Yer the one who thinks she can do gymnastics?

OF ALL the things I am proud of during my childhood including learning to swim at 10 and six months later being one of the best swimmers in the school, and other assortment of things like passing my 11+ (not that it means anything) to doing a reading at my Holy Communion to winning a school art competition, getting my separated parents back together when I was 11 is top of my list.

My parents parted when I was about four to five years old. I don’t really remember much other than memories of being really upset that she wasn’t there and not understanding why.

I don’t think or well I don’t remember it being explained to me but I do have flashbacks I suppose of emotions more than memories.

And growing up in Belfast this scenario was more than unusual, there weren’t many other male single parent households with three children.

While explaining things as they were I also have to stress that my Mum was very much on the scene, all the time.

She moved out but we saw her everyday after school when she would pick us up and we would spend the afternoons and evenings with her before she dropped us off home.

And us kids all had dreams of our parents reuniting and looking back on it now I love the naivety and belief in our parents and being our parents and marriage that made us think there was any chance of them getting back together.

I don’t know at what point we learnt to lie, while still having this unfounded belief, to each parent about whatever.

For example Dad would give out about Mum and we wouldn’t say. Or vice-versa. This went on and on.

I loved growing up in an all-male household, looking back I thought nothing at all of it, now I think my God.

But I always missed the connection of having my Mum in the house where I lived and not away. There was never any question of being made to choose, thank God, but I wanted her nearer than she was, as close as she was.

So I hatched a plan.

I had been doing gymnastics for a while at this stage and was not good at all, but that did not bother me. I loved it.

I joined loads of clubs and gymnastics was one, I so wanted to be good. So while I was relatively sporty and pretty good at most that I turned my hand to but I was absolutely useless at gymnastics.

Before you could join the Squad you had to be able to do the splits. I could barely follow through on a forward roll.

Unless you showed natural talent you were pretty much left to jump about really, oh and hold your tummy in. (At least I learnt something useful.)

Ironically I did my first cartwheel as an adult, can’t really explain that except for the knowledge that I wouldn’t break my neck on a grassy surface might have spurned me on some as a grown up.

So I never got to join the squad but I did get to participate in the gymnastics school’s section of the Youth Club’s parents’ night.

And I decided that I would invite both my parents while preparing the groundwork before hand.

All the different clubs were performing on the night, the choir, the judo club, there was all sorts of activities and displays going on that night.

Now bear in mind both my parents attended things just separately and on the very ew occasions they were together they kept an unhealthy and not to mention stony distance between each other.

In fact they were forced to sit together at my First Communion by my teacher who I think believed she could reunite them by continually putting me at the end of the pew because I was doing a reading, however my parents kept placing me in between them defeating her efforts.

And that’s the only time I remember them being in the same place during those years. Until the night of the parents’ night that is.

Our gymnastics display was going to be the business. It would consist of a row of forward rolls, backward rolls, cartwheels, round-off backflips (I still remember the lingo), a row of back flips culminating in our star gymnast on the bars doing all sorts of wow manoeuvres and all at the same time.

So I did my row of forward rolls and prepared to shimmy around the back to do another row only the coach grabbed me and told me to do your backward rolls and I said ‘I can’t’.

“You can, do it.”

“I CAN’T.”

“DO IT.”

So I thought to myself ‘you want backward rolls, you are gonna get them’.

As I haunched down and began the roll backwards, great, then I promptly rolled on my side. Up I got, hands to heaven and did it again, rolling over and falling onto my side, about six or seven times until I completed the stretch across the hall.

By this point the whole hall was in stitches, breaking themselves laughing. But I did not care because I saw my Dad open the gym door for my Mum and I was happy.

And even on the couple of occasions where kids I didn’t know would come up to me and say ‘you’re that kid who thinks she can do gymnastics!?!’

Yup that’s kinda me, but well I never claimed to be able to do a backward roll. And I never cared because I did better than the actual gymnast doing all the amazing dismounts at the back.

And they did get back together for a couple of years anyway but that’s another story.


redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland Belfast gymnastics

The Dublin Community Blog

I'VE just done my inaugural post on the Dublin Community Blog which is a new site set up by Daragh and it is looking good.

There is a great cross-section of writers ( Daragh, Bernie, Conformist #1, Dec, Wayne, Karlin, and Rick) so it should be very interesting and fun to watch it develop.

It uses WordPress which I have never used before and the resulting inaugural post was only after four attempts all of which ended up gone via the delete button.

But I seem to have managed to post successfully though I would like the pics to be bigger. And took out some pics because they were so small they were distracting more than enhancing the post. Ah well you live and learn.

I have since configured my Flickr account to submit pics that way to the Dublin Community Blog. We’ll see I suppose there’s a bit of trial and error.

Check it out here.

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs Dublin Community Blog Dublin Ireland

13 days and counting

FOR THOSE of you who pop by here now and again know my regular rants (here and here for starters) about the state of the Young Wan’s bedroom.

She was told 13 days ago that her pal could stay the night once her room was done. It wasn’t and each night this week she has gone into ‘finish’ it off.

Finish what a joke, it is worse now that it was before and this is despite going in night after night, and over another weekend, yet I am afraid to go in.

I mean really afraid, I know if I go in I am going to lose the plot. So I have resisted so far.

Now do not get me wrong, people always respond to shut the door or that I seem a bit obsessed by it.

Maybe I am, I do not know. But I do know that since the new bed arrived in September, I have not seen it finished yet.

Bear in mind I took time off work and cleared out her room in September, I heaved a big high-rise bed up the stairs having spent hours filling and lifting out bin bags of too small clothes and the most extraordinary amount of rubbish.

She just had to do the finishing touches… I am still waiting.

But I can get over that.

What I can’t get over now is the fact that despite being told each night go in and do that room, she has done everything else.

Even on Mothers’ Day I asked for no present, I didn’t want anything except for the room to be tidy. It feels like it will be next Mothers’ Day before I get what I want.

And in fairness I know most teenagers are messy, dirty animals, I know that. I do actually understand it. But at some point they will be tidied and cleaned up and relieved of the dishes and spoons which are lurking round the four corners of her room.

Once it is done I will leave it be for a time until it needs another overhaul. I’ll be happy to shut the door on a messy room, but I want a concerted effort made once in a while.

So here I am 13 days and counting.

Here’s a pic of the dog escaping. This is as far as I am tempted to go near the room. And this is just for starters, I am going to do a daily countdown though I do not expect results by tomorrow. But soon, or the google video threat will be resurrected.

I'm a doggie - Get me outta here

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs teenagers messy bedrooms

Flickr meet-ish and a new camera

I WAS out and about over the weekend meeting up with a fellow Flickrer from the States who was in Ireland for a couple of weeks, howdie Mymsie.

As well as meeting herself I also spent the day checking out how exactly to work the new Nikon D50 camera I use for work, just snapping whatever to get comfy and able with this new snazzy fantastic camera. And the help/advice/tips from Mymsie helped bucketloads.

Here are some of the results, as always you can check out the ones I have processed so far here.

View large here.

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs Dublin Ireland Flickr D50

From the top of a double-decker bus

SPENDING as much time on buses as I do you get your own routine to while away the time just sitting.

For me it involves either my ipod, camera or a newspaper depending on whether or not I have caught the bus before reaching the newsagents.

Last year I began working on my ‘Travels on the bus’ set of pics, well you have to have something to do in traffic madness. Check them out and let me know what you think.

Here are the latest pics added to the set taken yesterday morning and I was delighted with both of them. One is poignant and sad, the other is more fun.

Say 'Cheese' Molly, or should that be say 'Cockles'!

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs bus commuting Dublin Ireland

Aine from Sligo made it to popular Google videos

WELL would you look at that, one of Aine's Sligo clips has made it into Google's popular pages, fancy that.



If when you click on the link and it isn't there, just hit the 'another 15 popular videos' button and it should appear.

Thanks so much to Damien for this great link!

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs aine from sligo

Martha Stewart can’t fry an egg

DOING the auld channel hopping thing last night on the telly I stumbled across Martha Stewart and yer man Conan O’Brien attempting to make an Irish Fry probably as part of a St Patrick’s theme show. After seeing the awful attempt at a fry up, I had to switch over as I felt decidedly ill.

Firstly Conan went on about the aroma of melting lard before Martha fecked up her fried egg by giiving it a big flourished stab breaking her yoke. I mean really, Martha Stewart can’t fry an egg.

Martha then told Conan to help himself to ‘blood pudding’ and the most unappetising-looking sausages, black and white pudding before pouring beans all over the top. If someone poured beans over the top of my fry up… why I would…

She proceeded to pour whiskey into orange juice, Guinness into a coffee cup before giving Conan some fruit soda with marmalade on top of the beans-ridden disgusting fry.

Martha we do not eat fruit soda with a fry, maybe with a cup of tea but we might have soda farls with a fry. The research was just not up to scratch with plenty of stereotyping thrown in for good measure.

Just for any Americans who may have seen the show, that is not an Irish Fry, far from it. For your information here’s how a fry should look, minus the all-important soda farl, which I think mixed up Martha’s research people.

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs fryup Conan O’Brien Martha Stewart

Happy St Patrick's Day

I HAVEN'T surfaced out of the house yet, I will be avoiding town. But I am heading over to a pals later and will probably see what pics, if any, I can get then.

But in the meantime here's a pic I took about five minutes ago. I looked out my window at the traffic and saw two Guinness trucks and so did one passer-by who cheered, shouted and waved.

The truck drivers ignored him but I laughed.



For more pics of St Patrick's Day around the world, check out here.

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland St Patricks Day Paddys Day

Teenagers are mad

Coming back from my train journey today to Cork and back, I spotted this teenagers coming off my train in Heuston Station.

What on earth is that on their feet/legs? I seriously don't know.

Are they boots, or some kind of furry leg warmer thing?



redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland

The phone bill saga continues...

SOME of you who have been by here before might remember the phone bill saga from last year where the Young Wan twittered away the cost of a luxury holiday on phone calls.

Of course these phone calls were made to friends she had just spent all day with in school and with whom she had just walked home. But yeah yeah I remember doing the same, however it was in the days before mobiles and the bills from my teenage were not of today’s ilk.

Anyway I get a monthly phone bill and between one thing and another a couple of bills mounted up just before Christmas.

I made a payment of 150 euro and then made another just after Christmas for, God it even pains me to repeat this, 550 euro, while it was an accumulated bill; it was still for a relatively short period of time.

And I would have preferred to gnaw off my own arm than hand over this amount of money for nonsense chatterings.

Now in fairness this was a combination of the Young Wan and my Mum. I thought the Young Wan’s contribution was sneakily-made on moments when the phone was inadvertently left unlocked.

I bought a new-fangled trendy phone with the handset and base which can be locked with a PIN to combat the first wave of teenage busbyism.

The next bill I received in January was the lowest ever at 15 euro due to me paying an extra 100 euro on what I actually owed. So the bill was really 115 euro.

I hope you are following these figures? It’s easy for me cos they are absolutely etched on my brain, not to mention my wallet.

The next bill from two weeks ago was 150 euro. I was floored. There were many calls, an absolutely ridiculous amount of calls made to her pals and I could not figure this out.

She is allowed to make calls, but I never allowed this many. Had I left the phone off its lock? Despite knowing that I hadn’t I doubted myself.

Then during a lovely conversation I asked her how she was able to make a call to the boyfriend the previous evening.

After some hhmmming and haaaing she admitted that she worked a way around the PIN lock.

She figured out the code before as I used one that I use for lots of things. My own fault I should have known she would have sussed that out.

But while I changed the phone PIN I left the phone base PIN as it was not realising that it is through the base that emergency numbers can be stored.

So she would fancy a call, put in a new emergency call number and off she would go.

One of the things I find mad about this is that she is with me practically all the time, she comes into me after school, we hang about together all the time.

So obviously every time I went to the shops, or had a shower, off she would go to the tune of the above amounts.

Can you imagine the damage she could have done if she came home after school, phoning all those mobiles during peak time? I practically feel faint about it.

And I think that is what upsets me most about this.

I have tried to talk to her, to quantify just what this money could have done being spent on us, being put away as the fee for shared ownership application, loads of things.

I don’t think it is unreasonable for her to understand that as a single parent household, with one income, that is just not fair and wrong.

Until this discovery I was actually looking at finally getting broadband. I have held back until now because I really need to get out of this flat, I need to get our own home and I have felt that getting broadband is admitting I am staying here longer than I would like.

How and ever it does make sense, particularly with Vivo and Skype, though I know nothing about either except that you can make calls over the internet. I intended to find out.

And I say intended because I feel if I do it now that I am rewarding bad behaviour.

Anyway one of the broadband packages I was looking at allows free local and national calls up to 60 minutes. Would I trust the Young Wan to phone and hang up at 58 minutes and then call back.

Quite simply – no.

Ach but sure you know yourself, this package includes digital tv, phone time, broadband and all the possibilities of that, so when I calm down I will probably make the call again.

redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland phone bills teenagers

Blogging to do list

THERE are quite a few debates going around the Bogosphere that I want to contribute to at the moment as well as a post in the making that I haven’t started yet prompted by a post by The Big Drought (by the way a big round of applause for the non-drinking year soon to be over) on pregnancy and public ownership for want of a better phase.

However I just haven’t done that one yet but shortly… As well as that topic, the women and blogging theme again for want of a better word is another one I want to contribute too, I have really been enjoying what people have thrown into the ring.

So they are on the way. I have a train journey tomorrow so maybe I’ll move a step forward in my computerness and take my laptop with me, something I have never done before, but the thought of clearing out things or more-so ticking off my blogging to do list could spurn me along to do just that.

In the meantime, I snapped these pics today and yesterday on Merrion Square where the funfair is being assembled for St Patrick’s Day/Festival as well as other pictures taken at the Merrion Hotel where many of us broke the blogging blind date ice (I thought that was a perfect term JL Pagano) on Saturday evening.


(I personally like this pic large, check it out here)



Then I saw all the yellow-coated construction workers doing constructioney things so I turned my camera on them. I could see they were talking about me snapping them. So I shouted ‘givvus a wave’ and they did. Thanks lads:)



I think the doorman in the Merrion Hotel picture deserves a medal for chivalry; he is an absolutely charming man who cuts a dashing figure in his caped uniform.

I have seen him help elderly women out of taxis who are not even going to the hotel never mind how warm and welcoming he is to the hotel’s guests and charm-personified to passing tourists. And there he is smiling away. He’s a gentleman.





If you are out and about over St Patrick’s taking pictures please include them to the St Patrick’s Day around the world group on Flickr. All contributions gratefully accepted.

redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland St Patrick’s Day St Patrick’s Day

Another (small) videoclip from Irish Blog Awards

HE HE, I forgot that I recorded this little snippet featuring Twenty being awarded yet another prize at Saturday’s Irish Blog Awards.

Just look at the swagger, is it or is it not Twenty? And will we ever know?

You can view it also at this link.



Anyway the heartiest congrats to all the Irish Blog Award winners and well done to you all.

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs Irish Blog Awards column Twenty Major march 11

Redmum column March 9 - The First First-Date

The first first-date

THE gates of parenting hell have opened this week. Baton down the hatches and sound the alarm – the Young Wan has gotten herself a boyfriend.

And I mean gotten.

Teenagers are a strange bunch of people with new rules, parameters and my 14-year-old beauty has kinda asked this boy out.

I said kinda because it happened during one of those rambling nonsense text message exchanges, carried out on my mobile.

She met him a while ago and only recently started to chat and has been going on and on about him since then. So I suppose I should have seen this coming.

Anyhow they were texting and the next thing as I am trying to watch Fair City, she is whooping and hollering all around the flat shouting ‘Yes YES’.

Then she said ‘We’re going out’.

Me: ‘Oh great where are we going?’
Young Wan: ‘Noooooo we, not you and me, me and him are going out.’

Don’t parents get asked for permission anymore? Who even said she was allowed to go out with boys.

That point aside during the text conversation she said something like ‘why all the questions? Do you fancy me or sumfin? like ehm go out with me or sumfin?’

And he replied ‘if ya wanna?’

Now call me old-fashioned (yeah yeah I hear you shouting at the back) but I think he should have asked her out, or maybe I would have preferred if he had clearly asked her out instead of the unclear asking out-ish text that my daughter sent.

I am all for women taking the initiative but I would have preferred that scenario to happen when she is older. Besides his answer could have been better.

Am I just being a doting mother here? but seriously ‘if ya wanna’ doesn’t sound too enthusiastic to me. But then I am not a teenager.

How and ever, the bottom line is that she has a wee boyfriend.

When he walked her home from school on Friday in the snow, she was in romantic heaven. As I let her into the house, she was dreamily saying ‘isn’t the snow beautiful?’

‘Yeah, yeah, love’s young dream, get inside before you catch your death.’

So they had their first first-date over the weekend when he asked her to go into town to shop for a couple of hours.

The deal was the bathroom must be cleaned, my bedroom tidied and her own bedroom tidied.

She appeared to really get stuck into this work desperate to be allowed out on Saturday. But over the evening I realised that nothing was actually be doing.

There was lots of headless chicken running about antics but no actual substance tidying being done.

The full extent of this wasn’t discovered until Saturday night, luckily for her or she wouldn’t have gotten out at all.

As it was she was leaving behind a trail of destruction in the bathroom and my bedroom completely undoing whatever good had been carried out or I should say tidied up.

And off she went looking gorgeous with me videoing her going for the bus, as you do.

She was back at 5.30pm despite the 6pm deadline and she was not impressed.

There were 30 other kids out on the date. They were kicked out of McDonalds, nearly kicked out of St Stephen’s Green at which point she decided to head on home.

The treatment of teenagers who are just out and about and not causing any trouble is a topic for another day. But people should lay off them. Just because a gang of kids are hanging about does not necessarily mean they are up to mischief, far from it.

The day/date was such a non-event for the Young Wan that she even refunded me seven euro out of the tenner she went out with.

While she may have been annoyed at the sheer numbers of other kids out for the day, I on the other hand was delighted for a plethora of reasons.

I wonder what the official second date will be like? I would hate to be 14 again.



Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs Redmum column The Echo march 9

Irish Blog Awards - a top tag on Flickr

I AM just about coming alive again after the festivities of last night and it is nearly time for bed.

I've enjoyed reading everyone's accounts of their evening, was there no one sober? I have also realised the amount of people that I didn't get to meet. Soon though I am sure.

Do check out Rymus's set of pic of the evening, they are wonderful.

Now I really HAVE to finish my column, I have been sitting here looking at the laptop before going 'oh just five minutes on the internet'.

But it was a worthwhile cause because look where the Irish Blog Awards has landed in the top tags of the day on Flickr.



The last time that happened was for the Dublin riots and for George Best! (well in my flickr time that I have seen.)



redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland Irish Blog Awards

Irish blog awards

ARRRGGGG my head hurts, my mouth feels rotten and I can barely type. Obviously a good night then at the Irish Blog Awards then.

Firstly though well done Damien, what a job and what a great night. I had wanted to introduce myself but he was a busy man and I kept getting side-tracked.

It was cool to put faces to names and it was also very interesting to see the wide range of bloggers in the Irish community.

I have to say I was ridiculously nervous about meeting in the Cellar bar, my pal couldn’t understand this at all.

We thought the group in the corner were bloggers and they were so over we went where Sinead Gleeson, Thinking Out Loud, In Fact Ah, JL and others were.

After a fortifying glass of wine we trundled down in the rain to the Alexander Hotel and registered.

The lovely woman who registered me, sorry I didn’t get your name I blame it on the nerves, said ‘ohhh I judged you’.

Eek, I am so sorry for all my crimes, I promise not to be bold again. After a good laugh about that I spent my time following people outside for a ciggie, peering at name badges and chatting to Beth Bond.

One of the early jokes of the evening was the fact that both Fiona and Beth were wearing the same lovely coat, and after a little prodding allowed me to take one of the few pics I took of the evening.



While I took my camera I wanted to just relax and enjoy the evening free of snapping.

And I really did.

It was great as well that it didn’t start on time, it gave us that opportunity to meet and talk to each other, which was wonderful. I met Gingerpixel, Slugger (who was not ‘a token Nordie’ as he put it us Nordies were all over the place), Susy (who I know from many, many years ago) and Fiona.

After the fun and frolics of the awards with the representative from Twenty Major, 20 and a half picking up the outrageously large amount of awards, all well-deserved of course.


Twenty' stash of prizes, left alone by 20 and a half, so that convinced me that it wasn't the actual real Twenty, who I reckon never would have left ipods lying about.

I can barely remember now who won everything but no doubt it is already posted up by someone.

And for those of you who couldn’t make it, I didn’t win:( but I got a massive cheer from my posse of pals including Kaz, cheers guys:)

I head off at one stage to find Dermot and found him earning myself a lovely big hug, delighted to meet you! It was also lovely to meet Bernie and Michele.

My posse decided that food was in order, so we kidnapped Beth and headed for pizza before heading back to my place with Beth where we drank and chatted for hours.

It’s always lovely to meet new friends.

So now I am nursing a delicate-ness from the excess of wine, I am burning a fry-up, drinking copious amounts of coke and tea and am ready to flop onto the settee where I shall spent the afternoon.

Now I should be doing a million things about the flat (a million apologies Beth for the state of the place).

Where are those aspirins?

redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland Irish Blog Awards blog awards

Blogging, anonymity and the Blog Awards

THAT girl at Thinking Out Loud raised some interesting points on her Irish Blog Awards nominated site (well we need the plug, as does McDara after the many plugs given to the other Best Blogger category nominees) about her reluctance to have her pic posted on the internet.

I have pretty much been having the same thoughts.

I suppose firstly I want to protect my daughter’s anonymity and she doesn’t need to see her ma plastered (maybe literally if the Merrion cocktails go well :)) on a website.

While I might blog about our lives together there is so much more about our lives that will never make these pages, it’s my space and I can, as far as possible within the parameters I set myself, dictate what goes on.

The bottom line is that I never want to compromise her.

These parameters have changed over time as I have learned more about blogging.

One of these parameters concerns the loss of my anonymity and it’s something that I have thought about for while.

I started off blogging by accident really, I had heard about them but hadn’t searched them out and then I read Things I hate about my flatmate.

Having shared flats with people, some of the posts were similar to incidents I’d encountered during my flatsharing stage of life, some of it was just mad granted but I set up my own within an hour of reading it.

While partly inspired by the Flatmate blog, there was also an ‘incident’ at home, I can’t even remember what now, and I started blogging about the Young Wan being in disgrace and how the doggie was getting the family inheritance.

I told no one and I have to say I felt I could write about anything, my parameters felt boundless. It was going to be my space where no one knew me where I could write anything.

I had no problem being personal, maybe just not too personal.

Like many others my first visitors mostly came from the States though it felt like no one stopped by for any length of time and few commented, so it felt like no one was reading.

Then Joe Bloggs in the Sunday Tribune included my ‘Don’t talk to me about U2’ post and the amount of Irish visitors went through the roof that Sunday and Monday.

Of course I had to tell someone, I was bursting, so I told some friends and pretty soon they were dropping by and telling others. And in situations many of ye will identify the conversations were along these lines:

Me: Well you see I started a blog and…

Friend: A what??!?

After explaining and pointing them in the direction of Red Mum, I sat nervously wondering would they wonder about me.

They probably did and do and that was the beginning of the end for anonymity and the beginning of sometimes being self-conscious about what I was writing.

Though I realise now that the nature of what I have written about, taken photos of, whatever, would have probably had the same effect on my anonymity anyway.

I do feel restricted somewhat by this, but it’s not a real problem. IF I really want to write things I do not want particular people to read I can just start another anonymous blog, knowing what I know now.

Those restrictions, for want of a better word, don’t bother me anymore.

Since then I have realised that it is only a matter of time before I am sussed though while realising this I was still sort-of hesitant about going to the Blog Awards.

And while I may still have reservations, the craic of the evening was far too big a pull, never mind the mad, off-chance of getting a gold Barbie doll.

So I decided to kinda out myself to those who may find out who haven’t already.

At the same time I still want to preserve my internet anonymity as far as possible, like That Girl I have also had an internet stalker.

At first it was actually funny, but it got a bit creepy when this mad American Internet Stalker woman got my home phone number and left a very long crazy message.

This stemmed from some years ago when I used to post on a newsgroup which had this mad lurker. She got it into her head I was having a relationship with a bloke from the group who she went out with previously.

It began when I started receiving crazy pages-long emails from this mad ‘un under different alias where she called me everything and told me mad stories about her relationship with this fella.

Ignoring them seemed to be the best course of action however she started emailing other people with awful stuff about me.

While it was mad I was still kinda laughing at this and it all calmed down and stopped, or so I thought. All this took place two years ago and then about six months ago she phoned my bloody house and left a long message on my answering machine.

I was absolutely livid, my daughter could have picked up that message, though in fairness it took me a while to figure out that this American woman who left such a long, sprawling, diatribe of nonsense was actually the Internet Stalker.

So I reckon the Young Wan would have deleted the message thinking some mad person was trying unsuccessfully to sell us a cruise.

The worst thing is at that time there were countless hang-ups on our phone and I just put it down to teenage nonsense.

Turns out this woman thinks me and yer man are married, seriously, you couldn’t make this stuff up.

Anyway I am (kinda nervously) looking forward to the awards, there are loads of people I would like to meet and it has been hard not to get caught up in the excitement.

Right what the feck am I going to wear? (I’d love a lovely Donna Karan number Damien but I can’t think of anything like that in my wardrobe) so I guess I will see (and meet) many of you later…

Technorati tags: redmum Irishblogs Dublin Ireland blog awards Irish blog awards

Lunchtime snapping and more besides

OUT and about over lunchtime today in the beautiful spring sunshine I shot this in St Stephen’s Green. It’s a quare difference to the shot I got in July last year during a rainy lunchtime.

And another rainy Stephen’s Green shot from earlier in the week.

And here’s another shot from lunchtime of wrought-iron railings.

And another from earlier in the week.

Always carry your camera you never know what you might come across, just like this next one I took in Blanchardstown shopping centre last weekend. I love the way the last of the last of the light hits this building.

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs Dublin Ireland flickr

Ever seen a bird moonwalk?

EVER seen a bird moonwalk?

If like me you are on dialup at home, you can download the clip here.

Technorati tags: redmum irishblogs google video moonwalk

Red Mum column March 2

From 'big heads' to good music - teenagers think they know it all

I wrote recently about the teenage art of communication and only touched on the loud-teen ramblings parents are subjected to during the adolescent stage.

And it is important, hard as it can be sometimes, to listen to the chittering of nonsense because maybe in the midst of all there is something important.

Like many other parents I am as guilty as the next for saying ‘ah Jaysus give my head peace!’ so I need to work on my listening skills.

However judging by recent conversations with the Young Wan I probably need to work on my people skills too. Here’s an example.

Young Wan: “Do I have a big head?”

Me: “Ehmm yeah you do have kinda have a biggish head.”

Blank yet confused look from the Young Wan…

Me: “Well no it’s not big big, it's not even big, it’s completely in proportion with your body. You don’t have a big head but you don’t have a small head. It is just right.”

Young Wan: “Just cos you have a small head, huh!”

Me: “No I don’t have a small head, I just don’t have a big head.”

There is a fair amount of teasing goes on in our household from all quarters and the Young Wan is up there with the best.

She does a pretty funny impression of me dancing and has been doing it since she was about 8.

My favourite way to wind her up involves pretending to dance whilst perusing aisles in the supermarket. She walks away.

My other favourite thing is to grab her hand as we cross roads, she absolutely hates this, well I suppose she is 14 and I wouldn’t have been caught dead holding my Mum’s hand at that age.

Holding Mum’s hand stopped in our household by the age of nine. She would hold other people’s hands, it was the Mummy hand that made it a major faux-pas.

Crossing the road over the weekend I took her hand and to my amazement she held onto it.

So I couldn’t resist swinging our arms and skipping. My hand was dropped as quick as a flash.

Hey if you can’t have a bit of fun or teasing with your own child, who can you do it with?

And don’t think I am immune to this teasing, far from it.

The Young Wan will actually tease me about my northern accent. Hey at least I can speak properly AND prounounce my ‘th’ as in three and not tree. Come on that causes no end of confusion.

The sense of humour she has developed over the years has me in absolute stitches.

While I have great fun mercilessly poking fun at the awful music she prefers, she has a laugh at some of my music, even if she gets it slightly wrong.

Marvin Gaye is the latest artist to come under her scrutiny only she has been getting it a bit wrong.

This was her latest sweeping and unfounded statement.

“I hate Marvin Gaye ‘aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhh love to love you babbby, ahhhh’. Marvin Gaye is so rubbish.”

“Ehm I think you’ll find that you are singing the great disco classic by DONNA SUMMER.’

*Sigh* The next lesson from Red Mum to the Young Wan is a crash course in ‘good’ music.

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Happy International Womens' Day

I WAS looking for something to mark International Womens’ Day and seeing as how I can’t give you chocolates and flowers I thought I would try a poem.

I immediately thought about that great poem ‘When I am an old woman I shall wear purple' but it can't be reproduced apparently because there is some sort of copyright issue with it, but do check it out here if you do not know it cos it is a great poem.

I then stumbled across a poem by Sumangalamata from around 600BC, read more about her here.

A Women Well Set Free

At last free,
at last I am a woman free!
No more tied to the kitchen,
stained amid the stained pots,
no more bound to the husband
who thought me less
than the shade he wove with his hands.
No more anger, no more hunger,
I sit now in the shade of my own tree.
Meditating thus, I am happy, serene.

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Phew... Blogroll update

I UPDATED my blogroll and Jaysus what a job and like the last time I KNOW I have omitted some blog/one I shouldn't have. But it is easier updating one by one and not the mammoth expeditation I just did.

And not only did I update my blog roll but I put everyone in alphabetical order too, no bloody mean feat I can tell you. If there are any mistakes I will correct them, again...

Phew now where is that wine?

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Government unveils Bird Flu action plan

It won't work without a wee hat and scarf though.

I stumbled across this picture recently and cannot for the life of me remember where I saw or got it. D'Oh!

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