Chronicles of a Trailing Spouse...

I knew something was up when I got my clothes back from the laundry and there was a newborn baby outfit among them.   A few weeks later I bought something in the chemist and the assistant threw a dozen baby’s bibs into the bag for free.   From that moment on I knew my days were numbered and that Demeter , the Greek goddess of fertility would claim me sooner or later. Yes dear reader, this mother of four is soon to become a mother of five. Coming from a long line of very fertile women (my sister has 8 children), fertility for me is not so much a blessing as an affliction.  I realise this isn't a popular statement to make, coming from a generation of women who were told that they had choices, one of which was to postpone childbirth until their thirties only to find that nature had played a cruel trick, that the thirty-something doesn't conceive as easily as the twenty-something.  My heart goes out to women who struggle to conceive; it is frustrating, dis...

I've had bloggers block.  I think my brain atrophied and died slightly over the festive season from the massive consumption of alcoholic beverages I consumed.  It's not my fault; Ireland was so cold that anything more ambitious than sitting in front of the fire in a pub drinking hot whiskeys seemed sheer madness.  My brain was further destroyed by the return trip from hell which featured an ill-advised stopover in Istanbul, something which I quickly told myself would be an experience when I saw the cost of the flights (half that of a direct flight).  The reality was something similar to childbirth in terms of the cyclical agony as the children ran the wrong way down the travelator in the departure lounge, over and over and over... Predictably our plane was delayed,  and so as everyone gathered around the departures screen anxiously scanning it for updates, we started pushing our way to the priority boarding point to avail of our right to board first since we...

Deep in old Dubai, across from Za'abeel park and far from the shining spires and glistening domes of Jumeirah, lies the crumbling and malodorous district of Karama. But don't be put off by the smells and the broken pavements, because deep in the heart of this district lies an Aladdin's cave of decadence and desire; a cornucopia of treasures.  In short, a one-stop area of knock-off shops selling -- specifically -- replica designer handbags.  I love handbags. And designer bags are even more loveable... I'm not acquainted with the copyright laws here in the UAE, but I'm pretty sure there aren't any.  I know this because the Fairy liquid I bought recently only lasted a week.  And the Ben 10 figures purchased the other day -- so beloved by my three boys -- cost ten times more in Ireland.  ' Ireland is a rip-off, look how cheap these are here ' I told DH, until they fell apart and the paint peeled off. However, when it comes to creating perfectly rep...

Two years ago I had no friends. Today I have 87. It’s true, just go and look on my Facebook page if you don't believe me. Well, when I say 'no' friends, it’s not strictly true, DH is obviously my friend (in a sort of manacled together fashion), but that doesn’t count anyway. I have a couple of friends from school with whom I keep in touch. By ‘in touch’ I mean the odd email and the occasional drink at Christmas. Mind you, it’s only in recent years that we really had anything in common (well, not since we all had a crush on McGyver and thought Morrissey was deep). Through our late twenties and early thirties, as they surged ahead in their chosen fields, I spent my time watching CBeebies and cleaning bottoms. ‘ My life is meaningless ’ I would wail down the phone, in one of my late night drunken monologues. ‘ I’m rubbish at housework, I want to go to parties and I’m pretty sure that Jake from the Tweenies is gay’. We’re now back on an equal footing as they have si...

I must briefly return to the matter of customer service as it’s a topic so rich in material I could probably revisit it on a weekly basis. The other day I went into a well known shoe shop with 7 year old boy to buy him a pair of school shoes. On finding the desired shoe, I held it up to the eager shop assistant who asked me what size his foot was. -‘Actually, could you measure him please, I’m not sure what size he is’ -‘what age is he ma’am?’ he asked -‘ well, he’s almost 7 ….. but what has that got to do with it?’ The man was already studying a chart pulled from behind the desk. -‘ Can you just measure him please’ I urged him. -‘ Ma’am, this is his size’ he told me, pointing to a number on the chart. -‘ Err, how can you tell from that ?’ I shot back ‘ He might be big or small for his age…please measure him’. Ignoring me, he disappeared into the back and emerged a minute later with a shoe. Simultaneously irritated and resigned, I hoped desperately that he wasn’t rig...

I need a hobby. Having moved just over a month ago, I've still not figured out what is going to engage and amuse me here yet. Obviously 4 children do a pretty good job of that, but I’ve always been a keen advocate of ‘ me time ’ and besides, I like to counteract my unhealthy lifestyle with a couple of hours self-improvement each week. Before arriving in the UAE, when the plan was to live in Abu Dhabi (pah! in a bedsit maybe), I had done all my research and had identified many classes and courses to interest me. Unfortunately, all this research went to waste when we ended up in Al Ain where I realised there was very little on offer other than trawling the mall or going to the gym. I pride myself on never having been to the gym. The idea of exercise being an end in itself horrifies me. I'd rather do something pleasant that may hopefully result in my becoming toned, slimmer with an adrenalin buzz. The thought of pounding away on a machine with no objective other than gett...

Almost 3 year old is finally flirting with the idea of using a toilet. He first showed an interest a year ago but is now starting to get serious and moving the relationship on to the next stage. First thing in the morning he comes downstairs, removes his nappy with a flourish, and takes himself off to the toilet to have a pee. Unlike his brothers, who at his age happily sat on the toilet to have a pee, he insists on standing ‘like daddy’, which is tricky given his short stature and means he needs to slightly elevate himself onto his tiptoes. On completion of this morning ritual, we dutifully applaud and hug him and he happily basks in the praise. So far so good. The problem is, roughly three hours later, he'll wander off into a corner, again remove nappy and take a dump on the floor. If I'm not in the room, he will go and fetch toilet roll and anti bacterial spray and go to work on the mess. Usually, by the time I realise what's happening, he looks like he's...