A grave matter…

Posted on May 22, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Apologies for the radio silence – I went underground for a little while, burying myself away while I tried to come to terms with the loss of another baby.

Just days after seeing the heartbeat and recognising my child amid the black and white confusion of a scan , the little busy heart just stopped, leaving my own beating alone and lost.

From the moment I became pregnant with my first daughter, I have celebrated the wonder of my body, amazed at its ability to provide life-support, to be a host, a nurturing, building wondrous machine. But it never occurred to me that life has an opposite, that death is as real and present as life. And so it should be that my body that can hold life, should also hold death.

For a few weeks after our scan until I knew things had gone wrong, my body was a grave. My baby’s grave. And so it is. For two children I was a life-support and for two others I held their life but also their death within myself. I write this now, not because I want everyone to know, but because I cannot continue to write this blog as if nothing has happened. I have to acknowledge my baby, give it its history, before I carry on with my written amazement at my two beautiful girls.

For a while our hearts danced together, and like all the four hearts that have beat alongside mine, it changed my tune, and I now beat a rhythm that is better for its accompaniment, however short.

Posted in miscarriage, motherhood | 3 Comments

Leaving Home

Posted on April 16, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

6am, lying in bed unable to sleep, the clock accompanying my vigil, ticking time with my hours of thoughts. We leave this house tomorrow, and somebody else’s life begins here.

How many nights have I lain awake in this room? Fatigue, hangover, pregnancy discomfort, babies crying, anxiety, restlessness? How many mornings have I looked out into the square, the trees that have kept watch all night, swaying hello to a new day. I know this house so intimately – you could say we rebuilt it – not a square inch did we not analyse, discuss, rebuild, paint, admire. Literally not one square inch.

I arrived in this house a single girl in love, full of dreams and ambition. Soon after, I walked through the front door in my wedding dress to embark on a new adventure. And back through that beleaguered old door I brought home my two babies, my greatest creations of all. This house is all they’ve known. It is their entire world. In this house I learned to be a new person – a wife and a mother…. and a writer.

I made this house, but it seems this house also made me.

These old thick walls have held the lives and loves of many families in its 160 year history, and so, while it has nurtured me through the most important years of my life, we are a mere chapter in its long life story. But maybe we have left our marks, little reminders that we were here. Our girls’ footprints in the cement, a beautiful garden my husband toiled to create, tearing down overgrown mayhem to plant seed by seed, tree by tree, a magnificent explosion of colour and organised chaos.

We will say goodbye, our whole marriage wrapped in these walls, and as we drive away tomorrow for the last time, the trees in the square, my protectors all these years, will sway their goodbye and we will all start over again. But I imagine a little of our spirit remains: a childish giggle of delight up the stairs; the heat of my upturned face to the sun as I sit in the garden seat; an occasional clatter from my endless hours in the kitchen as I came to grips with the monstrous monotony of cooking for kids; the tapping of my keyboard; the laughter from dinner parties round the table; whispers in the lounge from our talking, our laughing, our rowing, our crying, our loving and more of our laughing.

We loved this house and this house loved us. And on Saturday morning a new face will pull back the curtains at our bedroom window, and I hope she’ll smile as the trees sway hello to a new day.

Posted in house, motherhood | 2 Comments

Holding onto Happiness

Posted on March 18, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

The two’s maybe terrible, but the three’s are thrilling. I have a plan to become very rich – if only I can figure out the mechanics of bottling up what my daughter has – pure unadulterated, untarnished, untainted, unspoilt wonderful joy. She’s richer than anyone I know… from her first smile in the morning, through her endless high-pitched (not always perfect pitched it has to be said) singing, to warm and gorgeous hugging and “I love you mum”’s, to cuddles and imaginative playing that has me mesmerized, she is a joy to be around. It’s like I’ve struggled through the tunnel of early motherhood and she is the light. Even her emotional outbursts are funny, so sudden and overwhelming, as if life is all too much for her little body to contain sometimes.

Yesterday, on St Patrick’s Day, the sun shone and we had one of those perfect family days out with all the best ingredients – ice-cream, carousel rides and lots of fun. I took a moment to stand back and watch this little piece of joyous jumping energy that never seems to stop smiling, singing, or entertaining, and I wanted to stop time. She is perfect this very minute – old enough and independent enough to be full of character and busyiness, and young enough and needy enough to have absolutely no sense of pessimism or gloom. I am her world and her world is tickled pink.

I want her to hold onto her happiness for ever, and not let anything dampen those dazzled dazzling eyes that see everything through rose-tinted (princess) glasses. Although I’m a fairly upbeat person, it has to be said I can do grumpy old cow very well. I hate things that don’t work; have spectacular tantrums over my computer; I curse everyone from the designers of children’s toy packaging, to those inconsiderate people who park – a two seater sports car – in parent and child parking spaces; I moan about this and I wail about that. Admittedly I have a few more worries that should I watch Dora the Explorer or Upsa Daisy… but still… I need to start emulating her, before she starts emulating me.

As she sings constantly – despite the daffodils and new lambs declaring Spring has sprung – “Jingle Bells, Jingle bells, Jingle all the way…” I realize she has a point. So much better to jingle than to jangle. I’m holding onto her happiness too.

Posted in children, happiness | Leave a comment

Working is child’s play

Posted on March 11, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

We are moving house soon, and at last, AT LAST, I will have a room of my own to write. OK, so I’ll probably have to share it with my husband, but to all intents and purposes, I will have my own study, my own writing room, my own creative sanctuary.

Am I happy? Of course. Am I sad? A little….

Currently I share my desk with my children’s toys, my study is their playroom. I write where they play, our imaginations working furiously together.

And as my creativity mingles with theirs, our energies bounce together, chatting and jumping like the Jack-in-the-box in the corner. Prams, half-dressed dolls, tired jigsaws, and gaudy ponies with synthetic hair litter their lair. Their half is wild and exploded, chaos in chemistry – a fairy in the dolls house, lego pieces in the pens drawer, playthings as scattered as their bouncing brains. My half is neater and calmer, and duller. Blue and black files stacked tall, books precariously piled high, mounds of paper trails leading to my biggest toy, the computer.

Their bookcase is a rainbow of colour, mine a monochrome of monotony. While their mouse runs up the plastic yellow clock, my mouse works against the ticking clock as deadlines loom. I sit at the desk, thinking, straining, one hand writing, the other stroking their hair while they toddle at my feet. And at night, as they murmur in their sleep upstairs, heads still racing, but bodies limp with exhaustion, I sit in the noise of their silence and work.

I’ve yearned for so long to have a room to call my own (see 14th March 2008 blog), imagining serenity in silence, peaceful pontificating, retreating from the wreckage to write words of wisdom and wit.

But I suspect, at times, as the silence crushes my creativity, I might yearn for the chaos, and I might take a trip from my privacy to hang out in the playroom to recharge my head, and recharge my heart. Although let’s be clear – I’ll be running back upstairs as quickly as that is done… and possibly even locking the door! Roll on the move!

Posted in children, moving, writing | 1 Comment

Gay Abandon

Posted on March 4, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Daisy may be flighty but she is loyal. Three going on thirty, she is a social butterfly (although when I call her this, she shakes her head firmly, and tells me, “No mummy, I’m a girl.”) She has lots of little friends at playschool but two have captured her heart. One is a boy, Lewis, who is cute, and funny and very, very sweet. He admires Daisy’s ribbons, loves princesses and enjoys dressing up, making them a match made in heaven.

The other is a girl, Mia, droll and serious and very, very funny. She doesn’t like princesses, or pink but Daisy doesn’t care and worships the ground she walks on. Lewis wants to be a princess, Mia wants to be a prince and Daisy loves them both with gay abandon.

The other day Lewis revealed he was going to marry Daisy, and they were going to have two babies, but that Lewis’s mum and I could visit in case we got lonely. When I told Daisy, she looked a bit perplexed, “But I want to marry Mia!”

I suspect this was one of those ‘You must get this answer right’ moments we parents face occasionally. Luckily, I said “Well lovely, you can marry whoever you want.” On another day I might have explained society’s more traditional rules. But thankfully I didn’t, because her innocence and pure love and acceptance of her emotions is what will shape and form her in her life, and hopefully make her a liberal thinking, non-discriminating adult.

This all happened at the same time that a media furore was debating the BBC’s decision to hire a handicapped presenter for the children’s channel. A handful of parents had written in to complain that the girl with only half an arm was scaring their children and the BBC should be ashamed. I say the parents should be ashamed because surely it is them that has allowed the spectre of a disabled girl to frighten their children? Surely it was their place to explain that just because she looks a little different, she was just the same as them? I tuned in one day to see if Daisy reacted in any way, and also to use it as an opportunity to explain things if I had to. She didn’t bat an eyelid.

Pink lovers, fans of blue, princesses boys, and prince girls – they don’t matter to Daisy as long as they are the ones she loves. If only we could all be three again in our hearts.

Posted in children, discrimination, friendship | 2 Comments

Thinking outside the box

Posted on February 24, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

We’re moving house, a monumental upheaval that is making me sweat just thinking about the lists I have to write. But to distract myself from the enormity of the task ahead, I have started packing away completely useless boxes of stuff that bear no relation to the actual packing that is required. I know there is a voice out there somewhere telling me to face my fear and all that, but right now, I’m putting a box together of wrapping paper, random ribbons and torn tissue papers, lovingly marking it “present wrapping stuff”.

Anyway, there I was, rolling ribbons, when my girls came into the room. “That’s that” I thought, as a long afternoon loomed before me trying to distract them while I carefully folded tissue paper that will probably never actually be used to wrap any presents. But before I could say “Shoo”, Daisy spotted the large cardboard boxes. In she got and literally didn’t emerge for two and a half hours. TWO AND A HALF HOURS! Of contained, happy, non-needy fun! And of course it made me raise my eyes to the heaven – because once again my mum was right. “Why do you need all these toys? You buy them too much stuff – you’re spoiling those kids. In my day you played with a box!” Of course I would smirk in a condescending way – no child would ACTUALLY play with a box. That’s just folklore. Myth. Annoying mother-isms.

But no, I can now confirm, all a child needs to be happy is a box. And in case you doubt me, here is a list of the things Daisy has done with the box (might as well get at least one list off my chest):
· Decorated it with a choice of felt-tip pens and unfortunately a rather nice Estee Lauder Rose pink lipstick
· Played house.
· Cast away in a ship.
· Made it her bed (“sleepy sleepy box”)
· Filled it with things.
· Emptied it of things.
· Pushed Poppy around in it thus making it a pram
· Sat in it constantly asking “Close the box mummy”
· Took in her torch to explore.
· Opened the bottom and made a tunnel.

At one point, Poppy and I fed her grapes through the handle hole (“It’s a window mummy”) just in case she expired from boxed-in exhaustion. She is so delighted with her plain brown box it was the first thing she showed her best friend today on a play date.

So there you go. While my daughter is thinking inside the box, I’m having to think outside of it and get writing those lists. And if it all gets a bit much, I might just get in there myself…

Posted in motherhood, toys | 2 Comments

Outshone, outperformed and outnumbered

Posted on February 11, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

We spent the weekend in Galway, shooting a TV programme on family holiday breaks for the Seoige show where I do the weekly book review. You know the sort of thing, just an intimate affair – hubby, myself and the girls – and a TV crew. You can imagine the nightmares I was having – not only were I and the hubby to be on best behaviour (not easy at the best of times as we negotiate the minefield of activities, mealtimes and strange beds with two temperamental toddlers) – but a camera was going to record every tantrum, every sullen response, every food flinging fiasco of my daughters. Standing in front of a camera and talking was nothing on the fraught forebodings I had of my family in meltdown on national TV.

It didn’t begin well. Planning to shoot for two hours in the aquarium (“My kids love aquariums!” I had enthusiastically told the producer) was put in jeopardy by Daisy’s hysterics the minute we arrived, clutching hubby’s neck whilst screeching “I wanna go home!” for the entire visit. I ended up presenting the section on sharks by myself while hubby retreated with the girls to the shop where only fish on display where of the cuddly kind.

I looked at the long list of activities we had to film over two days and inwardly groaned. What’s that they say about working with children? Add to that, the fact they were my own and that meant revenge for all those forced broccoli sessions, and I was having a quick re-think about my career options.

But like all things with my girls, they surprised me in the most wonderful way. Once the horrors of the deep where forgotten, they laughed and chuckled and flirted outrageously with the cameraman. I saw them through the eyes of the lens and they outshone, outperformed and outnumbered me on every level. I might have been presenting the programme, but they definitely stole the show. There is no way I am able to compete with gappy grins and girlie giggles. And that is the greatest thing about being a mum. I am no longer the most important person in my life. It is no longer the “Me, Myself and I” show – I step aside, and give you, the one and only…. Daisy and Poppy show. And I have the best seat in the house.

Posted in motherhood | Leave a comment

January Jitters

Posted on January 28, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

Is it just me, or is January just jaded and jittery? I can’t settle to anything and my inner Task Master, my brain’s Sergeant Major, my Queen of to-do seems to have taken a winter sun holiday, leaving me alone and lost. Instead of marching through the days ticking off lists, I get distracted, overwhelmed, outnumbered, outsourced. My daughters have noticed. They ask for chocolate and I give it to them. They whine that they want to stay in and dress up rather than go for a walk. I shrug my shoulders and say ok. My Fearless Fight must have joined Sergeant Major in the Maldives.

I fought very hard to get writing in the right place, to have a spot for it, to have several whole hours dedicated to it. But now, I find myself hoovering under the sofa. I never hoover under the sofa. The house is silent – little people are off being amused by other big people, the house is clean – did that yesterday, the house has no need to be cooked in today – all taken care of, the house is expecting me to come up with something interesting, and intriguing and irresistibly original. And I’m hoovering under the sofa. Not creating, not thinking, not researching, and certainly, most definitely, not writing my book.

My Muse, my inner Writing Wizard, my Mental Manager clearly suffers from SAD (seasonal affective disorder). She won’t take off her thermals and come out of hibernation until the clock strikes midnight and banishes January for another year. That gives me three more days to languish in lethargy. And when the sun rises on February first – I expect to see daffodils in the garden, birds singing in the trees, and budding bursts of creativity on my laptop. Three more days. Then the thermals are gone, the sleepy head is cleared and the gloves are off.
As some great man said (I think it was Oscar Wilde) – the art of writing is the art of putting one’s arse on a chair. So three more days and I’ll muster my mojo and then go sit at the table. The chocolate tin will be firmly shut. In the meantime…. another cup of tea.

Posted in Uncategorized | 3 Comments

The night terrors

Posted on January 21, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

The night terrors are upon us – and I’m not referring to our kids. Just when we think we’ve outsmarted them, they go and raise the bar.

People who talk about those first few sleepless weeks of babyhood as some isolated phase, clearly have not had toddlers. Between babies, coughs, nightmares, shenanigans, Christmas Eve searches for Santa (3.30am the spectacular new low), I think we’ve probably had about 5 full sweet slumber-filled weeks in 3 years.

I almost yearn for the moon-lit feedings of a newborn – at least you are prepared, at least it has a routine, and at least you can read a book. But to be rumbled from your dreams by a slumber-killing screech at some unpredictable time of the night because your wobbler wants a hug, her dummy is on the floor, the batteries have run out on her mobile, or just because she is bored, can shatter your sleep for the rest of the night. And every time we find a solution for the newest nocturnal nemeses, we are woken to a new nightmare.

For several weeks, Daisy started coming into our room at some un-godly hour. The first time she did it, I had to peel myself off the ceiling after waking to a demented mad-child standing beside my bed saying “mummy, mummy, mummy” over and over again like Damien from the Exorcist. Eventually I solved this problem like most other problems with children – with bribery. I put a timer on her bed-side lamp and promised her a lolly every time she stayed in bed until her light came on. (The joy of this is I set the timer an hour later at the weekend!! Wahoo!).

Phew… back to bedded bliss. That lasted about 3 days. On the fourth night I was snatched from my slumber by a murderous shriek and leaping into their room found my 19 month old standing beside Daisy’s bed poking her. Daisy was rightly a little scared and upset. I was frantic. My baby is tiny. I put her into bed inside a sleeping bag in a tall cot. Had someone broken into our house and taken her out??

Dazed and confused I put her back. As I made my way back to bed wondering if I was actually dreaming, I heard a “thump”. I opened their door to find Poppy sitting on the floor grinning at me. I couldn’t believe it. There was NO WAY she could get out of that cot! I padded the floor with pillows, put her back in and took position lying prostrate on the landing floor peering under their bedroom door (the things you find yourself doing at 4am when you have kids…). Sure enough, the little minx hoisted herself up on the rail using her arms like some Russian gymnast on the bars, rocked forwards and backwards to gain momentum, and with one final kamikaze lurch, threw herself head first in a backward flip over the top of the cot onto the floor. Needless to say, there was more no more sleeping that night!

Our short-term solution is to put her in the travel cot. But it’s too small for her so we have to come up with something else. At this point in time however, I’m too tired to figure out what that may be. I guess I’ll just have to sleep on it.

Posted in children, motherhood, sleep | 4 Comments

Where there is no credit to crunch..

Posted on January 14, 2009 by Grin & Tonic by Alana Kirk

I’m tightening my belt – and not just because my frenetic physical assault on my body is finally reaping results. No, the preverbal budget belt is going on a diet too. We’re hoping to buy a new house (I know, I know, we’re mad to be selling in this climate!!!) and we need to gather every penny about ourselves.

Phase One of Operation Opulent (spend less, feel richer is my motivating line..) began before Christmas. We cut back on childcare, waved a tearful farewell to our cleaner, and decided to eat the food that’s actually piling up in the cupboards instead of continually buying new stuff. “I’m a hoarder, I can’t help it!” I confessed, as my husband counted 14 tins of chopped tomatoes in the back of the larder. “Learn” he says sternly, suggesting a week’s worth of recipes using the offending tins. So once I’ve exhausted my repertoire of chilli, lasagne and bolognaise, it’s back to the recipe books for some inspiration. No bad thing probably… my repertoire could certainly do with a little revitalising.

Cutting back a couple of hour’s childcare a week means I’ll have to write in the evening when the girls are asleep. No bad thing probably – it’ll keep me off the sofa munching chocolates (two punishments, I mean birds, with one stone), and I get to spend more time with the girls. Getting deep and dirty with the Ciff won’t kill us – I use the word ‘us’ because housework is a shared responsibility (I’ll keep you posted on how THAT one works out..). But again, no bad thing probably. I can get the girls involved and make it fun. (OK, I’ll keep you posted on how THAT one works out too!).

We have now begun Phase Two of Mission Money Saver. More childcare cutbacks, holiday cancelled, and a few painful choices on which friend’s 40th’s, weddings, and family birthdays we can go to. No bad thing really – do we really need the hassle of dragging ourselves and the kids to multiple overseas weekends throughout the year? And you know the surprising thing? It actually doesn’t feel that painful. It actually feels a little good. It feels good to look at the price of food before I drop it (or not) into the shopping trolly. I never used to. It feels good to patch up a few holes in the girl’s trousers instead of throwing them straight in the bin. I didn’t use to. It feels good to savour family time than zoom off on yet another expensive exhausting weekend. We didn’t use to.

And the girls? Are they suffering? Are they moaning? Of course not. They’re as happy as always and probably a bit more. And us? So we have to clean the house and we have to stay home a bit more. There are other sacrifices we are making, but they won’t kill us. They might even make us stronger, as the saying goes. But we have a roof over our head, (multiple) food in our larder, and two happy kids. So, while our credit is definitely crunching, I write this with respect and real sorrow for those people for who this recession is really hurting. For those whose children will suffer. And for those who can’t afford to spend less.

Posted in credit crunch, motherhood, recession, saving | 1 Comment