blushbellyandbabies

my life in three b's

Archive for the tag “lifestyle”

Line lover

It took me almost 35 years to find a hobby I enjoy. I’ve started many things and promptly lost interest. That’s my usual progression but The Line Dancing has stuck. Yes you heard me right Line Dancing and before you break into the chorus of Achy Breaky Heart and ask me if I have cow boy boots ( I don’t YET) it’s not what you think it is.

There is of course a massive country influence because that’s where it started but it has progressed to include modern routines to chart songs as well. It’s really good fun and great exercise too. So the club were heading off to England to a social weekend of dancing and I decided to join them. I haven’t left the country in 8 years and that fact alone shocked me. What shocked me even more is the amount of preparation I had to do to get away for two nights.

It started months in advance with the weekly saving for my fare and spending money. Gone are the days of where I’d book it all on the credit card and worry about it when I came home. When you have little ones depending on you for like food and stuff you have to be a bit more responsible.

The beauty regime pre travel was nuts. I got the hair done, I got fake lashes, shellac and a spray tan… perks of my course. I exfoliated and moisturised I buffed and polished and it took a couple of weeks for me to head off looking pretty much the same as I always do.

me and dee

Then because the children were being minded by family on the Friday and going to their Dads on the Saturday I wanted to have the house nice ( passable ) for my sister to sleep and I needed to think ahead to the Saturday morning and have everything ready for her to send them off. I was a bit stressed that I’d forget something because well I tend to forget things.

Then the packing for the airport. Trying to compress my make up was a week long job in itself. We were only bringing carry on and then all your liquids had to fit into this one little tiny bag. I mourned for the eye cream that I couldn’t squeeze in. I apologised to the toner that had to be left behind and vowed to bring it on the next trip. I was distressed.

I managed to pack for me and for them and to leave the house organised by my standards ( low low standards ) I left instructions and directions and before I even stood foot on a plane I was exhausted.

group

This is where the divide between men and women becomes apparent to me. Take away the fact that I’m on my own. Let’s just imagine as I often do that I have a loving, extremely attractive,well built, tattooed husband who likes to bring me out dancing and who plays guitar and…… Hang on I got a bit distracted there….. What was I saying? Oh yeah… Let’s cut it right down. When men go away they only have to worry about themselves. When women go they have to think of EVERYTHING.

Exhausted as I sat on the plane I got a little anxious. It was bizarre it’s not like I’ve never been away from the children but it was almost as if leaving the country was a bit more serious. I actually cried after take off and was mortified. My emotions were haywire. I felt such guilt because I was going away and not bringing them. Then I made the huge mistake of telling The Sun that I was going on a plane. They’ve never been on a plane. Silly silly silly Mammy.

Once I had let my extremely practical and honest friends talk sense into me I relaxed and thoroughly enjoyed my weekend away. I learned a few things. I learned that I’m shit at line dancing but am going to try harder because I really do love it. I learned that a tan makes everything better… fake tan of course. I learned that it’s ok to have a life apart from your children. In fact it’s essential. I came back in fantastic form and grateful for my children and grateful for the support I had  that allowed be to go.

The next trip is to Latvia in August…… I started prepping yesterday. Honest!!!!

 

from behind

Phoney

I have an aul gra for mass generalisations but I think it’s fair to say that we would all be fairly lost without our phones. The phone is no longer a privilege of the wealthy but really an everyday necessity. From 8 to 80 everyone has one. Some people even have two. The way we communicate with one another has changed so much. Could you even imagine writing a letter to someone and having to wait weeks maybe even months for a reply? Everything these days is about the instant fix we really don’t like to have to wait for anything and our phones afford us that luxury.

You can chat or text anyone anywhere in the world. Now grant is most of us are texting our other halves to stick the kettle on or to bring some toilet roll upstairs but the potential is there to text someone in Brazil, if you knew anyone in Brazil. Read more…

The Cross we Bear

kyle-oakwood

I recently attended mass. I can’t say that I am a regular attendee but this was a mark of respect for the anniversaries of a number of family members. The children were with me this particular weekend so it was time to don the best clothes and put our best foot forward and I was looking forward to showing off my beautiful little family. This enthusiasm was soon dampened when I found out the anniversary mass was at 9;30 in the morning. Three plus myself all to be suited and booted and up and out for that hour on a Sunday. We were not off to a good start!

My darling sister said she would help by taking one of my wee cherubs over on a sleep over so that I only had two to suit and boot.  See who ever said that prayers aren’t answered?

Off we headed to mass and when we parked up on the college road the eldest refused to get out of the car. Did I mention that it was raining? Read more…

Other Mothers

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Hellloooo Yes i’m talking to you. You dear other mother that is listening to me right now. I would like to address this strange dynamic that you and I, as mothers, have with one another. We both have children. Whether you gave birth or someone else gave birth for you or you took on a child, we are both now blessed in our role as mother. This role might involve one or more children but the title remains the same. You might have a partner or a husband or mulitple sexual partners that you call on from time to time but again we are both mothers. You may have a job or a number of jobs or you may be a stay at home mother but guess what yes at the risk of being predictable we are both mothers. So now that we have established that we are part of the one team. Why is it we compete and compare?

When I had my first son I had a feeding schedule that I adhered to at all costs. I was rigid to a fault. If I broke from my routine the universe would surely implode. I was totally convinced. I did it by the book and was doing everything ‘right’. Then guess what I discovered?  My besty who I genuinely consider to be an excellent mother had her own feeding schedule and it was so different to mine. How could this be? Read more…

who knows?

Three years ago today I left my fiancé, the father of my two boys and my baby bump which was going to turn out to be a little queen to complete our little family.

5 1/2 months pregnant I left his house that we shared with what I could fit in the back of my aunts jeep and we drove to Kilkenny and I never returned.

It was the hardest decision in my life to date. A decision that not only effected my life but his and the lives of our children.

People ask me time and time again why? Why did ye spilt? Well it’s not something you can wrap up in one nice neat sentence to satisfy people’s curiosity. Sometimes even when we put both our heads together we can’t agree on a reason. Was it him? Was it me? Who knows?

When I sit and think now the reasons actually don’t matter because that is the past. Knowing why doesn’t ease the pain. The pain we have both gone through. The pain of our children or the pain yet to come as we try to agree on how to parent our children together.

I will never know if the decision I made was for the best. We can’t look to the future at a junction and see which road is better. You pick your road blindly and hope for the best.

I know the weight of the decision lies heavy on my heart. I mourn for the family I thought I would have. I’m sad for my children that their parents live apart and I can only pray that in time they will understand.

Blended family’s and parents living apart are more and more common so it’s not as though we are unique in our situation. I’m more content as a person and I always believe happy mammy makes happy children.

We have come so far in three years from sharing a box room with my daughter to having a home of our own. I’m embarking on a career I know I will love. Writing my blog and contributing to community radio. I’ve found friends I love and I have two gorgeous handsome men in big school and do you know what we are doing alright.

When times get tough or I feel overwhelmed I sometimes look back and think. You got through that….. You’ll get through this. My advice whatever you do ……… Just keep swimming.

Teenage Delusions

So motherhood happened. Not once but three times. Yet despite my experience I really don’t feel like a mother nor do I feel like a grown up. It’s like a poster I saw on Facebook. I think they call them memes or something even though I have no idea what that means or how to pronounce it. When a crisis occurs and you look for someone more adulty than you. Woah there Nelly. I’m the adult. Well I must have missed that memo.

adult.

My son told me I was just a kid cause I still had a Mammy and Daddy.  And yes he used the word kid. Because, yes he watches too much American television. He even asked me for candy one day. I was like I’ll candy stripe your arse for you and attempted to get him to watch Fraggle Rock on tg4. That’ll snap any Yankee notions out of ya boyo.  By his estimation I’m not an adult and I’m beginning to think he’s wise beyond his years. Read more…

And they call it Puppy….. insanity!

 

 

 

cara rescue dogs logo

You have your hands full

These words are directed to me at least once a day. I get it. Three children is a lot. The fact that I’m no longer with their Dad probably makes it seem like more. I don’t do as much as I should from a motherly perspective but between the jigs and the reels life is fairly busy. When they go to their father’s I really do enjoy the peace. The doing nothing way of life suits me down to a tee ( or is it tea ??). In the midst of one of these marathon nothing sessions in which I relish  a post that often pops up in my newsfeed reared it’s head again.

The post was a heart felt plea from Cara Rescue Dogs for foster homes for puppies in their care. Now I’m not overly mad about animals and I’m not overly mad about the number 1 and number 2 that comes from said animals. I’m not overly mad on the smell of dog hair, dog breathe or dog farts. That being said my fingers started moving and I was texting and I was having some sort of a turn because the next thing I knew I was going to be considered as a foster parent for two very small puppies.

How the hell did that happen!!!

Sunday afternoon at 5pm after a home check was completed I became the rather petrified carer of two teeny balls of fluff. One brown and white the other black and white. Cara provides everything you need to take care of the pups for how ever long they are with you. All you have to do is love them. Well feeding and watering them wouldn’t go a miss either but you know what I mean.

The best part is the children had no clue and when they arrived home at 6pm tired and hungry after a busy weekend I was gonna reveal two puppies. Sure what could go wrong?

Two minutes after my grand reveal all hell broke loose someon wet themselves there was whimpering and begging  and that was just the children ( that joke never gets old). The two boys didn’t end up in bed until ten. Yes, Monday morning was torture.

Once everyone calmed and settled in the lovely part of the experience began. I have never heard the children laugh so much. The TV has hardly been on in days and the house has never been as clean. I’m really enjoying having the dogs as my guests.

Our little  fur babies are called Flake and Krispy kindly named by Karla at Cara. My children keep calling her Caramel so Aunty Caramel gave us our dogs to mind. I have explained to them that the dogs won’t be staying and I am fully aware that they will be upset but I’m hoping they will see the good that we are doing. Let’s face it they get upset when I give them the wrong the wrong coloured bowl for breakfast so I’m prepared for the hysteria.

I suppose the purpose of fostering for me is to see if I’m willing to put the work in that is needed to care for a dog. I don’t want to be the type that takes on an animal and realise that it doesn’t fit in with my lifestyle or my children especially. That’s one of the reasons why Cara are kept so busy. People think it’s all cuddles and sleeping. It’s far from it. I can tell you one thing though it’s very rewarding. I’m teaching my children about giving back in this world. Doing what you can when you can. How to care for something other than yourself. Also how important it is to respect other living things. I’m hoping this will be something that I can do regularly.

Cara Rescue Dogs Facebook page is <<<<< there if you click on the link. You’ll find everything you need to know all the contact details. If you feel like taking on a dog is not for you there are loads of ways to donate. You’ll feel great and you’ll make some dog’s day. I would like to just say that it’s a completely vouluntary orgainsation run by people with full time jobs and familys and lives of their own so if you have more than you need build a bigger table… not a higher fence.

Be well

Ellen

 

 

 

Operation ‘Have I lost my mind?’

Well the cat is out of the bag. You now all know that I have applied for Operation Transformation. For those of you who don’t know Operation Transformation is a show that helps people loose weight and get healthy. Simple eh? Well if it was simple I wouldn’t be looking for help from a television show would I?

So the process began with a very lengthy application form. Read more…

My Sock Story

I went hunting today. Before anybody throws a tin of paint over me while I cue for the school to open, no, not that kind of hunt. I was on the prowl for socks. Those elusive creatures.  Originating in pairs but somehow they  always seem to find themselves alone.There are a number of theories, urban myths, if you like as to where all the odds socks go. Some say that the missing socks come back as extra tubberware lids. The washing machine eats them. Alien abduction. You know all really logical explanations.

I’m a compassionate person, empathetic even so I feel for the socks in my hotpress that no longer have their partner in life. August 14th I moved into my house and I know on that day that I brought only pairs of socks. Now in November I have many singular socks.  So today I went in search of every sock in my house in an attempt to restore order. It did not go well.

I had a system in place for my boys. I used to buy plain block colours for my Sun and anything with a pattern for my Moon. Then I had a thought what if my sock choices for my boys is influencing who they are going to be when they grow up. My pattern choice or lack thereof would be the foundations of my boys personalities. Sun growing up to be straight laced and responsible and Moon turning out to be wild an carefree. Yes I deduced all that from their socks. So I changed my strategy they now share socks. So it’s now only my bad genes that will feck them up and not my sock choices for them.

I emptied all the washing baskets. Looked behind beds and emptied bags that overnight clothes might have been placed in. I washed all the socks and I paired them all up. It was an incredible satisfying exercise which fills me with utter despair that these are now the things that I derive pleasure from. It’s not easy match up socks but I gave it my all. I’d like to thank those who supported me. You know who you are.

Some of the socks had seen better days so I put them out of their misery and replaced them with brand new ones. I picked up what I thought were five pairs of the same socks. Turns out they are five pairs of socks all with slight variations. Just enough to make me want to pluck out my eyelashes one by one rather than match them up. Will I ever learn? So I guess my sock story will continue.

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The Belly Part

I called this blog Blush because I love make up, Babies because I love my children and Belly because I hate my weight. They say you should write about what you know and I certainly know a thing or two about weight. I would like to think that my posts are generally amusing but writing about my weight I find jokes hard to come by. I’m such a cliche, a big girl with a big personality to match. It’s that bubbly disposition that hides, for the most part, how I really feel about my body.

I hate my body

That’s quite a tough sentence to write and even a bit extreme you might say but it’s true. Read more…

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