Glasses on a two year old

My little two and half year old son needs to wear glasses. We found out today. I know in the grand scheme of things this is nothing much. It isn't some major disorder. But I feel pretty sad about it.

We noticed that he was blinking an awful lot and decided to get it checked out. Our local optometrists recommended a particular consultant and Alex went for his appointment today with his Daddy. I was working this morning so I waited by the phone to see what was going to happen.

Now, to be honest I really didn't envisage him having to wear glasses as the outcome. I thought it was a little habit that he was going to grow out of. So when my husband called to say that he needed glasses I was a bit taken aback.

I think my initial tears stemmed out of this feeling of wanting everything in life to be perfect for him. I had a few minutes of imagining him at six in the schoolyard being bullied by other boys for being "Mr Four Eyes." He was going to be the kid never picked for the school team etc.

You want so much for your children that even the slightest setback breaks your heart. Silly isn't it?

Anyway, I skipped out of work early and we went to the local opticians to buy his new glasses. He tried on about ten pairs before we could find a small enough pair. He was bouncing off the walls after the kindly optometrist gave him a lollipop. I joked about having my own little Clark Kent around the place.

I have all but moved on from the 'poor baby' scenario to actually wondering how we are going to get him to wear the glasses. He has to wear them all the time if there is to be any hope of correcting his vision. We are due to return to the consultant in six months time to see if it has helped in any way.

Now Alex much as I love him is a child who can't sit still for two minutes. He pretty much refuses to wear hats. Getting a diaper on is like mediating with a dictator. Glasses twenty four seven. Wish me luck!

*Hope this post doesn't come across as being very trivial. I know it is stupid to be upset. Children are born all the time with weird diseases and genetic disorders and here I am crying about my son wearing glasses. It is just that he is so small. Such a tiny thing.

** Needless to say the poor vision comes from my side of the family. Roll on the lousy teeth and we can blame all his problems on me. Thanks Mom!!!

Sentimental attachment

Recently I read a kind of smug feature article about women who pass on their 'vintage' clothes to their daughters. You know the scene -- Mummy was a model in the 1970's and she kept a wonderful pair of trousers she wore to some exclusive club in her wardrobe for the last thirty years. She goes away and has a perfect daughter who low and behold can fit in to the size two jeans that Mommy wore all those years ago. Even better they are back in style...blah, blah, blah.

As I was reading it I thought what type of person keeps clothes for thirty years to pass on to their children ?Wedding dresses I can see -- christening robes through the generations I can appreciate but a regular skirt, dress and so on. I just couldn't fathom it.

Then I really started to think about it and I realised that I still have a brown velvet dress dating back to 1994 which I wore in Greece around the same time as I met my now husband. Note to Olivia...1994 is twelve years ago. Bet it will still be in my closet in twenty years time.

I will never wear this dress again. It is out of fashion. It is covered in cigarette holes. I am probably about two stone (28 pounds) heavier. (Oh hell that sounds really bad!). Anyway, I think I keep this dress because it transports me in an instant to my 19 year old self.

I went to Crete with three of my friends to get a job for the summer. Well, that was the theory anyway. Turns out we went to one of the more authentic Greek islands where there isn't much of a tourist industry. We ran out of money after about two weeks and then lived on cheap chocolate baguettes for about another three weeks before we went home. Heaven knows how we scraped the money together to go in the first place but we did.

Now this little island didn't have much in the way of jobs but what it lacked in that department it made up for in the sailor and marine area. Americans were coming in in their hundreds to the port and there wasn't much in the way of women there. (Well besides the Greek women whose men were pretty possessive).

That month was the closest I ever got to being a supermodel. Here we were ordinary looking girls and we could pick and chose who we wanted. What fun! That said looking back on it we were all pretty innocent. It was more of a kiss and cuddle type scenario than anything else.

What I remember most about that time is the girly laughs. (Thank God my husband will never read this -- I am supposed to go on about falling in love etc). I have a vivid memory of falling off my seat with laughter when a marine called Forrest tried to chat my friend up. Doesn't sound funny now but at 19 with a couple of glasses of wine in you this is the stuff of hilarity.

Anyway, back to clothes...why do we keep things for so long when they are never going to see the light of day again? What is it with women and clothes? Let's face it there isn't a man alive who keeps a t shirt because he met his wife when he was wearing it. Men keep clothes because they are too lazy to throw them out. Women do so because it brings them back to a younger happier period. Often times we are delusional and think that if we lose that stone or two we will become our younger prettier selves.

So the brown dress is staying put in my wardrobe for now -- even if the silver hotpants from when I was 16 have finally made their way to the bin!!

Can you do the Riverdance?

I went for an interview for a job when I lived in the US and because I am Irish I was jokingly asked if I could "do the Riverdance." In the two years I spent there I was asked about 1,000 times if I knew someones Irish grandmother, great grandmother, tiny town in middle of no wheresville where their ancestors moved from etc. That was all fine and dandy. People were just being friendly.

What was really scary was when they said "You have a cute accent where are you from?" When I mentioned Ireland there was a confused moment followed by something like "Oh you are from Idaho, Iowa, Indianapolis?"

I was always stunned by this but really I shouldn't have been. Ireland is a tiny country. Maybe it is okay for large sections of the population not to know where it is. Let's face it how many people could find Angola on a map or Namibia before Angelina Jolie had her baby there and the world's media descended on the place?

I suppose because the US is so large it is hard for people not to be insular. It must be difficult to comprehend life outside America just because of the sheer size of the country and the fact that it is the dominant world culture. What I find offensive is when people don't try.

I don't fault Americans for this. It is becoming an increasingly common phenomenon in this side of the world as well. Basically, we are all getting caught up in our own little bubble and are finding it more difficult to relate to or empathise with other cultures.

Celebrity worship is about all that unites cultures these days! I may not know a thing about Mexico but I bet if I spoke to a person from that country we would be able to find common ground by discussing the exploits of Tom Cruise, Brad Pitt or Jennifer Aniston. How pathetic is that? (Don't get me wrong I enjoy celebrity gossip as much as the next person but it does rot the brain).

Hell I am rambling again. What I find inspiring about blogging is the potential to learn so much about different cultures. I read a blog today from a woman in Australia and it was great to be able to tune in to her frequency so to speak. Just to get a feeling for how she lives...a flavour of what it is to be like to be a mother of two on the other side of the world.

Oh back to the Irish thing. I apologise to any American I met in the States who was disappointed by the fact that I don't have red hair and freckles. People expect you to look like Nicole Kidman when the reality is that most Irish people have brown hair! Red heads are becoming a little thin on the grounds these days.

Oh, and I can't dance the Riverdance. Wish I went to Irish dancing lessons as a child -- how lucrative would that be these days. It is just that Irish dancing was so uncool when I was a youngster. Now it has come full circle and it is popular. What has the world come to?

Against the order of life

I had to attend a child's funeral the other day for work. A two and a half year old boy died during a family holiday in a seaside resort not that far from where I live. He drowned in a pond after wandering off from his parents for about five minutes. He was rushed to hospital where they made frantic efforts to revive him but tragically he lost his battle for life a few hours later.

It has been an awful week for road deaths in Ireland. In the space of 48 hours last week 11 people died on the nation's roads including a mother, three year old daughter and partner and a brother and sister who were on their way back from a concert.

The carnage on the roads in this country is fairly crazy. A lot of it can be attributed to our cavalier attitude to driving lessons. We are the only country in the EU where lessons aren't mandatory. There is also a huge backlog in relations to tests. So basically you can do a written driver theory test and get in to car. You are not supposed to drive on your provisional license without a fully qualified driver next to you but most people do.

The other factor really is our roads. They just weren't built for cars. Our government has been playing catch up building new motorways all over the place but it just isn't happening quickly enough. So lives are being lost needlessly here, there and everywhere.

I covered one crash where three people died including the brother and sister. Then I had the child's funeral. No wonder I needed an opt out day!

I think I was better able to cope with such tragedies when I didn't have a child myself. Now when I am covering these stories I can't help but think "That was someone's child etc."

At the two and a half year old's funeral they brought symbols of his life to the altar to place on his coffin for the duration of the mass. We all think our little ones are unique but the truth is that toys are toys. This little boy Glenn had a Tigger, a Barney toy and a phone as his treasured toys. Oddly Alex had two of the three. I couldn't help but think how I would have felt if it was my little boy.

You really are so emotionally vulnerable when you have a child. You can't protect them 100% of the time so it really is a case of crossing your fingers and hoping for the best. It is against the order of life to lose a child. My heart goes out to anyone who has suffered such a loss. Sorry for al the rambling. Wasn't quite sure where this blog was going.

Opt out day

Being self employed means that you can take the occasional 'opt out' day without feeling too much in the way of guilt. This morning I was absolutely wrecked. My two year old spent much of yesterday hopping off the sink. He took the slide apart. His nappy leaked and I had to give him two baths in a day. It was 24 hours of craziness. He is as cute as hell but it can be tiring trying to prevent him from killing himself.

I have also had a few busy work weeks. This morning when it was time to get up I just couldn't get out of the bed. I threw myself in front of the computer but just didn't have the energy to work. That is when I decided an emergency opt out of work card was needed.

I called one of the other freelancers who was able to cover my shift with the Irish Times today and I went back under the duvet. My husband who is off today got Alex ready and brought him to the park. It is now lunchtime and I am getting up to have a bath.

I have started a new thriller called "The Righteous Men" by Sam Bourne and it is proving to be a page turner. I plan to do next to nothing today beyond helping out with my son and reading him the odd book or two.

I don't feel guilty. Ok just a teeny bit. Even though I am not getting paid today there is a little voice in my brain saying "You could have made money...you are not sick." No just plain tired. As if that wasn't enough.

But the rational side of me says that I needed today. As mothers we go around like headless chickens trying to keep up with life. Every now and then you need to take a step back for the sake of your sanity.

You know you need an 'opt out day' when your hair hasn't been cut in three months (check), when your skin looks like crap (check) your joints feel achy and you are totally overwhelmed by life.

As I type this I just noticed a big cobweb on the ceiling in my computer room. How long has that been there? I know it sounds silly but when I am working I am too busy to notice these things. Sometimes you need time off work to spot the cobwebs and to tend to your soul. To be selfish...just this once! Normal service resumes tomorrow.

Becoming the elder statesman

Not so long ago I was the mouthy teenager. Let's say I made life a little difficult for my mother. Not hooked on drugs and in jail difficult but I was a bit precocious. The youngest in a family of six who was around adults rather than children all the time and so on. I was what we will kindly call 'opinionated' from about the age of six.

Yet suddenly at the ripe old age of 31 I realise I am now like an elder statesman. Tantrums will have to be a thing of the past.

Like Andre Agassi at the twilight of his career and handing the baton over to younger rivals such as Nadal and Federer it seems my days in the spotlight are behind me.

You see the fact is that I can't be a brat anymore. The only person I can be obnoxious with is my husband.

The point was brought home to my during a weekend visit to my sister's house. We were having a barbecue out the back (yes in Ireland!) when I asked my teenage niece if she would get up so that I could sit down. Well I expected a rolling of the eyes which is exactly what I would have done at that age but Aoife went one step further.

She said "Oh for God sake I knew that would happen. The youngest always get moved." She complained about my tone of voice when I asked her to move. Now on one level I knew where she was coming from but I think it my civic duty to pass on the 'pain' that was inflicted on me in my youth!

So I said "Well, tough Aoife it is what would have happened to me at your age." Bit of a storm in a teacup encounter really. She went in to the house and probably ranted about me to her cousins. However, later in the evening she was only too happy to take twenty euro from me.

What really threw me was that my elderly Aunt starting going on about how my niece spoke to me. It was generally agreed that she was a brat who deserved to be reprimanded. She said for all of my brashness at that age I would never have spoken to her in the same manner.

Then the penny dropped. Forget having a child, getting married and so on. For me this was my first step in to adult hood. I realised that I can never have a big public tantrum again. Now, I haven't had one in years anyway but it is the principle of the thing.

I want to be at some family event and cause a scene! I want them to say "Yes, she will grow up and learn the hard way." I would like someone to attribute my behaviour to teenage hormones. But those days are behind me. All I see ahead is years of being good. Oh the pressure!

My only consolation is that when I get to 65 I can be obnoxious again. Oh adolescence and old age -- the two periods of your life when being rude is not only normal but expected. Roll on 65... I will give those teenagers a run for their money.

Grumpy one day elated the next

Some days I am Mother Earth. The small boy is Johnny Depp in waiting and I am all but rehearsing my sashay up the red carpet at the Oscars with my Academy award nominee. On other occasions I look at my two year old when he is "destruction mode" and think juvenile hall awaits. Is this normal?

How can you be so full of gratitude for your loving husband and child one day and want to run away to Jamaica the next? (Today I would settle for a caravan in the West of Ireland but I digress).

You know you have a toddler when your eyebrows look like caterpillars on your face. When your super glamorous sister gets her hair done more in a month than you do all year. (That isn't a joke she really does!) When sitting through hours of evidence at a court case for work is actually considered a break. When your handbag no longer contains a hairbrush and makeup but small toys, books, baby wipes and photographs. (Oh, did I forget the utility bills you meant to pay last month?!)

It is the just the trying to keep up that gets me down at times. Much as I love my small boy he is a full time job. I suppose my biggest mistake is setting my standards too high. I was never Bree on Desperate Housewives vis a vis domesticity so I am hardly going to start now when I have a toddler in tow.

Even in the pre baby days I still never managed to wear make up every day. I wasn't perfectly coiffeured. I have never had tidy hair. I don't know how to use an eye pencil. Putting on make up was never my thing. So did I really think I was going to suddenly start turning in to a supermodel when I had a baby?!!! I mean really.....what sort of insanity is that?

As for work well I used to love my job. Now it is a conflict of interest. Torn between two lovers as that corny song goes.

Boy am I sick of my whining. Think of all those women on IVF...the silent thousands who would love to step right in to my insanity. I have a beautiful son. I love my husband dearly. I just wish I could appreciate it all more.

Being a reporter in July

Nothing much happens in the summer. It is a time when journalists go mad, the silly season and so forth. Friday two weeks ago was no exception. A day spent typing up all sorts of rubbish in a frantic bid to look busy.

I got a text from a friend at about 4pm saying she heard Michael Jackson was in Cork. Cork is a mid size town in Ireland..not quite Hicksville but we aren't talking New York here. So it seemed too outlandish -- just way too bizarre. I didn't take too much notice.

However, it emerged that the troubled singer had indeed landed in Cork on a regular Aer Lingus flight from Paris. Oh how the mighty have fallen. No private jets but just a regular commerical carrier without even a VIP section.

Imagine being a passenger on that flight. What would you make of a man wearing a baseball cap, mask and hood on his head? Let's face it -- it is either a terrorist who plans to blow the plane up or it is Michael Jackson. What was really freaky was that his poor unfortunate children had Halloween type masks on their faces.

So Jackson gets off his plane and in to a limo. Not quite. Let's try again. Michael Jackson, the man behind "Thriller" the self proclaimed King of Pop is picked up at the airport in a MINI VAN with tinted windows. Now I don't know what a mini van is in America but lets say what ever your image of it is in Ireland it is even smaller! Ok, it did have tinted windows but it was a minivan.

Jackson and the three children were whisked away to an undisclosed location in North Cork. We did a bit of checking and the rumour was that he was staying in a "castle" in a tiny town outside the city. But the owner was denying it because it wasn't a five star castle if that makes any sense. More of a three star job.

He has been in Ireland a week now and nobody has seen him. Which means that those unfortunate children have been behind closed doors for seven days. If he was from Alabama those children would have been taken from him by now. But Prince Michael I, II (!) and Paris are continuing to be damaged on a daily basis by a man who seems to have lost all sense of reality.

On one level I feel sorry for him. How did his life end up like this when his contemporaries such as Donny Osmond and co came out of child stardom relatively untouched? But then you look at the pictures of his children and you think the madness has to stop somewhere.

The suggestion is that he plans to buy a house in Ireland. Auctioneers have joked that with his financial woes he will be looking more at a semi detached house in one of the less salubrious suburbs than a mansion!!! So we will see. Michael Jackson in Cork. Next week Madonna and Prince set up shop in the house down the road with their love child.

One of the freelancers in our neighbouring county Anne told me that George Clooney was in her area for a few days. Typical...Co Kerry gets the prime specimen that is Mr Clooney.. we are stuck with Jackson! I rest my case.