Sleepover Snapshots

Snapshot no. 1 – Saturday morning
Cathal is brought over to me by the Mammy. He throws himself into my arms and holds on tight, so tight, for so long.
When the Mammy leaves, he waves at her with a big smile and shouts “Byyyyye”


Snapshot no. 2 – later Saturday morning
Me: “We are going shopping now Cathal. What we will get?”
Cathal: “Milk... Shoes... Apple... Banana”
Total score: 3 out of 4 – His accuracy is very impressive!
Apparently he suggested the first three items to the Mammy the previous day. I got the lone banana as a bonus!


Snapshot no. 3 – Saturday afternoon
Walking to the local playground during the afternoon, Cathal in the buggy, me pushing. Cathal is providing me with a non-stop running commentary on everything he sees:
- Car!... Bike!... Car!
- What colour is that car?
- Red!... Blue!... Red!... Boy!... Man!... Bike!
And all this in between various snippets of “Cathal Babble” which I cannot decipher.
When we turn off along the green that leads us to the playground, the lack of traffic brings a pause… quickly broken by signing. Old McDonald apparently has a tiger, a lion and a snake on his farm, as well as the more traditional cows, pigs, dogs, cats, ducks, horses, etc.

The return walk home is as talkative and musical.


Snapshot no. 4 – Sunday morning
5.40 am
- NaaaaNaaaa

5.45 am (standing against my bed)
- Nana wake.
- No.
- Nana! Wake!
- No.
- NANA! WAKE!
- Nooooo...
But I did! No choice...


Snapshot no. 5 – 30 minutes later – on my bed
Cathal decides to get another book for me to read to him in bed. Positioning himself at the edge of the bed, he is talking to himself in almost a whisper:
“Careful... Careful... Ready, steady, go.”
And he slides down off the bed, ever so slowly, ever so cautiously, obtaining a perfect slow-motion landing.


Snapshot no. 6 – Sunday 8.10 am
Cathal insists that I sit next to him on the couch to watch Cbeebies. As I over bring my bowl of cereal, he asks for the rest of his own cereals he did not want to finish earlier on.
So we sit, side by side, watching TV, eating. Every so often he looks at me and smiles. No words needed.

Snapshot no. 7 – Sunday 8.35 am
I feel sorry for my neighbours: Cathal is in the bath, and exercising his vocal cords to the max, testing the match between the acoustics of the bathroom and his musical talents. And when I tell him he is very noisy he burst laughing.


Snapshot no. 8 – Sunday 9.45 am
We are on the motorway, driving to Imaginosity. The radio is on. Cathal has resumed his singing, adding some very cool dance moves I catch in the rear-view mirror. As quickly as he started singing he falls asleep: no wonder! But I don’t have this luxury, I am driving, aren’t I?


Snapshot no. 9 – Sunday late morning – Imaginosity
Cathal is totally taken by the foam bricks: first we rebuild the wall we have knocked down. As the top rows are out of his reach, he uses the remainder of the bricks to build a series of little walls around the room, each with a different pattern, yet each almost perfectly aligned. Of course, the running commentary has resumed.


Snapshot no. 10 – Sunday lunch time
As we are nearing his house, he suddenly shouts: “Daddy Mammy! Yay!”
Quickly followed by “Oisín! Yay!”


I am aware that people with Down Syndrome are said to be very affectionate and always happy. I pay no heed to such generalisations. Every single person has his or her own individual personality. If this includes a penchant for affection and positivity, as with any one else all the better, as it makes everyone’s life more pleasant.

But I must say that having Cathal for a sleepover is always a pleasure, not just because of the fun we have, but mainly because of his own, and very personal, cheerfulness, his almost constant joy, his easy excitement at everything that is proposed to him. As with many 3 year olds trying to affirm their own individuality, his favourite word is “NO!” - always delivered in a forceful manner. Yet his face usually lights up again within seconds of expressing this negativity.

If we all took a leaf out of Cathal’s Happy Book, we would have a much more pleasant day. Every day.

The Wheel of Life

It ended almost the same way it started, very cold, and very white. Almost right up to the last few days of December, snow paralysed our little isle, just as it did at the start of the previous January. Never had we seen the likes of it before. Down to minus 17.5 Celsius! Unheard of in our usually very tempered Atlantic climate.

Also unheard of were the events that brought us where the country now is: in such an economic and financial Arctic winter that my great-great-grand-children might have to pay the final cost it!

I got very angry during the year. The revelations kept coming, some criminal in my view, but who am I to judge, when I am only a taxpayer? An invisible fog kept lifting on the increasing ineptitude of a government which was found to have as much back-bone as an over-cooked spaghetti. Being the person I am, I tried to rationalise the situation, to understand how it all came to pass: I read the articles, I listened to the experts, I watched the documentaries, I followed the debates. And then I sat back and to paraphrase the great Miley Byrne, all I could say was: “Well Holy God!”

I don’t know what 2011 will bring us. But there is one thing I am certain of: I am not going to be bored. The mess has been made, we just have to accept it, and then find new ways not only to clean it up, but to improve, to progress. It is always in times of crises that ideas germinate best. History has taught us this, it’s in our nature, as human beings, to go around in cycles. The Wheel of Life is such a good analogy: it turns and turns, everything is repeated, going up, and down, and up... and yet humanity moves forward, with each turn. On a personnel point, if what is afoot comes to fruition in the next few weeks, I will really look forward to the challenge of doing my little part in the mess-clearing and improvement-setting. Fingers crossed...

And yes, the wheel is turning, on every level. Our own family is moving at its own pace. My own boy has “grown up” a little more in 2010 – though he will probably hate me for saying this. But he has chosen well, she is so nice! My own girl is “growing”, literally, and I can’t wait for this second grandchild to arrive in about 7 weeks’ time. Cathal is an absolute charmer: I was on the phone to him only yesterday, and, as always, he did not say much, but kept chuckling every time I spoke, and then sending me kisses... Major melt on this side, as always.

All in all, 2010 finished on a few good notes, all brought about by very simple pleasures.

Pleasures like Santa Claus bringing Cathal the third character in a series that is now complete for him. He was so thrilled.

Pleasures like ripping open lots of presents on Christmas morning:

NB: Cathal’s Mammy – who has never been much of a morning person – was the one most anxious to get up to see what had been delivered, and had the whole household downstairs around the tree by 7.30 am!

Pleasures like having Daddy pulling you up the hill in an ingeniously-thought-of-by-Mammy sleigh to make sure we could all have a scrumptious family Christmas dinner:

I'm ready, let's go!

Here we come...

Ho ho ho!

Pleasures like teaching Daddy how to use your very first laptop:

NB: You may need to turn the sound up on your pc

And finally the very simple pleasure of walking-walking-walking, especially when Mammy is there for stability and Nana is there to record it all:

Wishing you all the best you can have in 2011.

Let’s all stand up...

Levons nous tous...

... and shout:
...et disons bien fort:

“Happy Christmas!”
« Joyeux Noël ! »

Pre-Weekend Madness

Things have been quite depressing in Ireland these last few days.

The rain and the subsequent devastating floods in the West and South are beyond belief. Lush green rainy Ireland has surpassed itself this time – I heard earlier this week that the whole Shannon river system received in 3 weeks one third of the average annual rainfall. No wonder the rivers have spread themselves so far, wide and deep! It’s a national catastrophe. I am so grateful the little nest I call home is dry and warm…

Then the report yesterday on more child abuse at the end of the Catholic clergy, and this time the denunciation of systematic cover up by the so-called Princes of the Church, often aided by the Garda themselves. As with the Ryan report, I felt physically sick…

Do I need to mention the looming and dreaded Budget 2009, less than a couple of weeks away?

And I will not talk about this bloody French “handball” that denied Ireland a place in the Word Cup – and before you ask, Yes I ALWAYS cheer for Ireland, and Yes it was so, oh so unfair, and Yes I much prefer Rugby to Soccer ANY TIME, and NO I will not talk about it again. So there!

And we are getting into the heart of winter, getting up at night, leaving home in the (so- called) morning in the dark, getting home without having seen sunlight. I do not like winter.

Added to all this Doom and Gloom, I have a sinking feeling that my addictive remission is slowly but very surely slipping away from me: you see, I am “a bit” of a perfectionist, and over time this has turned into the very dangerous disease of Workaholism. I had been very good for the last few years, but for almost a year now, as I enjoy what I do more and more, and see more and more good results from it, I am allowing myself to be sucked in… Let’s just say that very long days, and fiddling with ideas, and documents, and spreadsheets on my work laptop over the weekend are becoming the norm. The ensuing stress signs are pocking their little spikes at my brain and they are not nice.



So this morning I was not happy about tearing myself from my warm bed. Why couldn’t it be Saturday instead of Friday? My body was doing all it could to fight it, my brain was not much better, a totally fuzz. Even the scolding hot shower did not jolt me – I take Very Hot, not cold showers, I HATE COLD! Even the taste of my Xtra Strong coffee in the Xtra size cup, the smell of which should be enough to shake anyone, could not do it.

So there I was, trying desperately to focus and apply my make-up, and to do it in the proper order (… I kid you not!) when a strange sound came from the radio. By the time the DJ had explained what it was, I had laughed so much my stomach hurt, and I was not only awake, but my natural optimism had been returned, the day ahead looked bright, indeed the whole weekend looked promising.

This “sound” came from a clip available on You Tube. I later found it and watched it several times…


And I am still laughing.


PURE GENIUS!


So, in the happy sharing spirit I now feel, here it is. Enjoy, and Happy Cheerful Weekend.