Posts

To Cursive or not to Cursive

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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 on day one of homework that cursive writing with my 6 3/4 year old was going to be the thing th

The Thing About Grief

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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 and pan

Hair Cut Hell

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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

Wet Wet Wet

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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 live

Things They Say Revisited

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 you! (I w

The Perfect Sleep Over for 9 Year Olds

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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 are my recommendations f

Reasons to be Grateful I'm a Mum

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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 lucky I am