malachy doyle

Do you ever just...

…really want to write, but don’t have anything important to write about?


I’m going to throw some sentences together now, because this is my blog, and goshdarnit I feel like it.

I’ve been having lots of dreams about Baby #2 lately (ugh, I know, nothing is worse than reading about someone else’s dreams, but again, my blog, tough titties). A few nights ago I dreamt that I was full term pregnant and waiting to go into labor. I kept having contractions here and there, and I was in that awful period of waiting, not knowing if the baby would come today or tomorrow or a week later. In my dream I was miserable, and waiting for a baby to come really is a unique kind of torture, but when I woke up it made me feel all excited and warm-fuzzy. Then last night I had a long dream that I gave birth to a girl with a ton of blonde hair (must be a subconscious desire since I’ve got a bald almost-two-year-old that my next baby be born with a full head of hair). We didn’t have a name picked out ahead of time, and when Andrew saw her he said her name was Frieda Rose. In my dream I wasn’t a stay at home mom, and I took the new baby and Eleanor to a day care at a school I was attending, and I kept missing classes to go down to the day care and nurse the baby. I walked in and saw Eleanor walking and holding the hands with the baby (who was suddenly old enough to walk too), and my heart nearly burst seeing my two girls. 

So I guess my subconscious is trying to tell me I’m ready. A few weeks ago whenever we’d talk about #2 I’d feel panicked and not much else, but now as the thought is marinating, as we are starting to truly make preparations, I’m getting excited. When Spring comes I will definitely be ready. Slowly my fears are falling away. The confidence that everything will fall into place is growing. In fact, sometimes I get so excited I want to go ahead and start trying right away, but I know it’s prudent to wait a while.

Oh, want to hear about a funny coincidence? We check out a lot of books from the library, and occasionally a book is so good that I don’t want to take it back, and I make a mental note to buy it to add to Eleanor’s collection. There were two books in particular that we had checked out, one a few months ago, one just last week, that I wanted to make sure to buy, so I decided to start an Amazon wish list for them. The first one was easy to find since I had it in front of me, Storm Cats by Malachy Doyle. The second one was harder. It’s title is simply Horse, and I couldn’t remember the author. Obviously searching Amazon for “Horse” is going to yield tons of results. I narrowed the field down to children’s books and plugged in “Horse,” then scrolled for a few pages looking for it. I eventually found it and noticed the author, Malachy Doyle. Malachy Doyle! The same author as the other book! Out of probably close to a hundred library books that we have read together, the two that stood out to me the most happened to be by the same author. Apparently he’s a very good one too. It’s funny because the books aren’t very similar at all, they have different sorts of illustrations, one rhymes and one doesn’t, but there was something about them that spoke to me. They both have a tone that is more sophisticated than most children’s books, I suppose. Anyway, next time we go to the library I’m going to look for more Malachy Doyle books, since he seems to be my favorite children’s author. 

There you have it. A little dream interpretation, a little serendipitous library tale. An almost complete post.  

  • Malachy: In your short history as a human being, one thing has remained true. Every time you're within 50 yards of Stacey Layden, you end up broken-hearted and a complete jackass.
  • Jake: What the hell are you talking about?
  • Malachy: The first time she dumped you at the tender age of 13, you burned down the rec centre, remember?
  • Jake: Yeahh, that was an accident, it was like, faulty wiring... or something
  • Malachy: When she broke up with you to go out with Ken Hynes, you were 15. You smashed out all the school windows...
  • Jake: That had nothing to do with her
  • Malachy: And the last time she called it off, you were 18. You stole a car and drove it into Deadman's Pond.
  • Jake: No, no one ever proved that was me