Category Archives: Belfast

I Really Did Intend for Adam And I to Go Out and Do Something Fun Today…

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Thursdays are now earmarked as Mummy and Adam fun day. Monday, Wednesday and Friday he’s at daycare. Tuesday we need to run errands. So Thursdays are suppose to be fun.

Instead we are stuck inside. Partially because the weather is horrid and there really are no indoor fun activities for a toddler in Belfast City Centre. Mostly because I am very very sore and very very tired.

I had a migraine on Monday which was a good day to have one as Simon took Adam to daycare and picked him up. So I had the whole day to rest. Except that my Migraleave failed and I continued to puke into the night.

And then it was Tuesday. Migraine Hangover Day (TM). I used to spend that day in bed as well. Except now I have a toddler. And a husband who had to be at a remote campus for a thing, so he couldn’t take the day off. And no food in the house. So I had to take my hungover self and my toddler to the shops. After dealing with 3 temper tantrums. In a row. One because I needed to eat breakfast and he wanted to play. One because I need the loo and he wanted to play. And one because I, apparently, picked a pretzel up off the floor in a wrong manner!?!

Anyway, we got ourselves out the door. I offered Adam the choice to walk or ride in his pram, he choose the pram. Right there is a signal, along with the 3 tantrums, that he was either not feeling well or really tired. He loves to walk. So we do our errands and at the end of Tesco I notice he’s yawning his head off. So I push the pram into lie down position. And he does his ‘But I’m not tired Mummy’ shriek for 2 seconds and falls asleep. And sleeps for three hours!

If I had known he was going to sleep so long I would have lay down as well. But he has this psychic ability to wake up just as I’m falling asleep, so I didn’t bother to try, eating lunch and lazing on the sofa instead.

In any case, 3 hours of sofa rest does not equal a day in rest to finish recovering from a migraine.

So Wednesday he’s back in daycare and I not only had to catch up on my work from Monday but I have the washer repair man and some guys to finish fixing the water damaged bathroom wall coming. So rest was, once again not in the cards. I did manage to lie down for about an hour in the afternoon, but still not enough rest.

And then it was today. And Adam’s home. And I have zero energy. And the weather is total crap. So we stayed home.

We played on the floor some with both puzzles and trucks. We watched TV some. I tried to get him to nap in the morning. No go.

Then we had lunch.

Adam had scrambled eggs with cheese and tomatoes: –

20110811-122234.jpgLook! A picture!

I had scrambled eggs with yellow peppers and spring onions: –

20110811-122304.jpgAnd another!

We both had some corn bread, thanks to my friend Lisa in England who sent me a care package last week: –

20110811-123727.jpgThree pictures! 🙂

I have no idea why I took pictures, BTW. I just did. 🙂

Anyway, Simon managed to come home early today and I went and lay down for about 2 hours. And Simon managed to get Adam to finally nap.

And so tomorrow is Adam’s first Friday in daycare, ever. And I have to finish catching up with work. And go buy some more groceries (what are we having for dinner tomorrow?!) without a toddler in tow. Oh and pick up the dry cleaning.

And, hopefully, have a nap.

Next week, we’ll do something fun.

I hope.

Orangefest? Really?

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So we are rapidly entering Marching Season here in Belfast. Well, parades have already happened, but next week is the biggy, the 12th July Holiday when the Loyal Orange Lodges take to the streets for one big and many little parades. There are also bonfires and, unfortunately, sometimes riots.

I don’t know all of the history, not having been here during The Troubles, but there is a lot of information on The Twelfth here at Wiki. Perhaps not the best source, but at least it’s easy to understand.

Especially as the history of Ireland and Northern Ireland are not easy at all. To understand or to follow. My father-in-law has been studying The Troubles for a good part of his life and I’m not entirely sure he can explain it fully.

In any case, this week coming up is The 12th Fortnight. For the next two weeks most of the country, at least those that aren’t marching or protesting marching, head off for their holidays.  Personally, I like to stick around. Mostly because I hate holidays.

Anyway, living in City Centre is always interesting over the 12th as the helicopters circle for most of the week, keeping an eye on things.  There is some violence most years. And, of course, the parades practically pass down our street.

This year is no different, in terms of the parade route. But now it’s Orangefest. Which makes me go O_o. Especially as there seems to be no actual publicity beyond a small mention on the Belfast City Council website.

Look, I know it’s controversial. I’ve lived here long enough to appreciate that. But why give it a name (Orangefest FFS!) and then do nothing to publicize it? Nothing to make the myriad of events happening around the city next week one cohesive event?

I didn’t even know it was called Orangefest until today when I saw a sign hanging up over Royal Avenue at City Centre. Simon tells me they have been calling it that for a the past  few years. Really?

I never knew.

And I don’t really understand why they bothered.

I Definitely Speak English Now

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as opposed to American.

I say ‘That was nice’ when I eat something yummy.

I ask ‘What is she called’ when told about new baby.

I say something is quite, i.e. ‘my hands are quite bad today’.

Things are ‘good fun’.

I use wanker and bollocks for swearing.

I also speak a bit of Irish as I definitely say ‘craic’ on a regular basis!

When my family tease me or call me on it I say ‘I live here. Of course I try to speak the language. Just as I would if I lived in a country that didn’t speak a form of English.’

They concede I have a point!

Random Thoughts From City Centre

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Tour guide saying ‘Belfast is a town of religious balance’ is the ultimate in irony as half of city centre closes for a bomb alert.

Oh, you poor dear. Your son is adorable but just because my son is nearly 2 does not mean he sleeps through all the time. Enjoy your 8 week old. And don’t worry about him grizzling. My two year old screamed through most of Tesco today.

The choice was between 2 bottles for £5 and a bottle for £4.99 that said the vineyard was started by the Knights Templar. Knights Templar bottle won, hands down.

No chocolate tarts available yet at Spring Continental Market. Chocolate Belgian Waffles acquired instead.

Speaking of which, I swear they were 3 for something last year, like £2 each or 3 for £5. Now they are either £2 or £3 each. Yes, we have 2 providers of Belgian Waffles in Chocolate this year. And 2 ice cream stalls. Oh and a candy floss stall.

Adam’s screaming fit was due to Castle Court not being open so he couldn’t go to the play area and/or ride the lift. How do you explain bomb threats and security alerts to a 2 year old?

There was an H&W ship called Traffic?!?

To Harness or Not to Harness

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This issue is debated almost as much as breast versus bottle and SAH versus WOH.

When walking down the street, my son wears a harness. He is a small boy. He’s not very street savvy. We live in the middle of the city. He doesn’t like to hold hands.

Therefore, he wears a harness.

Do I get looks? Yes.

Do I care? No.

This is one of those issues that makes me question humanity at times. Dogs need to be on leashes. In fact, in a lot of places no leash equals a fine. So why is your dog, who is not very street savvy and won’t hold hands, more precious than my son?

Also, I’m not very tall, but I am taller than Adam. How uncomfortable it must be to be more or less pulled along by an arm that is over your head. Imagine doing that yourself. No chance to explore or stop for a second to look at that interesting bug over there before running to catch up.

Adam has perfect freedom within the length of his harness lead.

He loves it.

And so do I.

Let’s Talk About St Patrick’s Day

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And what happens here in Belfast.

Drunken debauchery, mostly.

Most people have the day off and so they start drinking early. Simon took Adam to daycare as usual today (so we could do things around the house without Adam underfoot, a rare occurrence!) and people were already queueing at Tesco with booze to buy.

Simon was a bit concerned about my going to pick Adam up for 5 due to people having been drinking all day. But it was really no big deal.

For one thing, there were cops everywhere on my main route. For another, all of the pubs and bars had very obvious security standing outside and, I’m sure, inside.

I did see people already drunk at 430. But I also saw a lot of people just having fun. Wearing big green hats. Wearing those headbands with shamrocks at the ends of springs. Laughing. Hanging out with their friends. Enjoying a gorgeous early spring evening and, yes, having a drink.

So how are Simon and I celebrating St Patrick’s Day?

Well, we cleaned the flat without a small boy underfoot.

Then we had some smoked salmon for lunch.

Then we napped.

Then I got Adam from daycare and Simon cooked spaghetti.

And now a small boy is fast asleep (at 730, whoohoo!) and Simon and I are sharing some Stella and having an Easter Egg.

So Happy St Patrick’s Day.

And enjoy the craic!

I Have Spent The Last Few Days

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as it looks more and more likely that Christmas will be Simon, Adam and I, due to my in laws being iced in, thinking about Christmases past with my family.

And I wonder, does my step mom still yell down the stairs, after being woken by the younger generation, once her children, now her grandchildren, ‘Did he come?’  Just as if she wasn’t the one who arranged the gifts under the tree.

Do my brother and step-sister remember the year we stood out and lighted the Illuminares over and over and over again?  And the one year where one of the bags caught fire because of the wind and my brother had to stamp it out?

The year I got mad as my slightly drunk step mother insisted that I go to bed so Santa could come because I was the baby and I was at least 21?

The first Christmas J & B and I were in California and we were so broke but still had one of the best Christmases ever.

The year my dad had a heart attack at Thanksgiving and I went home for Christmas for the first time since I had moved to California.

My first horribly homesick Christmas in Northern Ireland, when I left Simon at the local pub and crawled into bed to cry.

Being with my family last year, for the first time in 6 years.

And now, just me and Simon and Adam.  Our first Christmas in our own place.  We wish the in laws could be here, but the weather is against us.

So we’ll eat a ton of turkey.  And a lot of sausages.  And possibly waaaay to much stuffing (everyone has sent me Stove Top! I have four boxes!).

And have a Happy Christmas.

Christmas 2010

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So this year, for the first time, we are staying home for Christmas.  In our own flat.  Simon’s parents are coming to stay and I am making Christmas dinner with all the trimmings.

And so we bought a tree.  It’s not real.  It’s very small.  And it’s behind barriers so a small boy leaves it alone.

It’s hardly the tree I envisioned.  But it’s all ours.

And I think Charlie Brown would like it: –

Christmas Tree 2010

Happy Christmas everyone!

My Totally Craptascular Week

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Monday – Actually not too bad, as I went to the Pain Clinic and have been scheduled for Acupuncture after the 1st of the year.

Tuesday – Washer repair man suppose to be here between 8 and 10.  At 9 my phone rings telling me the repairman is ill and won’t be here until Friday.  So we enter week 2 with no washing machine.  And I’m off to an evening gig, that I was 20 minutes late for because it took 30 minutes to get from here to the client’s in the pouring rain in a taxi.  Because it never rains in Belfast so no one knows how to drive in it. O__o

Wednesday – Horrible nights sleep but swamped with work, processing the video from Tuesday night, so can’t have a rest while Adam is at Germcare (TM).  At about 10 there’s a knock on my door.  It’s the plasterer, who was suppose to be here Tuesday afternoon, to take a  look at the paint that is bubbling again in my hall, assumed to be from a leak in the heating pipes as it was fine until the heating was turned on.  He has no idea what he’s suppose to do, so I tell him landlord said he’d cut a small hole in the wall to look for a leak.  He starts banging away and I try to get back to work.  Suddenly it goes quite so I go to look.  He’s left, leaving the front door open, and half my wall is stripped to the breeze block.  Angry email to my landlord with a picture.   He’s suppose to be back Monday morning at 9.

Thursday – Diabetes Clinic.  With Adam in tow.  Who was, as always, a star.  Except when the blood pressure cuff was ripped off my arm.  That scared him and made him cry.  Adding more Metphormin to my daily dose and see them in 6 months.

Friday – Washer guy shows up at 800.  By 9 he insists it’s fixed.  I ask him to let it run a bit longer but he insists it’s fixed and hauls ass.  By 915 washer was having the same fault.  Rang the repair company.  They ring the repair guy to get him back but he tells them he’s been gone for 40 minutes and can’t come back. I tell the repair company that’s bull.  They say too bad, but that he said to turn it off completely and unplug it, run a new cycle and it should work, but they’ll book in a repair visit for Monday morning.  So I did.  And it still doesn’t work.  So I haul 2 weeks of wash, in a duffel bag with wheels my mum left when she never returned in June and two Tesco bags, pushing Adam in his pram with one hand, up to the nearest launderette, in a hail storm.  3 hours and £20 later I’m home and the wash is done.  Of course, if it wasn’t for our service contract on the washer, it would have been about £200 later with no working washer as that was how much the repair guy said the new part and labour would have been without the contract.

This weekend can only be great, right?  RIGHT?

A Weekend In Review

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No, not the one I spent in Dublin.  I still haven’t written that one.  But I will. Promise.

Just an ordinary weekend Chez Fraser is what I mean.

Saturday:  Beautiful sunny day here in Belfast.  Just incredible for this time of year.  Not even all that cold, I went out in just a jumper over a t-shirt.  Took Adam for a walk at City Hall.  He walked all the way from one side of the lawn to the other, about the distance of a city block.  After that we went to Boots and Tesco.  In Tesco he fell asleep.  And stayed asleep until after Simon and I had lunch!  I’m liking this walking thing!

Sunday: Spent the morning just hanging around the house.  Adam and I had a bad nights sleep so after Simon woke up I took myself back to bed for a bit.  Then made Pancakes, with Aunt Jemima Mix my friend Lisa sent me, with bacon for lunch.  Then Simon took Adam out for a quick trip to the shops and another walk while I changed the sheets on all the beds in the house.

Not the most exciting life, perhaps, but it suits us.

And I am dreading when Adam makes friends and we have playdates.  Because, ya know, I don’t really like most other people.

Truly I don’t.