Monday, 27 January 2014

You Don't Want To Go There....

I am resigned to the fact I will never be an Olympic athlete,  despite dreams of maybe being one of those ultra cool guys who looks like he spent half his life downing Duff Beer at Moe's, and then strolled onto the skeet range and and cans till snare Gold in the Trap...

So I have no knowledge of the mystical world of Olympic sports, but even I never suspected that an elite athlete's bowel movements occur at such a pace, that one pan could not keep up.











Exhibit A: Laura Cross Country Skiing and Biathlon centre, Sochi

(not shown: the single toilet roll holder, on the left hand wall.  Wiping if you sit on the right is not an option, apparently).

More on this story here.















Tuesday, 21 January 2014

The Two Finger Salute

For all those competitors out there who have ever wanted to slam it to the smug competition, Singkie Knegt, from The Netherlands has delivered:


"Second, Mum! I came second!" Knegt did not say.

Monday, 13 January 2014

That's It From The Archives


Well, for those who you who missed it the first time around - including my much loved children, who, when they are old enough will no doubt find this blog (!) - there are a selection of posts that, when I suspended RFYP almost a decade ago, I thought were worth keeping as a record of my thoughts, feelings and family history. 

I'm glad I did, as there are details there that I would never have remembered - but it was also very sad reading how happy I was, and how in love with my wife I was. One of the allegations thrown up in my face when we separated in October was that I did not really love her, and would one day admit that.

I beg to differ, and offer that history as proof to anyone who says otherwise.

*I do have some other material that The WayBack Machine has preserved, and over time I will inject it into the mix as time permits.

I Think I Love You Too Much

This post originally appeared here on 16th October, 2007

Tuesday, October 16, 2007

I Think I Love You Too Much


Above: The Princess Mountjoy. Warning! Saccharin sweet post ahead!
(...and if you click on the photo, you can see the picture full sized. Go on, you know you want to!)
I took a few minutes last week to write about my wonderful sons. As I said, each day they mature into little men, yet hold such unconditional love for Lady Mountjoy and I, is an amazing thing. I have never had the occasion to interact with a little girl (except when I was a little boy, so that doesn’t really count), so every step I take with Princess Mountjoy is something new, and easily as delightful as seeing my sons grow up.

Being an engineer, I am empirical: you can measure everything, can’t you? If you put two “things” next to one another, one is taller, one is darker, one is heavier. My greatest fear when Spare Mountjoy was born was that I would not love him as much as Heir. After all, he is my first son; Heir to the Mountjoy estate, and the wealth that brings with it ($29.95 at last count). How could Spare compare? And I found out the most wonderful thing. He didn’t compare. He was totally and utterly different in almost every way. And while I sense I don’t love each of them in quite the same way, I could not say I love one more (or less) than the other. It’s quite a relief, really.

Enter The Princess Mountjoy. Boy, how do I explain this? I have always wanted a daughter. And an 11-month old baby girl is about the most affectionate thing a grown man could ever want. She is just a wellspring of smiles, and laughter and love. I can come home from work, and be warned she has had a grumpy day, but I seem to never see it. Her little face lights up and for the three or so hours before she is put to bed, she has been getting just more and more playful and happy. No matter how frustrating my day, the sight of that little ball of arms and legs lunging across the space between Lady Mountjoy and me as I walk through the door does not cease to amaze me.

So do I love The Princess more than Heir or Spare? That is a tough call. At less than a year old, she has not had the chance to disappoint me, or do the wrong thing, or misbehave. The unconditional love that this little waif gives her big, hairy, scary mountain of a man her father is, is endless. And of course, my love for her is a very different, much more protective and shielding love than the encouraging and supporting warmth I feel for my boys. But in the end, different still does not mean more or less. I’m not scared of loving my kids too much. For me, love is not a fossil fuel that I feel the need to allocate – it is a renewable resource, and it feels like the more I get, the more I want to give.
Mountjoy

Three's Company

This post was originally published on 2nd January, 2007

Tuesday, January 02, 2007

Special Delivery? They All Are.


Above: I wouldn't sit there, if I were you, kid...

As has been something of a tradition here at RFYP, the time is now right to share the finer details of the arrival of Princess Mountjoy into the world. I’m sure this stuff is the perfect contraception for those single ladies out there, and guys, well, let’s just say, I consider it a public service to inform you how many lies Hollywood spins about the birth process.

The 29th November started off normally. I had a meeting that took up a lot of the morning and was crunching through paperwork till just before noon. I slipped out to buy lunch – unusual, as I normally bring it, but with Lady Mountjoy 8¾ months gone, I wasn’t too worried that my domestic support had a well earned sleep in.

I was on the second bite of my roll when the phone rang. “It’s started. My water broke. Not as bad as last time”. You cannot describe the feelings you get on hearing that. Nine months of anticipation, all bottled up, and then BANG! It is show time. My head was spinning, but the boring engineer’s logic kicked in before the call was done. No point rushing home – and hours drive – as this was just the first reel. I told Lady M I would finish lunch, close up shop at work, and be down in 90 mins or so. She was fine with that. The Countess, on the other hand, went ape shit: why isn’t he coming straight away? He should get here as soon as he can! (I think The Countess caused Lady M more stress than the water breaking).

It was fun making my way around the office to let a few key people know what was happening – one of those moments in your life that is just like the movies: “I’ve gotta head off, Lady M’s water has just broken”. And the broad grins that statement elicits.

When I got home, all was calm. We even debated if we should swing by and collected Heir from school, as it was approaching 3pm. Common sense prevailed, and we slipped down to the hospital while one of the Mums dropped Heir off. No sign of contractions and it was 4:30 before the midwife smacked on the latex glove to determine just what was (or wasn’t going on). At 5pm, the printout was showing the tiniest of contractions and Lady M was given the choice – go home and come back when things are getting stronger, or admit herself now. I pushed for the latter, knowing Heir, Spare and Countess would not make the waiting very relaxing – a move that proved fortuitous. Settled in her room, and with nothing of note going on, I left Lady M at 5.30pm and went home to feed the kids.
I slipped back in at 7pm, a spring in my step as I rounded the corner to Lady M’s room, only to be greeted with a sight that mirrored her plight when Spare arrived: doubled up in agony, in tears and acute pain. All this 90 mins after I had left!

I went back and grabbed a midwife, and Lady M was ushered into the “birthing suite” (how posh!). The midwife had just come on deck, and so she prepared all the bits and pieces to be used in extracting baby from womb (not very exciting, really – lot is of sterile cloths and containers, a shot of vitamin K).

One of the things we had talked about was how we didn’t get any footage of Lady M while she was in labour, so I was under tacit instructions to film as much of the process as I dared. The admission and contraction monitor stuff was covered, but I soon realised why I never filmed the last two times – tis neither a dignified nor attractive sight, and not one anyone needs to remember. There was no way I could bring myself to film it.

With the process progressed, but stalled around the issue of getting something the size of a grapefruit out something as wide as a plum, it was suggested Lady M may want to try standing through a few contractions (by this point, she was on the Laughing Gas, and the contractions were turning my knuckles white as she cut off the blood supply to my palm). So she stood up, and the midwife reached for a vinyl covered bean bag… it was a very WTF? moment. All became clear when she sat the bag between Lady M’s legs – ahh, it’s there to catch the baby if it should drop right out. Ewwwwww!

Standing up didn’t do it, but back on her back, and a few good shoves, The Princess arrived safe and sound at 8.45pm. The camera went back on, and plenty of footage of 30 second old Princess M resulted, much to the delight of The Countess, whom I was able to share a coffee and a Tim Tam with, while watching the pictures at 10.30pm that night.

For those of you yet to experience parenthood, it is without doubt one of the most satisfying moments of your life. Savour the event, and celebrate it generously.
Mountjoy

Ladies and Gentlemen, introducing....

This post previously appeared on 1st December, 2006

Friday, December 01, 2006

Ladies & Gentlemen, introducing...



...Princess Mountjoy.

I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to each of you who have left me kind comments over the past few days ~ it sounds corny, but having such good will from people I haven't (yet) met, and are so far away from, is just great.

I'm tied up getting Heir and Spare to school through the middle of next week, but will try to get some more pictures, and a story or two, up over the weekend (God only knows, The Countess is giving me plenty of material...)

But till then, I'm going to keep on enjoying the endorphin high I am still on, and savouring these special moments with my placid little baby girl.

Thanks again everyone!


Oh, in case you forgot what she looks like (!), here's another photo:


Mountjoy

A Princess Arrives...

This post first appeared on 29th November, 2006

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Births, Deaths, Marriages

MOUNTJOY - "One for the country"

Above: When does a full house beat four of a kind? When you have two sons already.
Donnie and Lady Mountjoy are proud to announce the arrival of Princess Mountjoy at 8.45pm last night, sister to Heir and Spare. 8lbs 2oz, 54cm. Mother and baby doing very well, thanks to the incredibly professional care provided by the midwives at the local Health Campus.
The first baby girl in the Mountjoy family tree in three generations, and the only grand-daughter in Lady Mountjoy's clan, she is no doubt destined to be spoiled rotten by the extended family.
Thanks to all of you posters out there for your kind wishes ~ this will without doubt be the early crown to a great Christmas season.

An official portrait will be posted in due course (I may be a touch biased, but I must say she is seriously cute!).