After learning about the shockingly high termination rate for foetuses with Down Syndrome in the U.K., Iceland and Scandinavian countries, last weekend allowed us to finally discover what the dreaded percentage was for Irish foetuses.
You know the drill-you’re out with baby and you’ve successfully navigated the immensely stressful event that is shopping with a small child. Now you’re back at the car, having deposited all the heavy shopping in the boot, while keeping a small child entertained. It’s time to head home and you’re hoping that baby will do you a favour and snooze in the back, just so you can grab fifteen minutes in relative peace to actually to listen to your favourite radio presenters.
A good friend is off to Amsterdam for a few days so that gave me the kick up the bum I needed to gather my thoughts on last August’s trip to this fantastic Dutch city. It’s one place I absolutely fell in love with for its canals, quirky shops, and bloody amazing coffee. The Dutch have an enviable standard of living-bicycle lanes criss-cross the city in tandem with picturesque canals and lush green spaces.
It’s the summer, it’s raining so here are our recommendations for the best shows currently streaming on Netflix to stop you from climbing up the walls and get you binging on quality entertainment!
Today, March 21st is World Down Syndrome Awareness Day. But what’s a typical day for you when you’re a five year old who just happens to have Down Syndrome. Well, it goes something like this:
Easter holidays 2016. Prepare yourselves. They are going to be loooooong. Easter Sunday is pretty much the earliest it possibly can be-falling on March 27th this year. With Paddy’s Day a mere 10 days earlier, this means your little darlings will be finishing up school on March 16th and not heading back until April 4th. Di-sas-ter! Two and a half weeks of them looking at you, shouting at you, swinging off your earrings (I love my kids really but I also love our little breaks apart, absence makes the heart grow fonder, and all that jazz!)
There’s such a difference in the air today compared with the last time this country went to the polls. Then we were voting for equality, for human rights,for love. And we got it spectacularly right. I shed tears that day when Ireland voted ‘Yes’. I have never been more proud of my country than I was that day. It was like we were on the crest of a wave;change was coming and it felt good.
Fast forward nine months and all I feel is despondency at this upcoming general election. I’m going to tell you a story here, that is not mine to relay from a first person perspective, but it may easily have been.
It’s late in the day. Your sister has already turned in for the night,dreaming of visiting far away lands with Shimmer and Shine and adventures with Dora the Explorer.
You have little notion of falling asleep,however,and most definitely not without your human teddy bear.
It’s February, which is traditionally viewed as the first month of Spring in Ireland. Well, they could have fooled me! It’s bloody freezing and we’re getting battered left, right and centre by innocuous sounding weather fronts like Henry and Imogen (two monikers that have been stricken off the completely hypothetical future kids name list!). I’m looking to Netflix to escape the dreary, drab weather and once again, with its list of exotic themed shows, it doesn’t disappoint.
You know those ideas that come to you on an idle Wednesday afternoon? The ones that appear out of nowhere with a bang, crash, wallop and make you sit up, drop your cup of tea all over yourself in excitement? The ones that also make you wonder how on earth have I not realised this before?
For over 3 long years now, we have struggled night, noon and morning to get decent food stuffs into our eldest daughter. Basically, if it ain’t white, she don’t wanna know about it-pasta, rice, waffles, chips in all their plain, stodgy glory are all she goes for at the dinner table. Her one saving grace is she loves fruit.
Well today, Mini ate kale, spinach, celery, avocado and carrot. No word of a lie. Well, perhaps, ‘ate’ is the wrong word. Consumed would be more accurate. ‘Drank’ even more so. The magic solution? It’s been staring us in the face all this time. Or rather pleading with us silently from the back of the cupboard-our blender, the kitchen implement that hasn’t gotten so many outings since the babies came along (previously it was dubbed our Cocktail Maker).