I like things to have a theme; I like to be able to look back and easily sum things up in three words or a couple of sentences. Like the golden autumn when everything was shiny and sparkling and brilliant. Followed by literal and metaphorical November rain. Or the summer holiday
Sometimes I hide my phone from myself for an hour, so that I can concentrate on the kids without being distracted. And I have some reasonably strict self-imposed rules about not browsing mindlessly when they’re around. But one major weakness is taking photos – and it’s for that purpose more
Long, long ago, on a campsite far, far away, I met a holiday friend called Claire. She had long brown hair and was from Ireland or England – I wasn’t old enough to distinguish accents. I had spent two days sitting on the steps of our mobile home looking across
If I’d married someone just like me, we’d have gone on holidays to Italy (we did), to a campsite (we did), to drink Prosecco on the deck every night (we did). But being married to that person just like me would have meant quite a different holiday for the kids
Date: September 1st 2015 Mood: Wild elation Source of mood: Three kids in school and preschool for the first time, meaning I could start working mornings instead of only nights. Guilt levels about feelings of elation: Surprisingly mild. Date: September 5th 2015 Mood: Spirit utterly broken Source of mood: Realisation
Twenty-eight years ago this month, my parents drove to France for the first time, with four of us rattling around in the back-seat. We got lost (how did anyone not get lost before sat nav) and by the time we arrived at our campsite in St Jean de Monts, the gates
June is mad. So says everyone. Teacher presents and end-of-term nights out and inductions for junior infants. Sports tournaments and school summer fairs – and barbecues every time it stops raining for more than six hours. I woke up this Monday morning and let out a long breath – another manic
When my third child was born, and when unlike his sisters, he was not a girl, great plans were immediately afoot (pardon the pun) to turn him into a footballer. You see my husband has been playing football since before he could walk, and after all the many, many girl
I pressed the button on the kettle, and clicked into Facebook. Sucky-sucky time-sucker lovely Facebook. But it’s OK – according to my own personal virtual rulebook, I’m allowed to scroll through my phone while waiting for the kettle to boil. Especially when just back from an internet-free day out with the
White faces because Factor 50 never quite rubs in. Short-sleeves on the school run. Homework in the garden. Lunch in the garden. Dinner in the garden. A tidy kitchen because we’ve almost entirely relocated to the garden. Ice-cream every day – and twice on Sunday. There’s nothing quite like the drop-everything wonder
It was subtle at first, almost imperceptible. Then a little more noticeable – a twinge, every time I bent down to pick something up off the floor. Which I now realise is a fairly constant activity. I couldn’t pinpoint where it was – was something twisted or knotted deep inside?
This is Pineky: His name is pronounced Pine-key. My four-year-old adopted him in March. He’s originally from Killiney Hill. Against the odds, he has survived for two months without getting lost; minded carefully by his self-appointed ‘owner-parent-friend’. Until this week, when he disappeared for 24 hours. We knew he was in the car
Bank holiday Monday morning. I checked the weather on my phone. Cloudy, rainy, and real-feel 5 degrees. I checked the weather through my window. Bright, sunny, and the illusion of warmth. Window trumps phone. Day-trip weather. I suggested Glendalough, everyone agreed. We’d need to be quick though. The last time
A year ago today, I walked out of my beloved office for the last time, switching from a 17 year career in financial services to the unknown world of freelance writing from home. I say ‘beloved’ without a hint of sarcasm – I loved my office very much. It was a
As I lay on my bed yesterday evening, my four-year-old suddenly bounced onto my rib-cage WWE style, and it struck me that parenting involves a fair amount of physical pain. And endurance. And sometimes bravery, while holding back tears. Today is just a regular day, but putting trousers on the wrestler involved
A zit, a coldsore and a bout of hayfever walk into a bar… And that’s the end of the joke, because let’s face it, a zit, a coldsore and a bout of hayfever in the same place at the same time really isn’t funny. Which is exactly how I felt when
This really, really is the best chocolate cake in the world. So much so, it’s worth going through the drama of baking with kids, just to eat it. Announce that today’s activity is baking, then bask in the shrieks of joy and pronouncements that you’re the best mum ever. Tell
Isn’t spring just brilliant. Whether you believe it starts on February 1st, March 1s or mid-March (I need guidance on this – my kids are asking every day on which date does summer start) it’s all good. Longer evenings, brighter, (theoretically) warmer weather, and a casting of clouts all about – or at
Long, long ago, when I had two-under-two, I wondered if my girls would ever be friends. At twenty months, my eldest was little more than a baby herself when her small sister was born, and she was understandably confused. I remember a work colleague who’d had a second child around
I’ve just told the kids that I’m taking a coffee break. I opened my lap top, and said I have a bit of work to catch up on. I’m on Twitter. I am a bad mother. The coffee break is because I just spent the last forty-five minutes making toast and