Musings on a Life Quite Ordinary

Barely a month back into the new school year and it's been great.  The routine is back in place, variations of the all important five a day are going into lunch bags so we can all pretend they are being eaten, we haven't run out of loo roll since August and I have the dog to myself. The only downside is homework.  (Insert dramatic sigh here) With the just about exception of English, because of the reading, I hated it all through my own school years and am close to hating my children's homework even more. Each year I have a nemesis.  Last year it was prime numbers, the year before it was Irish verbs and the trauma of the year they changed how to do long division still hasn't left me.  The challenges vary every year, sometimes they creep up on me, others I have realised so late in the year that it's just plain embarrassing.  This year however, it became apparent o...

As adults, we understand death is an inevitable and natural part of life.  Obviously, it doesn't make dealing with it any easier, but when your family loses someone integral and important, a person who has been in your childrens lives for their whole lives, it doesn't seem so natural anymore.  Telling your children that their loved one they adore is dead has got to be one of the most gut wrenching and awful things you have to do as a parent. Explaining there are no more chances to chat, cuddle, learn from that person or just phone them up to see how they're doing feels wrong in every way.  Death feels even more unfair when you have to explain it to a child. Their ability to live in the moment is obviously a wonderful gift but perhaps also a clever coping mechanism for a child faced with the reality of mortality.  If you could get a little respite from grief in the wonder of a box full of toys, building a fort from cushions and duvets or bashing some pots ...

My toddler has beautiful long, thick, silky hair, each lock ending in a curl so perfect, it melts my heart. It's the kind of hair most of us can only dream of having and I love it dearly.  So much do I love it, that when people ask me how old my daughter is, I hardly ever bother to point out anymore that he's my son.  Although his almost constant wearing of a spider man costume and deep as Barry White voice should be the only clues required. Just sayin'. My son is utterly convinced that if he goes to the barber shop and gets his hair cut, it will hurt.  I have no idea how this idea got into his little head, but I find it adorable when he holds onto his golden locks with his little chubby hands and squeals "no cut my hair, it will ow me".  I cannot go through with it. So what I'm wondering is why should he get his hair cut? Pressure from other people has bothered me and my other half for quite a while already, but why is it anyone else's busines...

There were many things I didn't know about being a parent when my family started and I'm sure there are many more I have yet to learn. One thing I definitely didn't realise until my children started school was that whatever time I had to myself at the weekend before reduced even more when they got into extra curricular activities. This past weekend, one of their activities was a sponsored 6 kilometre walk.  My husband did it last year, so this year was my turn.  It was also my 6 year old sons first time to do the entire 6 kilometres on his own feet. It is probably important that I mention I got home 2 hours before the walk having spent most of the previous 22 hours away from home on the hen night of my brothers lovely bride to be.  I spent approximately 16 of those hours, eating, drinking, chatting and being very merry.  It was fantastic, however, the persistent headache and permanent dry mouth didn't make what lay ahead any easier. We are very lucky to l...

Things They Say Every so often I like to revisit a post I wrote a while ago about the funny things that come out of my kids mouths.  Almost every day one of my three children say something that brings out a smile, a guffaw or if I'm really lucky, a tears running down my face belly laugh. Allow me to demonstrate: 6 Year Old:  You know how we have an extra chair at our table?  Well let's go steal your brothers new baby and put her in it, then the kitchen will look all nice and neat for dinner. 9 Year Old: Mum, were you alive in the olden days? Me:  How olden are we talking? 9 Year Old:   Before mobile phones. Me: (sigh) Yes 9 Year Old:  Oh my god! How did you play candy crush saga? 6 Year Old:  My friends mum has a new boyfriend, he buys him presents. Me: That's nice of him. 6 Year Old: Why don't you have a boyfriend? Me: Because I'm with your Daddy. 6 Year Old: If you got a boyfriend, I wouldn't tell Daddy. Toddler: I keeeeeeel ...

It all began last Christmas when the then eight and a half year old decided that she would like to have a sleepover party for her birthday in June.  Sure, we said, it's no big deal and in six months, she may have forgotten all about it.  If she doesn't, it's only a few kids on the floor in sleeping bags watching movies and eating popcorn.  Right? Hmmnnn. Closer to the day, it became clear that I may have under estimated the significance of the event.  Especially when other parents told me they were viewing our house as the guinea pig for the whole sleepover party scenario before attempting it themselves.  I was wished luck, patted on the back, advised to drink lots of strong coffee and told I would be seen when I came out the other side.  I became alarmed and rightly so. Now that I have in fact come out the other side, I feel it is my duty to help other parents out there whose daughters want to have all their friends spend the night.  Here ar...

9 and 1/4 years ago this week I became a parent for the first time.  It was terrifying, overwhelming, emotional and exhausting.  I was completely unprepared and believed I was going to be the cause of my baby spending years in therapy when she was older. Now a mother to three balls of energy I have chilled out a lot, because, honestly, what other choice is there?  I am coming close to the end of the nappy and sleepless nights part and have been reflecting on my family and the journey they have taken me on. There are good days and bad days, just like every other home.  I've stayed up nights worrying, I've pulled over and cried after a disastrous school run, headaches are a regular part of my life, I've reverted to hating homework again and many other things that every parent out there knows all about. However, just like every other parent out there also knows, every so often one of those little things happen that make my heart sing and remind me of just how luc...

I still think that my middle child has just started montessori, yet the other day while I was waiting for him to come back from his first ever school tour on his first ever school bus, I realised how close the countdown to "Big School" really was. He's just a little guy,  he still says schweep instead of sleep and crap instead of clap.  He doesn't know anyone in what will be his new class, what if he's lonely?  Or what if he's too shy to ask to go to the toilet and has an accident? What if all the other kids know each other and nobody talks to him? What if he doesn't understand that he has to look after his own lunch and if he doesn't eat it, he'll be really hungry by the time I come for him because it's a much longer day at big school than montessori. What if he doesn't like it? I know he'll most likely be fine and figure it all out as he goes, but I'm not ready for him to go.  I'm not ready to let go of that precious hour...

  When I gave birth to my first child, my grandmother brought me a box of dark chocolates called Black Magic; she told me I would need them to replenish my strength.   I laughed, but in the middle of the night in the hospital, while I struggled to feed my tiny baby girl, I reached for those chocolates and I can still remember how amazing they tasted.   I brought the last of them home and kept them in the fridge just for me.   A few years later when it became clear she needed help; my Granny went to live in a nursing home.   It was a lovely place, the staff kind and caring, but it was still hard.   Visits with her could be difficult; she just wanted to go home. A few months on and one day I brought her a box of Black Magic, her face lit up, she scoffed most of the box before we left her.   It became our thing.   I would bring her Black Magic, my kids who would have been watching the box in the house for days would get to eat some too. ...

I know I’m not wrong saying this was one of the longest winters ever, a dark, damp, cold, rainy, hail stoning, almost but not quite snowing miserable winter that over stayed it’s welcome and annoyed everyone. So now that spring has finally sprung isn’t it wonderful to see life budding all over the place?   There’s actual green stuff growing on the ground, I hear it’s called grass.   It’s beautiful. My interest in the garden in general and all things green started last year.   My daughter and I grew a tomato.   It may not sound all that impressive, but to me it was wondrous.   It grew big and round and I’m sure if we hadn’t planted it so late, it would have ripened and we could have shared it in a salad. This year I’m going for it again – growing things.   I do admit freely though that I am no expert and will take all the help and short cuts I can, so far that has involved my husband fixing what I’ve made a mess of, but I am optimistic and shall pe...

The other night my husband showed me a video on YouTube of a lovely young girl, singing a beautiful song on this years’ X Factor.   It was fabulous, she was amazing and the audience rose up to roar their appreciation for her talent.   I was really enjoying it too until I saw Gary Barlow’s face.   I have been a fan of X Factor for years, but this year, I cannot watch it.   Every time I see his face, I remember that the day his youngest child died was the day my youngest child turned eight months old and my heart breaks for him and his wife. I also cannot watch the news this week, because April Jones mother’s face shows everything I dread most in life.   It was the same for me when Madeleine McCann disappeared. I am now a mother for over seven years; it is what defines me more than anything else as a person.    There are times when I cannot remember my life before my children.   I know I worked and played hard, got to see some of the w...

Up until three years ago we as a family, were honestly quite blasé about our insurance overall. Whether it was home, car, contents, health etc., we generally went with the cheapest deal, not giving much thought to the cover that came with it.   I guess somewhere deep down inside, we thought we were made of iron. That was until someone virtually parked in the boot of my other half’s car and our lives took a very different path as we discovered that not only the car but his spine were a lot more fragile than we could have ever believed. The world of insurance cover and its importance took on a major role in our lives.   Thankfully for us, it has all worked out well, but it could have been a very different story. I am, by nature, a frugal person.   No, that does not mean cheap, it means I’m sensible with my money, which with three kids has become even more important over the years. Like everyone else we have being going down the long slippery slope of thi...

At first I was afraid, I was petrified. Kept thinkin' I could never live with you by my side; But then I spent so many nights Just feeling sorry for myself, And I grew strong and I learned how to glue you on, And I looked good, ten talons long, French manicured, no chips or breaks, I showed you off all day long. I’d never been a dollybird, Hardly got nails manicured, But if I’d have known for just one second you would break right off on me, I would have bought, extra strength glue, I would have burned my cuticles just to look good with you. Weren’t you the ones who tried to dazzle with your shine, Did you think I’d crumble, Did you think I’d lay down and die – Oh no not I! I will survive. As long as I’ve got marigolds I know my nails with thrive. I've got all my nails but one, Learned how to polish on my own, I’ll survive, I will survive, Hey Hey …….

I’ve been somewhat absent from the world of blogging for the last few months.   I’ve been swaddled in the wonderful world of a new baby.    My cuddly little bundle is doing great and routine is settling back in nicely with a bit more sleep too. One thing this time has reminded me of is that my kids are absolutely hilarious. I cannot count how many times I’ve said to myself I should write down their little nuggets of wisdom, mispronunciations or a misinterpretation of something they’ve heard. Here’s a selection of some of the more recent favourites in our household and if you’ve got any please send them to me.   It would make my day. What Daughter Says – “Could I have ornage and lemon please?” What she means – “Could I have orange and melon please?” Son – “Mummy, why are faces always in their nude?” Me – “because they couldn't breathe if you covered them up.” Son – “Mummy, you so silly, it's freezin on faces.” Daughter’s favourite number – “Vin Vin I...

This morning at 7.30am as I cleaned vomit from the bathroom floor, I thought to myself what an unexpected start to my Mother’s Day. That’s the thing about being a Mum though; you can’t pick and choose when you’re on duty.   From their first breath, things in your life are never the same again. Our baby cried all night, our eldest has a tummy bug and our middle child has headache inducing verbal diarrhoea.   He’s the entertainer in the family. What made things a tad more difficult this morning was that my husband took me out to dinner last night, which was lovely.   We talked about grown up stuff and got to eat all our own food with little or no stains on our clothes.   We also had a couple of drinks and as all parents out there know, hangover + kids = hell on earth. So my bleary eyed husband took the boys to his parents’ house, while I stayed home to nurse our daughter. My little girl is so sick that she and I have spent most of the day on the couch together....

So, there I was, Christmas week, leaving my new born baby in the very capable hands of my mother and sister to go to a Duran Duran concert in Dublin. What the hell was I thinking? He was 16 days old; I wasn’t even used to him being on the outside of me yet. The tickets were a present from my family for my landmark birthday earlier in the year, which happened to coincide with the week I found out I was expecting the new born I was now feeling homesick for.   That was a big week. Even though I didn’t expect it, I’ve turned out to be a bit of a clingy parent.   I thought I would skip out the door the first chance I got when I had my first baby, but instead I irritated my mother with phone calls every 20 minutes to see if baby was ok.   I was a bit better this time, he is my third and I should be getting better at the job, but I still found it hard to leave. I met up with hubby and we had a bite to eat.   Then we parked up the cars and took the tram to the con...

Last week we got a fright at our house.   Well in truth it was me who got the fright, thankfully no one else was upset by a drama that unfolded in our home over a 13 hour period. Our pet cat Berry went missing.   It never happened before, in 8 ½ years we have always known where she is.   This knowledge has been facilitated by a very distinctive squawking sound she makes.   That and the fact that she doesn’t seem to be aware that she’s actually feline, which has led to some distinctively odd behaviour on her part. She likes to bathe for instance, not in a puddle in the back garden, but in our bath or shower, particularly on warm days, she waits for the water to go down to her comfort level, then she gets in and sits in it.   Cooling her derrière and paws.   She then very considerately gets out and dries herself on the floor mat.   Honestly, she loves it.   She always loves anything garlicky in flavour, eats things off her paw and can open the fr...

About six months ago I had a very eventful weekend which changed a lot of things in my life.   Over the course of a few short days I turned forty and found out I was pregnant with my third child. My fortieth birthday faded into the background somewhat as all the plans I had been making since I turned thirty suddenly had to change.   Gone were the many bottles of red wine that would have been my constant companions under ordinary circumstances.   No big night of partying like it’s 1999 and of course the quiet afternoon of Botox I had hoped for had to be swapped for a nap and a quick trip to the shops for sensible supportive undergarments. My other half coped well, he had a few drinks himself at my birthday party and managed to deflect offers of alcohol for me with expertly placed comments like “she’s been sick as a pig all day with a tummy bug” or “we had a few last night, she’s not able for it any more” while I sipped orange juice and water.   As the weeks pass...