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We continue crying it out

Posted on 12 February, 2017

Let me start by saying it’s all gone pear shaped! After my last post I was hoping to come back and smugly flaunt my sleeping child in front of you. During the week it was starting to look good, the night before last I could see the victorious blog post come together. But it wasn’t to be. It has been a week since we first started the controlled crying method and we are exhausted. I’ve put a night by night record at the end of this post for those of you who are interested but it can be summed up pretty easily. Controlled crying hasn’t worked (yet!).

Our win has been one night she slept through for 12.5 hours. I was thrilled for her, for us, for the possibility of a continuum of sleep filled nights. She was a delight in the morning and because she woke before her brother we started the day with low lights and giggles. It was blissful. This glorious time was the night before last. I thought we had cracked it. While outwardly saying, “We’ll see how tonight goes” inwardly  I thought we had really found the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. There is a certain misunderstanding that second time parents have more sense than to think one night of sleeping through means you are home and dry. Really second (and I’m guessing third,fourth and fifth time parents) are so knackered that if anything you cling to the dream of a string of good nights sleep so tightly that you believe the mirage. You believe it so completely that you crawl on your hands and knees to the well of sleep and it believe it will never dry up.  Then you wake up. You realise that you are in fact, almost, back where you started.  Last night she woke and tried to settle herself. It briefly worked then she woke with ferocity. She stayed awake and upset from 4am to 5:20am.  She would settle briefly when we comforted her, but it had no lasting effect. I wouldn’t say she settled herself in the end. She just got too tired to cry and drifted off. At 7 o’clock Ewan was ready for action and the house wakes once again. Not a win! No gold. No well filled with sleep.

The big question is with the upset and broken sleep is anyone any better off than before we started controlled crying?

Today with bags under my eyes sizable enough they would have to be checked through I would still say it’s worth it. Some nights she has woken and babbled herself back to sleep. This has been amazing. I’m so proud of her for managing that. We haven’t given her a dummy, for no particular reason other than we haven’t. We haven’t given her a toy because of the seven leaflets I got when she was born about Sudden Infant Death Syndrome which says cots should be barren waste grounds free of all toys,teddies and creature comforts. You did read that right by the way. In Freya’s first week  a lot of midwives called to the house and they ALL gave me at least one leaflet on S.I.D.S until eventually I counted them and refused to take anymore of them.  It’s left an impression on both Steve and I that’s still hard to shake even 8 months later!

Basically we are asking her to settle herself in the confines of her sleeping bag with just a breathable blanket to hold on to. At times she can actually do it. She is, as I should mention more often, amazing!

When I was thinking if this was worth it there are actually plenty of positives I forget when I’m tired and cranky.

1) She has once slept through for 12 and a half hours and woke up happy.

2) She has been woken by drunk people shouting on the street and settled herself back to sleep with ease.

3) She still only wakes fully once a night.

4) She has not had a bottle at night for a week!

5) Now when she’s awake at night she sounds frustrated that she isn’t asleep.Frustration is better than stress (That’s not a major win but I’m really looking to take what I can)

6) I’m hugely proud of her. Not only for the nights that she settles but for the nights that she raises herself onto all fours so that she has us in her eye line as she shouts for us.  She knows we are there and she’s not going to stop calling for us. It’s an odd positive but when my Mum said that crying-it-out worked after two nights when I was a baby I thought, what kind ofa light weight was I? Where was my gumption? Where was my fight? At stupid o’clock  last night I thought of the quote “Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.” While the poem doesn’t fit the circumstance, especially since at 5:20am it’s more likely to get light than dark, the sentiment is perfect for her. She won’t go down easily she will rage,rage at us until she is answered .I admire her for that and for that she is right. Obviously,I would admire a good nights sleep all the more but for now you have to admit, the girl has grit!

On the negative side she is still waking and crying at night. Last night was the longest we have been awake with her in months, including when we were giving her bottles! Steve deciding to go to the bathroom and he returned as she was settling excited a burning rage in me that should be really reserved for much more serious crimes. But Steve is the nearest human being that I can be cross with so at 4 in the morning he receives the full wave of my internal rants. Similarly, I’m sure the fact that controlled crying was my idea crosses his mind more than once in the small hours. But on one point we are agreed, we are exhausted.

Somehow we are trying to find the momentum for another week of crying-it-out. We are not going back to bottles! There is only one way left. Onwards. We are going to figure out a more set bedtime routine, where Ewan and Freya can both be clean, fed and in bed by 7. We are going to keep going with our adapted form of crying-it-out. The longest interval we have left her crying before going to her is 10 minutes. Theoretically we should be extending that time the longer she is awake but it doesn’t feel right for us so we will stick with our plan. Oh joy!!

Again I will let you know next week how it goes. Thanks for reading and thanks for the responses to last weeks post. To everyone who send lovely messages,left comments here or on Instagram and chatted about our ventures into crying it out thank you. I had expected a bit of negativity so either you are silently scolding the screen or you just decided to keep quiet, either way thank you!!

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A week of crying it out.

Night by Night

Night 1) An hour of hysterical crying, upset and heartbreaking for everyone. See the last post for the ups and downs of it all.  After that terrible night we needed a game plan. So we agreed we would try not picking her and comfort her verbally at a 5 minute then 10 minute intervals for a half an hour. If after a half an hour  it wasn’t working or if she was getting really stressed we would take her up and cuddle her until she settled. Both of us were happy with the plan. It wasn’t strictly by the rules of the method but it was about all we were up for after a terrible night the night before.

Night 2) Woke at about 2:30 am. From her first cry to snoring took only 33 minutes. We didn’t pick her up and unlike the night before she was calmed and was comforted by us talking to her. She was significantly less upset than the night before and within a half an hour she had calmed herself to sleep.

Night 3) Awake and babbling for a while. Getting back to sleep wasn’t helped by Ewan waking also. From when  she started crying it was about a half an hour in total, three visits to her without picking her up, plenty of shushing.

Night 4) A few half wakings and she babbled herself back to sleep. She has become very verbose at different points in the night but talking isn’t  crying so we’ll take that.  I didn’t check my watch because when she wakes in the night I play dead until there’s a problem. But at some point she fully woke and cried. One visit with shushing her calmed her and she settled herself quickly. (This is when I thought we were nearly there!)

Night 5) It took 45 minutes for her to settle. She was much more upset than the previous nights. In the morning we found a poo in her nappy and put the night down to a blip in the radar.

Night 6) She slept from 6 -6:30, wahooooo!

Night 7) She was awake for an hour and twenty minutes. The longest time yet and very upset.

When I look back on each day it’s really not so bad but dreams of a full nights sleep lull my tired mind to a happy place. Fingers crossed that next week we get there, or at least nearer!

 

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Out and about as four

Posted on 27 June, 2016

Last weekend the four of us headed to a friends wedding in Spanish Point, County Clare. In the week leading up to the wedding I planned every other outing with military precision. I have spent a disproportionate amount of lot of time figuring out the best order to get the children in and out of the car safely! There are only two of them and I may well be in danger of over thinking things but don’t worry I have thought about that too. The secret, it seems, to over thinking things is to do something that you could truly worry about. Thereby giving yourself so many things to worry about that you’ll just have no choice just to stop worrying about them because there simply isn’t enough time to worry about all the things you want to worry about. See,simple!

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Here is a brief snap shot of my pre-wedding worries . What if Freya freaks out in the car for the whole journey whicgh in turn causes Ewan to freak out and everyone arrives traumatised? How long should three week old babies be in a car seat? How will I keep Ewan quiet in the church? What if he starts asking loudly if God is real? What if both children scream the place down and no one can hear the priest? Would people mind me breastfeeding in the church? Who would object? The priest would hardly ask me to stop in the middle of his sermon, would he? Can I definitely breast feed in the dress I picked out? What will I do with my hair? How will we all get to sleep in the one hotel room? Will it be dangerous to drive home the next day when no one has slept? Did I definitely book the hotel room? I never got a confirmation email. It is definitely booked, I remember ringing but did she definitely say we had it booked?

The list went on until eventually my mind melted in a puddle on the floor. I decided to step over the brain puddle and go anyway.

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And so two parents, a three year old and a three week year old hit the road and had a blast. No one freaked out in the car. We had to duck out in the middle of the ceremony when both children decided at the same time that they had had enough but we did get to see the wonderful couple  take their vows and we made it back in to see them sign the register. Freya didn’t need a feed in the church but as it turns out I would have felt very comfortable feeding her in the church. My hair had a tough time battling with West Clare winds but it turns out that didn’t matter either. We all slept like logs. Freya slept a whooping six and a half hours between her feeds and Ewan didn’t stir until half eight which is a definite record for him.

When you put aside the logistics and the “what ifs” there is the fact that my friend got married and I got to witness it. She made a life long commitment to her wonderful husband, and he to her, and we got to be a tiny part of it. It would have been pretty easy to stay at home  in our pajamas but I’m so glad we didn’t.

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Goodbye Crimbo limbo

Posted on 31 December, 2015

Today we finally say goodbye to Crimbo Limbo that weird time of the year between the 27th and the 31st of December . When nobody knows quiet what to do with themselves. The leftovers feel never ending and, in the case of this year, we linger from one storm to the next.

Tonight the limbo is over. A new year lies ahead.

So goodbye present opening …

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Goodbye over indulgence (although I can’t promise to stop entirely, there’s a Terry’s chocolate orange and some very fancy biscuits that will need my attention in the New Year) …

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But for now there is less than 4 hours between us and a New Year. Whatever it brings I’m in the mood to welcome it.

So I’m not going to promise anything for next year. No diet, goal lists or stoic resolutions.  All I want for 2016 is to enjoy the nice moments and weather the storms. For you however I wish you the best of everything in 2016 and thank you for reading,x

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An Interview with Ewan

Posted on 26 November, 2015

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Today we rented a book from the library that asks the child a few questions at the end.

Ewans’ answers made me laugh so I thought I’d share them with you.

What makes you happy?

Playing

Laughing (he said this twice)

Crocodile

A dancing bear

Books

My hair

Mummy’s glasses

Birdie

Playing with bus

Elfa (the character in the book)

Buns

Toys

Spooky things.

What makes you sad?

Upstairs in bed

Bad dreams

Monkey (no elaboration offered)

Someone pushed you

Mummy not nice about porridge

Me- When was mummy not nice about porridge?

Ewan- Mummy not nice about porridge, Ewan want grape instead.

(No idea what breakfast debacle this is referring to but clearly it has left an impression)

Pushing

Mummy drinking

Me- What? Mummy drinking ?

Ewan- Mummy drinking make me upset.

Me- Mummy drinking? What does Mummy drink?

Ewan: Mummy drinking lemonade makes Ewan upset.

Me: Oooh. Do you mean if I have lemonade and I don’t give you some?

Ewan: Yeah, mummy drinking.

Then his Dad walked in and he said he was upset about Daddy coming in.

What places do you like to go?

The secret place

Me: Where’s the secret place?

Ewan: Over the wobbly thing.

Me : Okay. Where else do you like to go?

Ewan: Left.

Must I see dead babies to imagine a catastrophe?

Posted on 8 September, 2015

Fintan O’Toole’s piece yesterday titled “Must we see dead babies to imagine a catastrophe?” talks about Europe’s reaction to the Syrian refugee crisis and considers if European governments have become so far removed from our war crises that we can no longer sympathise.

Fintan’s piece got me thinking not about the ideals of Europe but about my own responses. Must I see dead babies to imagine a catastrophe? My truthful answer is that sometimes that’s not even enough for me to imagine their horror. Sometime I choose not to and sometimes I simply can’t imagine it.

I see horrific images regularly and the scary fact of it is that it has very little effect. This isn’t something I am looking to boast about. Photos of dying children come through the post when emergency appeals letters arrive from charities and I don’t break down in tears. Any time I watch television the ads seem filled with horrific images of children’s suffering, I feel uneasy but I don’t call to donate each time.

I know that I have built a filter around the images of suffering, be they children or adults alike. Sometimes I feel so overwhelmed listening to the news or checking news apps that I simply stop. I cut myself off from it all because I have no idea what to do about it.  I seek out nice images, articles about anything other than brutality because frankly I can’t hack it. I don’t have that fire in my belly to join an NGO and work one crisis tent at a time. I know I won’t leave the comforts of my home to go into the next war zone. And so I feel powerless and I deal with that by switching off. I distract, defer or ignore.

If an image is so stark, like that of Aylan Kurdi, then it does have an impact. It is so hard to take in. When I first looked at it I couldn’t grasp it? And when I did, when I realised what I was looking at, a small boy, dead on the beach with water around him my filter came down. But I can only let it in a little. I can only let my mind linger on that thought for a short time. I allow myself to linger longer than the images I filter quickly but not long enough for my imagination to be carried into the true extent of the horrors of war and fleeing your home.  I can’t carry the imagination of that families tragedy with me for long so I do something different. I look to ease the discomfort of imagining their lives and I look online . I find 5 things you can do from Ireland to help this refugee crisis and I do two of those. Does that help? I don’t know. Who am I looking to help, them or me? I don’t know.

I haven’t signed the  petition to say Ireland should take more refugees.  We all know that living in direct provision in Ireland is an embarrassment to the country. The Ombudsman for Children is not allowed to investigate specific cases of children in direct provision despite them requesting the governments permission to do so. HIQA say they have grave concerns over the safety of children in direct provision. It’s not so long ago that a judge in Northern Ireland refused to send a family who had been seeking asylum in Ireland back to the Republic. It was reported that the direct provision situation here is such that the family were at risk of inhumane treatment if they were sent back here.

Who am I to say come one and all to our in adequate system where we can’t even guarantee the safety of your children. Maybe we all seek to ease our conscious by saying come, come in your plenty, but just so you know we haven’t looked after the 4,ooo plus people who already live in the limbo that is direct provision. I’m not saying we should close our gates but I am saying that agreeing to take people into our country comes with responsibilities. I am less concerned about the number of refugees Ireland gives entry and more concerned about that everyone who comes to live here gets the right to do so in safety and with dignity.

In many ways I know so little about it all that I feel at sea talking about it. Can I imagine their tragedy after seeing the images? I really don’t think I can but it took that image for me to even try. I think we can only truly sympathise when their experience isn’t far from our own. Which is the point Fintan O’Toole made in his article, when we are not far from war ourselves then we know how it’s victims feel. But here we are so comfortable and removed from war that I actively try and protect that view point. I aim to keep my world small and secure, one I can understand. With that I make choices about what I let in. So as horrific as it may be to see Aylan that is what it took, for me at least, to drop my filter and for a moment or two longer live with it and try to imagine the unimaginable.

 

PS I’ll be doing this  on Friday 11th September if you want to join in.

Traditions and the best pizza dough ever!

Posted on 4 September, 2015

 

 

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I have always been a creature of habit. I have ordered the same thing in Wagamamas since it opened in Cork  10 years ago (yasai katsu curry and duck gyozas!).In the past I’ve branched out because apparently change is good for you but without fail I regretted not picking my reliably delicious favourite. Recently my eating out in the restaurant opportunities are non-existent so we have started a new Friday night habit. Actually, habit sounds like a problem I need to kick so I’ll  elevated it to a Friday night tradition.

Instead of bustling restaurants or going out for pints our “living it up ” on Friday nights is made up of Steve’s homemade pizzas, occasionally wine (if we remember to buy it) and watching a film on the projector. This may be bringing the predictable to a new level but I’ll happily concede that I’m already counting the hours until pizza o’clock!

For months Steve has been tweaking and experimenting with the recipe for his base and his months of hard work have paid off. He has hit on a recipe that gives consistently amazing crunch crusts and I have appropriately named it the best pizza dough in the world ever. And you lucky devils can now reap the benefits too!!

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Ingredients for 2 pizza bases!

350 gm Strong Flour

1 sachet of dried yeast

1 tsp salt

1 tsp of golden syrup (or honey)

Jug of warm water

A food mixer with a dough hook, or a flat surface and plenty of elbow grease.

 

Preheat your oven to around 50 degrees Celsius while you make your dough. You will need a warm oven to help the dough rise once you’ve made it. To begin, throw all the dry ingredients into your mixing bowl, add in the syrup and start to add in the warm water while your mixer kneads the mixture. Keep adding a little water until the dry ingredients comes together into a dough. After a few minutes of mixing you want your dough to be firm and not too tacky or wet to touch. If you have added in too much water, you can always add in a little more flour. The dryer the dough the easier it will be to roll out later and you will get a better crust. After a good five minutes of mixing, you can remove the dough from the mixing bowl.  The mixing bowl should now be clean on the inside from the dough being mixed like so…IMG_2355

Now you take the dough out of the bowl. Then rub a little olive oil around the inside of the bowl  this is so when the dough rises, it doesn’t stick to the side of the bowl and it means its is easy to get it out when you are ready to use it.. Pop the dough back into the mixing bowl or any metal bowl you have. Cover the bowl with cling film and place into your preheated oven for a few hours before you make your pizzas. After it has risen to twice its original size, you can either use it straight away or leave it in your fridge until the next day if you prefer.

To make your pizza, preheat your oven to at least 200c. Scoop out a portion of the dough from your mixing bowl. Sprinkle a little flour on a flat surface and roll out the dough with a rolling pin into whatever shape you enjoy your pizza. Try not to use too much flour at this stage as it takes away from the taste. Place the rolled out pizza base on some baking paper and leave it on a baking tray. We use regular rectangular baking trays rather than a pizza stone and it works well.

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Dress your pizza any way you like and cook it in the centre of your oven for about twelve minutes at 200 degrees celsius!

When it come to dressing pizza my dislike of cheese comes into play. Pizzas without cheese is perfectly delicious no matter what the cheese fanatics say. We tried various kinds of exotic tomato concoctions for our pizza sauce. We went from homemade sauces to artisan locally made sauces but in the end we found that Lidl’s passatta sauce works just as well as any of them. I have stolen my toppings suggestions from a local pizzeria  but if you thought not having cheese on my pizza was radical then you certainly won’t approve of the addition of fruit!. My Friday tradition is thinly sliced plums, parma ham and rocket and let me tell you it is so gooooooooddd!! In the picture below I forgot to buy rocket so I replaced it with baby spinach instead which was pretty epic as well. There really isn’t too much need to over think your toppings either, aim for 3 or 4 things you really like and let’s face it, it’s pizza, it’s going to be amazing!!

There are only 4 more hours to pizza o’clock here!! If you have any other winning combinations of pizza toppings I’d love to hear them to add to our Friday night tradition!

 

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Have a delicious weekend,x

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Kvell

Posted on 2 September, 2015

I was browsing the internet aimlessly, as you do, when I cam across a new word that fits perfectly with my experience today. Kvell. Have you heard it before? It’s a verb that means “to burst with pride”.

Last week Ewan started playschool and he has been an absolute legend. Up until now I would never have thought playschool would be his thing. Those that know him felt our anxiety and thought that while he might not settle straight away in time he would be okay with the idea. We had resolved ourselves for a rocky start but we kept saying the mantra “it’ll be good for him, it’ll be good for him”.

Well, we were all wrong. On his first day he ran in smiling and delved into a box of trucks. As for tears when I left, there was no such thing. He barely lifted his head to say good bye. I was dismissed with a flick  of the wrist and  a quick “bye” and that was it.

He is going to playschool for two days a week for two and a half hours which felt like an eternity when we signed him up but really it is over in the blink of an eye and I get about a third of things done that I have planned for that time. As for him even though he has there only been three times in his life it has quickly become his favourite place in the world!

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While he had an amazing time. I was a mess. Seeing him happy playing with toys before I left didn’t convince me that he would be fine. I thought a half an hour in and he would realise I was gone and be upset. It wasn’t until I went to collect him and he refused to come home with me that I believed he really is happy there, without me. And while a part of thinks,”well thanks it’s only two and a bit years we’ve spent together !” the other, larger, part of me is kvelling! (see I used my new word in a sentence:)

I love  that he defies what we had decided was his character. It annoys me when I hear myself explain his hiding by saying ” he’s just a bit shy” in an apologetic tone.  I think I’m concerned that the persons unanswered question, or  the”hello” that didn’t receive a reply requires some explaining and so for fear of causing offence I say “oh he’s a bit shy”. Shyness is nothing to apologies for  yet every now and again I find that tone slipping out. I remember once I said to Steve that he’s very shy and Steve said he isn’t anything yet. I was taken back our little man is loads of things! But what he meant is he isn’t anyone thing. He could be anything and any kind of person. He is two. It is far too early for him to be one kind of child or another. He is growing. He is learning. He is figuring out how to be in different settings, with different people who all engage with him differently. Life is tricky enough and so for the moment I’m relishing in the lesson that he has taught me by starting pre-school so easily. My little man can do just about anything and he will decide exactly how he wants to be when he wants! I know I’m definitely over kvelling now but I don’t even care!!

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Girl Crush

Posted on 31 August, 2015

Not since Beyonce released “Work it Out” have I had a girl crush this potent. A lioness by the name of Caitlin Moran has stolen my heart. I’ll concede that her name isn’t as catchy as Beyonce but she’s just as fierce.  She is a British writer,screen writer and “person from the telly” whose books have made me spit a biscuit out in laughter, and you know how I love biscuits!

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She had published  “How to be a Woman” 4 years hence before I got my hands on it.  My copy was bought by a stranger who, presumably read it, then donated it to a charity shop. It was bought from there by a friend of mine,who in turn donated it to me with the following description “it’s a funny, leave it by the toilet and dip in and out of it kind of a book”.

Within the first few pages I was hooked and so the much thumbed copy never made it to our bathroom.  The book is a proclamation about why feminism is for absolutely everyone which sounds dry but is not in the least. It had me actually spluttering with laughter. Between the parts about why feminism is wonderful her tales about the joys of masturbating, libraries and pubic hair among other things kept my hanging on her every word. There are many people I wouldn’t recommend this book (it’s not really a mother-in-law type recommendation) but I loved every page of it! The book made me want to go for drinks with her and started my ever growing girl crush on her.

In reality, going for drinks with her would be fraught with anxiety. I am certain I would pretend to like the same drinks as her  so as to give her the illusion that we have so much in common and set the tone for the evening. Given though really we’ve nothing in common. I’m an only child and she’s from a huge family, she knows tonnes about music, I was raised on Meatloaf and The Monkees. Even the fact that we live in different countries is tricky so I will have very little ground to convince her we should be soul mates. Therefore copying her drink order is key to my wooing her. Although she would probably order gin and then I’d be forced to pretend I like it which is a big ask because gin is revolting but for my one true girl crush I would probably manage to drink a few.

So with the  complications of the drinks order somewhat sorted she could talk the ear off me, I would wee myself with laughter and the rest of my life would be spent reliving the stories she told me time and time again.

Although in truth we would probably never be friends. She’s far too big a personality, I’d never get a word in edge-ways and while I’d bask in the glory of her wit and investigate that grey streak in her hair up close after that I’m sure long term our friendship would probably not be on the cards.

But back to fiction, when it came to reading her newest book How to Build a Girl I knew nothing about it but picked it up because it had Caitlin’s name on it. The same way that I buy anything with the word chocolate on it, you just know it’s going to be good. I’ll admit I was disappointed at the start. I had wanted the book to be the exact same as How to be a Woman, the story of her life,feminism mixed with witticisms but instead I got some fiction about a girl named Johanna Morrigan,

The path of Johanna’s life seems so close to Caitlin’s and so I spent much of the time trying to figure out which parts were based on real life and what was purely fictional. Not knowing Caitlin in real life made this a difficult and unrewarding task. She stringently says that it’s fiction but the tales of a horny teenager who goes to work for a music magazine while urgently seeking out sex sounds so like the woman I found in How to be a Woman that it’s hard to separate the two.

Once I repeated to myself “this one is fiction” numerous times before reading it then I came to enjoy it. I grew to like Johanna even though, or maybe because, she’s a bit of a teenage twat.  I awed at the size of her huge family and her relationship with her brother Kris who she adores. As an only child stories of huge families and sibling bonds fascinate me, like magical distant lands where everything seems more wondrous and full of cake than it might really be.

Despite the fact that I didn’t tear through How to Build A Girl with any great speed I’d still pass it on a friend with the proviso “It’s worth reading even when your not on the toilet “. I sentence I hope she doesn’t read before we go for imaginary gin.

Since I have already binged watched her and her sister’s sitcom Raised by Wolves I will show my love for her by re-watching it and all the extra clips, randomly google her name, reading everything she has every written or said and pressing refresh until Season 2 of Raised by Wolves comes to my laptop screen. A perfectly good way to work on my girl crush I think.

 

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FLASH VINTAGE SALE

Posted on 28 August, 2015

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Over on the Thrifty Amos Facebook  page the last of my vintage home ware stock is being sold. It’s an everything must go kind of sale and all offers are welcome.

It’s officially VINTAGE FLASH SALE time !!

If your keen here are the rules:

-Buyers must be able to collect for Cork City Centre (or know someone lovely who will do it for them!)
– I will accept the first reasonable offer. So if you like something send me a facebook message or email me at annmarie@thriftyamos.com quickly and don’t be shy. In the words of Harvey Norman “Once it’s gone,it’s gone”.
– Payments can be made by cash on collection or by Paypal in advance if you’d prefer
– Some photos are random collections so feel free to offer a price for items separately if you’d like
– The more you buy the less likely I am to notice that you’re low balling me
– This is vintage stuff so it’s not as new. In saying that everything listed is of really nice quality with no cracks or chips.

If you have time pop over and have a look. It’s stuff I like so I hope you might too:)

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Etsy Shop is Closed

Posted on 27 August, 2015

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Shop announcement!
The Thrifty Amos Etsy shop is closed for good.

There were many things I liked about running the shop but at this point my heart isn’t in it. I set it up at a time when I could wander the charity shops with a sleeping baby and running the shop fit in easily with my life. That’s no longer the case. While I could donate my night time to photographing items and listing them and my spare day hours to wrapping them I just don’t have the love for it that I did when I started. Shipping breakables to the US takes an awful lot of care,attention and time and the amount I was making didn’t make it worthwhile. I still love vintage home ware and my love for Arklow pottery lives on but selling online just isn’t for me.  I’ve sneaked many items out of the stock pile and into my own cupboards but the rest must go or my shelves will break.  If you know anyone who would be interested in buying a large, or small amount of vintage home ware and who can collect it from Cork then please send them my way and deals will be struck:)

Some lovely people got in touch through the shop which was one of the nicest and unexpected things about running it. 

Thanks to the car boot sellers of Cork for great crack on Sunday mornings, wonderful customers who love vintage and the amazing woman at the post office for all her patience!

It will be full steam ahead with here at the blog so expect to hear plenty from me at www.thriftyamos.com

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