not an option. So I yell at Brendan (once he’s done “peeing”) to fill the bathroom sink and I stand her in it, and she’s fecking delighted because a) we don’t have a bath, so any sort of bath - even a tiny bath made out of a sink so small that there’s no chance she could sit down - is awesomely exciting, and b) she can see her reflection in the mirror, and that’s obviously quite amusing because - let’s face it - we all look funny naked. And apparently we look even funnier when we’re naked, standing in a sink, covered in shit while Mummy desperately tries to floss your bum with a soapy sponge.
That’s the kind of shit I’m willing to talk about.
I just found this one drinking from the dog’s water bowl. Must have been all that colander-wielding-round-the-table-seventeen-times-Lilly-chasing that preceded it.