Sometimes a balanced budget is far more appetising than a plump brain, newly ripped from the skull of an annoying politician. Which is my way of saying that I’ve just looked at our household finances for the coming year, and – staggeringly – things are not as bad as they might have been.
True, with mortgage rates set to rise, we’re on a wing and a prayer, and I have to cut down on the brain consumption (unless the local butcher starts doing a two-for-one offer) but with a little luck, we’ll just about make it through 2013.
But this has its consequences: I have to spend more time with Pittsburgh. Even worse: she has to spend more time with me.
Thanks to the government’s “free pre-school year” – it’s not free and it’s doesn’t run for a year – my daughter now spends the morning in Montesorri (a form of teaching, not – alas – a distant, isolated monastery in Spain).
I do the afternoon and early evening childcare shift, which means, because Pittsburgh is tired and cranky but won’t sleep, I absolutely positively get the hellish worst of her. For instance, any attempt to disengage her from her daily dose of television is met with the most explosive of tantrums.
Then, when the dust settles, and I finally manage to get her into the car to go on an outing, she promptly falls asleep. I just leave her there, rather than move her, for risk of detonating the bomb.
When she wakes up, at least she’s not cranky because she’s tired anymore; no, she’s cranky because she’s awake.
It’s got so bad that I’ve even started reading parenting books.
Meanwhile, Barbara is having a ball in her job. She meets loads of new, friendly people, chats away endlessly, takes lunch whenever she so desires, and loves the work she does, for which she is universally admired and praised. Every day, her boss leaves flowers and chocolates on her desk. When she enters her office, there are beaming smiles all around from every one of her workmates, who are full of respect for her and in awe of her skills.
(Okay, there may be some exaggeration in this – but surely not that much?)
Of course, if we could afford it, we would have Pittsburgh in the crèche all day long – or longer, if that were legal. Unfortunately, in this country, there are not many jobs out there for experienced and skilled Zombies. Or, for that matter, anybody else.
Which is why I am surprised that our political leader makes the cover of this month’s Time magazine – or at least its European edition.
“THE CELTIC COMEBACK: Prime Minister Enda Kenny is rebuilding his country’s economy” declares the cover.
When I saw this, I wanted to run down to the government offices, find Enda and bite into his skull.
Alas, I think nothing would come out. Except hot air.
Never mind the cover, feel the reality.
Sometimes a balanced budget is far more appetising than a plump brain, newly ripped from the skull of an annoying politician. Which is my way of saying that I’ve just looked at our household finances for the coming year, and – staggeringly – things are not as bad as they might have been.
True, with mortgage rates set to rise, we’re on a wing and a prayer, and I have to cut down on the brain consumption (unless the local butcher starts doing a two-for-one offer) but with a little luck, we’ll just about make it through 2013.
But this has its consequences: I have to spend more time with Pittsburgh. Even worse: she has to spend more time with me.
Thanks to the government’s “free pre-school year” – it’s not free and it’s doesn’t run for a year – my daughter now spends the morning in Montesorri (a form of teaching, not – alas – a distant, isolated monastery in Spain).
I do the afternoon and early evening childcare shift, which means, because Pittsburgh is tired and cranky but won’t sleep, I absolutely positively get the hellish worst of her. For instance, any attempt to disengage her from her daily dose of television is met with the most explosive of tantrums.
Then, when the dust settles, and I finally manage to get her into the car to go on an outing, she promptly falls asleep. I just leave her there, rather than move her, for risk of detonating the bomb.
When she wakes up, at least she’s not cranky because she’s tired anymore; no, she’s cranky because she’s awake.
It’s got so bad that I’ve even started reading parenting books.
Meanwhile, Barbara is having a ball in her job. She meets loads of new, friendly people, chats away endlessly, takes lunch whenever she so desires, and loves the work she does, for which she is universally admired and praised. Every day, her boss leaves flowers and chocolates on her desk. When she enters her office, there are beaming smiles all around from every one of her workmates, who are full of respect for her and in awe of her skills.
(Okay, there may be some exaggeration in this – but surely not that much?)
Of course, if we could afford it, we would have Pittsburgh in the crèche all day long – or longer, if that were legal. Unfortunately, in this country, there are not many jobs out there for experienced and skilled Zombies. Or, for that matter, anybody else.
Which is why I am surprised that our political leader makes the cover of this month’s Time magazine – or at least its European edition.
“THE CELTIC COMEBACK: Prime Minister Enda Kenny is rebuilding his country’s economy” declares the cover.
When I saw this, I wanted to run down to the government offices, find Enda and bite into his skull.
Alas, I think nothing would come out. Except hot air.