I hate people with no backbone. Okay, perhaps hate is a strong word. How about intensely dislike.
People who spend their lives trying to please others and don't stand up for themselves. There's nothing wrong with saying no, there's nothing wrong with telling someone you don't like them. You can't spare everyone's feelings all the bloody time. And in the meantime, you trample over your supposed friends in a effort to make sure everyone is included. These sort of people annoy and I'm am amazed how I end up friends with people like this. I have a select few people who I talk to and confide in. How up my own arse do I sound there. Seriously. I received head wrecking news yesterday and the situation is outside my control. This friend has made the descision and is hoping everyone will just deal with it. I am not one for holding grudges, I am all for live and let live. But the situation that I am expected to take part it is just beyond a joke. End result, I don't go. Power goes back to the bitch that made my life hell 2 years ago and I miss out on something I really wanted to do, for the alledged mate. I was furious yesterday, now I'm just hurt. I suppose you expect the same principles you hold dear to be present in people you chose to associate with.
And how cryptic was that paragraph ;)
The kid had irish yesterday, she did okay she thinks. Apart from the fact that the questions were phrased differently. She has 2 exams left and then she's free. Art today, pratical first and then history. She's fairly condifenct about it. Impression and the Renaissance, all bread and butter stuff to her. She's arguing with the boyf again. She finishes tomorrow and really wants him to come up and see her. He says he has no money. Naturally she is upset. For once I agree with her being annoyed with the boyf. I think she might want to go out for dinner to mark the occasion. Dinner with her is great. She eats minute amounts of everything. Mostly salad. Although the pasta in Bottecellis.
We haven't mentioned summer work. I think we'll wait for a few weeks, let her catch her breath.
Yesterday I had one of those moments. I was in Tower records, purchasing headphones and this woman walked past me and towards the toliet and for a split second I thought it was Mam. She looked exactly like her. The same hair, walk, handbag. Everything. I refrained from following
her home. Another restraining order on top of the one the last time I followed someone home wouldn't look good. I'm really miss her lately. Perhaps because I want to talk to her. She knew me better then anyone and was always able to come up with answers. I'm not going to end this entry on a sad note, there's been quite enough of that thank you.
We're coming up to a bank holiday! Yay! And sunshine. And tall ships and sailors. I hope there'll be sailors. Otherwise, I'll ask for my money back.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Monday, May 29, 2006
Patrick f**kin Kavanagh
A snapshot of last nights conversation with the kid. She has english, chemisty and Religion today. One wonders is it possible to fail at Religion. Anyways, she hates, HATES Patrick Kavanagh. She's not a fan of Emily Bishop either. In fact , she wanted to study Slyvia Plath. So, you can see why these other poets aren't going down too well. To be honet I wasn't a fan of Patrick Kavanagh either. His flipping Stony Grey Soil of Monaghan is still in my head, hardly a classic romantic poem you can use to quote to a loved on.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.
I mean, not love inspiring stuff. Scary that, em, a few years after the Leaving Cert I still remember it. Our english teacher was a slavedriver. She was an excellent teacher, though. You wanted to learn everyhing to impress her. Mammy2 had the join of revising english with her. Some of the questions abou poets:
"Who was WB Yeats"
"Em, he was a poet. His brother was an artist who painted lots of stuff?" That's the extent of her knowledge of WB. I hope he doesn't come up today.
Macbeth was great fun. I had to stop taking the piss and went back to frowning. Every time they mentioned a quote, I made some joke. More glares followed, I shut up. Really, no sense of humour. I am on the road to recovery and there'll be no looking back after this. I can't wait until I am back to full health, I shall be bouncing around the place. New and improved Mammy1. Mammy2 is over the worst of her sickness and then along came the depression. I think it hides in the wardrobe or something. Honestly. I mean usually we can tell when its on its way, but this time, it was like, one minute she was fine, the next not. She managed to get up though. I felt like such baddie trying to wake her. When she has one of these episodes all she wants to do is sleep but I knew it would only make things worse. So I made her breakfast and gave her loads of hugs and she seems okay. If she gets loads of sleep tonight and tomorrow, she might be okay. Hopefully. Depression is an evil thing.
I watched so much telly this weekend, well DVD's more so then telly. I watched Popular, But I'm A Cheerleader. Then the GAA was on Sunday so we watched that for most of the day. Easy know I was not well. I think its the longest period of time I've spent on the couch. Ever. Its enough to do me the rest of the year.
O stony grey soil of Monaghan
The laugh from my love you thieved;
You took the the gay child of my passion
And gave me your clod-conceived.
I mean, not love inspiring stuff. Scary that, em, a few years after the Leaving Cert I still remember it. Our english teacher was a slavedriver. She was an excellent teacher, though. You wanted to learn everyhing to impress her. Mammy2 had the join of revising english with her. Some of the questions abou poets:
"Who was WB Yeats"
"Em, he was a poet. His brother was an artist who painted lots of stuff?" That's the extent of her knowledge of WB. I hope he doesn't come up today.
Macbeth was great fun. I had to stop taking the piss and went back to frowning. Every time they mentioned a quote, I made some joke. More glares followed, I shut up. Really, no sense of humour. I am on the road to recovery and there'll be no looking back after this. I can't wait until I am back to full health, I shall be bouncing around the place. New and improved Mammy1. Mammy2 is over the worst of her sickness and then along came the depression. I think it hides in the wardrobe or something. Honestly. I mean usually we can tell when its on its way, but this time, it was like, one minute she was fine, the next not. She managed to get up though. I felt like such baddie trying to wake her. When she has one of these episodes all she wants to do is sleep but I knew it would only make things worse. So I made her breakfast and gave her loads of hugs and she seems okay. If she gets loads of sleep tonight and tomorrow, she might be okay. Hopefully. Depression is an evil thing.
I watched so much telly this weekend, well DVD's more so then telly. I watched Popular, But I'm A Cheerleader. Then the GAA was on Sunday so we watched that for most of the day. Easy know I was not well. I think its the longest period of time I've spent on the couch. Ever. Its enough to do me the rest of the year.
Friday, May 26, 2006
Sickness Central
Since yesterday, things have not improved. In fact, in between applying nasal drops to the kid and making her take her pills, purchasing half the pharmacy yesterday for Mammy2's illness and having to get a taxi into work this morning, I am never again going to take my health for granted. I was so bad on leaving work yesterday that once I got off the bus in town I thought I was going to have to ring someone and get them to bring me home or hop in a cab. Whatever the bloody virus is, its attacking my balence and ability to stand. Martyr that I am, well, I am my mother's daughter, I made it home, stopping off at the chemist on the way.
I fell, literally in the door and onto the bed. Dramatic much? Me? Flicks mane, I am a leo remember.
So at the moment I am brought to you courtesy of neurofen, Vitamin C and soothers. Tonsilitis, it pops up when you least expect it. Whenever I did fall asleep last night, poor Mammy2 was awake with tissues everywhere. The kid comes into the room every so often dressed like someone from Outbreak. I'm not sure what exactly she thinks we have.
She was allowed bring all of her art work home yesterday, so we have the main painting hanging in the living room. She is well chuffed with herself. She had to go get the bus this morning by herself as I was in no state to accompany her and she didn't mind too much. Holidays next week so I suppose she's bound to be falling over herself.
I was near commiting murder yesterday. Charmed was on, she's a huge fan. Something to do with wiccan. I believe. But I was sick and my head was splitting and every thing she said went straight through my head. I made the mistake of asking her to quieten down a bit. The glare and pout I received was not worth it. I headed to bed. At 9. I had work to do but it was either go to bed
or strangle her. I was in that sort of a mood.
Thank god its the weekend. Apart from another website I have to work on, I plan on doing nothing. Except housework. PMT strikes and no-one is safe. Stand in front of me long enough and you'll be bundled into a washing machine. My gmail inbox took a battering yesterday. There was 743 emails in it and and I had finally found out how to move them. I am now down to 14. Yes, it most likely makes so sense to you but I was chuffed. I was in a bit of mood yesterday, I think it was the PMT but after a few emails to the mate R, the funk was running for the hills. I can't really stay peeved for too long to be honest. Its just not me.
R is a funny character. Not sure what I'm supposed to do when she takes off back to SA. Apply to the foreign embassy for a new foreign pal, prefereably with her sense of humour. Should be no problem?!
With less then a month to go to Pride, you'd think my head would be spinning. But no, it appears that I am relaxed about things. Yes I did say relaxed. Tomorrow, there is shopping for the merchandise and as soon as Mammy2 makes a recovery, she will be getting on to her tasks. Now, I can only hope the weather is a bit better then the dismal shite its been producing of late. I mean, I spend more time in front of the wardrobe these days then I do trying to make it to work. This is not good for a laserbeam.
I fell, literally in the door and onto the bed. Dramatic much? Me? Flicks mane, I am a leo remember.
So at the moment I am brought to you courtesy of neurofen, Vitamin C and soothers. Tonsilitis, it pops up when you least expect it. Whenever I did fall asleep last night, poor Mammy2 was awake with tissues everywhere. The kid comes into the room every so often dressed like someone from Outbreak. I'm not sure what exactly she thinks we have.
She was allowed bring all of her art work home yesterday, so we have the main painting hanging in the living room. She is well chuffed with herself. She had to go get the bus this morning by herself as I was in no state to accompany her and she didn't mind too much. Holidays next week so I suppose she's bound to be falling over herself.
I was near commiting murder yesterday. Charmed was on, she's a huge fan. Something to do with wiccan. I believe. But I was sick and my head was splitting and every thing she said went straight through my head. I made the mistake of asking her to quieten down a bit. The glare and pout I received was not worth it. I headed to bed. At 9. I had work to do but it was either go to bed
or strangle her. I was in that sort of a mood.
Thank god its the weekend. Apart from another website I have to work on, I plan on doing nothing. Except housework. PMT strikes and no-one is safe. Stand in front of me long enough and you'll be bundled into a washing machine. My gmail inbox took a battering yesterday. There was 743 emails in it and and I had finally found out how to move them. I am now down to 14. Yes, it most likely makes so sense to you but I was chuffed. I was in a bit of mood yesterday, I think it was the PMT but after a few emails to the mate R, the funk was running for the hills. I can't really stay peeved for too long to be honest. Its just not me.
R is a funny character. Not sure what I'm supposed to do when she takes off back to SA. Apply to the foreign embassy for a new foreign pal, prefereably with her sense of humour. Should be no problem?!
With less then a month to go to Pride, you'd think my head would be spinning. But no, it appears that I am relaxed about things. Yes I did say relaxed. Tomorrow, there is shopping for the merchandise and as soon as Mammy2 makes a recovery, she will be getting on to her tasks. Now, I can only hope the weather is a bit better then the dismal shite its been producing of late. I mean, I spend more time in front of the wardrobe these days then I do trying to make it to work. This is not good for a laserbeam.
Thursday, May 25, 2006
Pillowcases
They are so uncomplicated aren't they? The pile of ironing that greeted us on our entry into the apartment could wait no longer. Mammy2 has picked up some bug and is in rag order so after a shower, she headed straight to bed whilst I caught up on all the goings on with school and boyfriends. Supposedly, one of the teachers got beaten up the other day when two girls got into a fight. The kid is prone to the odd bout of exageration so I'd say what happened is this: There was a fight, a teacher intervened and may have received a stray slap or something. Back to the ironing. I am amazed any of us have an item of clothing left. I find the ironing sometimes quite theraputic. Strange, that. And after 324324 items of clothing, the pillowcases are my favourite. They are
straightforward.
Yes, I quite possibly am losing it. The week I've had I do not want to repeat. This morning, I had the joy of administering drops to the kid. She has some nasal infection and this involved drops into her nose. For anyone with a 10 yard radius of the apartment this morning, I am sure they would have
thought I was killing her from the shouts and yells that she let out. This was when I'd only done one nostril. She's been in grand form, if somewhat stressed. Apparently there's another bug going around and loads of people have it. Strange that it always happens around exam time and it never has a name except that it makes people really sick? I explained to her that it might have to do with nerves and stress. She's not a fan of logical explanations.
She was on myspace yesterday, deleting messages that someone sent to her boyf. Yes, she has his password and she logs in regularly. He also has hers. A relationship built on trust I see. Whatever works for them, personally I'm amazed they haven't killed each other. Its heading towards being one of the longer relationships in her life and we like him, so we hope it lasts.
She tried to have a sexual related conversation yesterday which I put a stop to straight away. Apparently, the boyf thinks that the condoms she picked up from outhouse won't work because they are free. I paused behind the mountain of trousers to give her the look which means we're not talking about this. Yet she continued. I told her I don't talk about that stuff and offered her tea to throw her off the conversation. She went back to watching Scrubs. I'm sure poor Mammy2 is in for an
interesting conversation or two.
The apartment is akin to an hospital infirmary at the moment. Mammy2 is very sick with a cold and sinuses and chances are once she's over that, the old depression will creep up. It usually waits until she's pretty low, evil thing that it is. I am getting over a 'bug' and have now moved onto tonsilities and a cold. And lest we forget her and her septic leg, ostoperosis, the bubonic plague, the black death, bird flu and god knows what else, you're welcome around any time for a cuppa ;)
straightforward.
Yes, I quite possibly am losing it. The week I've had I do not want to repeat. This morning, I had the joy of administering drops to the kid. She has some nasal infection and this involved drops into her nose. For anyone with a 10 yard radius of the apartment this morning, I am sure they would have
thought I was killing her from the shouts and yells that she let out. This was when I'd only done one nostril. She's been in grand form, if somewhat stressed. Apparently there's another bug going around and loads of people have it. Strange that it always happens around exam time and it never has a name except that it makes people really sick? I explained to her that it might have to do with nerves and stress. She's not a fan of logical explanations.
She was on myspace yesterday, deleting messages that someone sent to her boyf. Yes, she has his password and she logs in regularly. He also has hers. A relationship built on trust I see. Whatever works for them, personally I'm amazed they haven't killed each other. Its heading towards being one of the longer relationships in her life and we like him, so we hope it lasts.
She tried to have a sexual related conversation yesterday which I put a stop to straight away. Apparently, the boyf thinks that the condoms she picked up from outhouse won't work because they are free. I paused behind the mountain of trousers to give her the look which means we're not talking about this. Yet she continued. I told her I don't talk about that stuff and offered her tea to throw her off the conversation. She went back to watching Scrubs. I'm sure poor Mammy2 is in for an
interesting conversation or two.
The apartment is akin to an hospital infirmary at the moment. Mammy2 is very sick with a cold and sinuses and chances are once she's over that, the old depression will creep up. It usually waits until she's pretty low, evil thing that it is. I am getting over a 'bug' and have now moved onto tonsilities and a cold. And lest we forget her and her septic leg, ostoperosis, the bubonic plague, the black death, bird flu and god knows what else, you're welcome around any time for a cuppa ;)
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
So proud...
Usually my posts are giving out about or poking fun at the kid. Yes, I am a bad parent. But this
time I am going to wax lyrical about her. I think I mentioned in a previous post about her winning
some competition for her poster for disablity. She came first in over-16 section. And won a PSP.
There was an awards ceremony on Friday and we took a half day off work to attend. It was the annual school awards ceremony. The principal read out the list of things they would be giving awards out in. Myself and Mammy2 had a good giggle when he mentioned excelling in PE and an award for attendence. She wouldn't be in either of those 2 categories for sure. But the creativity in art, defo. She got the award for art and for creaativity in writing. Can you imagine if she took up music?
There'd be no stopping her.
Once all the school awards were over, they presented a few special ones, one of which was the psp which the kid won. The principal started talking about her, and I swear I wanted to stand up and let everyone know she was our kid. I was bursting. He mentioned a lot of her art work which was hanging around the school and how she's produced some of the best art to come out of the school. At this stage, myself and Mammy2 were beaming. The kid was quite red heading up to collect her prize. Afterwards, the vice chatted to us, asking were we proud. Was it not obvious from the size of our heads? Apparently, she wants the kid to paint her a picture. Knowing the kid, she'll probably charge her for her.
I may have mentioned before about how sometimes she can be a bit obessed with her health and all things sickness related. I'm not sure where it comes from. But her latest is that she thinks she is suffering from osteoporosis. They were talking about it in some class and she's pretty sure she has it. Mammy2 burst out laughing whilst I was unsure how to react. Thankfully she had a smile on her face whilst talking to us about it, so the laughing at it wouldn't have offended her. Then she lands another one on us. She was thinking of getting hypnotherapy to deal with her coin problem.
When we say coin problem, we don't mean she's doing lines of 5 cent pieces so you can get that out of your head straight away. For some bizzare reason she is scared of all coins. Something about them being filthy dirty. I have never heard of anyone else who was scared of them. Funny its not notes that bother her. I think its something to do with the amount of germs that coins collect. Who knows. Mammy2 explained that hynotherpy would not work on her. The kid responds by saying a mate of mine had it done. This goes back to my college days when a hypnotist came to the college and sent someone in the crowd accidently under hynosis and they thought they were a chicken for a while. Hardly the same thing, Mammy2 explained. I offered to make tea.
She has 8 days left in school of which most of them are taken up with exams. She appears to be doing okay, a lot of stress causing tummy upsets. I can't wait for the Leaving Cert year, if its anything like the Junior Cert year, I'm moving to Guam. I suppose she'll be wanting acupuncture for the stress of that.
time I am going to wax lyrical about her. I think I mentioned in a previous post about her winning
some competition for her poster for disablity. She came first in over-16 section. And won a PSP.
There was an awards ceremony on Friday and we took a half day off work to attend. It was the annual school awards ceremony. The principal read out the list of things they would be giving awards out in. Myself and Mammy2 had a good giggle when he mentioned excelling in PE and an award for attendence. She wouldn't be in either of those 2 categories for sure. But the creativity in art, defo. She got the award for art and for creaativity in writing. Can you imagine if she took up music?
There'd be no stopping her.
Once all the school awards were over, they presented a few special ones, one of which was the psp which the kid won. The principal started talking about her, and I swear I wanted to stand up and let everyone know she was our kid. I was bursting. He mentioned a lot of her art work which was hanging around the school and how she's produced some of the best art to come out of the school. At this stage, myself and Mammy2 were beaming. The kid was quite red heading up to collect her prize. Afterwards, the vice chatted to us, asking were we proud. Was it not obvious from the size of our heads? Apparently, she wants the kid to paint her a picture. Knowing the kid, she'll probably charge her for her.
I may have mentioned before about how sometimes she can be a bit obessed with her health and all things sickness related. I'm not sure where it comes from. But her latest is that she thinks she is suffering from osteoporosis. They were talking about it in some class and she's pretty sure she has it. Mammy2 burst out laughing whilst I was unsure how to react. Thankfully she had a smile on her face whilst talking to us about it, so the laughing at it wouldn't have offended her. Then she lands another one on us. She was thinking of getting hypnotherapy to deal with her coin problem.
When we say coin problem, we don't mean she's doing lines of 5 cent pieces so you can get that out of your head straight away. For some bizzare reason she is scared of all coins. Something about them being filthy dirty. I have never heard of anyone else who was scared of them. Funny its not notes that bother her. I think its something to do with the amount of germs that coins collect. Who knows. Mammy2 explained that hynotherpy would not work on her. The kid responds by saying a mate of mine had it done. This goes back to my college days when a hypnotist came to the college and sent someone in the crowd accidently under hynosis and they thought they were a chicken for a while. Hardly the same thing, Mammy2 explained. I offered to make tea.
She has 8 days left in school of which most of them are taken up with exams. She appears to be doing okay, a lot of stress causing tummy upsets. I can't wait for the Leaving Cert year, if its anything like the Junior Cert year, I'm moving to Guam. I suppose she'll be wanting acupuncture for the stress of that.
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
That's it for another year.
The 2nd anniversary mass passed off without too much hassle. Well, that is if you don't count the extended family chatting to you hassle. Luckily for me, the sister K is the favourite and so they spent most of the time following her around the graveyard after the mass and telling her how fabulous her hair was, her legs were, her eyes, her ears, the way she spoke. I, apparently, have lost weight. I suppose it would have been worse. They could have ignored me. We did the usual anaylsis afterwards. We are convinced one of the aunts has had betox. Another aunty has lost a load of weight but she doesn't look healthy. The uncle is the exact same. Of course, none of them recognised the kid. Or pretended not to. She was draped over the boyf, who was doing his best to keep up with all the clan.
The sister K flew back to Holland yesterday. My live went with her I think. It was a mad weekend. We went to see Westmeath on the Sunday and they were brutal. Even with the ref giving the calls against us, I don't think it would have made much of a difference. To the qualifiers now.
Things have settled down with the kid as well. Apparently, the vice called the ex best mate in and had a chat with her with regards the kid. I think things have improved. If there is even a hint of any hassle this week, we'll be straight in. She's been studying for the last few days. Its been nice and quiet. For the 5 minutes where she focuses on her books. She left the living room yesterday and went into her bedroom to study. I think the fact that I was cleaning everything might have made her worry when she was going to be polished. Its sports day today so she's at home studying. When we asked why she wasn't doing any sports, we were graced with an incredulous look.
Mammy2 was wrecked yesterday. She was editing this month's issue and it went to print yesterday. So she was came home and went straight to bed. The rest of the week will hopefully be less eventful then the last few days.
I got my leave approved for the summer. I have a few days off at the start of July when we are heading over to the sisters in Holland and then 2 weeks at the end of August. One of the weeks, I am thinking of taking off for a few days by myself, bumming around Ireland. And the second one hopefully, will involve a trip to Rome. Provided the flying fear stays where it is and doesn't get worse. No crashes between now and then, would be nice.
The sister K flew back to Holland yesterday. My live went with her I think. It was a mad weekend. We went to see Westmeath on the Sunday and they were brutal. Even with the ref giving the calls against us, I don't think it would have made much of a difference. To the qualifiers now.
Things have settled down with the kid as well. Apparently, the vice called the ex best mate in and had a chat with her with regards the kid. I think things have improved. If there is even a hint of any hassle this week, we'll be straight in. She's been studying for the last few days. Its been nice and quiet. For the 5 minutes where she focuses on her books. She left the living room yesterday and went into her bedroom to study. I think the fact that I was cleaning everything might have made her worry when she was going to be polished. Its sports day today so she's at home studying. When we asked why she wasn't doing any sports, we were graced with an incredulous look.
Mammy2 was wrecked yesterday. She was editing this month's issue and it went to print yesterday. So she was came home and went straight to bed. The rest of the week will hopefully be less eventful then the last few days.
I got my leave approved for the summer. I have a few days off at the start of July when we are heading over to the sisters in Holland and then 2 weeks at the end of August. One of the weeks, I am thinking of taking off for a few days by myself, bumming around Ireland. And the second one hopefully, will involve a trip to Rome. Provided the flying fear stays where it is and doesn't get worse. No crashes between now and then, would be nice.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
Mam
Mam : Part 1
I started this blog nearly a year ago to keep an account of life living with a teenager and perhaps in years to come when she's developed the ability to laugh at herself, show it to her.
I have touched upon the fantastic woman who was responsible for bringing us into this world, I have never felt strong enough to fill you in fully, I think I should probably give you some background on this woman. I know everyone thinks their mammy is the best, but she was the best Mammy ever. And I'm allowed to say that. She was not only Mam to us, she was Mam to so many of our mates.
Married at 17 to a guy she knew for a grand total of 3 weeks. She was escaping from an arranged marriage and I can't say she made a mistake, because to say that would mean we wouldn't be around. So I'm not going to get into that argument with myself. She married 8 days after her 17th birthday and about 11 months later I was born. Then my sister another 13 months after that.
Mam spent the best part of 21 years living with this alcoholic and general arsehole. I will refer to him from here on in as SD, Sperm Donor, because that's what he was. He was never a father, there were other men in our lives who we could give that phrase to. He was never phyiscally abusive, probably because the first time he raised his hand to mam, she broke his nose. I think he knew then he wasn't going to get away with any crap. It turns out that in later years, we were to find out that he 'pimped' his daughters out, for want of a better word. We were too young to realise what was going on. I have no recollection of specific incidents except the odd pub and ould fella getting a kiss for a packet of crisps. The sister K has specific memories of his mates and what they got up to.
I could be a complete drama queen now and go on about perhaps the abuse I may or may not have suffered at the hands of these pervs was one of the reasons I 'turned' lesbian. Who knows and who cares. I am a happy camper now, so lets leave the pyshobabble for Therpay Hour shall we?!
For all those years, she looked after us, made sure we had a happy childhood, despite him falling in the door every second evening, leaving her short for the week so she had to cut back on shopping. Once he had money for his drink, everything else came second. I still to this day don't know how she managed. But then again mothers are quite resourseful. She always sheltered us from the bad stuff, so I can only imagine what she went through. She adopted her sister's baby in 1980 when her sister was being kicked out of the family home for getting pregant outside of wedlock. She took her sister in whilst she was pregnant. It turns out the sister and SD were having an affair, that is when
he stopped shagging Mam's best friend. Then in 1989, the kid came along. I was 16 and this was the best thing that could have happened as far as I was concerned. She was adorable. Once the kid got to school going age, Mam made the descision that she was going to leave him. She'd had enough, we were all reared and she wanted the kid to have a different childhood to the one we had.
With K, the younger sister in college, I was at home fulltime. I wasn't really bothered about going on anywhere at that stage. Mam got a part-time job and I looked after the kid. She had just started national school and was beyond cute in her little uniform and school bag.
I think it was around this time that Mam developed arthrisis in her hands. She was always going a lot of manual work. If she wasn't hand washing loads of cloths, she was out cutting wood up for the fire or turning turf. Once we got old enough to realise that we could help, we did. I'll always remember one cold evening , we were out cutting the wood, SD stuck his head out of the door asking if she was making the dinner. Once inside, she was putting cream on her hands, and he asked when she was finished doing that would she put the kettle, he wanted a cup of tea. I would have battered him with the cup, but I decided that maybe murder wasn't the greatest of options. That and Orange wasn't a good colour for me.
Mam : The Divorce and the Move
Eventually Mam got enough money together to buy a mobile home and the grandparents had said we could put on their land. Bit by bit she was packing stuff. Of course it was only a matter of time before he noticed that stuff was starting to dwindle. He was such an arrogant arse that he didn't believe it. He'd taunt her when he'd come in after a few drinks, about not moving away and leaving the house. She'd never leave the house, she loved it too much.
When we finally made the move, he was furious. We went for a long holiday and just didn't come back. He'd call up the whole time, first trying to be nice then drunk as a skunk threatening to burn the place the mobile home to the ground and then we'd have to come home. Eventually Mam got the guards involved, or so he believed and threatened him to streer clear of us. He did for a while. When he was about, visiting the kid he was always trying to convince me to talk Mam into going back. Apparently, Mam was incabable of making a descision herself. Or so the story goes. He took her from the farm, ignorant farm girl that she was and he educated her in the ways of the world. Yes, you can just see it can't you.
He learned very quickly how I felt about the situation. Then again he always know how I felt about him. He knew from the time we were all watching a program called Family from Roddy Doyle. The scene where the daughter hits the husband over the head with a frying pan, I cheered. What? It
was a fantastic scene. He glared at me. None too impressed. So with the words Cold day in hell before we move back in with you, he changed his tune. He said that I was responsible and that once I stared college, Mam would see sense and stop being corrupted by me. All those magazines I left around with titles like "10 ways to kill your husband" must have pissed him off no end. I didn't mind what he thought. In fact in a moment of madess and seeking this closure that so many people talk about , I wrote him a letter telling him exactly what I thought of him. I ended the letter by saying I would definetly attend his funeral, just to ensure the b*****d was dead. Then I would throw a huge party. He gathered from this there was no repairing the father-daughter relationship. I never knew there was one.
There is so much I can say about him, but the more I think about it, the more I think I couldn't be bothered. He had such a strong hold on our lives for so long and now we're free, so I don't fancy dwelling on him. This is about Mam.
Mam : Life in Ballincliffey
Its hard to explain what life was like in the mobile home. Aside from it being small and there were 4 of us living there, 6 come christmas, it was the best of craic. Apart from at winter time when the pipes would freeze up and we would have no running water. We had cold water and for hot water and showers, the grannies house was next door. We were always up and down to it. It made no difference to Mam, it was her own place. At first it was bizzare. Being able to leave money lying around without fear of it being gone. Going out for a walk and the place being in the exact same state as when you left it. Christmas was such fun, without him roaring at us to get him a soft drink first thing in the morning because he had a hangover. The kid loved christmas mornings, she was up all hours, and then she'd come in and bounce on Mam's bed and then mine. The 6 years we spent there were the best. I remember one New Years eve I invited friends from college down, and a total of 11 people slept in the mobile home that night.
The following day, there was mashed potatoes all around. Whenever we were out, Mam always went on about how she cooked for so many people. Everyone was always well impressed. There are so many things that I could talk about but I'd fill a book, so I'll just summarise by saying, it was great. Its easy to look back with romantic eyes and stuff but that place was more of a home then the family home in Legan. And this was all down to Mam. Mam danging around outside the mobile with Uncle Barney, taking walks down to the lake and throwing the brother in. He wasn't happy about that. Cycling up to the post office and phone box. Crashing the bike with the kid on the front into a pile of nettles. She wasn't happy about that. There was screams. Mam was too busy laughing.
Coming home from college when my uncle would forget to pick me up and I'd walk the 3 and a half miles home in the frost cursing my forgetful uncle.
And coming into the warthm of the mobile where Packie would be standind scratching his head when he was supposed to be picking me up. I was unimpressed. He was always like that. In the final year of college, myself and my mate went to Wales and it was so hard being away from Mam. I'd never spent more then a week away from home, and this was 3 months. It was the first time I'd seen Mam cry when she was saying goodbye to me at the bus stop. I explained it was only Wales and it was only for 3 months but still she was a bit upset.
Mam : Holidays
I swore that once I started working, I was going to save for a house and Mam was going to move out of the mobile home. Yes, I am one of those daughters from a true life movie. Of course, Mam's middle name being martyr, there was no way she was going for it. Yes, I could just see it alright. There I am living the life in Dublin whilst Mam freezes her ass off in a mobile home in the country. This woman worked her ass off to make sure we wanted for nothing whilst we were younger and protected us from that abusive scumbag, affectionately known as Papa. The least we could do was re-pay her for some it. The first holiday was great, we'd only ever had holidays up to my grannies, so to get away somewhere was amazing. Mam loved it, the freedom of being away from her family. She loved living up beside them but sometimes it got a bit much for her and so the break was great
for everyone. We headed to Kilkee in Clare and the kid loved it. We were near a proper beach with sand and no rocks. Sand castles were built.
At this stage, Mam and the kid had already been introduced to Mammy2 and they all got on famously. The holiday was great. Many more holidays followed after that and lots more sandcastles. Throw in the kid turning 13 and it was fun times.
Mam : Hospital
June - Mam was taken into hospital on the kid's 14th birthday, June 26th 2003. Stubborn as always, she had insisted she was fine, but when the aunty brought her up to the hospital, they kept her. They wanted to run tests. We had been away for a week in France with friends. When we got home, there were 2 messages on the answering machine. One was in relation to a good friend's dad passing on and the other was that Mam was in hospital. We headed directly to Mullingar once we had attended the funeral and cremation of the mates dad. Mam was pretty peeved at being in hospital, always wanting to be doing something. They recommended they keep her for a while as they wanted to do loads more tests etc.
August - Travel down for the results Checkups - diagnosed with cancer. Given a few years. More checkups. Biopsy and other tests. Lots of them
September - Change of doctors. Doctor says no cancer. Nurse says there's no cancer. And then says it is cancer. And then not.
In for operation, tumour successfully removed. Through the operation grand. Let home for 2 days.
Crippled with pains. Called 999. Ambulance arrives. Leaves with blue light flashing. Brought back up to hospital. Bowel came apart. More tests. Taken into ICU. Treatement shoddy. Spoke with doctor who assured us she was fine, just needed a second opinion. Her wound was still open on her tummy and she was moved to the main ward.
This part of our lives is like one of those montagues in films, you know the ones with the cheesy music, except at the end of it, obviously Mam would have left the hosptial and not in a coffin.
There are various important moments along the 9 months of a rollercoaster we all spent whilst Mam spent all the time in a hospital room all to herself with an open wound on her chest. That sounds dramatic doesn't it. I'll explain.
Mam : October
Transfer from Mullingar to James. James Hospital no idea she was so bad.
I don't remember exact dates. I remember moments. Like thinking everything was great when she was transferred because at least she was going to get proper treatement now that they had a bed for her. Receiving a phone call from the hospital when I came back from being out with the workmates, sobering up in under 5 minutes and having to make adult descions. Like ring Holland and tell the sister to come home. Ring the brother and let him know what's going on. Organise to let the rest of the family know. Head to the hospital and sit in that sterile ICU waiting room with loads of
other people, little did I know I was about to get to know all of them quite well. The nurse was very patient and explained what was happening and that they had to run a load of tests and how sick Mam was and did we know that etc. I remember Mammy2 taking the kid to stay at her boyf's at the time and breaking speed limits to get back to the hospital.
The nurse explained that when they wheeled Mam out, there would be loads of wires and tubes connected to her and not to be scared, this was standard. I prepared myself for it, but when they came dramatically out the doors with this huge bed and mam so tiny in it, I got upset. There were nurses and doctors all around her and she looked really small. They headed off down the corridor to wherever they do the tests. The sister texted, she had booked the earliest flight she could and would be in that morning. I was sniffling away and two ladies beside me, most other people had left the waiting room at that stage, handed me a tissue. There was no point in asking if everything was alright.
We were in the intensive care waiting room, it would have been a bit pointless. Mammy2 arrived back and 2 hours later, Mam was brought back up to ICU. The nurse said she was doing okay, but she was still listed as critical. Critical but stable. We were to very to tire of this phrase very quickly. As mam was out for the count, we headed home. Picked the sister up from the airport the following morning and headed straight to the hospital as she wanted to see Mam. From there, Mam improved a lot, so much so the doctors were amazed. She pulled through that and was transferred to her own room in ICU. Because her tummy wound was still open, they were afraid she might pick up bacteria from other patients. As she loved christmas so much, we bought loads of decorations and made the place look very festive. One nurse, a guy from Ukrania was so impressed he took a pic of the room. Mam thought we were mad. She hated being in hospital and was aiming to get out as soon as possible.
Every time the Prof, her surgeon came around, she was asking him when could she have her operation and get out. He tried explaining to her that he had to wait until things settled down inside before he could go in again. In the meantime, mam thrwarted herself by asking what we had for dinner whilst she enjoyed the drip connected next to her. She was brought for a little walk every day by one of the nurses , who were all lovely. We thought she was getting stronger. We brought in the westmeath flag and decorated her room for her when she moved in. We'd listen to the matches on the radio, sometimes we'd be leaving her and she'd be laughing away and telling us she was tired. I think she was sick of listening to us talk. She could have been more subtle about it.
There'd be times when it would be hard to go into the room. There was a bag of fluid on her wound to keep it from getting infections and stuff and sometimes it would burst and the smell would be terrible. But of course you couldn't say that, so you'd wait for the nurse to arrive and she'd change it. Mam got to know everyone on the ward. She often got into slagging matches with one of the janitors Dennis, I think his name was . He was a dub and slagged her about Westmeath all the
time.
Mam :The Prof
Herself and the Prof had a love hate relationship. I think he dreaded coming into her room because every week it was the same question. When can I go home, when are you doing my operation?
And so on. Eventually I think he took to wearing a disguise. I'm pretty sure I saw him dressed as a nurse one day when he shot past Mam's room. Another day he had a groucho marx face mask on him. We got so attached to him. We always kept an eye out for him. He was the man that would make mam better. He tried explaining about the bowels. Basically when they were like wet toilet paper and he could do nothing with them until they strengtened. We'd have meetings with him away from Mam, where he tried to stress how sick she was. It didn't seem to sink us with us though. He told us she was sicker then any of his long-term cancer patients. Yet we continued to pray and hope. I suppose its the body's way of getting on with things. Get up in the morning and go to see her and coming home and doing it all again the following day. Otherwise, we'd just stop altogether.
She'd have her up moments and her down moments. Christmas was the lowest she was. She loved christmas and hated being in the hospital. Once the day itself passed, she was grand. Mothers day, we got her loads of creams and stuff from the body shop. She was massaged then with all that cream. A long time in hospital your skin starts to dry out a lot. Every day she'd ask how the kid was. The kid visited rarely. She hated the hospital. She hated the smell and I suppose it was hard to her to see Mam like this. Tiny, frail in a bed. Hooked up to a few machines and unable to swallow her own spit. She'd lost a lot of weight as well. Her response was "Sure you'd never gain anything with that feckin drip"
The drip was food being fed directly into her body. It was never going to be as nice as a dinner.
The sperm donor in the meantime was causing all sorts of hassle. Whenever Mam was in ICU, he'd ring demanding to know how she was. However the nurses had been informed and so would not give any info unless it was myself or the sister K who rang. He got quite annoyed at one stage. When we arrived in to visit, the little nurse informed us that he had rang. She had told him the story and he said he was a big man. At this stage, myself and the sister fell about the place laughing. I explained to the nurse he was an alchoholic leprechaun and not to be scared of him. Also there was no way he'd make it up to Dublin to visit because there were too many pubs between Dublin and Longford.
However, we were quite annoyed. We had enough to be dealing with without this dimwit throwing his weight around. The sister had a brainwave. She was going to ring an old mobile number she had for him and pretend to be the head of ICU and demand he stop threatening her staff. She rang, left a message and we never heard from him after that. Niether did the staff. Stupid muppet didn't even recognise his own daughter's voice.
Mam :Operations
We were told she'd need another 2 operations at least. The days and weeks passed. We never realised how quickly time flew. I mean, from Novemenber until May, James Hospital was our second home. As I'm sure if was for other families as well. We got to know some faces. At one stage, we were in ICU, visiting Mam. She had pulled through another one of those, "say your goodbyes" and was doing okay. Still hooked up to a ventilator and all that. We were chatting about some of the other patients. One guy we saw in the ICU had lost his arm. Classic Mam, she responded:
"God, and you think you've got it bad" Talking about herself. I mean, the woman was after coming back from the dead twice and had no lower intestine. And she was talking about people had it worse. I suppose it was her spirit that kept her going all that time. She was aiming to get those operations and get out. We were aiming for that too. We had plans to get her a surpise, bring her away on holiday. Loads of plans. She just wanted to get home to her house.
The extended family eventually stopped causing hassle and starting working with us when they realised that all we cared about was Mam. At the start, there was issues in relation to who could ring and we basically told them that ringing every hour, when Mam was in ICU, was not fair on the nurses. If we all rang , the nurses wouldn't get to do their job. So we rang and then kept the rest of the family informed.
Whilst all of this went on, the days Mam wasn't bad, we went to work and the kid went to school. For a time you could pretend everything was okay. Until you came home, got dinner, packed the 2 bottles of ice and drove to the hospital. In Feburary Mam got shingles. Somehow or other we had been in contact with some kid with chickenpox and passed it on to her. She was very sick with it for a while. She got a lot of sores and was in even more pain. It was absolutely soul destroying seeing her tear at herself. One day we came in and her face was all blotched up. She was half asleep.
We spent a while cleaning her sores down and putting cream on. She was a bit happier with herself after that, even though we had barely finished wiping her face down when she started at her face again. I threatened her with no ice. Not that she believed we would deprive her. We could always pretend.
On paddies day we embarssed her by arriving up in full irish regalia. K and the kid had green feather boas tied around their hair, I dyed my hair green for the occasion and Mammy2 wore an irish t-shirt. Mam was scarlet as all the nurses were having a look at us. She got over it then and was yapping away to us about what we were going to get up to. Another operation, another day of sitting in the waiting room. The prof explained that these operations were always going to be risky because of how sick and frail she was. But she was determined. She knew there was no way she was going to get out of there without the prof trying to repair the bowels.
She was very frightened going into this one. It was as if she knew what was coming down the line. She started crying as the nurses started fixing up the bed for moving it into the theatre. She kept apologising to us for putting us through this. Typical Mam, selfless to the end. That day passed so slowly. We went from the coffee shop, to the waiting room and back. 6-8 hours later, we were called into a room off the ward that Mam was staying on. It didn't look good. The prof came in, still in his full scrubs from the operating theatre. He told us there was nothing more he could do. She was loosing so much blood they couldn't risk moving her from the theatre. They were going to try out a new drug, that helped with clotting blood but he advised us to prepare ourselves for the worst.
We rang the extended family. Within hours they were all en route to the hospital. They had managed to get Mam from theatre to ICU.
That night , the nurses dropped out blankets to the waiting room, in case of any of us wanted to sleep. We couldn't , but the some of the family rested. It was eeriely quiet, we were the only ones in the waiting room. The only other noise was the nurses whenever they left ICU to go to the blood place. They were working on Mam. It was weird. That morning around 6.30, one of the little nurses from Mam's ward dropped over to the waiting room to see if there was any news. She said she was praying for Mam last night. They all got on so well with her.
Around 7, one of the ICU nurses came out to talk to us. Basically, things had improved and they'd manage to get her somewhat stable. We went home for a couple of hours, slept for a bit,showered and came back up. Amazingly she got through this as well. Although she was't the same. She was beginning to think she wasn't going to get out. It was so hard to watch, because it was always her spirit that kept her going. Her will to live whilst her body was giving up. If her spirit gave up, there was no coming back.
One evening when I dropped in to see her, she told me she thought she was never getting out. Its hard to respond to that. Things improved though. The prof allowed her to drink fluids. It was a huge step for her and for us. She was allowed swallow. I remember the evening really well. I couldn't face the hospital. It was only the second time I missed visiting her. I was out with the best mate C. And Mammy2 rang me to tell me. I was nearly crying. We were convinced this was a huge step forward. The following evening we brought her 7-up. She was chuffed. She drank loads of it though and her body was not used to liquids so she got a wee bit sick. But she said it was worth it. Her mood was still up and down.
Mam :Final Week
It was a Tuesday night. Myself and Mammy2 went to see her, she was completly out of it. It looked like she was drugged. Granted she was on some medication for the shingles, but she was just not there. We were talking to her and she was barely responding. I got upset, she wasn't Mam. I asked to see one of the nurses and he said that she was grand, just tired. I wasn't so sure but these people had taken good care of her so I trusted them. That night, at around 2 the mobile phone rang. It only ever rang at that time if it was the hospital. I answered it and it was one of the nurses asking us to get to the hospital as quick as we could. K and the kid were into our room in a shot. We all got dressed as quickly as possibly. The phone rang again, the nurse was checking were we on our way. I knew it was bad. Two phone calls in quick succession didn't mean anything good. We got to the hospital and were met in the corridor by one of the nurses who brought us past Mam's room. There were a load of nurses and doctors around the bed and there was a screen around her. We were brought into another waiting room and the nurse was all chat to us, saying that Mam had taken a turn and that they were going to move her back down to ICU to make her more comfortable. They offered us tea or coffee.
The next few days were a blur. She never really came out of the coma. She opened her eyes a few times but from the look on her face, she didn't expect to be still in the hospital. She kept pulling at the ventilator and gesturing to us. It was heartbreaking to see. I couldn't stop crying. Every time I went in to see her. And I had to get it together else she'd be upset seeing us upset. On Friday evening, we met with one of the nurses and the prof. They started talking about palative treatment. The sun was shining. The weather was fabulous. Myself and the sister K walked home, deciding who we had to ring and tell.
Mam :Saturday May 15th 2004
We arrived up early. The extended family starting arriving. Aunts and uncles. Mam's best friend travelled up. People starting talking about funerals etc. We asked them to shut up. Mam was not gone yet. Could they at least show a bit of respect. People took turns going into to visit it.
At this stage, Mam had been moved into her own room. There was a large window and the sun shone in on her. The nurse was very patient with all the people who took it in turns to see her. She answered all their questions and showed Mam such respect. When we weren't in the room, we could look in the window of the door. The nurse would adjust everything, brush Mam's hair, put lip balm on her as her lips dried out and fix the blinds so the sun wasn't too warm on her.
The waiting atmosphere and sniping got too much for us. We moved into ICU and sat outside Mam's room. The 4 of us. The nurse explained that the blood pressue was dropping bit by bit and that technically she could go at any time. I knew Mam. She would wait until everyone had seen her.
I couldn't go into the room most of the time. The sister K went in a few times and I stood at the bottom of the bed. The drugs had swelled Mam up a lot. She just didn't look like Mam. The kid wanted to go in but was scared. I found out that if you stood on the other side of the bed, Mam looked nearly okay. So we stood on that side and the kid held her hand for a few minutes. The machines were annoying and the ventilator. The nurse eventually put on a radio on low volume. The country station. A couple of the songs I remember from that day. The Eagles Taking it easy. Ironic.
The nurse finished her shift and had a few words with us before she left. The nurse that took over was a black man. We couldn't believe it, Mam would have been chuffed. She always had a thing for them. We commented on all the machines doing the breathing at one stage and how we wished it was all over. For mam, more so then anything else. All this in and out, looking at her, she had no dignity left. As it turns out, once I signed a piece of paper to give the doctors the okay, they could turn off the machines and stop all the drugs being pumped into her body. She was going herself but knowing Mam's spirit she'd make it last for ages. I signed the last piece of paper on Mam's behalf. The lovely nurse explained that once they started the process, it would be quite quick. Within 5-10 minutes she would be gone.
I went out to the waiting room, told the family what were we were doing. They all had a few more minutes and then the priest arrived. He was another black man. Mam would have been in her
element. Even if he was a man of God. We all waited in the room. The kid started crying. I made a few jokes to her about forgetting to get the receipe for mash off Mam , anything to make her feel at ease. The preist started praying. Then a beeping noise came from the machine nearest us. The nurse quietly annouced that Mam was gone. I left and told the others to as well. I'd heard the way a body reacts once its passed on.
We gathered together outside. There were hugs, tears. Disbelief that this is how it ended. The nurse came out and chatted with us. We thanked him for taking care of mam. He responded by saying he was grateful to have met her once before and what a lady she was.
I spoke to the rest of the family and said we would be in touch regarding arrangements but that two things were definite. The coffin was going to be closed, ie no wake.
And Mam wanted to be cremated. End of story.
Her funeral was huge. She would have been impressed. She always rated funerals on attendence. She was also the talk of the place because she was to be cremated. I'm sure she was up there having the last laugh.
It was a tough year. I guess though in one respect we were lucky. We never knew she wasn't going to make it. Not like those people who's loved ones have a terminel illness. Death of a loved one affects everyone differently. I can only speak for myself when I say the loss is overwhelming and impossible to put in words. It feels like you've got the permanent scar, this sore, and sometimes the pain goes away and then sometimes its there constantly like an itch that you have to scratch.
I'm not good with words.
The world lost Mam but heaven gained her. She was too good for this world. She was my world.
I started this blog nearly a year ago to keep an account of life living with a teenager and perhaps in years to come when she's developed the ability to laugh at herself, show it to her.
I have touched upon the fantastic woman who was responsible for bringing us into this world, I have never felt strong enough to fill you in fully, I think I should probably give you some background on this woman. I know everyone thinks their mammy is the best, but she was the best Mammy ever. And I'm allowed to say that. She was not only Mam to us, she was Mam to so many of our mates.
Married at 17 to a guy she knew for a grand total of 3 weeks. She was escaping from an arranged marriage and I can't say she made a mistake, because to say that would mean we wouldn't be around. So I'm not going to get into that argument with myself. She married 8 days after her 17th birthday and about 11 months later I was born. Then my sister another 13 months after that.
Mam spent the best part of 21 years living with this alcoholic and general arsehole. I will refer to him from here on in as SD, Sperm Donor, because that's what he was. He was never a father, there were other men in our lives who we could give that phrase to. He was never phyiscally abusive, probably because the first time he raised his hand to mam, she broke his nose. I think he knew then he wasn't going to get away with any crap. It turns out that in later years, we were to find out that he 'pimped' his daughters out, for want of a better word. We were too young to realise what was going on. I have no recollection of specific incidents except the odd pub and ould fella getting a kiss for a packet of crisps. The sister K has specific memories of his mates and what they got up to.
I could be a complete drama queen now and go on about perhaps the abuse I may or may not have suffered at the hands of these pervs was one of the reasons I 'turned' lesbian. Who knows and who cares. I am a happy camper now, so lets leave the pyshobabble for Therpay Hour shall we?!
For all those years, she looked after us, made sure we had a happy childhood, despite him falling in the door every second evening, leaving her short for the week so she had to cut back on shopping. Once he had money for his drink, everything else came second. I still to this day don't know how she managed. But then again mothers are quite resourseful. She always sheltered us from the bad stuff, so I can only imagine what she went through. She adopted her sister's baby in 1980 when her sister was being kicked out of the family home for getting pregant outside of wedlock. She took her sister in whilst she was pregnant. It turns out the sister and SD were having an affair, that is when
he stopped shagging Mam's best friend. Then in 1989, the kid came along. I was 16 and this was the best thing that could have happened as far as I was concerned. She was adorable. Once the kid got to school going age, Mam made the descision that she was going to leave him. She'd had enough, we were all reared and she wanted the kid to have a different childhood to the one we had.
With K, the younger sister in college, I was at home fulltime. I wasn't really bothered about going on anywhere at that stage. Mam got a part-time job and I looked after the kid. She had just started national school and was beyond cute in her little uniform and school bag.
I think it was around this time that Mam developed arthrisis in her hands. She was always going a lot of manual work. If she wasn't hand washing loads of cloths, she was out cutting wood up for the fire or turning turf. Once we got old enough to realise that we could help, we did. I'll always remember one cold evening , we were out cutting the wood, SD stuck his head out of the door asking if she was making the dinner. Once inside, she was putting cream on her hands, and he asked when she was finished doing that would she put the kettle, he wanted a cup of tea. I would have battered him with the cup, but I decided that maybe murder wasn't the greatest of options. That and Orange wasn't a good colour for me.
Mam : The Divorce and the Move
Eventually Mam got enough money together to buy a mobile home and the grandparents had said we could put on their land. Bit by bit she was packing stuff. Of course it was only a matter of time before he noticed that stuff was starting to dwindle. He was such an arrogant arse that he didn't believe it. He'd taunt her when he'd come in after a few drinks, about not moving away and leaving the house. She'd never leave the house, she loved it too much.
When we finally made the move, he was furious. We went for a long holiday and just didn't come back. He'd call up the whole time, first trying to be nice then drunk as a skunk threatening to burn the place the mobile home to the ground and then we'd have to come home. Eventually Mam got the guards involved, or so he believed and threatened him to streer clear of us. He did for a while. When he was about, visiting the kid he was always trying to convince me to talk Mam into going back. Apparently, Mam was incabable of making a descision herself. Or so the story goes. He took her from the farm, ignorant farm girl that she was and he educated her in the ways of the world. Yes, you can just see it can't you.
He learned very quickly how I felt about the situation. Then again he always know how I felt about him. He knew from the time we were all watching a program called Family from Roddy Doyle. The scene where the daughter hits the husband over the head with a frying pan, I cheered. What? It
was a fantastic scene. He glared at me. None too impressed. So with the words Cold day in hell before we move back in with you, he changed his tune. He said that I was responsible and that once I stared college, Mam would see sense and stop being corrupted by me. All those magazines I left around with titles like "10 ways to kill your husband" must have pissed him off no end. I didn't mind what he thought. In fact in a moment of madess and seeking this closure that so many people talk about , I wrote him a letter telling him exactly what I thought of him. I ended the letter by saying I would definetly attend his funeral, just to ensure the b*****d was dead. Then I would throw a huge party. He gathered from this there was no repairing the father-daughter relationship. I never knew there was one.
There is so much I can say about him, but the more I think about it, the more I think I couldn't be bothered. He had such a strong hold on our lives for so long and now we're free, so I don't fancy dwelling on him. This is about Mam.
Mam : Life in Ballincliffey
Its hard to explain what life was like in the mobile home. Aside from it being small and there were 4 of us living there, 6 come christmas, it was the best of craic. Apart from at winter time when the pipes would freeze up and we would have no running water. We had cold water and for hot water and showers, the grannies house was next door. We were always up and down to it. It made no difference to Mam, it was her own place. At first it was bizzare. Being able to leave money lying around without fear of it being gone. Going out for a walk and the place being in the exact same state as when you left it. Christmas was such fun, without him roaring at us to get him a soft drink first thing in the morning because he had a hangover. The kid loved christmas mornings, she was up all hours, and then she'd come in and bounce on Mam's bed and then mine. The 6 years we spent there were the best. I remember one New Years eve I invited friends from college down, and a total of 11 people slept in the mobile home that night.
The following day, there was mashed potatoes all around. Whenever we were out, Mam always went on about how she cooked for so many people. Everyone was always well impressed. There are so many things that I could talk about but I'd fill a book, so I'll just summarise by saying, it was great. Its easy to look back with romantic eyes and stuff but that place was more of a home then the family home in Legan. And this was all down to Mam. Mam danging around outside the mobile with Uncle Barney, taking walks down to the lake and throwing the brother in. He wasn't happy about that. Cycling up to the post office and phone box. Crashing the bike with the kid on the front into a pile of nettles. She wasn't happy about that. There was screams. Mam was too busy laughing.
Coming home from college when my uncle would forget to pick me up and I'd walk the 3 and a half miles home in the frost cursing my forgetful uncle.
And coming into the warthm of the mobile where Packie would be standind scratching his head when he was supposed to be picking me up. I was unimpressed. He was always like that. In the final year of college, myself and my mate went to Wales and it was so hard being away from Mam. I'd never spent more then a week away from home, and this was 3 months. It was the first time I'd seen Mam cry when she was saying goodbye to me at the bus stop. I explained it was only Wales and it was only for 3 months but still she was a bit upset.
Mam : Holidays
I swore that once I started working, I was going to save for a house and Mam was going to move out of the mobile home. Yes, I am one of those daughters from a true life movie. Of course, Mam's middle name being martyr, there was no way she was going for it. Yes, I could just see it alright. There I am living the life in Dublin whilst Mam freezes her ass off in a mobile home in the country. This woman worked her ass off to make sure we wanted for nothing whilst we were younger and protected us from that abusive scumbag, affectionately known as Papa. The least we could do was re-pay her for some it. The first holiday was great, we'd only ever had holidays up to my grannies, so to get away somewhere was amazing. Mam loved it, the freedom of being away from her family. She loved living up beside them but sometimes it got a bit much for her and so the break was great
for everyone. We headed to Kilkee in Clare and the kid loved it. We were near a proper beach with sand and no rocks. Sand castles were built.
At this stage, Mam and the kid had already been introduced to Mammy2 and they all got on famously. The holiday was great. Many more holidays followed after that and lots more sandcastles. Throw in the kid turning 13 and it was fun times.
Mam : Hospital
June - Mam was taken into hospital on the kid's 14th birthday, June 26th 2003. Stubborn as always, she had insisted she was fine, but when the aunty brought her up to the hospital, they kept her. They wanted to run tests. We had been away for a week in France with friends. When we got home, there were 2 messages on the answering machine. One was in relation to a good friend's dad passing on and the other was that Mam was in hospital. We headed directly to Mullingar once we had attended the funeral and cremation of the mates dad. Mam was pretty peeved at being in hospital, always wanting to be doing something. They recommended they keep her for a while as they wanted to do loads more tests etc.
August - Travel down for the results Checkups - diagnosed with cancer. Given a few years. More checkups. Biopsy and other tests. Lots of them
September - Change of doctors. Doctor says no cancer. Nurse says there's no cancer. And then says it is cancer. And then not.
In for operation, tumour successfully removed. Through the operation grand. Let home for 2 days.
Crippled with pains. Called 999. Ambulance arrives. Leaves with blue light flashing. Brought back up to hospital. Bowel came apart. More tests. Taken into ICU. Treatement shoddy. Spoke with doctor who assured us she was fine, just needed a second opinion. Her wound was still open on her tummy and she was moved to the main ward.
This part of our lives is like one of those montagues in films, you know the ones with the cheesy music, except at the end of it, obviously Mam would have left the hosptial and not in a coffin.
There are various important moments along the 9 months of a rollercoaster we all spent whilst Mam spent all the time in a hospital room all to herself with an open wound on her chest. That sounds dramatic doesn't it. I'll explain.
Mam : October
Transfer from Mullingar to James. James Hospital no idea she was so bad.
I don't remember exact dates. I remember moments. Like thinking everything was great when she was transferred because at least she was going to get proper treatement now that they had a bed for her. Receiving a phone call from the hospital when I came back from being out with the workmates, sobering up in under 5 minutes and having to make adult descions. Like ring Holland and tell the sister to come home. Ring the brother and let him know what's going on. Organise to let the rest of the family know. Head to the hospital and sit in that sterile ICU waiting room with loads of
other people, little did I know I was about to get to know all of them quite well. The nurse was very patient and explained what was happening and that they had to run a load of tests and how sick Mam was and did we know that etc. I remember Mammy2 taking the kid to stay at her boyf's at the time and breaking speed limits to get back to the hospital.
The nurse explained that when they wheeled Mam out, there would be loads of wires and tubes connected to her and not to be scared, this was standard. I prepared myself for it, but when they came dramatically out the doors with this huge bed and mam so tiny in it, I got upset. There were nurses and doctors all around her and she looked really small. They headed off down the corridor to wherever they do the tests. The sister texted, she had booked the earliest flight she could and would be in that morning. I was sniffling away and two ladies beside me, most other people had left the waiting room at that stage, handed me a tissue. There was no point in asking if everything was alright.
We were in the intensive care waiting room, it would have been a bit pointless. Mammy2 arrived back and 2 hours later, Mam was brought back up to ICU. The nurse said she was doing okay, but she was still listed as critical. Critical but stable. We were to very to tire of this phrase very quickly. As mam was out for the count, we headed home. Picked the sister up from the airport the following morning and headed straight to the hospital as she wanted to see Mam. From there, Mam improved a lot, so much so the doctors were amazed. She pulled through that and was transferred to her own room in ICU. Because her tummy wound was still open, they were afraid she might pick up bacteria from other patients. As she loved christmas so much, we bought loads of decorations and made the place look very festive. One nurse, a guy from Ukrania was so impressed he took a pic of the room. Mam thought we were mad. She hated being in hospital and was aiming to get out as soon as possible.
Every time the Prof, her surgeon came around, she was asking him when could she have her operation and get out. He tried explaining to her that he had to wait until things settled down inside before he could go in again. In the meantime, mam thrwarted herself by asking what we had for dinner whilst she enjoyed the drip connected next to her. She was brought for a little walk every day by one of the nurses , who were all lovely. We thought she was getting stronger. We brought in the westmeath flag and decorated her room for her when she moved in. We'd listen to the matches on the radio, sometimes we'd be leaving her and she'd be laughing away and telling us she was tired. I think she was sick of listening to us talk. She could have been more subtle about it.
There'd be times when it would be hard to go into the room. There was a bag of fluid on her wound to keep it from getting infections and stuff and sometimes it would burst and the smell would be terrible. But of course you couldn't say that, so you'd wait for the nurse to arrive and she'd change it. Mam got to know everyone on the ward. She often got into slagging matches with one of the janitors Dennis, I think his name was . He was a dub and slagged her about Westmeath all the
time.
Mam :The Prof
Herself and the Prof had a love hate relationship. I think he dreaded coming into her room because every week it was the same question. When can I go home, when are you doing my operation?
And so on. Eventually I think he took to wearing a disguise. I'm pretty sure I saw him dressed as a nurse one day when he shot past Mam's room. Another day he had a groucho marx face mask on him. We got so attached to him. We always kept an eye out for him. He was the man that would make mam better. He tried explaining about the bowels. Basically when they were like wet toilet paper and he could do nothing with them until they strengtened. We'd have meetings with him away from Mam, where he tried to stress how sick she was. It didn't seem to sink us with us though. He told us she was sicker then any of his long-term cancer patients. Yet we continued to pray and hope. I suppose its the body's way of getting on with things. Get up in the morning and go to see her and coming home and doing it all again the following day. Otherwise, we'd just stop altogether.
She'd have her up moments and her down moments. Christmas was the lowest she was. She loved christmas and hated being in the hospital. Once the day itself passed, she was grand. Mothers day, we got her loads of creams and stuff from the body shop. She was massaged then with all that cream. A long time in hospital your skin starts to dry out a lot. Every day she'd ask how the kid was. The kid visited rarely. She hated the hospital. She hated the smell and I suppose it was hard to her to see Mam like this. Tiny, frail in a bed. Hooked up to a few machines and unable to swallow her own spit. She'd lost a lot of weight as well. Her response was "Sure you'd never gain anything with that feckin drip"
The drip was food being fed directly into her body. It was never going to be as nice as a dinner.
The sperm donor in the meantime was causing all sorts of hassle. Whenever Mam was in ICU, he'd ring demanding to know how she was. However the nurses had been informed and so would not give any info unless it was myself or the sister K who rang. He got quite annoyed at one stage. When we arrived in to visit, the little nurse informed us that he had rang. She had told him the story and he said he was a big man. At this stage, myself and the sister fell about the place laughing. I explained to the nurse he was an alchoholic leprechaun and not to be scared of him. Also there was no way he'd make it up to Dublin to visit because there were too many pubs between Dublin and Longford.
However, we were quite annoyed. We had enough to be dealing with without this dimwit throwing his weight around. The sister had a brainwave. She was going to ring an old mobile number she had for him and pretend to be the head of ICU and demand he stop threatening her staff. She rang, left a message and we never heard from him after that. Niether did the staff. Stupid muppet didn't even recognise his own daughter's voice.
Mam :Operations
We were told she'd need another 2 operations at least. The days and weeks passed. We never realised how quickly time flew. I mean, from Novemenber until May, James Hospital was our second home. As I'm sure if was for other families as well. We got to know some faces. At one stage, we were in ICU, visiting Mam. She had pulled through another one of those, "say your goodbyes" and was doing okay. Still hooked up to a ventilator and all that. We were chatting about some of the other patients. One guy we saw in the ICU had lost his arm. Classic Mam, she responded:
"God, and you think you've got it bad" Talking about herself. I mean, the woman was after coming back from the dead twice and had no lower intestine. And she was talking about people had it worse. I suppose it was her spirit that kept her going all that time. She was aiming to get those operations and get out. We were aiming for that too. We had plans to get her a surpise, bring her away on holiday. Loads of plans. She just wanted to get home to her house.
The extended family eventually stopped causing hassle and starting working with us when they realised that all we cared about was Mam. At the start, there was issues in relation to who could ring and we basically told them that ringing every hour, when Mam was in ICU, was not fair on the nurses. If we all rang , the nurses wouldn't get to do their job. So we rang and then kept the rest of the family informed.
Whilst all of this went on, the days Mam wasn't bad, we went to work and the kid went to school. For a time you could pretend everything was okay. Until you came home, got dinner, packed the 2 bottles of ice and drove to the hospital. In Feburary Mam got shingles. Somehow or other we had been in contact with some kid with chickenpox and passed it on to her. She was very sick with it for a while. She got a lot of sores and was in even more pain. It was absolutely soul destroying seeing her tear at herself. One day we came in and her face was all blotched up. She was half asleep.
We spent a while cleaning her sores down and putting cream on. She was a bit happier with herself after that, even though we had barely finished wiping her face down when she started at her face again. I threatened her with no ice. Not that she believed we would deprive her. We could always pretend.
On paddies day we embarssed her by arriving up in full irish regalia. K and the kid had green feather boas tied around their hair, I dyed my hair green for the occasion and Mammy2 wore an irish t-shirt. Mam was scarlet as all the nurses were having a look at us. She got over it then and was yapping away to us about what we were going to get up to. Another operation, another day of sitting in the waiting room. The prof explained that these operations were always going to be risky because of how sick and frail she was. But she was determined. She knew there was no way she was going to get out of there without the prof trying to repair the bowels.
She was very frightened going into this one. It was as if she knew what was coming down the line. She started crying as the nurses started fixing up the bed for moving it into the theatre. She kept apologising to us for putting us through this. Typical Mam, selfless to the end. That day passed so slowly. We went from the coffee shop, to the waiting room and back. 6-8 hours later, we were called into a room off the ward that Mam was staying on. It didn't look good. The prof came in, still in his full scrubs from the operating theatre. He told us there was nothing more he could do. She was loosing so much blood they couldn't risk moving her from the theatre. They were going to try out a new drug, that helped with clotting blood but he advised us to prepare ourselves for the worst.
We rang the extended family. Within hours they were all en route to the hospital. They had managed to get Mam from theatre to ICU.
That night , the nurses dropped out blankets to the waiting room, in case of any of us wanted to sleep. We couldn't , but the some of the family rested. It was eeriely quiet, we were the only ones in the waiting room. The only other noise was the nurses whenever they left ICU to go to the blood place. They were working on Mam. It was weird. That morning around 6.30, one of the little nurses from Mam's ward dropped over to the waiting room to see if there was any news. She said she was praying for Mam last night. They all got on so well with her.
Around 7, one of the ICU nurses came out to talk to us. Basically, things had improved and they'd manage to get her somewhat stable. We went home for a couple of hours, slept for a bit,showered and came back up. Amazingly she got through this as well. Although she was't the same. She was beginning to think she wasn't going to get out. It was so hard to watch, because it was always her spirit that kept her going. Her will to live whilst her body was giving up. If her spirit gave up, there was no coming back.
One evening when I dropped in to see her, she told me she thought she was never getting out. Its hard to respond to that. Things improved though. The prof allowed her to drink fluids. It was a huge step for her and for us. She was allowed swallow. I remember the evening really well. I couldn't face the hospital. It was only the second time I missed visiting her. I was out with the best mate C. And Mammy2 rang me to tell me. I was nearly crying. We were convinced this was a huge step forward. The following evening we brought her 7-up. She was chuffed. She drank loads of it though and her body was not used to liquids so she got a wee bit sick. But she said it was worth it. Her mood was still up and down.
Mam :Final Week
It was a Tuesday night. Myself and Mammy2 went to see her, she was completly out of it. It looked like she was drugged. Granted she was on some medication for the shingles, but she was just not there. We were talking to her and she was barely responding. I got upset, she wasn't Mam. I asked to see one of the nurses and he said that she was grand, just tired. I wasn't so sure but these people had taken good care of her so I trusted them. That night, at around 2 the mobile phone rang. It only ever rang at that time if it was the hospital. I answered it and it was one of the nurses asking us to get to the hospital as quick as we could. K and the kid were into our room in a shot. We all got dressed as quickly as possibly. The phone rang again, the nurse was checking were we on our way. I knew it was bad. Two phone calls in quick succession didn't mean anything good. We got to the hospital and were met in the corridor by one of the nurses who brought us past Mam's room. There were a load of nurses and doctors around the bed and there was a screen around her. We were brought into another waiting room and the nurse was all chat to us, saying that Mam had taken a turn and that they were going to move her back down to ICU to make her more comfortable. They offered us tea or coffee.
The next few days were a blur. She never really came out of the coma. She opened her eyes a few times but from the look on her face, she didn't expect to be still in the hospital. She kept pulling at the ventilator and gesturing to us. It was heartbreaking to see. I couldn't stop crying. Every time I went in to see her. And I had to get it together else she'd be upset seeing us upset. On Friday evening, we met with one of the nurses and the prof. They started talking about palative treatment. The sun was shining. The weather was fabulous. Myself and the sister K walked home, deciding who we had to ring and tell.
Mam :Saturday May 15th 2004
We arrived up early. The extended family starting arriving. Aunts and uncles. Mam's best friend travelled up. People starting talking about funerals etc. We asked them to shut up. Mam was not gone yet. Could they at least show a bit of respect. People took turns going into to visit it.
At this stage, Mam had been moved into her own room. There was a large window and the sun shone in on her. The nurse was very patient with all the people who took it in turns to see her. She answered all their questions and showed Mam such respect. When we weren't in the room, we could look in the window of the door. The nurse would adjust everything, brush Mam's hair, put lip balm on her as her lips dried out and fix the blinds so the sun wasn't too warm on her.
The waiting atmosphere and sniping got too much for us. We moved into ICU and sat outside Mam's room. The 4 of us. The nurse explained that the blood pressue was dropping bit by bit and that technically she could go at any time. I knew Mam. She would wait until everyone had seen her.
I couldn't go into the room most of the time. The sister K went in a few times and I stood at the bottom of the bed. The drugs had swelled Mam up a lot. She just didn't look like Mam. The kid wanted to go in but was scared. I found out that if you stood on the other side of the bed, Mam looked nearly okay. So we stood on that side and the kid held her hand for a few minutes. The machines were annoying and the ventilator. The nurse eventually put on a radio on low volume. The country station. A couple of the songs I remember from that day. The Eagles Taking it easy. Ironic.
The nurse finished her shift and had a few words with us before she left. The nurse that took over was a black man. We couldn't believe it, Mam would have been chuffed. She always had a thing for them. We commented on all the machines doing the breathing at one stage and how we wished it was all over. For mam, more so then anything else. All this in and out, looking at her, she had no dignity left. As it turns out, once I signed a piece of paper to give the doctors the okay, they could turn off the machines and stop all the drugs being pumped into her body. She was going herself but knowing Mam's spirit she'd make it last for ages. I signed the last piece of paper on Mam's behalf. The lovely nurse explained that once they started the process, it would be quite quick. Within 5-10 minutes she would be gone.
I went out to the waiting room, told the family what were we were doing. They all had a few more minutes and then the priest arrived. He was another black man. Mam would have been in her
element. Even if he was a man of God. We all waited in the room. The kid started crying. I made a few jokes to her about forgetting to get the receipe for mash off Mam , anything to make her feel at ease. The preist started praying. Then a beeping noise came from the machine nearest us. The nurse quietly annouced that Mam was gone. I left and told the others to as well. I'd heard the way a body reacts once its passed on.
We gathered together outside. There were hugs, tears. Disbelief that this is how it ended. The nurse came out and chatted with us. We thanked him for taking care of mam. He responded by saying he was grateful to have met her once before and what a lady she was.
I spoke to the rest of the family and said we would be in touch regarding arrangements but that two things were definite. The coffin was going to be closed, ie no wake.
And Mam wanted to be cremated. End of story.
Her funeral was huge. She would have been impressed. She always rated funerals on attendence. She was also the talk of the place because she was to be cremated. I'm sure she was up there having the last laugh.
It was a tough year. I guess though in one respect we were lucky. We never knew she wasn't going to make it. Not like those people who's loved ones have a terminel illness. Death of a loved one affects everyone differently. I can only speak for myself when I say the loss is overwhelming and impossible to put in words. It feels like you've got the permanent scar, this sore, and sometimes the pain goes away and then sometimes its there constantly like an itch that you have to scratch.
I'm not good with words.
The world lost Mam but heaven gained her. She was too good for this world. She was my world.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
The morning shift
Most mornings I will be the one making the lunch and yelling at her to get breakfast but sometimes Mammy2 has been known to get up with her. Its usually if I am sick or on a day off. The reason being, I start work around 8.30 and Mammy2 strolls into work for 10 if she's up on time.
This morning, whilst making her lunch, jam and cheese sandwiches, not together folks, how odd do you think our family are, she yells out asking me to make her breakfast. I respond to the yell some lovely phrase along the lines of Bite Me. I continue to put blackcurrant jam on the bread whilst pulling the blackcurrants out. Yes, she likes blackcurrant jam with no blackcurrants. You should see me try and make cheese sandwiches without the cheese. I finish the lunch making process and then start on the cling form procedure. I say procedure because it is just that. Its like a military operation. It is akin to the other 2 dangerous household procedures.
- Opening the clothes horse
- Unfolding the ironing board
I have often nearly lost limbs doing either of the above. Its also more difficult when you are trying to ensure you wake no-one in the place because you are up at an ungodly hour doing laundry. Usually in that instance I end up in the middle of the clothes horse or under the ironing board where my pleas for help are ignored by the goldfish. They're usually disgruntled because I have forgotten to feed them.
Clingfilm, it looks so easy when someone else does it. The serated edge acts exactly like its supposed to. By the time I am finished wrapping her lunch up in clingform, her lunch consists of
- jam sandwiches
- one toaster
- 14 fridgemagnets
- 3 knives
- one pot of jam
- a bin
- one washing machine.
And I am covered in cuts from the serated edge.
And so on and so forth. You know its amazing. I can write code for most of things but wrapping up sandwiches brings me out in cold sweat. She arrives out from the bedroom looking immaculate as always and repeats her request for me to get her breakfast. I fight my way out of the kitchen from the clingy film and tell her I make lunch and thats its. No breakfast. She utters the words
"Mammy2 always makes me breakfast"
"Well , I'm not Mammy bloody 2 am I" I'm not the most articulate first thing in the morning.
She mumbles to herself and manages to make herself breakfast. Mammy2 also waits at the bus stop with her and waves her off. I walk her as far as I am going and then wave her off. I think she
prefers Mammy2 to do the morning shift. She'll be waiting.
The summer exams are just around the corner. This morning she told me that in 3 weeks she'll be in sixth year. The teachers are already preparing them for the leaving cert. Next year is going to be great fun. She won a competition for something or other. She had to design a poster for disablity access and her poster was selected out of everyone elses. She won a playstation2 which she is going to flog I think. We bought her a playstation2 a few months ago. Damn it, if only we'd waited.
This morning, whilst making her lunch, jam and cheese sandwiches, not together folks, how odd do you think our family are, she yells out asking me to make her breakfast. I respond to the yell some lovely phrase along the lines of Bite Me. I continue to put blackcurrant jam on the bread whilst pulling the blackcurrants out. Yes, she likes blackcurrant jam with no blackcurrants. You should see me try and make cheese sandwiches without the cheese. I finish the lunch making process and then start on the cling form procedure. I say procedure because it is just that. Its like a military operation. It is akin to the other 2 dangerous household procedures.
- Opening the clothes horse
- Unfolding the ironing board
I have often nearly lost limbs doing either of the above. Its also more difficult when you are trying to ensure you wake no-one in the place because you are up at an ungodly hour doing laundry. Usually in that instance I end up in the middle of the clothes horse or under the ironing board where my pleas for help are ignored by the goldfish. They're usually disgruntled because I have forgotten to feed them.
Clingfilm, it looks so easy when someone else does it. The serated edge acts exactly like its supposed to. By the time I am finished wrapping her lunch up in clingform, her lunch consists of
- jam sandwiches
- one toaster
- 14 fridgemagnets
- 3 knives
- one pot of jam
- a bin
- one washing machine.
And I am covered in cuts from the serated edge.
And so on and so forth. You know its amazing. I can write code for most of things but wrapping up sandwiches brings me out in cold sweat. She arrives out from the bedroom looking immaculate as always and repeats her request for me to get her breakfast. I fight my way out of the kitchen from the clingy film and tell her I make lunch and thats its. No breakfast. She utters the words
"Mammy2 always makes me breakfast"
"Well , I'm not Mammy bloody 2 am I" I'm not the most articulate first thing in the morning.
She mumbles to herself and manages to make herself breakfast. Mammy2 also waits at the bus stop with her and waves her off. I walk her as far as I am going and then wave her off. I think she
prefers Mammy2 to do the morning shift. She'll be waiting.
The summer exams are just around the corner. This morning she told me that in 3 weeks she'll be in sixth year. The teachers are already preparing them for the leaving cert. Next year is going to be great fun. She won a competition for something or other. She had to design a poster for disablity access and her poster was selected out of everyone elses. She won a playstation2 which she is going to flog I think. We bought her a playstation2 a few months ago. Damn it, if only we'd waited.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Green tea and acupuncture
These are 2 things I feel are missing in my life. Actually these are the only things I haven't tried in relation to getting pregnant. Those fab "How to get knocked up in 5 easy steps" recommend them. As well as sperm obviously. So perhaps before our next attempt, I should drink a lot of green tea. Living in an apartment with another lesbian and a bisexual, one would assume we'd be having green tea marathons. But alas its not so. Yesterday I was pretty peeved when the curse arrived. I think because I was late, I guess I had harboured notions. That was all they were , notions. Short of going out and shagging a bloke for the entire 4 days of ovulation, I'm beginning to despair at the
situation. Nonetheless, its back to the drawing board. Obviously, riverdancing swimmers don't do it for these ladies. Perhaps something more classic. Who knows. Maybe Mammy2 might stick needles in me. Whilst drinking green tea and listening to soothing ocean sounds. Knowing my luck, I'll give birth to a leprechaun.
Apart from that small hiccup, we had a great weekend. The kid behaved herself whilst hanging with Jack. They had a great time. And no police were involved. Teenagers these days, so well behaved.
She got a B in her eassy on Yeats. I made the mistake of asking her what her essay was on. She glared at me. On Sunday when we returned from our hotel, we had sister's day as opposed to night. We watched Wolf Creek and vowed never to visit Australia. I had too much popcorn and felt like
I was going to explode. In the midst of being scared shitless, she got a phone call from the man. Who was supposed to be on the bus to Dublin. He forgot he was working. He was on the recieiving end of a number of "Fine"s which had me trembling on the couch and they weren't even directed at me. They compromised after she threatened him with bodily harm. He came up after work and they went to a late showing of Scary Movie 4 in Cineworld.
When Mammy2 got up from her afternoon snooze, we watched the 2 X-men movies. Great films. Sunday was spent on the couch. I love long weekends.
Yesterday, once I'd gotten over my sulk at not having to shop in the maternity section of Marks and Sparks, we headed up town to meet a friend who was home from London. We had a grand old chat over veggie samosas and potato wedges.
The kid's pic was in the Lifestyle magazine in the Sunday Independent. She thinks she looks horrible, I think its a lovely pic. The article was very well put together. Her part was about 3/4 paragraphs and she came across quite well. There were about 4-5 people interviewed for the article altogether.
situation. Nonetheless, its back to the drawing board. Obviously, riverdancing swimmers don't do it for these ladies. Perhaps something more classic. Who knows. Maybe Mammy2 might stick needles in me. Whilst drinking green tea and listening to soothing ocean sounds. Knowing my luck, I'll give birth to a leprechaun.
Apart from that small hiccup, we had a great weekend. The kid behaved herself whilst hanging with Jack. They had a great time. And no police were involved. Teenagers these days, so well behaved.
She got a B in her eassy on Yeats. I made the mistake of asking her what her essay was on. She glared at me. On Sunday when we returned from our hotel, we had sister's day as opposed to night. We watched Wolf Creek and vowed never to visit Australia. I had too much popcorn and felt like
I was going to explode. In the midst of being scared shitless, she got a phone call from the man. Who was supposed to be on the bus to Dublin. He forgot he was working. He was on the recieiving end of a number of "Fine"s which had me trembling on the couch and they weren't even directed at me. They compromised after she threatened him with bodily harm. He came up after work and they went to a late showing of Scary Movie 4 in Cineworld.
When Mammy2 got up from her afternoon snooze, we watched the 2 X-men movies. Great films. Sunday was spent on the couch. I love long weekends.
Yesterday, once I'd gotten over my sulk at not having to shop in the maternity section of Marks and Sparks, we headed up town to meet a friend who was home from London. We had a grand old chat over veggie samosas and potato wedges.
The kid's pic was in the Lifestyle magazine in the Sunday Independent. She thinks she looks horrible, I think its a lovely pic. The article was very well put together. Her part was about 3/4 paragraphs and she came across quite well. There were about 4-5 people interviewed for the article altogether.
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