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 ...

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...

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...

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...