Back, and busy.

Well, we're baaacccckkk! And, have been back in Florida for almost three weeks now which is very hard to believe.

Ireland was great - wet, and cold, but great!

Just like last year, it was so nice to be in my other 'home'. The kids had a blast - why wouldn't they, spoiled with attention and surprises every day? I also enjoyed the constant company, a lot of it with adults, too.

Coming down from this 'high' of familial attention and companionship hasn't been easy on the kids, or myself to be honest. I've pretty much had to detox Miss E from getting her way (anything for a quiet life, you know how that goes), and have employed many more of Supernanny's techniques than I've needed to in quite a while - but it's working, and slowly we're getting back into our groove.

I recently found myself slipping back into that 'funk' I described a while back. I could feel it happening, but didn't have the energy to fight it. This wasn't helped by the fact that I got sick last week with a horrible stomach flu - great for losing a few pounds though, which is never a bad thing. I'm focusing on my treadmill again and although the muscles are objecting, I'm feeling better.

The kids were sick a lot when we were in Ireland - Jay practically wasted away before my eyes. Miss E and Jay were bombarded with heavy colds, vomiting and diarrhea, Jay had the added discomfort of a simultaneous ear and throat infection - good times eh? My little guy is just that, little. He can't afford to lose any weight - at 20 months, he's not much over 20lbs - so when he gets sick and starts dropping the weight, I get very anxious. All my family reassured me that he'd bounce back, especially hubs Grandmother who's raised sixteen (yes, 16!)children of her own - 'he'll bounce back, they all do' and she was right.

We are fighting fit now though, physically and mentally, and ready to enjoy the rest of the summer, before preschool starts and we get back to that routine. We've all had to acclimatize once more to the Florida summer though. At 9am each day Miss E has a swim class - and Jay and I sweat our butts off watching her - at 9am! How awful is it that I'm willing on the weeks so we can cool down a bit? There's nothing like wishing your life away.

My sister's wedding was amazing. She looked absolutely fabulous. Her ceremony was wonderful and the reception was a blast.


Miss E was flower girl, and she did a great job, even if she couldn't quite be coaxed into all the photographs!


The weather was horrendous, but it didn't dampen anyone's enjoyment, at all. My sister and her husband, lucky things, just got back from honeymoon in Rome and Sorrento.

I'm still catching up with all things stateside. I've been keeping a close eye on the presidential candidate coverage, and am frustrated to say the least at the less than objective reviews each candidate gets depending on which source I watch. This is where I miss Tim Russert - I'm so sad that he died. I credit this man with helping me understand the whole electoral process here, the primaries, caucuses, delegates etc. I feel bad that he isn't here to see this election pan out. He had such enthusiasm for his job, and for the whole political scene in general. My heart goes out to his wife and son.

People are still complaining about the price of gas I see - and I can understand to a point, but after seeing that Northern Irish drivers pay the equivalent of $11 a gallon, I don't feel like I have a right to complain about $4 here. I also drive a very thirsty car, and while I wish it cost less to run, it was our choice to buy this vehicle, and now we live with it. Besides, nobody, not even dealers, want to buy SUVs around here, so we're stuck with it, what's the point in complaining?

With that, I've got to run, load my kids up into my gas guzzler and head right down for this swim class - I have the oddest feeling that we're going to be late, again!

Looking forward to catching up some more, soon.

Note to self....

...check weather forecast before embarking on 3 mile hikes around lakes.

My resolution - way back in the autumn, to regularly walk around this lake stumbled somewhat, but has been gaining momentum in the last couple of weeks. I have been enjoying the walk a few times a week in this beautiful weather, and intend to keep it up in these early spring days, because come the summer you won't see me out there for a pension!

Miss E is off preschool today for President's Day - so off we set with the double stroller, water, and some stale bread because she wanted to feed the ducks (a determination she backs down from every.single.time when waddling wildfowl flock around her and freak her out!)

I shoved the kids' coats in the basket of the stroller 'just in case' since the sky was dull, but not threatening at all.

Good move!

Half way around the lake I feel moisture on my face - brushed it off as being mist blowing off the by now choppy water on the lake, (where I thought the mist suddenly appeared from I don't know, meteorology is clearly not my strong point. Nor is checking in with those for whom it is a strength, evidently).

Seconds later, with not a tree for shelter in sight, the skies opened and as only in Florida it can, dumped a monsoon right on top of us.

I scurried to get the kids' coats on - Miss E shrieking that her underpants were getting wet, a testament to how fast and how hard this rain was falling.

With a good mile and a half to go before we got back to the car my options were:

1. Run like a crazy lady, half pushing, and half leaning on the double stroller (with nearly 60 pounds worth of offspring strapped inside),

2. Find a tree and stand under it and wait for the worst to pass,

3. Give in, decide that we are thoroughly soaked, a little more rain won't hurt us and saunter back to the car enjoying the soothing tones of Tim McGraw in the iPod in the process.

Which did I choose?

All of the above, in that order!

At this point I should confess that I had to repeat options 1 and 2 several times, since option 2 was necessary to recover from option 1, and avoid emergency medical intervention.

We eventually got back to the parking lot, and I offered Miss E the option of getting into the dry car - or feeding the ducks.

She opted to feed the ducks.

I half thought the ducks wouldn't be interested and I was right. They were a lot more sensible than us, finding whatever shelter they could from the battering rain.

The geese however were a completely different story. They sniffed out our stale wholewheat from somewhere far away as I hadn't even seen them. Those things can move fast, they're loud and not a bit shy. Suddenly here I was with a gaggle of white geese, which look all white and fluffy and cute from far away, but loud and up close ? Not so much.

Let's just say - Miss E didn't even want to touch the bread. And rather than break off pieces, I threw whole slices of bread as far as I could to get those creatures away from us! The only sliver of pride I had left stopped me from throwing the whole loaf, bag and all at them and letting them duke it out among themselves, lest I make myself out to be a complete chicken in front of bystanders (all two of them stupid enough to stand in the open in this rain).

Lesson learned - future walks only to be undertaken after extensive consultation with the weather forecast. And, you can bet I'll be packin' a brolly!

Fourteen Months Already?

Today Baby J you are fourteen months old. Not so much a baby anymore. Time for a name change. From here on in we'll call you 'Jay' - which is how I refer to you from time to time.

The first year of your life has gone so quickly - and has been peppered with all these tests on your hearing, and on other parts of you, many times we wondered would it ever end? While you certainly haven't endured as many tests as some little babies, the fact that you are healthy, and developing normally has had all of us question why we're putting you though it all.

You have been a trooper throughout - engaging everyone in your beautiful mild manner, and your gorgeous smile. You have had CAT scans, sedated procedures, kidney ultrasounds, heart EKGs, Genetics, ENT and Neurology exams and each time we get a resounding 'NORMAL' back in the test results (well we're still waiting for the EKG results but it looks good that it is normal, too). Your Neurologist wanted to do a brain MRI, but on learning that you would have to undergo general anesthetic - Mummy and Daddy decided not to go through with this one, because nothing about you indicates an urgent need for this test and we don't want anyone putting you to sleep when we don't consider it absolutely necessary. We have one more little test, an eye exam which we'll put off until after Christmas - we all need a bit of a break. We think this test will be fine too, and hopefully after it's over we'll be in a position with the doctors to review everything and conclude that you have a tiny little hearing loss and that it is isolated and not connected to, or complicated by anything else. We will keep having your hearing checked to keep an eye on it - but we pray always that it stays stable as it is now and that it never gives you any bother.

You have had many lessons to teach us throughout the last 14 months, and some of them your Mummy has been a bit slow to learn.

You look at me with your huge blue eyes and your big smile and you reassure me that everything is, and will be okay! You have hit all your milestones on or before the 'normal' timeframes.

While I was feeling anxious in your younger months, you were busy growing in leaps and bounds - making your mark in our little family. Interacting with your sister - and holding your own against her (which is no mean feat!).

You started to talk and will now excitedly exclaim 'DADEEEEE' when you hear the kitchen door open in the evenings. You place your chubby fingers over your face and say 'Hidey' in anticipation of Mummy's 'Peekaboo'. You say 'Hi' and 'Bye' and 'All Gone' - and you have proven to us, and to professionals that you do not need to be assessed for speech issues!

You have taught us that it is okay for us to stand up to medical professionals and say 'enough', because you are doing so good.

You are such a wonderful little person full of character and fun! You are trying so hard to walk on your own but still have that little level of reservation (you get that from me!), and so for now you just grab on to anything that will keep you upright and push it around the house - the kitchen chair, your push along lion, the toy basket, your little train (that you can only push around if you're on your knees - how funny you look).

I can't believe you've grown so big so quick - but I am reveling in every little detail and enjoying you very, very much.

You are my sweet, loving Baby Boy, and always will be, no matter how big, or smart you grow to be - I love you so much and always will.

The Scourge of Itchy Feet

As I said, I have been feeling unsettled lately. A variety of issues contribute to this, some of which will fester on for a while I suspect.

Back when I wrote this, I anticipated a state of flux as my husband figured out what he wanted to do, work wise. He pushed his boss on letting him take over his department and through a series conversations, they determined that right now, this is not a wise move. Fine by me, since I wasn’t that keen on it in the first place – way too many ‘what ifs’ for my liking. However, because I had myself steeled for change, I have now found it difficult to settle my head again.

Instead, I have been going through something that happens from time to time – a desire to move, to change, to do something different. I periodically get the urge to move house. Much as I hate to say it, this is because I have never really felt like this house is my home. My husband found this house, with his mother’s help while she was here on a trip to visit him, over six years ago. It was a model home in a new subdivision. It’s a very nice house – but I didn’t choose it. However I try to rationalize that attitude as being ridiculous, and try to convince myself that it is my home – it just doesn’t feel like it is my home. And so, I go through all the real estate listings, to see if we can find another home for our family, one that we will seek and find, together.

Then the frustration enters because, while I am not in love with this house, I’m not foolish enough just to sell, pack up and move to any old place. It has to be somewhere better, in a great neighbourhood. And so the rationalizing begins again – this is a great neighbourhood and there are few in our price range that can match it. On top of this consider the fact that in this part of Florida the housing market is D.E.A.D. Our neighbours' houses have been on the market for over a year, and so to the mix you add a whole big helping of uncertainty and a dash of fear that we could find our dream home and not sell our own to help us reach it. A recipe for more frustration no doubt.

In an attempt to ‘fit’ more into my current home, I am currently obsessed (and no, that’s not too strong a word for it) with changing it. Changing it so that it doesn’t resemble the house that I moved into. I want to change the outside, I want to change the kitchen, and I want to change some of the furniture. Luckily, my husband is 100% on board with these changes so our current vision is to slowly tackle these and work our way through some home improvements, focusing on those that will add value to the house so that if we do decide to sell, we will have some extra buyer appeal built in.

The other issue that has my head spinning lately is the whole ‘Stay at Home vs. Return to Work’ debate that I have with myself. I have been out of the workforce for almost 5 years! When I moved to the States, I never anticipated being away this long. While overall I feel that being at home with my kids benefits them, and me, in these early years, that niggling voice ‘what about work, your career, the compensation?’ gets louder at times and has me wondering whether going back wouldn’t be better right now. Then I question ‘How do I get back’? How do I make myself attractive to a prospective employer now that I’ve been out of the corporate marketing loop for five years? Then I get agitated because I fear that the world of work, as is widely touted, will not look favourably on a mom attempting to return to the workforce – because on paper it will look like I have done nothing of substance in the last five years.

I know this is not true – I have carried and nurtured my babies, I teach them and love them. These are achievements of the utmost importance to me and are most certainly substantial. I have not let my mind shrivel up and die either, and I know that I have the capacity to gear up and hit the ground running in a work environment again. When is the right time to do this though? While my kids are still small? Before I am out of the workplace so long that prospective employers will right me off? After I undertake ‘refresher’ study of some sort?

I don’t know the answer to these questions, and it’s killing me.

Then I ask myself a whole new set of questions: What is motivating this desire to return to work? Is it the need to use my career skills? Is it the need for something more challenging than nappies (diapers) and baby food? Is it the need to prove myself? Is it the money?

I suspect the answer to these questions is ‘all of the above’ and that kills me, too.

Why can’t I content myself with where I am now? Why can’t I realize that I have it pretty good, and certainly a hell of a lot better than many? Why can’t I be present in the most joyous time of my life so far? To relish in these early years with my children? To live each day to the fullest? To be SATISFIED?

I. Don’t. Know.

Nobody warned me about the guilt.

Much has been written lately by me, and on other blogs about the advice, questions, comments etc that people randomly spew at you when you're pregnant, and when you have young babies/kids.

What nobody warns you about however, is the guilt.

When I raise my voice a little higher than is necessary because Miss E pees on the carpet for the nth time - GUILT.

When I clip her legs for yet another potentially harmful swat, kick, throw or blow at her baby brother, because reasoning, pleading, and calmly and consistently exercising the time out option, never work - GUILT.

When I start drinking Aloe Vera juice to help with my persistent recurring patches of eczema on my arms, fingers and eyelids without first checking if it's okay while breastfeeding. When my baby squirms in discomfort, seems unsettled and cranky, off his food and I then check about the Aloe Vera and discover that it is contraindicated when breastfeeding because it causes cramping and diarrhea in breastfed babies - MAJOR GUILT!

When I am exploring preschool for Miss E because I think she'll benefit from a couple of hours, a couple of days a week away from us, playing in a different setting, interacting with peers etc, but then honestly admit that I think I'll benefit from it more - GUILT.

When I see my baby boy accomplish a new task, and realise that he's been doing it for a while and I have no idea when he started and remembering that with his sister I practically documented every new wave of her hand - GUILT.

That Miss E has terrible sleeping habits, reinforced by the fact that by the time 'bed-time' comes I am so tired that I take the path of least resistance and don't enforce a bedtime routine because I can't face the crying or the tantrums and so I lie with her, or let her run around til she's tired enough to fall asleep and carry her into bed. That I further reinforce bad sleeping habits by letting her into our bed when she comes during the night and then proceeds to kick and toss because she's too warm, or she's too uncomfortable and we all end up with a crap night's sleep. That I give in to 3am demands for a cup of milk because who the heck wants a screaming match in the middle of the night? - and I dread to think the effect this will have on her teeth - GUILT.

When I listen to others tell me about potty training 'she's so smart, she'll get it in no time', 'it'll just click with her', 'she really should be trained by now','it's just like training a dog, you need to take her to the potty every 30 minutes', 'insert your own annoying potty training tips here, ad infinitum', when instead, I should have listened to my daughter and realised that for whatever reason it's not clicking with her, and she's not ready. That instead of having unreasonable expectations of her, it won't be the end of the world if she's not potty trained by her third birthday, nor does it matter that she's still in diapers and all of her little friends are not - GUILT.

That Miss E has just said 'Shit' after dropping her crackers and cheese on the floor - because she hears me say that all too frequently - GUILT.

These examples only scratch the surface of what brings 'mommy guilt' on a daily basis. Knowing about it beforehand would probably do little to lessen it's effect on me, but at least I could have expected it. Maybe this guilt is a good thing - although feeling guilty about these things makes me feel like a crap mom, perhaps not feeling guilty about them would make me an even worse mom? At least if I feel guilty, and uncomfortable - I'm more likely to change and do better.

Murphy's Law

Even though my kids have both been up every morning since we returned from Ireland, at 6am or before - EVERY MORNING, on the one morning when I need to be up and organized to take them to the doctors - for an 8:55 appointment - both of them are snoozing (or more accurately, snuffling) away in their beds.

You all KNOW what it's going to be like now when I go in there and wake them up.

Where'd I put my earplugs?

Makeover Monday

I'm a bit slow at posting about Makeover Monday today (my link to moodswingingmommy's post isn't going to work because she's tarting up her blog this afternoon!), I am still trying to catch up with my very disorganized self.

My plan to improve on time spent playing with my daughter went well last week - albeit that I think it's created expectations in her that I will now paint, do play dough, crafts, music etc on demand, like all day, everyday! (not happening sweetheart!).

We kicked this off on Tuesday with a play dough session, starting with us making the play dough (Martha's got nothing on me!).
Wednesday instead of coming home straight after the library story time, we headed to a nearby splash park for fun and lunch with friends. Much fun ensued, and a nice long nap later was a great bonus for all of us.

Thursday's activities were music related and I sat with her at the piano keyboard for AGES!, going over the ABC song (at her request) over and over again - then suffering in silence as she clanged the keys - she had a blast! No photos, they wouldn't do it justice - you really would need audio, but since my technical skills aren't up to that yet, consider yourself spared!

Friday we had some crafts in the morning:


We even got this in before heading out to our playgroup at 10am at the play center (does that earn me extra mommy points?). Since I've said enough about our fun play date already, and since I think I might cry if I make myself recall the rest of Friday, now feels like a good point to stop discussing it!

We did have fun doing these activities, and I will continue to do similar, and some less structured fun stuff with Miss E. Over this past weekend I also had something of an epiphany that I need to look out for myself more, and that this in turn will make me a better mommy, too. Saturday and Sunday were spent just surviving, and so teetering on the brink of a mommy meltdown one of these days - my next week's focus is on ME!

I've already had my hair done today - and you all know how much better we feel after a haircut. And, as I've told everyone within earshot today, I'm going out for a girly night during the week (okay, maybe just a couple of hours since my 6 month old will require my lactating services before long - but it's a start right?!). My other goal is to teach myself a piano piece by reading the music! I bought a book of classical pieces for adult beginners. I don't know how realistic this is within a week, but I will give it my best shot - how satisfying it would be for me to sit down and play a piece as its composer intended it to be played!

Good Mom, Bad Mom

Last night my two year old inflated my mommy ego, filling my heart with pride and joy, then she popped it less than thirty seconds later, leaving it in a pile of soggy pieces!

I had been reading her several bedtime stories, wrapping up with a cute children's prayer book - I asked her a question after finishing the prayers not really thinking she'd grasp the concept but tried anyway.

Conversation went like this:

Me: 'E, what are you glad that God made?'

E: 'I like my family!' (she said it straight away, and I looked at my husband and said 'we must be doing something right').

E: 'Mommy, read these books again' (about 6 in total).

Me: 'I'll tell you what, why don't you tell me a story?'

E: 'I can't, I'm too busy' (I didn't meet my husband's gaze for fear that he'd make me acknowledge where exactly she'd heard that phrase before!)

The Best Laid Plans ...

A former ‘career girl’ turned Stay at Home Mom, with two kids in suburban America! How the heck did this happen to me? An Irish girl – whom only a short while ago had no intention whatsoever of leaving Ireland, much less to come 4000 miles away! I loved my comfy little life thanks very much with my nice car and well paid job. I am what most would call a ‘homebody’ too, I loved being close to my Mum and the rest of my family and friends.

This is what happens when your world gets turned upside down by meeting a cute Irish guy in a bar in Ft Lauderdale. He was a friend of my cousin and her fiancé, and I was in Florida for their wedding. I met him the night before I left to return to Ireland. Buzzed on one too many Rum Runners, I kissed him goodnight in front of many cousins, aunts and uncles (one of whom is a Priest!). I took off from Miami Airport the next day, never dreaming I’d set eyes on or hear from this guy again. I mean holiday romances never work out, and we hadn’t even had a romance at all! Imagine my embarrassment too at arriving home, met by my parents at the airport, to discover that the family jungle drums had been beating and all of a sudden I’m getting the third degree on the ‘young man’ I met! Cut a really long story short – we kept in touch by phone, he came home intending to stay, couldn’t hack it, moved back to the USA, broke my heart, we kept in touch a bit more, and the transatlantic visits started increasing in number – both directions.

All the while I was working my way up in my job in bank marketing, and doing pretty good. Of course, despite my own delusions to the contrary, nobody is perfect, and the one ‘flaw’ that kept coming up in my evaluations was my aversion to risk – I kept being told that I needed to take more risks ( ironic considering that the banking industry has to be one of the most risk averse I can think of!). And so began a period of intense self contemplation. I liked my job, I was good at it and I was excited that I was earmarked for further promotion – but what did this mean when the man I loved lived so far away? At work we were always encouraged to set professional goals etc – I never managed to come up with convincing plans and it is only in retrospect that I can see why? I only thought I loved my career.

What I realize now is how I could never have been fulfilled by my career alone, and couldn’t have continued to make transatlantic trips twice a year to see my fella. There would always have been something missing. On a visit to see him in Florida in April 2002 I was asked a question that would have me considering the most risky decision of my life so far – he asked me to marry him! I said yes instinctively and came home to much celebration from our families, and celebration tempered with curiosity and a level of concern from my co-workers and immediate line managers! I guess they knew the writing was on the wall and that I’d be leaving soon – something I wasn’t even prepared to admit to myself. How could I just up and leave my job and trek halfway across the world?

And so my self contemplation continued for a while longer, my risk averse self hoping something else would take over and make the decision for me – do I leave and head Stateside?, or do I work on my husband-to-be and persuade him to make the move home? I knew that the latter option would make him unhappy at that particular time so the only choice really was for me to move here.

Here I am four and a half years later, married, with two beautiful children. Staying at home was an easy decision for us. We had, thanks to a long drawn out immigration process, been living on one salary since I got here, (my work permit didn’t come through until just before I got pregnant with my first), but more important than that minor inconvenience, both of us wanted me to be at home with our child(ren). Living with the decision has been difficult at times, and I have struggled with the ‘losing my identity’ thing more than once. Settling in Florida has taken a long time, I was desperately homesick, and while I do still miss home, kids have a way of giving you a different focus, and truthfully keep me too darned busy most of the time to feel homesick.

So, the best laid plans do go astray as they say – had you told me 6 years ago that I’d be swapping my suits and salary, for sandals and spit-up I’d have laughed heartily in your face. While I always hoped to be married and have children, I imagined them fitting nicely into my life as it was – now I laugh heartily at myself. In telling me that I was risk averse and needed to work on that, my bosses helped me take the plunge in my personal life, kissing my professional life goodbye – for now. I had to do what my Mum and many others encouraged me to do – submit to another plan, not my own – but put my trust in God and be guided by Him – and I thank Him for bringing me here.