Lagniappe

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For your viewing pleasure, a fascinating study of Boone raising his eyebrows (one at a time!), followed by his version of smize. Devastating.

I’m in mourning for Joseph’s beard. As much as I couldn’t stand him stroking it all the time, I miss seeing it on his face.

Boone’s got the faintest of tanlines where his sunglasses usually are. I call it his mask of Zoro.

I really loved this post about maternity leave. I especially liked this: “You never really come back. . . . The truth is that the early weeks and months after a baby arrives pull you into a world that you never quite step out of again, no matter the professional choices you make . . . Becoming a parent is like stepping into Narnia: you’re changed once you’ve walked through that wardrobe, even if you can eventually find your way back out.”

This song by The War on Drugs pretty much sums up my mental state these days. We actually saw them a few weeks ago. It was an oddly disappointing and, at times, boring gig. I’ve never been to a show where both the performers and the audience were clearly relieved when it was all over. Everything was off; the sound, the (lack of) energy in the room, the lead singer’s attitude to everything, my choice of outfit (I wore black when I clearly should have worn plaid.) At any rate, I still really like their music and whenever I feel like experiencing a better performance than what we saw, I go here.

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Lagniappe

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Crossing his legs, like his Ma

Lately, Boone’s taken to weeing in really socially inappropriate places—on our balcony, in the garden of a garden dinner party—not because he’s desperate to go, but purely because he thinks it’s hilarious. I wish that my shoulders didn’t shake so much whenever this happens because it betrays the fact that I think it’s hilarious, too.

Joseph shaved his beard off. It’s had a really uncanny time travel effect.

Speaking of time, Boone’s been taunting me with the fact that he’s going to grow up to be an adult one day. This does not help the constant feeling I have of time running like water through my hands. However, by his logic, since he’s going to grow up, I’m going to grow down into a baby. I’ve got lots of things to look forward to, apparently, like fitting into his car seat and the baby swings at the park.

Since starting playschool, we’ve had a lot more mucous in the house.

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“Take a picture of me”

Boone’s started describing food items that he doesn’t like as “too cracky.”  I have no idea what this means except that maybe it’s something to do with texture?

I’ve watched this about a hundred times this week. I had been calling them a girl band but then had to remind myself that I was being pejorative and sexist. (If they were a band of men in their thirties, I would just call them a band, ugh.) At any rate, Boone walked in on one of my viewings and asked,”is that suitable for me? is that suitable for you?” This coming from the hooligan who wees off balconies.

Joseph’s gone to a conference in Finland for a week. We miss him.

I love this picture so much.

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“Can we go to a coffee shop?”

 

This week

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This is what a week of late nights look like. We don’t know if it’s the jet lag or the fact that it’s broad daylight at 8.00pm, but Boone has decided that he doesn’t want to go to bed at his usual time anymore. He’d much rather spend his regular bedtime hour(s) eating, watching telly, and generally exhausting us and our patience. The result of all this is Boone taking to the bed at 9.00am this morning, saying, “I tied, bed.” Too little, too late, maaaan.

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Trying to get “serious”

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IMG_0393 Fuzzy head, fuzzy face

Joseph grew a beard. Or, he stopped shaving when we got back from our holidays, in protest. It’s funny but, every day, he goes to work in the morning a certain kind of hairy, and when he comes back in the evening, he’s a whole other kind of hairy! He told me that the look he’s going for is Richie from the Royal Tenenbaums, pre-suicide attempt. Now I’ve got “Needle in the Hay” stuck in my head and it probably won’t leave for another three weeks.

I started running. It used to be called jogging but that’s so passé now. Running, though, is really trendy. Anyway, I’ve started a programme that will hopefully get me up to 20 minutes continuous running in about 8 weeks, in which case I won’t know myself. I’ve done a couple of sessions now, and while they’re doable at the time, the following morning, bam!, I’m stuck to the bed with a tiredness that almost matches that of early pregnancy.

I don’t have a picture of me running but I do have this one of Jennifer Lawrence, who is exactly who I think I am when I go running.

JL

This week

This week, Boone has learned:

CheesyTo give a really cheesy smile for his Nana. As Finola said: “Boone, I wish you could just be a bit cooler.”

To play the smell-my-feet game. This is entirely my fault. It’s because one day I took off his slippers, and faced with the combination of manmade materials and a toddler boy’s feet, I couldn’t help but react with a high-pitched “Peeeeeuuwww!,” the pong being such that neither pretense nor exaggeration were required. Naturally, this initiated a series of belly laughs from Boone.  He’s been making everyone smell his feet and cackling at their reactions ever since. My apologies.

NosepickingTo pick his nose. My work here is done.

This week

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Isn’t it just great how the knife glints in the light?!

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Dinner prep of a Sunday: done. I can practically hear my mother having a heart attack right now.

So, we (and by we, I mean Joseph) figured out a new bedtime routine!* Turns out our pre-bedtime music choices (read: gentle hippie-ish songs from the 70s) were not to Boone’s liking and what he really needed was some trance music—not good taste trance music, either, but really, really bad-taste trance music, complete with a few expletives thrown in here and there for good measure. Joseph found said trance on a radio station called Klub FM Dublin. Yeah, that’s right, club with a K.

Also, I figured out Boone’s dinnertime once and for all!** It had been a bit of a nightmare, whereby he was hungry at three-ish and would have a snack, only to be not hungry at (our) dinnertime, which then led to several episodes of him waking up in the middle of the night, starving (eat! eat!), which then led to crumbs in the bed. Turns out all I had to do was start his dinnertime a lot earlier so that it could include the serving of several dishes spread out over the course of an hour to an hour and a half. As Joseph pointed out, he likes to dine. Such a sophisticate. Most definitely with a K.

Oh, and I figured out how to get two half an hour to forty-five minute dedicated magazine reading sessions in during daylight hours this week! Turns out all I had to do was book a couple of doctor and dentist appointments, arrive early (because I’m a mother now), then hope and pray that they’re “running a little bit behind” (actually, I don’t even need to hope and pray for this as it is Ireland, after all.) The combination of my being early and the guaranteed delay means that I’ve been able to catch up with all the goings on of the royal family, along with z-list Irish celebrities, and a little thing called fashion. Whoo hoo! Almost makes all the drawing of blood, bizzaro conversations about the weather/period dramas on the telly, and an overall sense of personal invasion worth it!

*Goes without saying that this is likely to change next week

** Ditto