The Photo Shoot

Oh God. I am mortified.

Seriously, I really should come with a disclaimer. Perhaps I could hand one out to people upon first meeting them. Just a little note to explain that despite initial impressions and potentially odd behaviours, I really am an interesting, intelligent and - dare I say it - amusing human being.

For the record, this is not the way that this blog was supposed to start.

Ever since receiving the initial call from Irish Mammy and then the follow up from the Sunday Times, I had planned a snazzy little intro on how myself and the family Von Snot were about to become celebrities.

How we were about to be launched into the social strata of Irish high society where we would be wined and dined and recognized everywhere we go (or at least by those who memorize the faces of anyone who appears in the parenting pages of the Times.)

No, it wasn't about "The Book" and no, the powers that be in the world of Irish Publishing did not happen across my blog and demand an interview with the grand dame herself (that would be me) and her inspiration (the family Von Snot.)

Instead, it was to be a piece about how the upcoming budget and how the potential cuts to Child Benefit would affect Irish families. We would be one of the sample families. Today was the photo shoot.

My original plan to be the hostess with the mostest - cleanest house and cutest children - was foiled when at 4:00pm I realized I'd forgotten to buy biscuits to offer the photograher along with his hot beverage of choice.

So off I schlepped to the shops with a friend of mine to purchase Fox's finest and a few chocolates to boot (or to eat on the walk home, whatever...) The plan was to be in, out and home in plenty of time to give the house a quick makeover and spackle a few layers of glam onto my weary, pallid features.

Oh, and also to remove the dirty nappy from the kitchen floor where I'd accidentally left it after the girls' nap.

However, my lovely friend, sneaky wench that she is, had the gall to invite me to hers for coffee after which she'd drive me home, thus helping me to avoid having to push 100lbs of baby, biscuits and buggy up the mountain atop which I live (for the second time today I might add.)

The decision was easy and off we went, my filthy abode (and even filthier nappy) pushed to the back of my mind.

I arrived home in time to bin the nappy and wipe down the counters. The doorbell rang as I was reaching for the mascara.

The photographer was lovely - think Jack Nicholson - with an easy nature and a dry sense of humour who wasn't phased at all (that he showed anyway) by the two children who insisted on hanging from my chest for the first ten minutes of his visit (yeah, I forgot to do that as well before he got there.)

I, on the other hand, have not had to talk to anyone of the non-mommy variety in almost two years and am lost in any conversation that does not involve poo, puke or any other such scintillating baby related topics.

I was seriously out of my depth. I wittered on about anything and everything, god forbid there be even a HINT of silence. No sirrreeeee! I blathered on and on and on... All the while, the socially conscious part of my brain was screaming, "SHUT UP YOU MORON! SHUT UP!!!!" Did I listen?

Nope.

Instead, I smiled and laughed and made the kind of small talk that even my North American roots were ashamed by.

Afterwards, in the vague hope that my social awkwardness was all in my head, I asked himself if I had been over the top at all, expecting of course him to say something along the lines of, " Of course not darling! You were lovely! The perfect hostess!"

Unfortunately, not having read the script, he improvised with something that went a bit along the lines of, "Well, you did go on a bit towards the end..."

In other words, Yes darling, you have the social graces of a nimrod and should really just stick to smiling and nodding unless otherwise directed.

Oh well! At least I remembered to bin the nappy.

Blogging in My Brain

Phew! I have been blogging like a maniac this week. Small gems of wisdom have been bursting all around me as I crafted post after post after post!

Unfortunately, I committed none of them to paper (not that I ever do, but somehow the phrase "committed none of them to internet/keyboard/computer" doesn't have quite the same ring) and as I have yet to figure out how to transmit my thoughts telepathically (the lazy blogger's dream!) it seems that all of my work was for nought.

Sigh.

It sucks to be honest. There were some real gems in there. My particular favourite was a poignant piece on being "touched out" and needing a break from motherhood before I bunged my entire family out on the front lawn and posted giant "Keep Away" signs on my breasts before backing away slowly from the lot of them shouting "stay back!" and then promptly running away to my real life which I'm sure is extremely glamouress and is still happening somewhere else.

Unfortunately, even if I had had the energy to write it all down, the two giant leeches stuck to my chest were a great hindrance to my typing ability.

Next up was a good old fashioned, multi faceted rant on a variety of parent/child/gvn't/boob related topics. It all started when Thierry Henri (or however the hell you spell his name) hand balled Ireland out of the world cup. Terrible? Yes. Unfair? Most Definitely. Deserving of more outrage and attention then the ongoing battle to save Child Benefit?

Ummmmmmm.... No.

Unfortunately, that's what it got. Even the Taoiseach got involved, joining forces with the FAI (Football Association of Ireland) to demand a replay from the officials at FIFA. Even now, two weeks after the bloody game, it's still a hot news item. Meanwhile, the government is moving along it's merry way with plans to make across the board cuts to our Children's Allowance and aside from a few passionate parents, no one is saying boo!

Last year, our complacency lost us the Early Childcare Supplement, despite childcare costs in Ireland being amongst the highest in Europe. This was "replaced" with a new scheme offering a free year of part time preschool to three year olds which not only can most creches not afford to implement but which has limited benefit to working parents and none whatsoever to stay at
home parents who often use the Child Benefit and ECS to supplement the income lost when one parent stays at home.

There seems to be this attitude that the cuts in child benefit are somehow going to be fair and not effect those who need it most. People seem to think that our government is going to change it's proverbial spots and look out for the most vulnerable in society (ironically enough, the very ones they are currently stealing from.)

WAKE UP PEOPLE! This is not going to happen! This is the same gvn't who brought you NAMA, who are doing their gosh darn best to save every banker and developer in the country while every month the dole queues are growing and more and more small businesses are dying without even the tiniest hand up (let alone out!) from our esteemed leader. These are the same people who have swindled the taxpayer out of millions of euros on an all too regular basis and yet never have to pay for their crimes!

AGGGHHH!!!!!! It drives me crazy just thinking about it!

Then, just the other day I happened across a fab parenting website, iwantmymum.com which was choc a bloc full of great articles on topics like breastfeeding, babyled weaning and cloth nappies amongst others. I spent a merry hour trawling through loads of great pieces but it was this one in particular which grabbed my attention. An article on "Exclusive Breastfeeding and the Virgin Gut" by Charlotte Young which explained the reasons behind WHY we are asked to exclusively breastfeed our babies for the first six months.

It discusses the physiology of the newborn gut which is considered both sterile and open at birth and which requires the mother's milk in order to a) colonize the gut with the proper "good" intestinal flora and b) only allow the mothers antibodies to slip through the intestinal wall into the baby's blood stream. It also talked about how introducing anything other then breastmilk completely transforms the bacterial composition and requires 2 - 4 weeks of exclusive feeding to return it to normal.

I didn't know any of this.

At no point during pregnancy, two years of breastfeeding or indeed through 14 years of schooling was this brought to my attention.

This of course led me to a good afternoon's mental ranting and blogging about how breastfeeding should be learned about in the schools and how we need to allow boobies to be seen as something beautiful and functional (much like the JML magic scarf!) and not as something "dirty" to be snickered at and scorned.

Of course, once I got on my soapbox, it was realllly hard to come down, so I stayed up there for a while and pondered a few more bits and pieces. Like how freely new mothers are encouraged to give the occasional bottle and the new vitamin D supplementation that all breastfed babies are encouraged to take (Read this article from kellymom as to why it's not usually needed) and what effects these sort of things might have on the health of breastfed babies.

Speaking of, my two little mooches are looking for a meal, so I'll leave off here and come back later to tell you more fabulous tales...

What's New?

Apparently, the river around the town where I live has burst it's banks.

I had no idea.

Just down the road from us, Cork City has been completely flooded and the city centre shut down.

Again, not a clue.

A few of our neighboring towns are being described online as "disaster zones" and "washed away."

I was not aware of this.

Almost every main road in the county has been closed and those that remain open are expected to close this evening when the tide comes in. The college where my darling (almost) hubbie works has cancelled all lectures until the end of the month due to flood damage (Yet somehow research continues as usual...boo!)

Seriously! How did I miss this? What earth shattering events in the poo scented bubble that is now my life could possibly have left me completely unaware of the fact that apparently, the entire country (except for our estate) is now under water?!?!?

Well, for starters...

I am on the verge of selling my children. The Snot Queen's teething and has decided not to sleep until 11 o'clock every night this week and then wake up at least once a night looking for comfort in the form of mama's all night dairy bar, the baby has the plague and last night I had to LANCE MY NIPPLE. Yes, that's right, I had to Lance, i.e STICK A NEEDLE THROUGH MY NIPPLE as I had a milk blister which made me want to chew off my right breast every time either of the girls tried to latch on and the only way to deal with it was to drain it.

On top of that, the washing machine is broken and half our clothes are covered in poo (baby as well as one lovely sample of random neighborhood dog) both of the girls once again have a lovely dose of thrush on their bottoms and I was up all night with the smallie who was super congested and punishing me for her inability to feed and breathe at the same time by covering my chest in snot.

I was just starting to feel in control of it all this morning when Tiny One let loose and shat all over herself, which wouldn't have been so bad had she been wearing a nappie. Unfortunately, this was not the case as she was "airing out" and I didn't notice until she'd covered her legs and feet in a fine layer of slimy, yellow pooh.

I have a spa coupon I was given for my birthday that I am desperate to use, but at this point would settle for five minutes uninterrupted in the bathroom or a shower where nobody tries to "clean" my feet with a toothbrush.

The only "current" events I am aware of are the ones that are "currently" happening right in front of me.

See you on the Ark...

Wash n' Go

Our washing machine is broken.

The last time this happened, we were footloose and fancy free with not a care (or child) in the world.

Do you know how disastrous a broken washer is in a house with two small children? Well, allow me to recap a few highlights of the last 48 hours:

1. The small one has become an absolute pro in the ever popular game of "eat waaaay more then your tummy can hold and then spew it up all over yourself, the furniture and anyone who happens to be within spewing distance." Once your tummy is empty, latch back on and repeat as often as you like until boredom overtakes you or you fall asleep, whichever comes first.

2. The Snot Queen is Teething. Again. This time, she's added explosive nappies to her repetoire of teething talents. Nappies so explosive that her clothes need changing every time she fills one. Thank you love. Much appreciated.

3. At some point during our walk this morning, she also found a lovely pile of doggy feces in which to rest her weary laurels, along with her boots and the bottom half of her pants...

4. And did I mention that the small one is in cloth nappies?


Oh well! If worse comes to worse, we can always turn up the heat, let them run around naked and then just hose them down before bed...

The Most (un) Wonderful Time of the Year...

It's that time of year again...

No, not Christmas (despite what the shops would have you believe. All right boys! Move out Halloween, roll on Christmas!)

Not Halloween either (Did you not see the unbreakable Christmas tree ornaments in aisle two?)

Too late for back to school...

And waaaaaaaaaay too early for Easter eggs (Does anyone else find it kind of sad that Cadbury's eggs can now be had all year round?)

Nope!

It's that OTHER time.

The time that involves lots of disinfectant and tons of arms length cuddles.

Yup. T'is the season for the stomach flu. It came in the middle of the night (sneaky bastard) uninvited and unwanted. We awoke to the sound of the snot queen whinging in her sleep and immediately moved her to the cozy spot between us in the hopes that she wouldn't wake the tiny one.

The whinging continued.

It was about this time that my mommy senses started tingling.

Strongly.

Two seconds later ...BLECH! The warm feel of vomit all over my back and neck.

Yum.

The rest of the night was spent in a loop that went of like this. Whinge whinge... PUKE! ....Cry... Clean child, bedclothes, towels... get new ones out of the press... cuddle at arms length... dodge pukey kisses in the nicest way possible... turn off light.... doze....

whinge...whinge.... (Repeat as necessary)

Yup...

The vomit comet rides again.

Get your tickets now.

Life Before the Alarm

Ha Haaaa! The new plan is a success! Sort of. You see, I recently came to the conclusion that being a stay at home mom/ not so domestic goddess with two smallies under the age of two is not exactly conducive to the finishing of a manuscript.

Not during the day at least. It seems that the dynamic duo have picked up on my wanting to do something other then cater to their every whim and together have decided to thwart my plans of personal productivity (mmmmmm.....I looooooovvvve alliteration.)

So writing during the daytime is now out.

So how about the night time? what's wrong with that? Handsome J is home to help with the smallies, surely that could buy me an hour or two of quality working time?

Again, no.

You see, by the time supper's eaten and the girls are bathed/changed, it's bedtime for the Snot Queen and time for the Small one to start her nightly "quest for the Breast" in which she makes sure that her mammarian mates are well within suckling distance should the need arise, which it does... the second I open my files and set down to business.

Add to that the fact that himself actually likes us to spend time together as a couple and not just as two child maintainers on opposing shifts and night time is pretty much a no go too.

There just aren't enough hours in the day/evening.

Which leaves the morning.

Yup! I have discovered that yes virginia, there is life before the alarm goes off. A whole great, big chunk of baby free, just for me time to write and edit to my little heart's content.

Which leaves the rest of the day (and night) free for babies, blogs and the boyfriend. Oh, and tweeting.

Yes Jen, I finally caved.

Does that make me a total twit?

Wanted: Connections

Want to hear a great way to light a fire under your arse? Get an early morning tip off from a friend that someone else is working on THE EXACT SAME PROJECT THAT YOU ARE!!!!! And by someone, I mean a certain website where I discussed my book and found volunteers to help me out with it. I'm sure that this is merely a coincidence of course and that they're not a bunch of GREAT BIG IDEA STEALERS!!!

Either way, it definitely got me moving and had me looking up agents quick haste. It was while looking up said agents that I came across this article in the Irish Independent in which one of the country's few literary agents explains that, 'recommendation has become increasingly important nowadays. "We have a lot of personal recommendation, word of mouth, or established, but unagented, authors approaching us." '

Hear that splushing sound?

That was my heart hitting the floor.

I know nobody.

I have no connections.

Zero.

Zip.

Zilch.

what's worse is that I'm (gasp!) not even Irish.

So how is an unconnected, transplanted Canadian supposed to get a foot in the door of the Irish publishing world?

Buy a pair of reeeeeeeeeeallllllyyyy long shoes :)