Saturday, August 19, 2006

Mummy is a muppet

According to several people who should really know better than to generalise on such a spectacular scale, there is a thin line between insanity and genius.

Oh yeah?

I am either raising smartarses or genius'. I reckon that is where the real divide lies.

I am a Mother. I am too tired from the gym, emotionally involved with the latest developmental stage, fed up with being so permanently tired or intellectually committed to work to even dreeeeeeeeem of making things up or say them for the sake of sounding clever. You can trust me, if I say it, it must be true. I do not have the energy for imagination.

Conversation with blue eyed, blonde haired epitome of innocence 18 month old daughter went as follows:
(Me) "ooh Lucy - goosey - where's your feet? Mummy is going to tickle your feet. Lovely-ovly feeties"

(Lucy) "Toes"!

I have now officially being corrected by someone one twentieth of my age. It can only be all downhill from here.

On the other hand, I have earned a *mild* amount of kudos by introducing the small people to The Muppets. Season one box set £24.99 impulse buy at a supermarket checkout.

It has to be said however there are consequences to thibehaviorur however:
In the office: This has become our "shall we start the day" tune:
Mahnamahna video

The kids: are crying because I loaned the disk this is on to someone to copy. My son wants to be animal when he grows up. The problem is, so does my daughter. Point of pride is that when daughter was restless at the table I sang "Mahnamahna" and she went "do do do do do". This is obviously out time, tempo and synch but at least it is a small indication that that the £40-odd quid for caterpillar music was well spent.

Kids now have a drum, symbols, piano, keyboard, wooden keyboard, mouth organ and maracas to shake, blow, beat and generally throw at each other. If there is any music in them, we'll find it. If not, well there is always eBay. (For the kids not the toys!)

Wednesday, August 16, 2006

More rambling .....

Continued from the last post:

The next relationship was a brief and somewhat unenjoyable return to D. Fitzsimons. The same as before it was a big romantic start and a swift fizzle out. Shouldn’t have bothered but it was a nice rush while that part lasted.

Then I went back to school and took a vow of abstinence (from alcohol) and chaps for a year. I managed to honour both of them and did pretty damm good in my exams as a result.

The next few years were all brief relationships with men whose names I cannot remember. There was a barman with blonde curly hair and another barman with really broad shoulders but that is all that comes to mind.

Then I met T. I am glad I did. We were together for 5 years. In the beginning I loved him passionately but always had the feeling he was tolerating me in the same way as someone is amused by a kitten playing with string. I was desperately immature when I met him and he taught me a lot. However by the time he fell in love with me, I had started to move on from him and wanted the relationship to be over. This resulted in a parting which caused a lot of hurt to him. I am truly sorry about that.

While on one of our ritual break-ups (which happened just before term-time and T. returning to college in England) there was B.o’R. My beautiful B. Possibly the most handsome man I have ever gone out with and the last beautiful boy.

We worked together behind the bar in a Cork hotel and basically jumped oneanother one night after a function upstairs which we worked together. There had always been a bit of flirty-flirty between us and this was the first time we worked together closely and it was electric.

I was sweaty, decorated with splashes of beer, fuzzy haired and the usual mess that a Saturday night behind a bar produced. He made me feel like …. well something quite amazing really.
We were together for a few months. There were no real dates just meeting up before work and going home to my house in Sundays Well afterwards

I remember lots of lovely things about that time. Kissing on the shaky bridge at six in the morning when it was covered in ice and the air freezing cold around us. We were still tipsy on the two quick pints of Guinness had after work and I remember where you put your hands to keep them warm! I remember all the old mans pubs we both loved to go to having a mutual dislike of the new flash glass and chrome bars. I remember you trying to teach me Chess. I remember lying in bed watching the trees outside blowing in the wind while we were in that lovely wooden floored bedroom I had at the time. I remember feeling you pulling the covers over my shoulders as I fell asleep. I remember waking up and looking at you lying asleep on the pillow next to me and thinking you were the loveliest thing I had ever seen. You were so gentle and so beautiful. After that I promised myself that I would never be with a man who could not be as tender as you. You know something, B? I kept that promise to myself.

Thank you for giving me permission to publish this.

The next relationship bit was removed at the request of the person I wrote it about. There was more to be gained in writing it than publishing it so I am happy to do as he asks.

Well that has been a therapeutic exercise.

Tuesday, August 15, 2006

It is all going too good...

Kids healthy and happy:

Well little Princess did let a roar tonight but show her the trees and the stars and she goes from yelling her heart out quiet and happy
No.1 son just about dry at night (1 accident in two weeks of going commando, well he wears camouflage pants)

Hubbie perhaps changing professional circumstances in a way which will make him more happy so way-hey-hay (more of the old then? :)

Job (yes I took it) going very well. Recent comment by boss:
"Your great gift is that you are painfully clever. However as fast as your brain is, your mouth is almost as fast and you think as you talk without realising not everyone can keep up with you ... and you type almost as fast as you talk"
I think this is good.

Nanny is working out great (the sainted Lisa)

Money from old house turning into more money in the bank

Found a great new house to buy

Found a very honest, talented (and gorgeous) interiors designer with very talented team to do up said house (he's also gay - more bonus)

Doing four one and a half hour sessions in the gym a week
Walking to work twice a week (1 hour)
Walking to Greenwich and balk 10 times a week (15 mins)
Doing the home cardio machine in the evenings twice a week (20 mins)
Doing the home cardio machine in the mornings five times a week (10 mins)

Fit as a "something very fit"

...... oh hell, when this all goes wrong, it is going to hurt.

I wonder if I will sabotage it (I have a history of doing this) or if circumstances will conspire against me.

In the Tales of the City Series by Armistead Maupin, there is a character called Mona who has one rule of life:
You cannot have the great job, great guy and great place to live all at once.

In a way before I even saw this rule articulated, I subscribed to it. Then I realised I was always doing something to sabotage things to make it true so I stopped. Then circumstances sabotaged things, just for the variety I suppose.

The first grown up bf was A. K. (may he trip and swamp his head in a cold vat of old MacDonalds chip-fat) Not that I am still angry with him, I would just like something as deeply unpleasant as the experience of going with him to happen to him. When things ended (not on an amicable note) I took my anger out on the pipes and wires of his South Circular Road house (there was not one I left in one piece)

Note to all chaps: If you are going to fall out with a girl who will not give in to you being a bully and use this as an excuse to do the dirt on her, then for goodness' sake make sure that you change the locks on your house (especially if she has the keys) Otherwise, whatever happens is your fault.
Note to all girls: I do recommend cutting things as therapy to the offended heart.

The next was "G". Great kisser. Great job. Not a great place I was living in.
Next chap was P. Lamb. Lamb by name and lamb by nature. Such a lovely bloke, one of those you regret breaking up with, why the hell did I? (I only ask this because I cannot remember) Living in very great place. Had a good-ish job. (Self-sabotage here)
The next was the sod D. F. Had 2 great jobs at that point, a great place to live but he was a git. Had the most fabulous thighs as well (Me, not him) as I just got into cycling and my 18 year old self could go for miles (and did) Pfffffhhhh. I "stole" him off the girlfriend he was with at time. Karma sent him back to her. First time I considered karma, found myself a believer. Vowed not to do the stealing-another-girl's-chap thing again. Remember this promise, we will come back to it later. Guilt enduced self-sabotage here.
The next chap is one of my epics K.Kelly. The most charming man I have ever met. Despite his utter being-a-bollox-ism I still think of him with enormous affection. I started dating K. when we worked together, he made remarks that made me tingle so I acted like Maria Callais having an ice bath but I was burning inside. We got together (at last someone with the same energy level as me) and I found out about the woman he was living with when she rang the pub where we worked and I picked up the phone to her. Her name was/is Caroline. I told him he was a *unrepeatable* and dumped him. My strong woman got a knock that night.

Years (about 3) I bumped into K. again. Manager of a temple bar pub and as charming as ever. (I was supposed to meet someone else who was running late and anyhow it did not matter as I had a BF in Cork < <> >) We chatted. He told me that himself and Caroline were still friends and he babysat her son when she and her husband went out. We giggled. I got the "I'm late" call. We had a drink together. I got the "I'm not going to make it" call. We went for food. I got a speel; it was the best I have ever had about how amazing I was, how he had never forgotten my eyes or my breasts or my voice (!?) and all that guffle. I told him I had a boyfriend and I hoped that this caused him him frustration. He laughed and said he would want to be around me if I was a vow-of-silence-nun.

So we went out a lot as friends. I never wanted to be intimate with him, I genuinely liked his company. I told him this at least twice a night on our nights out. (When I say 'our' I mean as a part of the HUGE social group we had) He always laughed and told me to let him know the minute I changed my mind. I have never had a man walk me home so often for so little (no) reward. He always tried gently to kiss me. I always said no. He always walked away singing "we're getting married in the morning"

Then about eight months after the start of our socialising together I met him by chance at the multiplex cinema at the top of O'Connell St. He had this amazing looking woman with him. She was truly one of the most striking people I have ever seen. You know those women who are so good-looking they are mesmerising? That is what she looked like.

Anyhow I saw them together and went to say 'hello'. His mesmerising companion was as lovely as she looked and said "oh you're a friend of K.'s? You MUST come to our party on Saturday, we're celebrating a year of living together"

........ The bollox had not changed a bit.

Yes I still think of him with affection. He babysits for his ex-girlfriend, tells his other ex-girlfriend she is the most fascinating thing going and looks after his Father who suffers from alcoholism and associated mental difficulties. The fact he has a 'small' problem with fidelity does not really take away from him as a whole. He is a hard act to follow and I could never judge him. I am just glad that I was never in love with him. That probably helps.

I never saw him after that day. For the sake of his girlfriend, I blocked his calls and moved to another flat, the address of which he was never told.
I do think of him very fondly though and the memory of him always make me smile.
Next a super job, fabulous place I was living in. J. Lovely bloke. First foreigner I ever went out with as he was a fully qualified resident of FANTASY LAND. Sigh. Foreign leigon me arse.

I had an amazingly bueatiful man in D., the artist (let me pause while I think of him) but a horrid place to live in but as I spent most of my time in his house, in his .. company, that didn't matter. Not a great job at that point.

Then I got a great place and D. changed. Frustrated at a lack of commissions, he went to work as a community artist painting murals in schools etc. My job changed to a great job. D. was very frustrated at this point. Low point when he phoned me to bring him beer and sandwiches as he was painting a team spirit mural on a gym wall and was wee'ed off. It was 2am and when I got there he wanted me to stay lying on the cold tiled floor while he worked. I refused, he puffed himself up wanting a row. I was too tired so I walked out. When he broke up with me over the answerphone, his last sentence was something like "call me to let me know you got this so I KNOW you KNOW it is OVER". I never did call him back.

That experience taught me that beautiful men are more trouble than they are worth. Did I learn from it? That is a question I shall consider in my next nail-biting installment of my 3 rules analysis.

Tune in next time for more demented ramblings......