My ice bucket challenge

I know it's been done.
I know you're getting bored.  

But try to remember that a worthy cause simply has its day in the sun. Motor Neuron Disease is a long-neglected, little understood disease.

For €2 and a bit of fun, you could make a difference to a patient and their family. Text MND to 50300 or donate here.

Oh, and you can laugh at me.

Back to School 2014

I don't know why parents talk about Back to School time being stressful.

All that's required is a modicum of organisation.

Those of us in possession of such basic organisational skills ordered all of the schoolbooks online, in July to avail of a 10% discount. Said schoolbooks were then delivered to the door, with covers, to await labelling and placing in schoolbags. Simple.

Uniforms have been kindly handed down by friends of ours. Tick that box!

A lunchbox, as is tradition, has been bought by Nanny for Little Lady who is terribly pleased.

So here we are, with one week left till school starts back and we're in great shape!

Except that I can't find the 'safe place' where I put Little Man's labels from last year. Ok, I guess I'll just write his name on all his books. And pencils. And jumpers. Feck.

Still, Little Lady's labelling is going very well. Schoolbag, books, lunchbag, uniforms and coat all adorned with a purple owl and her name. Great! I must put these shoe labels in her shoes. Oh. Shoes... Those'd come in handy, wouldn't they?

I suspect Little Man should also retire the flip-flops he's worn all Summer and get a pair of shoes that actually fit too. Feck.

Right, well we'll have to sort that out. For now though, I'll just double check the stationery fee listed on each kid's booklist and pop that in an envelope for the teachers. Yes, there's the list. Yep, all books ticked off as they were labelled and put into schoolbags. Hang on, what's this? At the bottom of Little Man's list:

B2 handwriting copies x 6

HB triangular pencils x 4

Project copy, 40 pages x 2

Sums copy, 20mm squares, 40 pages x 1

Well, feck.

You know what? Back to school time is a smidge stressful...

'Cool' is in the eye of the beholder

My four-year-old daughter is a thing of beauty. I do not mean her hair, or her skin, although sadly those are what she is complimented on most often.
The beauty that strikes me is her essence, it shines through in a darkened room and cannot be hidden by any mask.
She is brave, funny and ferociously loving. Her intuition and her ability to diffuse a bad mood is damned useful! She is, in her own way, utterly perfect at being who she is.

The other day I was almost - almost - too busy to remember any of this. Feeling under pressure for time, I ignored her sense of style and her utter independence, and I picked out clothes for her. She dressed while I changed the baby, and she walked in to the room with a dejected look on her face. Still thinking of getting out the door quickly, I decided to jolly her along. 'Oh wow sweetheart! You look so cool!'
And then tears filled her eyes, and my wonderful girl's voice wobbled as she informed me 'I know. But Mammy, I don't look cool to me!'

It was a moment I don't think I'll ever forget, and it reminded me that as much as I strive to teach our children something new every day, I will never stop learning new things from them either.

While we have jokingly called my Little Lady a threenager, I don't envy my kids their teens. It seems to me (perhaps through rose-tinted glasses) that the social pressures kids today are put under are much exaggerated versions of the ones we dealt with in our younger years. I have often looked at my independent, feisty girl and thought that hopefully she'll have the strength not to go along with the crowd, to think for herself and be true to her own identity. So what the hell was I doing?

I took a breath, I invited her into my arms for a cuddle, and I whispered into her velvety skin 'Ok, pop upstairs and get yourself dressed properly. We have a minute before we really have to go.'

No appointment, no schedule is important enough to squash the spirit of a small child. It took about 90 seconds for her to present herself again; adorned in rainbow-striped leggings, a polka-dot skirt and a Spiderman T-shirt. And this time, she really did look cool. If those 90 seconds help her to remember at a crucial time in her life, that the only person she needs to impress is herself, then they'll have been worth it ten times over.

The Black Dog

There is a black dog following me. He seems to have come out of nowhere. I wasn't expecting him.

There is a black dog following me. If he catches me, he will sit on my chest - heavy, and large enough to hide me even from myself. I know, because he caught me once before.

I am with the children and I see him creeping up. I tell them about the Exercise Game. We will run, and shout. We will check our pulses afterwards, and look at our rosy cheeks. The dog cannot keep pace with us, and we outrun him.

When the baby is wrapped snugly onto my chest, there is no room for the dog, and I am safe.

The dog is not strong enough to follow me in the sunshine, and I dance in its rays. But this is a land of clouds, and I must find a rainbow to carry in my pocket.

I saw him again the other day. Just around a corner. I will tell Hubby and he will help me get more sleep tonight and I can outrun the dog again tomorrow.

I think I can hear his panting breath, so we start to sing. I cannot hear him over the gleeful shouts of 'Ting, tang, Walla-walla bing bang' and I smile.

I know the dog is afraid of laughter. I tell the kids silly Knock, Knock jokes that they are too young to really understand. Obediently, they smile. In a riot of giggles, they come up with their own silly joke that I am too old to really understand, but their laughter is infectious and our tummies soon ache with joy.

There is a black dog following me. I will not let him catch me.

The Night Before Twitmas

Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the Twitter,

There were ribbons and jingles and all things that glitter. 

The hashtags were spun by the wordsmiths with care, 

About French hens and partridges in trees bearing pear.

The Tweeters were nestled all snug in their apps,

Filling the timeline with Christmassy snaps. 

With the kids on the couch and the baby in his wrap,

And me taking time out, while he has his nap,

When what to my wondering eyes should appear, 

But smiling avatars full of Christmas cheer. 

So to each one and all, on this cold Christmas Eve,

Take time to share joy, and above all... Believe! 

Love and the sound of silence

90% of my parenting is done through the medium of song. I like to start 'em young. Based on a gut feeling, I sang Beautiful Boy to Little Man from 16 weeks into the pregnancy. When he was a colicky little baby, Hubby and I could always rely on a song to soothe him in the end.
Little Lady's 'Bump Song' was Moon River and I continued to sing it each night as I rocked her to sleep - until, that is, she began to sing it back to me aged just two. I've made up songs about princesses, knights, teething, earthworms, buzzy bees and how long it takes to warm up a bottle. I use these songs, and many more, to soothe, to entertain and to explain.
So far, it's served us pretty well. The kids make up their own songs now - admittedly sometimes about what they're doing on the toilet - and I've even had a four-minute argument about getting out of the bath with Little Lady, entirely through melody. I love that this house sometimes feels like the set of a musical, and that the kids love it too (although poor Hubby ranges from amused to confused). I like to think that when they grow up, they'll have memories like I do - of singing along to 4 Non Blondes with my three siblings in the back of a Fiat Derby, or me and my Dad trying to hit the high notes with Diana Ross on our way to get my braces tightened.
 In short, singing is a huge part of our daily family life. So I'm sure you can imagine our shock when we were told that Little One hasn't heard any of it. Our little cutie is moderately hearing impaired. 
Introduced only in the last 12 months,  Ireland's maternity hospitals are now performing newborn hearing screening. Failing this initial test at 24 hours of age is no real cause for alarm - day old babies are most often quite congested, which interferes with their hearing function temporarily. Even after failing a second hearing test, it never occurred to us to worry. It was only through listening to the two audiologists (the lovely Martin & David) as they recorded Little One's auditory centre responses - or lack thereof - at his  third screening, that I realised something was amiss.  After two more afternoons of intensive testing, we have a very clear picture of his hearing ability - all the better to address it properly with the early intervention that these diagnostic tests allow.
 So the road ahead is a little different for our family than we initially expected. Little One will have his first hearing aids fitted next week, then we'll begin the task of teaching him to listen, and to help develop the auditory pathways in his brain which are so far neglected. To help him develop speech, we'll all have to work on speaking clearly while face-to-face - something that doesn't always happen in a busy household like ours.
I won't deny that a few little tears have been shed, feeling foolish while reading Roald Dahl or dancing beside the kitchen radio. But whatever way you look at it, we are very lucky.  Our little boy is healthy. He has received audiological care on an 'emergency' basis thanks to the new screening and early intervention guidelines. We will get information and support in how best to help him learn the things that other kids seem to pick up by osmosis, and there is no reason that he can't attend a mainstream Creche and school.  
 Life is good. We will all learn together the best ways of teaching, playing and interacting with Little One - in much the same way that we have adapted our parenting to suit Little Man and Little Lady's different personalities. The one thing that won't change is the fierceness and depth of the love every member of this family shares. Oh, and the excessive singing. Sorry Hubby!

A Day in the Life, of a Newborn

So you guys know how it is, right?
One day you find a nice lady, and you decide to make her your home. You even come up with a sort of a pet name for her - Home Lady. Everything's going swimmingly!

And then one day you wake up, and the walls are closing in on you. Like, actually physically closing in on you.
Hey, Home Lady, knock it off! Please? Look, I'll stop playing my music so loud. And I won't put any more posters on the walls, honest.
But she insists on going through with it, and next thing you know the world is a bright, noisy, cold place! Luckily, you've been clever enough to let out some rope behind you so you can find your way back, but the Big People have spotted it and they actually cut it right there in front of you! You make a note to add it to your list of complaints should you be able to find a supervisor.

And you know what, the next 24 hours are not gonna be easy either.
First, one of the Big People puts these things with writing round each of your arms and legs. Then, every time you fall asleep, they wake you up to see if they're still there and still say the same thing. Really? You think maybe they fell off while I was rock-climbing and I just asked the nearest counterfeiter to hook me up? Unlikely.

We are not even gonna talk about how it feels to basically have tar come out of your butt. Just, no.

Later, while you're just lying around looking at everything within 10 inches, the thing in the middle of your face explodes!! Yes, it explodes. The aftershocks run through your whole body and you're sure the Big People will finally step in and help.
Alas, no. Even Home Lady just smiles and says 'cute'. What the-? She's taking a picture? My face just damn near fell off and she thinks it's a Kodak moment? You've changed Home Lady... :(

Oh here comes another Big People. I wonder what she wants? She's taking my socks off while saying nice things to me. Weird, but whatever. What's that? She's putting something in my mouth, it's so sweet and tasty. I LIKE this Big People. She's super- OH MY GOD SHE STABBED ME IN THE FOOT!! OUCH! Now she's trying to make it better by squeezing it. You're just making it worse you amateur, bring me back to Home Lady or else!

There is no way I'm staying in this weird place. I had a good thing going all by myself - I don't need any of you Big People around so just leave me alone.

Oh hello again, Home Lady. Oh a snuggle. That's better. And she's singing that song about the rain falling like a memory. Makes no sense to me, but I still like it. She smells kinda sweet and warm actually. And she's soft and squishy. And I really like when we get to hold our cheeks together and she rubs my back.

Well, ok, maybe I'll give this *yawn* place another chance. Maybe it'll all be ok in the... Zzzzzz