Winds of Change

I am what some labelling types may call a 'control freak'.
Probably because I'm a control freak.
I'm not great with change - but I'm learning.

We sometimes assume our children have similar issues or the same needs as us.
Well, I do anyway.
Mistakenly.

A couple of weeks ago, when I made the snap decision to drag Magoo across the world and through multiple time zones, I momentarily lost sight of the many 'beware of long haul trips' warning signs that I had erected over the last couple of years.

It didn't take long for them to coming rushing back into view though.
Once I had our passports and e-tickets in hand I recalled all those perfectly valid reasons to stay put.
Luckily, by then it was too late for second, third or fourth thoughts.


Spot of plane watching

Magoo has adjusted to globe trotting and Irish life as easily as swapping vegemite for marmalade (except for them being yuck for yuck, if you ask me). He has surprised me with how well he's coped with the flights, the new surroundings, the droves of new people and has bonded with family so quickly.

Making onself right at home

I wonder, has he even noticed the absence of a bath for our nightly ritual, the absence of his own bed and one of his furry toy bed buddies, the absence of his ridiculously overstocked toy room, the absence of routine and structure, sensible sleep patterns...???

Of course, the things we've left behind have been replaced so many times over. With different pleasures and comforts.

Magoo's observations of Ireland are gorgeous.

He comments on how green everything is, that there are lots of "naminals", that this is a "windy place", that people sleep even when the sun is up and that "Nanny/ aunty/ uncle loves me, Mum". He's revelling in the attention here and all the different ways of going about life.

The boy loooves Grandad's greyhounds

For me, it's great to push my cushy, cushy comfort zones.

To remind me to go with the flow and relinquish control.
Co sleeping (previously my idea of insanity) has been adorable.
I have woken to a smiling little face in mine saying "good morning my best fwend".
Living from a single suitcase and being dropped in on continuously are welcome changes. Seeing where a day takes us instead of being Miss Planny Plan Plan has been refreshing.
Waiting for 'de immersion' has been annoying. Seems, I take hot water for granted at Australia home.

 

Whilst I am sitting here polishing Magoo's halo, I am not entirely out of touch. There have been a taste of tantrums, sulking, selfishness and resistance. (But I'm trying to behave. Hee hee.) Magoo is two and in Ireland - not sainted and on the throne.
I may have to eat my laptop here on in and on the return flight(s) for opening my big virtual mouth too soon.
For now though, hooray for our amazing kids and in particular my adaptable, resilient boy!

His inflexible, neurotic mother, Shar :-)

Money-what?

Today, Mum's admission into hospital for her surgery was delayed at least a day due to a ridiculously inept, frustrating system. Grrr.

Frayed nerves aren't much fun, so distraction was required.
Distraction in the form of the leader of the free world - or his family tree anyway.
Off to Moneygall we ventured.

Moneygall is approximately ten minutes from my home town.
Moneygall is a single street with a few side roads for good measure.
Moneygall has a population of approximately 300 people.
Moneygall has five shops, a church, two pubs, a school and a police station.
As of May 2011, Moneygall now has an American money tree.

U.S.A President Barack Obama visited the town this year as part of his trip to Ireland. His ancestry can be traced back to the town a couple of hundred years back.
The man has singlehandedly (well, with an entourage of hundreds) turned around the town's flailing economy and even managed to give a whole town a paint job.

So this afternoon, we all piled into the car, my brother at the wheel.
Magoo, with no idea what Moneygall meant or even related too, sang "we're off to Moneygall" all the way. Mum laughed along warning us of the anticlimax ahead.

Well, Mum was wrong.
I was far from underwhelmed by Moneygall. I loved it. All 500 metres of it!

The place looks absolutely gorgeous (well done, Dulux - and the local police who had to convince the single unwilling resident to go with the makover). The atmosphere in Moneygall is reminiscent of a quaint movie set. Little country town comes good. I'm pretty sure there is a film in the pipeline there.

The streets are lined with alternating Irish and American flags. The gift shop is on Obama overload, the only cafe has been renamed after the president and the pub Obama drank in is a shrine to the man. Cheesy, McCheesy cheese fun. Did I mention I loved it?!

Moneygall / Obamaland was a most worthy distraction.
Star spangled banners and all.

First Lady Shar :-)

Potatoe, Potahtow

"I was rooting in my bag for a pencil".
The phrase that changed my life.
Well, my accent anyway.
Note - rooting = looking.
You didn't know that?
Well, neither did the rest of my Australian grade three class who laughed themselves stupid at my expense.


When I migrated to Australia at the tender age of eight, I had myself a nice, thick, woolly Irish accent. I also had a bunch of Irish lingo to boot.
Much to my Dad's absolute disgust it took approximately two weeks (and a mortifying classroom experience) for me to 'Aussify' myself and my speech patterns.
I quickly became "Shaz", dropped the 'r' from words like park, car and star and ditched the accent quick smart. Whenever we spoke to my grandparents back in Ireland, I had to revert back to 'Irish Shar' in order to be understood by them.


When my little (Australian born & bred) brother returned to live back in Ireland with my parents, he did the exact reverse. He sounds so Irish that it is almost inconceivable that he is not. Hear that bro? You are Austraaayleean, mate.


I'd almost forgotten about the great language barrier that exists between my two English speaking homes. That was until the attendant at Dublin airport didn't have a clue what I was saying.
I have difficulty ordering food, asking for directions and telling tales here. Plenty of people, including my own relatives, nod and smile when I know full well they're struggling to understand the twangy drivel coming from my mouth. As for Magoo, he is difficult to understand at the best of times, even in Australia. Here in Ireland, I play the role of constant interpreter. It can be very handy though when he is being a tad cheeky as I can omit or alter his rudeness in translation.


This week's Aussie to Irish dictionary looks a little like this :
stroller (strolla) = pushchair, buggy
nightclub = disco
church = mass
rubbish = refuse
cigarettes, smokes, darts = fags
vacuum = hoover
road = motorway
oven = cooker
realise = cop on
bottle shop = off license
clever = cute
angry = raging
*&#!@  = feck

Magoo is acclimatising too.
He's slowly understanding that ABC 2 = RTE 2, treats = sweeties, sultanas = raisins and cute smiles = any darn ting you want!

Are you speaking a different (English) language too?


Shar :-)

De Dreaming

Last night's dream was not unlike dreams that I have had before.

In my dream...
I put a happy Magoo to bed with stories, songs and kisses and prepared to hit the town with my brother and sister.
After realising I had neglected to pack my one 'going out' top into my bursting at the seams - literally - suitcase, I improvised and went for a more understated look than originally planned!
Then, after spinning the heck out at the drag queen falsies (eyelashes) that my sister was batting at us we were set to go.
My mum papped a pic of her three babies before we left the homestead and then babysat Magoo for the night.

We headed out to paint the town red, but someone else had got there first - with the band of the moment, Raffiki, painting footsteps all over town leading to the bar where they were playing.
My mad siblings and I went into my cousin's pub for 'one' and then into another to watch my brother's friend rock the place with his brilliant singing & songwriting.
I called in Redbull to help me push through 'Mummy bedtime' and keep up with the young uns.

After the band's gig we moved to a nightclub where my sister and I continued to cause our young (local) brother to shake his head and roll his eyes.
My (not so local) sister and I danced, sang and laughed ourselves stupid.
I met cousin after cousin through the night and plenty of others who I'm pretty sure aren't my cousins - but you can never be sure. Better safe than sorry in a small town!

Reminiscent of my younger days, the dj caught me off guard when he rudely played the national anthem and called it a night at 2am.
My brother drove his two nutjob sisters home and pushed us into the house where we delighted our mother with tales of the night's craic.
I'm pretty sure her face told a story of family pride as we filled her in.

This morning I woke up from this version of a familiar dream with a fairly unfamiliar feeling.

As I listened to toddler talk about it being "moning time now, Mummy", I registered that my head was a tad fuzzy, I was mighty thirsty and I could happily have gone a grease fix.
Magoo was questioning why my wrist "had got that tattooed for" and I had a suspicious inkling I may have only had approximately three hours sleep.

I turned on my camera to be greeted with happy snaps like these :

It appears that some dreams do come true.
Tonight I'll try to channel some lotto dreaming while I'm on a roll.

Sweet dreams.
Shar :-)

Mam On De Run - De Irish Version

(Insert Irish accent here.)
Well, lads.
How's tings dare?
Hope yere de finest.

Ah, shure lads tis grand to be home.
For feck's sake.
De Mammy is delighted to have us and de little fella is a pantomine apparently.
Magoo's de best buy according to my Mam and "lads, dya tink he's very advanced, now?!"
Haven't I been runnin like a mad ting every mornin and lovin de time wit de rest of dem here...


(Lose Irish accent here.)
Well, as Magoo kept saying when we arrived at Dublin airport "we maded it"!

It's so fantastic to be (Ireland) home. I'm finding it difficult to find the words to adequately articulate the feeling of contentment and peace I feel, especially considering that I only decided to cross the world with a toddler in tow a week ago.

Magoo just isn't cut out for the Irish pub scene!
He fell asleep on me before he could touch his dinner and didn't wake again until the next day!

As if to cement my uncharacteristically unplanned decision, while we were enjoying the fruits of Emirates Airlines labour, my Mum received news that she would be having keyhole surgery on Tuesday with a full bypass being the emergency back up plan.


We're meant to be here and despite the circumstances, it is pretty great.
I'm absolutely loving seeing my little man meet and lap up the attention of my Mum, Dad, sister, brother, aunties and cousins. (I hereby nominate my sister and brother as the greatest aunty and uncle to grace the Earth!) It took my Mum approximately ten minutes to start singing Magoo's praises and decide he's the most intelligent child in the world. No bias there at all!

Carving up the dance/lounge floor with Aunty Fi!

I love coming back here to where people I don't know somehow know who I am and where I fit into the picture. I love walking the streets that trigger all sorts of memories and feelings. I love that I think in an Irish accent here. I love that within hours of arriving, I took Magoo for a stroll up town and saw my uncle, two cousins and bumped into my own Dad! Magoo met his Grandad as he drove past, yelled out the window and screeched to a stop! The five greyhounds in the back of the van were an added extra!

It's been a completely different trip home to those of years ago.
I've not been here as someone's wife or as a Mum before.
Different but beautiful.
Less pub time, less alcohol, less partying, less pandemonium.
More down time, more quality time with the family, more Magoo friendly fare.

It's even better than I imagined. Sharing the load, having a laugh, reminiscing, constant company, forcing my parents to be in the same room, so many people for Magoo to bounce off (and be spoiled by)...

I have always watched other Mums in shopping centres and envied those with their own Mum or family with them. I'm living out my pathetic fantasy of doing everyday, mundane things with Magoo and my Mum & co. 

Grocery shopping has never been so lovely!

Right now, I'm even too relaxed to string words together and type!!

Sla'n go fo'ill'
Shar :-)