Two special days at the end of the week...

It has been the ultimate lazy Sunday. Mr. Buttons had a friend visiting since yesterday morning and the two of them stayed in their jammies all day. Captain needed extra snuggles due to teething, so I put her on my back to get some cooking done. A friend of mine came over for a bit of lunch and numerous cups of tea and made the day even nicer by giving me an excuse to bake something chocolatey...

Teething toddler -tamed by Pomegranate

Quiche for dinner

                                                   And peanut butter brownies for dessert

It was nice to have a day at home just chilling, to balance out our big forest adventure yesterday. We went for a big walk and a picnic, and left phones and cameras home. You can just take my word for it; it was fabulous. I feel ready for the week ahead after such a refreshing weekend!

Rule 68

Today I have been very excited about this.

The rule of religion in Irish schools is slowly getting less and I am feeling hopeful.
Mr. Buttons is catholic, in as much as a boy his age can be considered to be, thanks to his mother. When we asked him, did he want to go ahead with his communion, he asked: "Can I still have the money if I don't?" When the answer was "no", off to mass he went. You've probably heard the term 'social Catholic', but our little darling needs a whole new term coined for him. A new generation 'Crafty Catholic', maybe?

Hubby is a former altar boy turned atheist turned agnostic.

My mother-in-law is all about the relics and straw from the crib at Christmas.

My dad believes in the Bible and God, but in his own quiet, live and let live kind of a way.

I have no religion, but have a passionate interest in all of them. My idea of a good time is listening to a representative of any religion talk about their views for hours on end. I was signed up to protestant type of Christianity at birth, but officially denounced my faith as soon as legally possible.

So, when The Captain arrived, it was clear to us that she would not be baptized into any faith. Instead, we had a naming ceremony, complete with oddparents, candles being lit, and her good, solid hippy name being revealed to the family who had gathered round. I planned it, catered it and did a better job than any stranger ever could have.

The only problem with this is, that because The Captain has a memory book instead of baptism certificate, she might not get a school place. Not only that, but anyone whose parents believe in a God of any sort in any way, will have a better chance of getting an education. This understandably upsets me. I find the fact that this is something I need to worry about when my daughter is only 18 months old simply ridiculous.

Not that long ago I read an article, where Archbishop Diarmuid Martin was complaining that parents were getting their children baptized only to gain access to schools. This did not make me warm to him, when for months I've had people asking me if I was baptizing Captain to get her a school place (No!) and was I concerned she might not get in (the answer is "yes, of course!").

This is why, for me, Rule 68 going away is good news.
It gives me hope that things are finally changing and my daughter and other little ones like her will have an equal access to education, regardless of their religion.

Rain, rain, go or stay...

Today we had some rainy day fun and called around to a friend's house for a play date.

This was our first time visiting her house, and it was interesting to see how differently the girls behaved in a new situation. We usually meet up in a café and the little ladies have more space to roam around in a neutral venue. This time the issue of sharing came up.

I'm a believer in not forcing sharing. When they're too small to understand the concept and don't particularly care about how the other child feels about not having a turn, no amount of talking is going to make a difference. So every time Captain picked up a toy, her friend would growl and snatch it off her hands. Surprisingly, Captain would just give it to her and go find something else. (At home, with her brother, she usually stands her ground) The same thing happened again and again, and she started getting upset, so I picked her up. We played a few clapping games and Captain had some milk, eventually falling asleep. Her friend went for a nap too, so us mamas got to have a chat. It was lovely and relaxing, and I feel I got to know my friend better too.

After that it has been a nice day full of rainy day things. Stew, fire, coloring, playing pretend and after-bedtime chilling out. Scout night is my television night, so I've been enjoying cooking programs and endless cups of de-caff coffee.

Womanly art...

There is an art gallery in town that myself and the Captain visit quite often.
Because of all the house business, a while had gone by between our art dates. So today we were walking by and decided to call in to see if our old favorites were still there. Anything with animals is a big hit with the littlest art critic, sculptures of old men are met with a growl.

The Captain still loved it, but there was one big difference.
She has learned to say "boob" since the last visit. To test her new communication skill, she pointed at every painting, sketch and sculpture with breasts and (with great delight) exclaimed: "BOOB!" This was followed by her looking at me smiling and waiting for me to confirm that this is what they indeed were. Myself and Hubby found this extremely amusing.

So, next time you visit an art gallery, play "Spot the breastfed toddler" by following delighted shouts of "Boob!" and please come and tell me how you got on!

Love is...

...filling in forms for your husband and writing letters to describe how ASD has shaped our family's life in the past few years, when he can't find the words.

I don't know if he understands how hard it was for me, for many reasons.
It's not nice easy for him to acknowledge these things, when it's his son wrapped up in medical terminology . His perfect baby, who saved his life eight years ago.
When someone is saying he's different, and in turn society says there is something wrong.
When he has to face all the things  we're not able to give him or just can't afford at the moment. When he's wondering, should he have somehow know before the diagnosis.
When he's blaming himself for so much.

I don't blame him for forgetting I love Mr. Buttons too.

On some level it was therapeutic too, like someone listened to how this feels for me, which had made it easier being able to support Hubby too.

So, with a calmer, clearer head, I wait to hear news about the latest squeeze in house form.
On my side, it was love at first sight...

SSS

Ah, Stash Shot Sunday. The only time my slings are neatly in order for a few minutes...

Top to bottom:
Olives and Applesauce Pow!
Opitai Mei Tai
Yaro Four Winds Stonegray (s3)
Yaro Ivy Balck&White (s4)
Danu Sky Songs Midnight (s5)
Pollora Jolly Van (s6)
Yaro Pomegranate Cassis (s6)
Natibaby Oxytocin Neptune (s7)

Missing from this is My Natibaby Kraken Carbo, who is on holidays.
I've been grateful for Pomegranate in the cold weather, I'm only upset it took me so long to find the woolly love!

Happy babywearing!

Back to the drawing board

In three days I've gone from delight to despair, all thanks to one man and his greed.
On Monday I got the call we'd been waiting for. My solicitors office rang and said the contract was finally there, waiting to be signed.
We made an appointment for Tuesday.
When we got there, the amount on the contract was wrong. By half.
Now, the vendor had asked me about this before and I'd told him I had no interest in his way of dealing with things. I just wanted to buy our home and live in there happily ever after, safely and untouched by someone else's stupid decisions.

He obviously had not actually been asking, but merely telling me how he was going to deal with things. Hubby went to the auctioneer and told him we wanted the right contracts and to be done with this, after the four month wait. That evening the vendor rang Hubby and told him it was either his way or no way. I went into shock. My mother-in-law rang Hubby to celebrate and ended up hearing very different news instead. They instantly arrived to talk to us and help us make sense of the situation. This was the first time I let my defenses down in front of them. I just cried and cried. I cried for myself for losing out on the quite possibly last change to be able to buy a home for my family. I cried for Hubby, who had been already working on fixing our home in his mind. I cried for our kids, who lost out on having a better life, where paying for a five-euro art class isn't under question and food budget is more than 40 euro a week. I cried for my mom, who wanted nothing more than to see me settled and never got the chance to help out like she had planned. I cried out of anger for the fat cats' greed that leaves young families unable to buy a home, even when they have worked hard and saved the money to buy something outright. The corruption, dishonesty and unfairness of it all, all came pouring out.

I woke up with a throat that is barely open enough for breathing.
Got back on property search sites.
Tried all day to stay cheerful for Captain's sake.
Helped Mr. Buttons with homework.
And crashed when feeding Captain to sleep.
Had a nap and woke up few hours later to guests having a jam in the kitchen.
I just can't face anyone right now.

On Friday we view yet another house.

How many times can I start all over again?