Category Archives: Personal

So, My Dad Asked Me On Skype Today…

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‘You’ve cancelled our Skype twice now because of work on your flat.  Is it falling apart?’

The answer is no.  The reason there is suddenly so much work being done around here is that I finally got a contact at our landlord’s who, when I ring and say ‘The metal strip between Adam’s room and hall has lifted and is dangerous.’  Replies ‘I’ll have someone out tomorrow.’

As opposed to our previous contact who, when I said ‘the paint is chipping quite badly in the hall’ came ’round, took a mass of pictures and never did anything.  My new contact, when I pointed out it was still chipping, came ’round, took a look, and scheduled the shower replacement and the repainting within in weeks.  My first conversation about this? Was about a year ago.

But now the work is done.  The en suite shower is replaced.  The paint is fixed.  The broken shower door in the hall bath is gone and a rail up instead, with a shower curtain I chose myself.

And now to organize.

The goal, overall, is to make the closets usable, rather than large dumping grounds, and to make Adam’s room as safe for him as possible.  Adam’s room has always also been a dumping ground and is no way, shape or form safe for the toddler he is quickly becoming.  I want to make it so we can put a stair gate up and leave him in there to play without supervision.  We do have a playpen, but how cool would it be for him to have his *entire* room for that?!

So the large bookcases full of Mummy and Daddy’s books are being moved.  The bits and pieces he has outgrown are going to be sold.  The tall cupboards that hold his things will be fastened to the wall.  And so on.

Because my baby? Is starting to walk: –

So Fridays

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unless we have something else to do, Adam and I head to St George’s for the indoor Farmer’s Market.  We mostly go to buy fish, as its the only time there’s a decent fish monger at City Centre, but we also pursue the veg, just to see if there’s anything interesting.

The plan today was tuna, which I would then put under the grill with a mustard/mayo sauce and serve with the fresh local peas also purchased at St George’s today.  Except the tuna was £19.50 a kilo and looked a little off.

So instead I bought cod.  And am in the middle, right now, as we speak, of making Fish Stew.

This is a recipe that I acquire from my father in law.  He makes it much much better than I do, although Simon says mine is okay.  His is probably much better because I replace the 6 tablespoons of olive oil he cooks the fish in with fish stock. 🙂

The recipe:

500g firm white fish, like cod

2 cloves garlic

5 tomatoes

500g white mushrooms, sliced or quartered, depending on your mood

6 T plus Fish stock or olive oil

parsley

6 oz single cream

Clean and debone the fish.  It helps to have a pin boner for this.  I love my gadgets.

Cook at 200 C for 15 minutes in 6 T fish stock.

Turn oven down to 180 C and continue to cook, checking on moistness of fish frequently.  Add more stock as needed.

Meanwhile, deseed the tomatoes and cook in a bit of olive oil until mushy.  Peel off the skins and discard.

Add the garlic, mushrooms and parsley.

When the fish is cooked, add the cream to the pan and stir to combine.

Pour over fish and cook for another 5 minutes.

Serve over rice.

Its loverly. 🙂

My Absolutely Non-Picky Eater…

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So you hear about kids who just.won’t.eat.  Okay, well, they eat, but its things like hot dogs and fish fingers and chips.

I don’t have one of those kids.

In the past few weeks Adam has eaten:

Chicken Tikka, pilau rice, pickles, na’an, chappati, cod, fresh peas, risotto, salmon, mashed potatoes, mashed sweet potatoes, oven chips, hamburger, cheese on toast, eggs with cheese, sharp cheese and I’m sure I’ve forgotten something.

The last thing Adam is is a picky eater.

Hopefully he never will be.

Apologies If Anyone Couldn’t Get Here Yesterday

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My brother hosting company migrated servers yesterday so we were down for a bit.  All fixed now! 🙂

These past 3 weeks of flat repair have convinced me, once again, that I don’t ever really want to own my own house.  Its been constant is the workman going to show up, oh good he did, oh crap he needs to come back, oh look another lot of plumbers and they still can’t fix it.  And its not over because we are pretty sure we found the leak, in the hall bath by the radiator.  Where they *just* fixed the paint from a previous water issue.

The good news? We don’t have to pay for it.  The bad news?  I can’t get a moments peace in my own house!!!

I was very much looking forward to dropping Adam off at day care, coming home, making a fresh pot of coffee, doing some work, having a sleep, doing some more work, actually eating lunch, cleaning a bit of the house maybe, then going to get him to find he’s had a lovely day of playing and laughing and making friends.

Instead I drop him off and leave him crying for me, come home, let in the handyman, get a headache as they rip the tiles off the bathroom wall with a jack hammer, do some work, eat some lunch, get slightly nauseaous from the smell of fresh paint, go pick up Adam to find out that he’s cried off and on for 5 hours and won’t eat anything while there.

I actually had a decent nights sleep last night, for the first time in about a week, and Simon asked if I felt any better.  Nope.  I need about 2 weeks of decent sleep to maybe feel better.  I suggest I check myself into a hotel and leave he and Adam to it.  Simon said no. 🙁

I guess I’ll feel better when Adam is 16 and refuses to get up at all during school hols.

Or maybe not.

I Am Sure I Am Not

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the first person to stare at their child and wonder.  Not just at how quickly they are growing or at the fact that they are a parent.

But wonder at the magic that is the creation of life.

About 22 months ago an egg met a sperm and 37 weeks 6 days later a full human being came out of my tummy.

Think about it.  A full, complete person was inside me.  And then wasn’t.

With fingers and toes and hair and eyes and ears and a mouth and all those things.

And now that small being is bigger.  And turning, right before my eyes, into a real person.  With a personality and likes and dislikes.  With hair that needs trimming and nails that need clipping.

That talks.  And thinks.  And learns.

That is beginning to walk.  And feed itself.  And plays.

That is rapidly turning from my baby to my little boy.

That can clap its hands.  And use a spoon.  And show you how big he is.

That can say Dada and look towards his Mama when you ask him where she is.

A whole complete human being.

That grew in my tummy.

Miracle of life indeed.

Man, What A Downer This Blog Has Been Lately

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Just because I’m having a crap time doesn’t mean the rest of you have to suffer!

So let’s see, what’s going well in Robyn’s life…

She found her wedding ring.  In Simon’s sock drawer.  Which was behind her when she tripped. So the universe conspired as not only did the drawer have to be open, but the ring had to fly into the air, over her head and into the drawer.  Simon found it when looking for, surprise surprise, socks.

Adam seems to be settling a bit more with each visit to Day Care.  She hopes she has not jinxed herself by writing that as he doesn’t go back until Monday.  She is hoping a few days off, with all of Mama’s attention, will help him on Monday when she leaves him again.

We have hot water.  We did not have hot water last night. No idea why.  Plumber came, plumbed things, and now we do.

Shower is being replaced in the En Suite.  The paint on all the walls, inside and out, of the loo has been buckling and chipping off for awhile.  Landlord told building management.  Building management said it must be tenant’s fault.  Landlord, thank god, didn’t believe that, but agreed to see if replacing tile shower with PVC would solve problem, along with stripping and repainting the buckled bits.  So that’s in progress.  And she is very pleased with the choice of PVC.  She was thinking landlord, being like most landlords, would go cheap with plain white.  She is getting marble effect instead.  And being PVC? Much easier to keep clean than tile as not so many seams.  She was hoping for a new shower pan and door as well, but it was not to be.  See? Cheap landlords. 🙂

She managed to upgrade this here blog all by her lonesome.  She’s very proud of that fact even though it was really very easy.

And now she is wondering why she wrote this entire post in the 3rd person.

Reflections on a Year

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Well…over 13 months.

Anyway, as Adam and I gear up for our next big adventure, him starting day nursery and me having free time away from him on a regular basis, I’ve started to reflect on the past year.

As this year has gone by there have been some truly horrible moments.  Moments when I’ve sat crying, Adam in my arms, exhausted, overwhelmed, aching with arthritis and fibro and depression, knowing Simon wouldn’t be home from work for hours.  Knowing that I couldn’t even call him and ask him to come home early because he told me about a big meeting or he’s teaching at a far away campus.  And wondering if I was the most selfish person in the world for having a baby with all my health issues, both mental and physical.

So I asked my sister, was I? Was I incredibly selfish to have Adam?

And she was, as always, brutally honest.  She said, you well know that I had reservations and worries when you got pregnant.  That your brother and I were both worried about your mental health and physical health issues.  And you know what? We worried for nothing.  You are a wonderful mother.  Adam is thriving.  Your company is taking off.  So, no.  You were not selfish to have Adam.  You wanted a baby and you had a wonderful one.

And I cried.  And I cry as I write this.  Because saying it out loud was hard enough.

Finding out I was wrong? Was even harder.

Because it showed me something I’ve never wanted to believe about myself.  I am just like everyone else in the world.  I have doubts.  I am, at times, hard on myself.

And I hate that.  I hate that I care what others think sometimes.  I hate that I question my ability to be Adam’s Mummy.

Because Adam is indeed thriving.  Not just because he’s 31 inches tall and weighs 28 pounds.  But because he’s starting to talk.  And walk.  And feed himself.  So he doesn’t talk English and he stumbles and the spoon is usually up side down?

He’s learning.

And so’s his mum.

In Case Anyone Is Wondering

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I didn’t go to Iain’s funeral.

I am not sure I can explain why, except it didn’t feel right (and had nothing to do with not having anything to wear, honest).  I have been saying good bye to him a little bit each day and grieving in my own quiet way.

If anyone would like to know more about what Iain was like, there is a fantastic tribute page to him here, complied by Group Intellex.

My favourite quote has got to be Eoin Lambkin’s, who is a mutual friend as well as business acquaintance, who said “…he had a special way of spinning everything into a positive and never had a bad word for anyone, even if he thought they were plonkers”. Well put, Eoin.  Sums Iain up perfectly.

I Just Keep Thinking…

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I  just spoke to him Tuesday. How can he be dead?

Iain Paul Kay was my friend who died suddenly last week.

I’ve known Iain for about 5 or so years, through our mutual work for the Science Park.  Iain worked in Network Sales for Atlas-Communications.

Since I’ve been on maternity leave, and now that I’ve started Designed To A Tee, we’ve become friends.  We’ve had coffee, we’ve chatted on the phone.  We’ve made plans for working together.

And Thursday morning he was found dead in his house.

And I, like everyone who knew him, are in shock.

He wasn’t ill.  Oh he smoked.  He probably ate a bit more than he should.  He’s been having some stressful times.  But he was fine.  He and I joked in our usual manner.  And signed off with ‘Okay, talk to you soon.’  As we always did.

The funeral is this Thursday, and in a reeling way that Iain would so appreciate, along with ‘But I just spoke to him on Tuesday’ my head is filled with ‘But I have nothing to wear for a funeral’.

RIP my friend.  I already miss you desperately.