Grin and Tonic

The Truth Hurts

Posted on July 5, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

One of the loveliest – and funniest – things about children is their honesty….. although it can be a little brutalising! Recent raw rantings from my two include:

To my mum, who is rather sensitive about her thinning hair, Daisy declared:
“Nanna? I can see your head through your hair!”

She was then accosted by Daisy’s best friend Mia: “You are a very old lady. But I like you!”

Being pregnant, it was only a matter of time before Poppy announced “You are fat!” This is a slight improvement on last summer when I was sunning myself in the garden when Daisy started pointing at me and counting, 1,2, 3, 4. I asked her what she was doing….
“Counting your rolls.”

It’s tough being a mum. I was recently sent off with my tail between my legs after being informed, “You are not pretty today.” (Apparently I made the mistake of wearing blue jeans – these are unacceptable in the world of pink dress wearing daughters.)

And today, in a pique of annoyance at not being allowed another bun, Daisy stamped her foot and said, “You are HORRIBLE! I’m going out to dance in the rain!”

And she did. So I did what any self-respecting fat, ugly, horrible mummy does – I joined her and danced in the rain too. That got a lovely “I love you mummy” so all was well with the world again.

Posted in children, honesty | 4 Comments

Reproduction Roullette

Posted on June 27, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Is it just me, or did it all used to be a lot easier? I’m sure in the folklore of familial heritage when someone wanted to have a baby, they simply closed their eyes, thought of their respective country and hey presto, nine months later they were up to their armpits in interfering mother-in-laws, sore nipples and buckets of rancid nappies.

Nowadays it seems so much more complicated. While me and my peers rode on the shoulders of our forbearing feminist barrier-breakers, we travelled the world, climbed the corporate ladder and took our rightful place on a bar stool. As we come down from those dizzying heights though, we find ourselves struggling not only to cope with pregnancy and parenting at the tail end of our body’s best breeding window, we find ourselves struggling to cope with becoming pregnant at all.

I’m one of the new feminist statistics – pregnant at 40, exhaustingly extolling the virtues of late parenthood as I bring up two toddlers with no surrounding extended family, while secretly wishing I was actually ten years younger (as opposed to just looking ten years younger!) And I play perfectly into the fearful facts of delayed reproduction – three miscarriages in six pregnancies, my grief and loss hidden behind the awful commonness of my experiences. For it is not just me. All around me my peers – from my closest buddies, to my wider network of friends and acquaintances, we feminists are still fighting for our place in society – but this time, our place as mothers.

Infertility. Miscarriage. Chromosomal issues. Unexplained problems. A few years ago it would all have been about cross-stitched gifts and congratualtions, now it seems more about crossed fingers and commiserations. And so as I navigate the current wave of friend’s frustrations and disappointments (while keeping quiet about my own little window of wonder), it was a super shock when I heard recently about a friend’s good news. I almost burst with delight that someone else would be finally sharing the joy I feel right now. Nature’s rainbow amid the cloudy skies. It shocked me how rare it has become.

And although I often think about what would have been if I had started my family earlier, thoughts pushed aside as I account for every year of travelling, career building, party pleasing as ones I would not have given up, will I be telling my girls to try for families earlier? Yes, I think I will. And not just because if they have inherited my dodgy X chromosome they too will be susceptable to a much greater risk of miscarriage, but because simply I would wish on them the rainbow, and not the clouds. And as I read in today’s paper that doctors have now devised a test that could tell young women the precise age at which they will no longer be able to have children, perhaps the next generation can ride on our shoulders as well as the shoulders of our predecessors, and from those dizzying heights finally make the choices they need to make to have fulfilled and happy lives.

Posted in delayed reproduction, infertility, miscarriage, pregnancy, pregnant at 40 | 6 Comments

Enter Stage

Posted on June 21, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

I’m approaching a funny stage – forget the 7 ages of (wo)man [although with my pregnancy hormones taking centre stage, I play all different stages in one day] – I’m in the midst of the three ages of childhood. Jury is still out as to whether this will be a thriller or a tragedy.

I am increasingly becoming an (albeit suntanned) beached whale as my baby cooks nicely in my tummy, and I cook beautifully in the sun-shine. I’m slowing down, being forced to watch a bit more from the side-lines rather than centre stage as the girls play and posture in summer silliness. They are funny little mites, and I settle down in my front row seat at the most amusing, amazing show on earth. And I need my rest, because it all kicks off in September. Usually I’m a mess at times like these (Daisy just finishing Monetessori for good) unable to let go. But this time I know September is going to be full of new beginnings.

Daisy starts school – a seismic shift in my parenting experience, mother to a schoolgirl.
Poppy starts Montessori – after three years of being home with me this is a huge step for us both.
And my new baby arrives – a unique show beginning all over again.

Three stages, each with its own challenges and triumphs, each mesmerising and unmissable. Three little people embarking on three huge steps of their lives – and I not only get to watch, I get to clap and cheer and hold their hands. Pass the popcorn and show me the emergency exits – I suspect come September I’ll be too stressed, sleep-deprived, hyper, emotional and exhausted to appreciate any of it!

Posted in good parenting, Montessori, school | 3 Comments

Notes on a scandal

Posted on June 13, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

It’s funny the things that trigger it off. You think you find a place for the grief, and then you open the Sunday paper and it bleeds out all over the pages.

I won’t go over old ground here. Suffice to say loosing three babies took its toll and took time to try and deal with. When the draw of diving into a depression of grief became too tantalising, I had to make a decision that I wasn’t going to let my losses become the over-riding force in my life. That has to be my gains; our girls, and now my third baby on its way.

But there are still moments. Moments still given over to my lost children; moments that belong to them; moments of longing and lost memories. But they are moments amid the mayhem of life and living, happy loud days where the sound of Daisy singing and Poppy laughing fills the silence. And my moments are easier because I know definitively that my babies were lost. I know absolutely they had died. And I know why. I know my chromosome disorder meant they were never going to live. I am lucky.

For the countless women reading the paper with me today who have also lost babies and do not have those assurances, I cannot imagine their pain. The ultrasound scandal that has jammed the Irish radio airwaves and blackened the newpapers has opened up raw wounds for so many vulnerable parents. As more and more women emerge to tell their tragic stories of being told their babies were dead, booked in for D&C’s, but somehow had the instinct and strength to fight for second opinions only to discover their babies were alive and well, more and more women who didn’t fight, who couldn’t insist, who believed the authority bestowed on medical staff – and will now never know if they lost more than their dreams must be feeling the earth has shifted on its axis.

I have felt my losses all over again this week, and my heart aches for those women forever haunted now by the thoughts of ‘what if’……

Posted in loss, miscarriage, ultrasound scandal | 4 Comments

Post-holiday blues

Posted on June 9, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Ah the joys of coming home from two glorious weeks of sunshine and lazing about while hubby becomes my hero and does all the cooking, to pouring rain, unfathomable amounts of washing and ironing, and empty fridge and a week of cooking to get organised. Some things never change. Some things do though. This is what I used to say on holiday before I had children:
– Pass the Marlborough Lights love
– Another cocktail? Sure, make it three.
– Do you sell Ambre Solaire oil?
– Let’s go to that cosy little restaurant and have a long romantic night
– Let’s go clubbing!!
– We can walk around these ancient Greek ruins and then have a bottle of Rose for lunch
– Oooh – Shops!! I’ll meet you in an hour.

Here’s what I said on a holiday with two young children and pregnant:
– Put your hats on girls.
– Have you put cream on the kids?
– Shall we just go to bed when they settle? It’s been a long day.
– Don’t run round the pool!
– KEEP YOUR SUN HATS ON!
– NO! You’ll turn into an ice-cream if you have any more.
– OK, no more ruins. Let’s find a playground.

Still, wouldn’t change a thing. OK, maybe the loads of washing.

Posted in Uncategorized | 1 Comment

The Time of my Life

Posted on May 18, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Life is hectic. One side of my brain – the one that is getting all the complaints from my sore back, my heavy feet, and my sleepy head – considers it hellishly hectic. I’m in a list frenzy of epic proportions. This week I’m planning my mum’s birthday tea, Poppy’s birthday party, my husbands birthday surprises on holiday, packing for said two week family holiday, trying to organise childcare so I go have a scan and take my mum out for lunch, baking for Poppy’s school birthday celebration, baking and cooking for birthday party etc etc etc. I have lists for my lists. Holiday lists. Party lists. Present lists. My lists are so colour co-ordinated they look like the aftermath of a fight in a wool shop.
The kids sceam, the cats meaow and as soon as I sit down, the baby kicks the hell out of me.
“Take it easy,” they tell pregnant women. Are they having a laugh?

But the other side of my brain is happy and relaxed. Whenever the frenetic fury of the other side stops squawking for a moment, my happy side realises that this is actually the time of my life. I have two glorious, gorgeous girls, one gorgeous, glorious guy, and one much loved, much wanted, long awaited baby on the way. My mum and dad, and brother’s fmaily are close, alive and well.

My life is hectic, and rushed, and chaotic, and challenging, and exhausting and exhilerating, because my life is full. For the last two years, grief and confusion has played a large part in our life and the loss of three babies will always be felt. But. My life is alive and filled with love and laughter. I may be exhausted most of the time, but I am also grateful. And I need to tell the other side of my brain to chill out a bit more. This is the time of my life, and I want to live it.

Posted in Uncategorized | 6 Comments

What am I doing with my life?

Posted on May 11, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Maybe it’s because I’ve recently turned 40. Maybe it’s because I’m facing the prospect of bringing another life into the world. Maybe it’s just the unfurling of my brain after a winter of hibernation. I’ve always been a liver and lover of life. But recently I’ve been wondering if perhaps I could have crammed more in.

There are mornings as I lay in the yet unseen bedroom, my eyes still shut, and I wonder what new things I will learn today. After a lifetime of learning, I seem to have gone on sabatical since my girls were born. And what makes my eyes spring open and stare, slightly perplexed, at the ceiling, is the vast dark abyss of the things I don’t know.

I read an article recently about a man. He’s the top dog at the British Museum. He has touched history (literally), he has studied life, he has experienced knowledge I could never attain. His whole life has been about discovery and learning. There are days I feel my whole life is about wiping bums and finding good deals on fresh fruit. Then I watched an interview with the award-laden Irish author John Banville. Litering his literary library, his knowledge in Greek and Roman mythology was so ingrained in his everyday thoughts, it didn’t even seem like something specific he knew. It was just knowledge that I did not know.

I don’t have a specialised subject. All those years of travel and working and reading – what did I actually learn? My geography is appalling, my third world development politics faded as my management skills took over – and lets face it – there’s not a lot of knowledge there. Yes, I’ve read lots of novels, but what have I learned? Surely someone as widely educated and travelled and well-lived as me should know a few things? The essence of French cuisine? The planetary portfolio? The names of common plants and flowers? The bird species of Ireland? How to download the footage from my video camera to my computer?

So I have to start cramming. I have to put down my novels and pick up my text books. I have to get off the couch and go back to night school. Maybe once the baby’s born. Ok, definitely once the baby is sleeping through the night. Maybe next summer. In the meantime I’ll just have to wing it. But then again, not always. Yesterday Daisy asked me why I loved her. Ah. That I know. That I can answer that. Easily.

Posted in knowledge | 2 Comments

Love Letter to Poppy

Posted on April 25, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

My Precious little Popstar,

You are turning three and although it is your birthday I’m buying for, you are actually the glittering present unwrapping before me every day. No matter how much I peek, or size you up, you always manage to jump out of the box and shout “Surprise!”

In the last few weeks my little baby has become a little girl, and as usual, like most things you do, it’s like being hit on the head with a sledgehammer. I’ve already written about your own personal style (not practising walking with me depsite all my efforts, and then standing up one day and walking nonchalently into the kitchen; refusing all attempts at toilet training until one day you simply announced you were off to do a wee wee on the toilet and promptly did, completely bypassing the potty stage.) You do things your way, and you seem rather amused that I haven’t figured it out yet. Last week you took one look at the plastic sheet on the car seat, and quietly removed it with a firm “I do wee wees and poo poos in the toilet now,” with a look that told me ‘Oh Please Mum, don’t you know me by now?’

It seems Mother Nature has a sense of humour. You are my mum’s revenge on me. As a child, my mum had an annoying habit of telling me she always worried about my brother, but she never worried about me. It used to annoy me at the time, but now I know what she meant. I was simply very sure of what I wanted, and had no doubts about my abilities to get it. It was just my personality type. And it is yours. But I will be worryng about you – I have no doubt whatsoever I’ll discover my 16 year daughter is actually partying on Ibiza while I think she’s at Irish school for the summer! But you are all your own self too. Totally self-contained, yet amazingly generous and kind. Since toilet training you now attend Daisy’s pre-school twice a week and off you trot as if you’d been going for years. No fear. You never have. We go to the soft play, and you head straight for the big kids’ section and whizz down the monstrous slides cackling with glee, while your older sister runs after you terrified for her life, but unable to leave you on your own. She’s very protective – she hasn’t realised yet there is no need! Despite your little-ness (only reaching 0.1 % on the centile chart) your strength of character is a giant. There may be 99.9% of children your age taller than you, but I suspect there are 99.9% of children your age who won’t ever get one over on you. You wear big boots on those little feet, and I have no doubt the years ahead will be full of adventures and excitement (on your part) and stress and sleepless nights (on ours). But I know one thing. Despite the fact you still insist on wearing tights in bed (just one of many of your little foibles) and love your mee mee soother more than life itself, my baby is growing up. Happy birthday sweet sweet girl, and as you unwrap your birthday present I look forward to unwrapping your present to me for years and years to come – the wonder of you.

Love mummy

Posted in birthday, character | 7 Comments

Why the Spare Room Saves our Marriage

Posted on April 12, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

It seems in most marital folklore, the spare room is the dark dungeon of doom, the place where stroppy spouses sulk, and where only anger and resentment sleep. But I offer an alternative view.

My hubby is an oncologist who gets up at 6.15 every morning and is out of the house by seven before the girls wake up. He leaves work early so he can see them before they go to bed and then works every evening catching up on patient’s notes and paperwork. He’s busy. He’s tired.

I’m on my sixth pregnancy in 5 years (my third baby) and have been pregnant two and a half years of those five. I don’t sleep well, not helped by Poppy who decides to visit me at least four nights out of seven – often wearing a tutu. I have no childcare, and as well as looking after them and the home, I try to write magazine articles, blogs and a novel. I’m busy. I’m tired.

So sometimes we need a night off. The spare room in our house is not the Room of Resentment – it is the Bedroom of Bliss. We’ve never ever used it as a retreat from each other, but we often use it as retreat from the children. It is the Reward Room, the place we offer up to each other as a treat to refresh ourselves and get a good night’s sleep. “Why don’t you sleep in the spare room tonight?” is one of the nicest things hubby can say to me!

The other day I mentioned sleeping in the spare room to my mum and she raised that ever-expressive eyebrow (I’ve mentioned before how much my mum can say without actually talking just by raising her eyebrow – I’ve tried but I just look like someone whose face lift went wrong). “That’s not good for a marriage you know,” she claimed. I knew better than to argue (merely rolled my eyes – standard response to raised eyebrow – we barely have to talk). But I did ponder it. And as such, I’ve decided to go public with my findings.
THE SPARE ROOM IS A MARRIAGE SAVER. I’ll tell you one thing that’s a marriage breaker – Exhaustion, along with its team mates Grumpy, Short-temper and Snappy. If they are not controlled on a regular basis, then the spare room would indeed be used for altogether different reasons. So I just wondered… is anyone else a closet Spare Room User? Does anyone else want to come out and admit that closing that spare room door is the best part of the week?

Posted in marriage, sleep deprivation, spare room | 11 Comments

Parenting Pressure

Posted on April 8, 2010 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

There are some wonderful words being bandied about these days to describe modern maternity methods – positive parenting; raise your praise, not your voice; reward not reprimand. All sounds very pretty. All sounds very fluffy. But we all know what it really means. A less pretty word. The golden rule to happy parenting is – bribery.

Now I’m not dishng it. I started Daisy on sticker charts at about 18 months and was amazed how her behaviour changed (to my way of thinking!). Now I have three star charts on the go. Daisy needs 20 stars for eating her meals properly and she gets a small treat from the toy shop. Poppy is working (slooooowly) towards 10 stars for sleeping through the night – all she wants is a Jelly Baby. I can live with that – bad teeth for good sleep – sure isn’t parenting all about compromise?? And of course at the moment, we have the potty training star chart – frankly she can have the entire toy shop if we get to the end of that one.

But there are other levels too. I threaten quite a lot (sorry, positively persuade). No TV if I get to three and you are still putting the cat in the washing machine. No Peppa Pig toys for a day if I count to three and you are still biting Daisy’s arm off. We can use the right words, or we can be honest. Bribery. Threats. Extortion. I’ve decided to change my blog name from Mummy Mania. I’m now Mummy Mafia. Now I’m off to make them an offer they can’ refuse.