There’s no such thing as a perfect parent – even the kindest, most calm parents have off days (and I suspect it’s a good thing for kids to know parents aren’t perfect) but apparently more than half of Irish parents feel they’re failing, and this feeling is amplified by the internet
If you’re a campsite person, you’ll have had the conversation; the one where you chat with the people in the mobile home across the way about which campsites you’ve been to and which ones they’ve been to, and which ones were great and which ones were awful. Who you stayed with,
My laptop and I are in a coffee shop for lunch. It’s a little bit because there’s no fresh bread at home, and a little bit because it’s good to get out. I’m grumpy, because my soup came with toasted sourdough. I could have toasted my not-fresh bread at home. Sourdough feels
The Last Full Day It’s our last day. Yesterday was our last time doing school pickup and coming back to this house, the same house we’ve come home to every day since they started school. I didn’t say it as we pulled into the driveway. The kids have been so
My eyes water. Wind, sharp and stinging, pushes my hood down and drives me back. I lean in, but not in a Sheryl Sandberg way. I’ve got 58 minutes and five tasks. Stocking fillers. A fancy gift box. A Secret Santa pick-up. Stamps. A book. Dark shapes huddle under hoods,
One night a few months ago, I made a third attempt to get my six-year-old interested in Cabin Fever, a Diary of a Wimpy Kid book by Jeff Kinney. I read it for him as his bedtime story, promising he could have a second story if he didn’t like it. There
Every year for the last four years, September and October have been a little challenging* in our house (*all-out chaotic messy nightmare). The fact that this four-year timeline coincides with my departure from my office job is surely neither here nor there – no doubt something other than my presence
A few weeks ago I took the middle child out for a lunch date to Dundrum, preceded by a trip to Claire’s for some new hairbands. When I opened my phone cover to take out my Laser card, it wasn’t there. Nor was my parking ticket. I had a credit card
Oh September, you crafty devil. From opposite corners of the ring, we faced each other, eyeing each other up, ready for the 30-day bout. You picked me up, you shook me, you slammed me down – over and over. But I knew you were coming for me, and I braced myself, and I
Looking through old photos in my dad’s house one afternoon, I found a picture I had never seen before. It was taken in the early 80’s and showed a group of us on picnic at the beach. Studying it gave me a surge of nostalgia for a time I don’t remember at
What makes a holiday? Is it time off work, or time to yourself, or time with the kids, or a break from the kids? Is it time to read your first book this year or time to get through six? Sunbathing or swimming or sliding or sailing or sleeping? Time
Exactly two years ago this week, I was on this same beach (give or take a bit of sand) when I saw a woman in a deckchair and almost took her photo. Then I got worried – what if I shared her photo online and it had unexpected repercussions on her life
I was going to call this Snapshot of a woman on the edge but that was just too melodramatic for what really comes down to wishing away the long, final days of school before the summer starts. So it’s a snapshot from the cusp instead – from one tired mother
I’m a bit fragile today. It’s a little bit down to last night’s wine and tapas – the ratio of rioja to patatas bravas was not in my favour. But it’s a lot down to the Last Supper – the goodbye dinner with the mums from my middle child’s class. After four
I am the mean-mom who doesn’t let my kids have new toys when it’s not Christmas or birthdays, despite the fact that every single child in the school goes to Smyths EVERY SUNDAY to buy new toys – these are the same children who apparently all have their own YouTube
As anyone who works mornings and looks after kids in the afternoon knows, it’s a day of two distinct halves. The morning is busy-busy, trying to cram in every last drop before the imaginary school-run klaxon sounds, and tools must be downed. Like the no-nonsense bell in a TV game show,
Are you and your friends like me and my friends? We stay in touch on WhatsApp and Facebook. We grab coffee when we can, and we have really, really good nights out when we find a date that suits everyone. But we haven’t been away together since our hen parties a very
They came on Saturday afternoon – my almost-last round of edits. This is the time to make final tweaks and find typos. (Typos are so hard to find, but I know they’re there, lurking, grinning slyly, hoping to make the final cut.) And for me, the only way to do this is to
“So what did you do for St Patrick’s Day?” asked our lovely optician on Monday. “Did you go into the parade?” “No…” said the child. “Did you watch it on TV?” “No, Dad was watching the match, so we didn’t see it.” I jumped in then, quick to clarify that I’d
