“Okay, five minutes reading time, then lights out,” I said to my smallest, after his story. “Six minutes? Pleeeeease?” “Okay, you can have six minutes reading time,” I said, earning me a best mum ever badge that was much shinier than that worst mum ever one I’d got earlier for
17 years ago, on New Year’s Eve, I turned to my husband and told him my resolutions. I can’t remember them precisely now – I think I wanted to learn Italian, teach myself to cook, and break my newly formed post-work shopping habit. We were living in an apartment in
As I surveyed the entire contents of my shopping bag yesterday – two packets of similar-but-not-the-same crackers and nothing else at all – it struck me that this scene, and the lead-up to it, quite aptly summed up my parenting. It started when we realised we were out of cream crackers,
It was five o’clock Thursday, rush hour in Dublin city centre. One of those beautiful sunny Autumn evenings we get in early October every year – the Indian summer my kids didn’t believe existed. I was among throngs of post-work walkers – marchers really, marching towards buses and trains and
An entire decade has passed since you rushed into the world, two and a half weeks before your due date. I hadn’t finished work yet, and perhaps it was your way of setting the scene; letting me know that nothing would ever be properly planned again. And indeed, of all the
Do you ever have mornings where everything goes wrong? Where you come downstairs and last night’s saucepan is still on the hob and it’s not anyone’s fault because we were all out late at different events and activities, but still, it’s irritating? And the kids are late getting up and
“How was your summer and how does she like the new teacher and how is he settling back in?” The voices change but the questions are the same. “They’re tired this week, I’m tired this week, how is it only Monday?” Stopping at the corner for a conversation worth an hour
When I go on holidays, and I do what lots of people do – I put photos up on Facebook. It’s the modern version of the postcard isn’t it – “Having a lovely time, wish you were here!” So here’s the Facebook version of one holiday, as told through the photos
When you were born, I didn’t know why you cried. I carried you night and day, thinking I was doing something wrong, but now I understand, you just wanted to be near me, as newborn babies do. It’s so very obvious in hindsight. And 20 months later when your sister
I’ve read many “an open letter to” posts in the last few years. Sometimes they’re angry, sometimes conciliatory, and sometimes empathetic. In particular, I’ve read posts about supermarket confrontations – women who have been judged for their parenting, or had some kind of less than pleasant encounter. I wondered when
Once upon a time, back in September, it all seemed very difficult. Not seriously difficult – just everyday stuff. Struggling with three in school for the first time. Struggling with three lunches and three lots of homework and three tired kids. Struggling with a little boy who likes to talk a
I promised myself (not just an in-the-air promise – an actual written down promise) that the next time I had a lull, I’d take a morning for myself. And here I am – almost all current deadlines met, book edits on the way but not here yet – doing just
These are just my own personal essential parenting tools – they’re not by any means universal – but without them, I suspect I’d be in some kind of institution at this stage. In no particular order: 1. Kids’ TV TV saves my life every evening. Take yesterday for example. There
I made three new year’s resolutions this year; one for work, one for running, and one for home – this is the home one: “fix afternoons with the kids so they’re less chaotic.” But unlike my work and running goals, the home goal isn’t specific, nor is it measurable, and it
The familiar scampering footsteps. I know who it is. He runs everywhere, and his first hop out of bed each morning is no exception. A chink of light as he pushes the bedroom door open, then more running. All the way around to my side of the bed – it’s always
I’m in awe of all the people I know doing Dry January, but I’m going to have to sit this one out. I admire you, but I can’t find it in me to make the toughest month of the year even tougher by giving up nice things. I can’t forego
When I was small, I don’t remember my parents ever holding Santa over us at this time of year – there was never a sense that if we didn’t behave, the man in red wouldn’t deliver. Yes, he was magical and all-knowing, but it was all very positive – there
Dear 30 year-old me, This is not a letter to tell you that you shouldn’t worry so much about little things (though you shouldn’t). Nor is it a letter saying don’t wish time away or don’t buy a house off the plans or don’t wear pale pink jeans. It’s about
This post could also have been called “Pass the Rescue Remedy” or “Christmas is Cancelled” or more practically “I’ve Signed a Book Deal”. At this point I’m more focused on the Rescue Remedy than anything, and still wondering if I’m having a (rather long) dream. A couple of years ago, a
Kissing each child goodnight, I said the same thing – in my head so I wouldn’t wake them – I said “From now on, I’m going to be the best parent ever.” It’s something I often say when I’m kissing them at night – when they’re fast asleep and it’s