always something

mixed bag

This about sums it up.

Here's a real first world problem: I'm getting a bit envious of people who have bigger houses. It seems I have become petty bourgeois, but we are quite cramped in our house. 

Me, shimmying through the narrow space between the playpen (which is not a playpen more of a cat enclosure) and the bench: No wonder Jay loves going to my mother's house - she has corridors. We have no corridors.
The JB: No, our house is a corridor. 

We're lucky we have so many parks around, in which to crawl, and a lovely warm summer, so far. Jay is showing not much interest in walking but is taking crawling to a Olympian level, with all sorts of stylised moves, including a rather special reverse moon-crawl with leg kicks that inspired the JB to ask me if Jay could be related to Michael Jackson. 

Yesterday, looking for something else, I came across the email our agency sent us on this auspicious day with the photos of the little Jay looking like a very beautiful frog, and his birth mother. I tell her every time I sign off our letters we think of her every day; it's absolutely true, we do; I hope every day she is okay. Now, Jay's so strong and wily, and wilful and a bit trantrum-my. He's giving up his morning nap, but MARVELMARVELMARVELLOUSMARVEL, his first molars are all in place and he is sleeping quite a bit better, as much as 3 or even 4 hours at a time, even though his eye teeth are now making an appearance, poor kid. Going away this summer doesn't seem like an option at the moment; the idea of being all together in a hotel room being woken every three hours is.. unappealing. At home, it's fine, we divide the night and Jay's next door so the other parent can sleep. I suppose all the Earning My Biscuits at night have paid off, because he's very attached to me, and wants me to carry him a lot. He likes to see what I'm doing, I think, it's both flattering and inconvenient. He does bite, mind you, GAH, right on the shoulder just when you think he's leaning in to give you a hug. It must feel nice for his teeth, the little tike.

My father is not doing very well, on the other hand. I feeling my status as the meat in the sandwich generation. He seemed to recover quite well from a fall he had in the bathroom a few weeks ago but he's dreamy and disconnected from reality, only at intervals himself. He seems content - poor Da, though. In a rare moment, we the original four Pearls were all together in their sitting room last Sunday, while the JB and Jay rambled outside in their wild flower meadow.  It's hard not to wonder how many more such times we'll have.

Well. I have no idea how to wrap it up after that sombre note and yet, I have to. I know, I'll just abruptly stop writing!
I hope you're all well. Have a great weekend.




This is why Americans feel the need for sprawling houses. We're tired of tripping over things and each other. Perhaps that explains why Elbow Room is my favorite Schoolhouse Rock selection (I was trying to find a YouTube link, but the network wouldn't let me access it right now. And you probably wouldn't be able to watch it anyway, with your different video rules and formats and stuff.)

Sorry to hear about your father - it's tough to watch parents age and even worse to watch them decline. My grandfather was hobbled at 92 (it is suspected that he tripped over the cat) by a broken hip - he was too old for hip replacement (plus it was 1970-something, so options were not as available anyway) and it seems that once you can't be active, you lose a lot of your cognitive abilities. So he was confined to his bedroom, with my aunt as caretaker - he soon stopped recognizing the grandchildren. But when he would be in his hydraulic lift that got him in and out of bed, he would sing "Come, Josephine, In My Flying Machine" so he wasn't terribly unhappy.

Jay will be walking soon enough - and then running. Enjoy the crawl - he's easier to keep track of!

Valery Valentina

Isn't there parts of a farm or a bigger holiday house that you could go to for summer? I do remember insisting on a summer house type thing when Suzy was that little. With the crawling walking thing. She did sleep a bit better though, but not good enough to go camping the first two summers. At two and three we did go camping in a big huge tent for the five of us. DP seems to think we can do it again this year.

So many socks. So many things to keep track of.
Suddenly thinking back to that one little shoe that was left behind in a Dublin bus. And recovered.
Still thinking we should visit again. Or you could visit us!
Thinking of you.
All the best for your Father,
thank you for taking the time to blog.From Amsterdam with Love


Thanks VV - there is that house in Kerry, that is true, but it needs very much work and is the very opposite of toddler friendly. Pity! One day, maybe. The idea of visiting one day is nice, when Jay is a bit bigger. I'd love to see the tulips! But for the moment, with my Dad unwell, (he is in hospital), it's not going to happen. xxx


Oh, what adorable sockies, and an excellent metaphor. I'm really sorry about your dad. I often think about what a gradient entity mental status is. You know, we kinda think people are either "with it" or "out of it", when in reality there's quite a range and it can be hard to tell with a particular person. I hope you get many more happy moments with him.

Meanwhile, I feel guilty about the giant size of my house. Obviously there is a happy medium, and I hope someday you guys manage to scale up a little. Or not. Watch lots of series about tiny houses and that might help you feel virtuous instead of cramped. An internet friend of mine has two kids and self and spouse in a one bedroom, and she seems very happy. But maybe there's a corridor.

Bunter just came out of a biting phase, and I really can't blame her. I like to chew on her fat little arm, can hardly fault her for wanting to bite.

Oh, that auspicious day. Wow. What a thing to transform a life like that. Many lives, I guess.

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