Tag: parenting challenges

Car journeys ain’t what they used to be.

Last week we set off on our family holiday to West Cork.  Packing took an eternity as I tried to locate 56 pairs of socks, jocks and pants, not to mention ordinary items of clothing, for the kids alone.

My own personal packing was done in about 5 minutes flat as the laden down car practically reversed out the driveway without me. With every available space in our red bus filled, and a bum on every seat, we set off on our marathon journey.

Car trips have taken on a new meaning since the children’s arrival.  Gone are the days of leisurely drives.  Nowadays it’s all about bribery and distraction and trying to make sure child number six doesn’t swipe child number seven’s soother en route!

 

We had set off in the evening time, after rush hour traffic and after the children had been fed their dinner.  The hope was that the younger children might doze on the way and we could carefully lift them into their beds when we arrived, where they would sleep peacefully for the entire night and wake up wholly refreshed the next morning, full of the joys of life.  That’s one of the fascinating wonders of parenthood.  Even though you know there isn’t a hope in hell of something happening you still dare to dream it might.

And so the early part of the journey began with my husband and I nodding in agreement that they were definitely getting tired and they’d most certainly drift off any moment now. And as the miles passed we knew they were definitely just about to go to sleep.  And after we stopped to let some of them go for a wee, we knew that that was obviously all that was keeping them awake and their now empty bladders would mean they’d be fast asleep before we knew it. The conversations directed at us from the back of the car however, suggested sleep wasn’t on their minds just yet.

“Do you know that beavers’ teeth keep growing?” the five year old informed me “and we better get there before midnight because that’s when the mud monsters come out”. “This city is upside down” the three year old exclaimed, in spite of the fact that there wasn’t a house to be seen, never
mind a city! “I’ll really miss you when you die mum” the five year old continued, “I think you’ll probably be 109” “I think Ireland might be a planet sometimes” he added. This comment was enough to bring the seven and ten year olds in on the conversation. “Ireland is not a planet” they roared in unison.

Undeterred by his brothers, the five year old continued “yes I think it is a planet, but I don’t think foxes are real”. The seven year old wasn’t entertaining this notion at all “of course they’re real” he said “I’ve seen one” “Yes, but he was probably trying to sneak up on you like a mud monster” the five year old replied. “I love Spiderman” said the three year old. “I’m going to be a daddy when I grow up” said the five year old, “not a mummy, because I have a willy, like Spiderman”. “I love Spiderman”, said the three year old once again.

I attempted a little gentle persuasion to encourage the younger children in particular to go asleep and said that their daddy and I would carry them into bed once we arrived. “But we’re not tired” the five year old protested “we just have itchy eyelashes.”

Finally, at 11:30, we arrived, and all seven children were awake. As we left the cramped confines of the car, we realised, not for the first time in our lives, that we were very sadly deluded.  The kids had no intention whatsoever of going to sleep anytime soon.  They ran excitedly into the house we had rented, running up the stairs in heated debate over the sleeping arrangements.  It was a long car journey, but an even longer night……

 

One final battle

Mid-June already and we’re trundling towards the end of the school year but not before the one last torture that is Summer Tests.  This house is still under the dark cloud of the Junior Cert and now the end of year exams for my older primary schoolers have been thrown into the mix. Stress levels are rising. The already manic afternoons now have an extra demand on them and frantic scouring of revision sheets is commonplace once homework is completed. The weekends haven’t escaped either as mountain, rivers and counties of the Emerald Isle are listed off and alternate discussions about the Bronze Age and the Great Famine take place in the kitchen depending on which child happens to have wandered in at the time.

But let me clarify. It is not my troops who are initiating these discussions, nor they who are feeling the stress.  It is not they who are scouring the revision sheets to check what needs to be known for their impending tests and it certainly isn’t they who feel the need to know the where the Galtee mountains are or which river flows through Cork. Horizontal, is not a strong enough word to describe my “Summer tests takers” and “laid back” doesn’t do them justice either. They’re much more focused on playing outside with their waterguns, flickers and lightsabers.  They see the
reduction in written homework as an opportunity to escape to their own planets all the quicker.  I am reassured by them on a daily basis that it will “all be grand”, after all, it’s things that they have done through the year. I use the word “reassured” loosely. They talk the talk but they certainly don’t recollect the details!

Getting the motivational balance right is proving more difficult every year. I don’t want them to be overly worried about their tests but I would like them to have some interest and try their best. Any attempt to keep them at the dining room table just ten or fifteen minutes longer to revise for the next day is met with huge resistance. Every day I am told the tests were “fine”. I think this might be my lads’ favourite word – non-committal, covers a multitude and pacifies mam, the kids think anyway.

 

Roll on the summer holidays. Free from homework, free from making lunches, free from school runs and most importantly, temporarily free from the reminder that I still can’t pinpoint the counties, mountain and rivers of Ireland!

Time flies when you’re having fun!

Fifteen years ago tomorrow, I became a mother for the first time when my beautiful baby girl came into the world, informing it of her arrival with lungs that Shirley Bassey would have been proud of. She turned my life as I knew it, on its head and if I’m honest, in the weeks that followed, made me wonder what on earth I’d done.

In spite of the shock to the system that was first time motherhood, I fell completely and utterly head over heels in love with this gorgeous bundle of pink and my parenting journey began. Twelve years later to the day, my sixth child, her little brother and Godson was born.

 At the time, his arrival made my daughter seem very grown up by comparison, as she approached the end of her primary school time. He seemed so dependent in every regard while she was about to start an exciting new chapter in her education, one she couldn’t wait for. She strived for independence and he couldn’t live without me. The different needs were stark and challenging.

The first child gets to be the guinea pig in so many regards. I was she myself, so I can appreciate the frustrations but now I’m viewing it from a different perspective. This week as my daughter takes on her Junior Cert I’m like most mums I imagine, and I worry that she’ll get enough rest, not stress too much and hope the paper goes well. I’m trying in the little ways that I can, to make home life a little bit easier for her so she can do what she needs to do. What I really want to do however, is actually go in and take the exams for her.

As I type, my nine month old son is bouncing to the tune of “In the Night Garden” and my “one day away from 15” year old daughter is taking Irish Paper 2. How she gets on will be totally down to her. I can’t influence or affect the outcome of the exams, save maybe for helping her to be in the best frame of mind possible and discouraging the pointless post mortems after each paper. In contrast, I can pick up my bouncing nine month old and feed, change and do everything he needs done for him.

As I walked back from the school today many parents stopped to admire my littlest dude. They said they couldn’t believe how he big he is now and everyone agreed time goes so fast. It certainly does. As if birthdays aren’t enough of a reminder, state exams certainly hammer that home!

 

Sports Day’s a comin’!

This week sees the annual occurrence that is sports day at my boys’ school. I had a vague recollection of it’s mention in the school newsletter a few weeks ago but watching my older lads running laps of the back garden while passing the dog’s toy to each other this weekend, in preparation for the relay and discovering my seven year old going through my husband’s tie drawer for a “nice colour” tie confirmed my suspicions that it was drawing ever closer. The countdown has begun and everyone is keeping their fingers crossed that the weather will stay fine.

Experienced parents have booked their time off work and one first time Junior Infant parent asked me earlier “is it that big a deal?” My reply was “Oh yes – sports day is a huge deal”

Love it or loathe is, and I’m really not sure what camp I’m in, sports day is a huge deal for the kids and for several of the parents too. Yes it’s great to see our children having fun with their friends and, if your child is any way sporty, maybe even win a medal or two. The “it’s all about taking part” line, however, does not wash with all of the children, particularly those past Senior Infants for whom a medal is no longer guaranteed, just for taking part.  In this house, with children of extremely mixed sporting ability I know there will be tears and sadness on the day for some of them, when best efforts will still leave zero chance of coming anywhere.

I know it could be viewed as a life lesson but, as an adult, I’m not likely to put myself in a competitive environment for something I know I am absolutely brutal at, and I can handle disappointment slightly better than a child.

And speaking of competitive environments, the highlight of the day for many there will be the parent’s race! You will see some, kitted out in their top notch sports gear and expensive running shoes, laughing off suggestions that it’s anything but a “bit of craic” but discreetly warming up on the sidelines as they cheer on their sons in their races.  Toned and tanned limbs give away any misconception that these parents are anything other than seasoned runners, and they mean business. Elsewhere, the more reluctant sportsmen and sportwomen among us will panickedly try to think of excuses not to take part. I already, am lamenting an absent pregnancy bump for different reasons to usual. It has crossed my mind to just stick a cushion up my dress, after all I’m always pregnant and I think most of the parents from the school have lost count at this stage.  Would anyone even be suspicious?

Failing that I’ll just have to hope the organisers turn the tables on those magnificent sporty parents and that the parent’s race involves an egg and spoon!

 

Escape from Buggy-traz….

I can usually be seen huffing and puffing, pushing my big red double buggy which accommodates my two youngest children, most weekdays, as I head down to the school to collect my junior infant.

Yesterday my mam timed a visit perfectly with collection time, so I decided to leave my baby with her while I went to pick up my son. My two year old asked if he could come along and decided he wanted to walk. I thought it might be a good idea to give him a little practice at it, as I’m hoping to move him to a buggy board type thing soon.  The whole excursion reminded me why I usually restrain him!

 

To somewhat very loosely paraphrase Daddy Pig in his consideration of muddy puddles, “to be at one with a two year old who is free, one must think like a two year old who is free”!

1.   Two year olds are fast, very fast.  Within a micro second of having walked out the front door he was off, insisting there was no need to hold my hand because he was a big boy and there were no cars coming.  I ran most of the way to school in a sideways crab like fashion trying to near pin him alongside the wall while dodging parents and little girls on their scooters who had just left school.

2.   Two year olds are like magpies, well mine is anyway…except things don’t need to be shiny.  All manner of things can grab his attention.  One minute he was belting along the path on the way to collect his brother, the next minute he spotted dog poo, then a worm, then a paw patrol scooter.  The first two he stopped to examine, the last one made him turn in the opposite
direction and run after the child on it!

3.  Two year olds are at the perfect height for parked car wing mirrors and older kids school bags. Both of which he managed to run into on his journey.

4.  Two year olds have an uncanny ability to choose the place of maximum potential audience for a meltdown.  After his collision with the second school bag of a dancing junior infant girl (their school finishes five minutes before my son’s school and is located directly beside it) and my insistence that he was holding my hand the rest of the way, I could sense one building. I started to wonder how many people around actually realised he was mine and, if it all kicked off, could I stand on the periphery with folded arms (once he was safely within the confines of the school playground of course) and pretend to look around for his mother.  Thankfully the crisis was averted -  he spotted a crow.

5.  Two year olds see. Two year olds want. Two year olds go and get. When we arrived at the school he spotted his big brother waiting in his line.  Normally the teacher allows the boys to go to the person collecting them one by one as she spots them.  My two year old bulldozed through the crowd of waiting parents and launched himself at his brother. Quickest pick up ever!

 

We ran the whole way home

 

What’s that in the toilet?

Over the years my children have put various items down our toilet.  Mobile phones, plastic bath ducks, Iggle Piggle and one of my husband’s ties (which was used as a fishing rod) have all met their watery end at the bottom of our lavatory. We had a new one today though.

There was a lot of activity going on in our bathroom this morning and not just the usual meeting of minds that regularly takes place there, when one of my younger kids needs to do a poo. In a house where most of the children have no mute button, silence is always treated with particular suspicion. Upon further investigation it appeared that there was every reason to be suspicious.

My five and two year olds were found examining the toilet bowl where some mushy type something or other was floating in the water. “What’s going on?” I asked “Whats that in the toilet?” Two guilty heads looked at each other. “It’s a breakfast waffle” my five year old replied. “And how did it get there?” I asked. “It popped out of the toaster and landed there” he said. “So it popped out of the toaster, flew up the stairs and landed in the toilet? I asked. “Yep” he replied nodding his curly head in earnest honesty. “It’s in the toilet” my two year old added, just in case I wasn’t clear.

“Don’t worry mammy” the five year old said as I muttered in disgust “I got most of it out with daddy’s toothbrush”…….

One of those nights!

My baby is a terrible sleeper, I mean absolutely shockingly bad and the last few months have involved me functioning in a sleep deprived stupor with several moments of confused dreams versus reality. In fairness none of his older siblings slept either as babies so I can’t claim that I didn’t know what I was getting into but that doesn’t make it any easier when you’re going through the torture that is sleep deprivation.

Yesterday, exhaustion was really catching up with me so I set myself the target of hitting the sack before midnight and preferably by 10:30.  That
is no mean feat in this house! The baby is the only one who tends to wake up at night here, except for bouts of illness, so with no homework or school to get ready for the next day, there was never a better opportunity to catch up (a little bit anyway), on much longed for sleep .

The evening went a bit like this
9:00 p.m. My teenage daughter suddenly decides she needs to know all about quadratic equations, now, not tomorrow or the next day, but at this very moment in time.  Her life practically depends on it (I suspect a maths test is looming that I haven’t been told about – it couldn’t possibly be the Junior Cert because that’s a whole five weeks away!)

10:00 p.m. The two year old comes down the stairs.  He has decided it’s morning time

 

10:15 p.m The five year old calls to say the two year old is
in his bed…..again

10:30 p.m. The five year old comes down the stairs….just
because

10:45 p.m The nine year old comes down the stairs because he
has a cramp behind his knee

11:00 p.m The eleven year old comes down the stairs to
remind me that I have to sign the note for for his school tour (have I
mentioned my primary schoolers have no school this week)

11:30 p.m. Husband goes to feed the dog, forgets he has already put the alarm on, opens the back door, baby awake!

12:15 a.m  baby fed , changed and finally settled, I fall into bed exhausted

1:10 a.m baby awake again, wants a quick feed and cuddle

2:25 a.m. Five year old comes into the room.  Says he has been burping a lot and needed to say excuse me. Apparently he couldn’t just say it to himself. He needed someone to hear it or else it would be bad manners. I look at him bleary eyed. Its 2:25 in the morning, far too early or late to consider the whole “if a tree falls in the wood and there’s no one to hear it” philosophy

2:30 a.m Baby wakes….. repeat 1:10 a.m.

3:00 a.m Two year old appears convinced the Gruffalo is
after him

3:25 a.m Two year old reappears to tell us he loves us, and he loves food and he loves the fridge apparently. He also thinks he might need a wee

3:45 a.m. Baby wakes , just to check I’m still about

4:30 a.m Nine year old appears, cramp behind his knee again and he wonders if we know whether or not he will be going to his friends for a
sleepover this week

4:45  a.m. Baby wakes – weak with the hunger!

5:30 a.m. Baby wakes to check he hasn’t been abandoned

6:25 a.m. I wake to hear the two year old singing in his bed “We dig for diamonds, we dig for gold”, a song from Ben and Holly ………and a new day
begins!

 

Morning Chaos!

The mornings never quite go as I’d like, or hope.  While I have visions of six children and a baby in his highchair sitting around the breakfast table laughing gaily as they eat breakfast in a relaxed and cheery fashion the reality falls very short of this.  It takes five or six attempts to gently rouse my children from their deep slumber every school morning, the sort of deep slumber that never seems to occur at the weekend, before the fishwife in me leaps out and starts roarin, “GET UP NOW OR YOU’RE GOING TO BE LATE!” We’re not off to a good start.

As the kids trundle down the stairs some more happily than others, there is shoving and shouts of “leave me alone” and “maaaaaaam he’s annoying me!” Meanwhile I’m rushing around the kitchen calling random children’s names to come and collect their cereal toast and juice.  My ever independent two year old insists “I do it mineself”. I can see what’s going to happen but I can’t stop it….

I mop up the orange juice as quickly as I can before he takes notions of “jumping up and down in muddy puddles” and move quickly to console my snot filled nose bubble blowing baby boy who is grizzling miserably in his high chair. Like his father, he is not a great patient! Next I move on to trying to cajole the troops up the stairs to clean their teeth before they head to school.

It is quite incredible the amount of distractions that can be encountered en route to the bathroom.  Several more fish wife impressions later they’re down the stairs and almost ready to leave the house.

My final morning battle begins and a disagreement ensues as to whether or not a coat is necessary.  My insistence it’s freezing is shot down as ridiculous, but, as I am mammy, they have to do what they’re told.  To the tune of “hurry, hurry hurry” most of the kids put on their coats and get ready to head out the door.  In scenes reminiscent of Home Alone 2 I do a head count and realise there’s someone missing.  It’s the curly haired one.  I turn around to find him coatless, standing about three feet away from the coat rack , holding his hand out.  “Why are you not wearing your coat” I say, in a less than calm fashion. “I’m getting it” he replies, “I’m just using the
force”. I look at him for a few minutes incredulously…….…….before I burst out laughing.  Ah well, at least the tension is gone and tomorrow is Friday!

 

 

How to beat those homework blues!

The longer evenings are here but school’s not quite out for summer. With another two months plus for the primary schools still to go, homework is still very much on the agenda. Doe eyed children gaze wistfully out the window these evenings, in between giving their brothers and sister a sly dig, longing to be free with their lightsabers and dreaming of a galaxy far far away.

To help make homework a little less stressful and hopefully get it finished that little
bit more quickly I am sharing my top five tips for taking on the time of day
that we all dread…….

1.   Make sure the kids have a snack, get changed, use the bathroom etc, to ensure whatever little opportunities to escape the task in hand that might be proposed by unwilling participants, are taken care of in advance!

2.   Decide prior to beginning, who is doing their homework where, before any arguments start.  If, like me, you have more children than tables, some of your kids may need to share a homework space.  Use the force, or your mammy inside info if you prefer, to know which pairings are likely to result
      in least distraction and prove to be most productive.

3.   Make sure the homework area is as clutter free as possible. A clear desk leads to a clear mind (and those of you who know me can stop laughing now).  It will also help you avoid being called 20 times in the space of 5 minutes to locate a “missing” maths book which is just buried beneath the weekend newspapers!

4.  In this house, stop – starting homework doesn’t really work. Where possible try to allow for a straight run at the homework.Set a realistic target time for the amount involved and don’t  allow your child to go over that. Explain in advance that you will be stopping them after 45 minutes, 1 hour or whatever time you have set and stick to it.  Kids can take as long as they’re allowed to especially if you have daydreamers.  Setting the clock gives them a timeframe to work within.

5.    Positive reinforcement. We hear this term brandished about all the time but it can be a very effective tool when trying to encourage your children to get stuck in and get it done, properly! Whether it’s a comment about how well they are working or the promise of playing outside when they’re finished the carrot definitely works better than the stick here. Even if you feel like banging your head off a wall with frustration about how things are going, try to keep things positive.  It can mean the same thing effectively but
it’s the way you phrase it that matters.  “If you finish that in the next fifteen minutes you can go outside and play with your friends” is much more likely to motivate your child than “you’re not going out with your friends unless you finish that within the next fifteen minutes”.  The latter sentence just
associates yet another negative with homework.

There are some days when even the best laid plans go awry so don’t lose heart. A little consistency can really help, especially when it leads to everyone getting
a bit more of their evening back! #allinthesameboat #homeworkbattles #mamatude

 

 

The Plague

It’s been a long week. The plague – aka a vomiting bug, hit this house and still hasn’t left yet.  I am drowning in bed sheets and towels and every time I turn around another ashen-faced child is looking at me saying “maaaaam – I don’t feel very well”.

In spite of strategically placed basins at bedtime and constant checking, not one child has so far managed to make it to the bathroom, or even the strategically placed basin. Middle of the night showers, floor scrubbing and bed changing have been a frequent occurrence this week and no amount of open windows, air freshener or scented cleaners can convince me that there’s not a smell of vomit lingering upstairs. School pick ups have been more than slightly challenging, trying to work around AVTs (anticipated vomiting times) and it has been a lonely week as a house with a vomiting bug most definitely makes us personae non gratae among basically, just about everyone.  Not saying I blame them, but, I thought the close friend of mine who did me the enormous favour of collecting my junior infant from school one day this week and basically catapulted him in the door and ran away screaming might have slightly overreacted to the risk involved….

 

I’m clinging on to the hope that having taken almost everyone down at this stage, it will be gone soon, or at the very least, those yet to get it, have a better aim than their predecessors!