Category Archives: Parenting

Why Talking To Kids About Sexual Safety Is A Load Of PANTS

With Jacob about to start primary school in just under one weeks time, I feel a sense of foreboding in terms of the amount of prep work I am going to have to do in order to get him ready for the real world.

He is coming from the soft, dreamy, loving surrounds of his fabulous pre-school in Loughshinny, Co. Dublin into the much more grown-up environment that is ‘Big School’.

I, along with many other parents around the country, are worried about two things: dickhead kids and dickhead adults.

While I know that every primary school does their best to keep the junior and senior infants somewhat apart from the older kids until they are a little more grown up and steady on their feet, that isn’t to say that they won’t see them and feel threatened or intimidated by them.

Since the ‘boys versus girls’ and ‘who’s the leader of the gang’ has already started in his last year at pre-school, I can only imagine the kiddie-led bullying that I’m about to hear about.

In preparation for that, I am doing two things:

  1. talking to my kid constantly about confidence and self-assertion (“you have a voice so use it!”) and,
  2. signing him up for karate classes (there will be ZERO fucking about on that front)

The other thing that I am keen to address with him before he starts school is the area around body and sexual safety.

I want my son to know that he is SO RIGHT to tell someone “No!” if he feels uncomfortable around them.

I want him to know that he should ALWAYS tell me and his dad if something happens to him that he is unsure or upset about.

So how do I get that message across without using words like ‘paedophile’ or ‘sexual assault’ with my 5-year-old?

Well, by showing him this video. It is pants, but in the best possible way:

What do you think about the video? Let me know in the comments on Facebook.

6 Reasons I Don’t Go Out On The Town As Much As I Used To

In my pre-kiddo days, I used to go out. A lot. Like, I was out more than I was in. The idea of sitting in on a Saturday night, with no place to go, filled me to the pits of my soul with dread.

I distinctly remember one weekend that none of my mates could go out so I just got myself dressed up and headed down to the local pub where I found loads of other people to hang out with instead. I may have been the original person to be diagnosed with Fear Of Missing Out.

Maybe – MAYBE – if I didn’t have kids, then age and a busy work life would have slowed me down eventually. But since the kids came along, and especially with the arrival of baby two, I’ve noticed that my Party Years have now gradually morphed into The Pyjamas And Couch Years.

Here’s what I think is going on:

1. I like my house

Ass Monkey Alan and I worked our asses off to buy it last year and so I enjoy being in it, looking at it and pottering around in it. I especially love doing that when the kids are in bed because the floors are actually pretty nice, so it’s great to be able to see them for a couple of hours sans toys.

2. I am tired with a capital T

Jacob is a much better sleeper now than he was, and Eva is a gift from the sleeping gods, but I am owed three years of sleep back from when Jacob was a baby. I would be quite content to reclaim that sleep in spa breaks or a week-long kip on a sunny beach but until there comes a time when I can do that, I am taking it now by going to bed ridiculously early midweek. We’re talking 9.30pm some nights. Yes, I have turned into an ol’ wan.

3. Babysitters are expensive

We definitely have a bit more help in terms of ‘free’ babysitters now that we live so close to my parents but because they both work and help us a lot midweek, I don’t like asking them too much. Babysitters in my area are a tenner an hour and so every hour that you are out of the house, you are panicking ‘That’s another tenner, that’s another tenner – Jesus, we’re up to €60 now and we still have to pay for the taxi home!’

Take even just going to a restaurant that is half an hour away:

Taxi fare there and back: approx €30

Dinner & bottle of wine: approx €50

Babysitter for four hours: €40

Total night out: €120.

You couldn’t do that every week, could ya?

4. I live in The Shticks

When I still lived in town last year, I could ‘nip in’ to see a play or a gig, meet a friend for dinner or hang out at an event. Now we are about an hour in and an hour back, depending on the traffic. So if a midweek gig finishes at, say, eleven, I am still looking down the barrel of not getting into bed until 1 am – and that is zero fun if I have to be back up again at 6 am for kids and work.

5. Ass Monkey Alan is a fabulous cook

When I was younger and doing that thing you do of sitting with your mates and discussing what your ‘perfect man’ would be like; i.e. have a sense of humour, know how to swim etc (that is a DEALBREAKER for a lot of women btw) – my main requirement was that any man I ended up with would have to be able to cook.. because I can, and have burnt soup. Fact. The food he cooks up is way better than some I’ve tasted in restaurants, so when I have an opportunity to have a gourmet meal in my pjs.. by jobe I take it!

6. I am already out all day

The energy that I used to have for dancing in clubs until 4 am or drinking wine until the sun came up has been transferred to daytime. From the moment I open my eyes, I am operating at high-speed: dealing with everything the kids need, making plans with Alan, sorting out the house, loading kids and bags and buggy into the car, drop-offs and pick-ups, grocery shopping, walking the dog, taking care of appointments, working, connecting with family and friends, trying to slot in a little bit of ‘Me Time’ in having a bath or just a quiet cuppa or something, making lunches and dinners..

..so when everyone else is out partying at night time, I’m in the recovery position, gearing up to do it all over again the next day ;o)

This post originally appeared on super parenting website HerFamily.ie

How much are YOU getting out at night time these days?! I’d love to hear from you!

Summer (Not Going On) Holidays Update: The Kids Are Alright

We’re not going abroad this summer for a family holiday for a number of reasons.

Firstly, there’s no way on god’s grand earth that we can afford it, what with the ole house extension taking over the first half of the year, and the ole wedding taking up the rest of it.

The irony is, that with those two major events taking place, we NEED a holiday, but we have to suck up the fact that we simply aren’t having one.

The main problem with not getting away is worrying whether you’re depriving the kids of some major life event that everyone else seems to be enjoying, and when they grow up, will they always remember the summer of 2016 as “The year that we went bleedin’ NOWHERE”?

Our two and four year-olds are fine – they’re not on Facebook or Instagram and so can’t see all the pics and vids of crystal blue waters and sandy beaches that all you fuckers are taunting me with (no, seriously, I’m not one bit happy for you).

So here’s what we’re doing instead:

Fuck. All.

Jacob has been to one summer camp, and it was a strategic placement as it was in the new school that he’ll go to in September. It had to happen.

There has also been a weekend in Roscommon, to ‘Grandad’s Farm’ over the bank holiday.

After that, there have been strolls to our local beach and forest, visits to family and friends, ice cream every time the van rolls up our street and lots of their entertaining themselves while we continue to finish up our house and garden.

And you know what? They are FINE.

So if you, like us, are staying put this summer too, just remember – after a bottle of vanilla-infused vodka mixed with a few ice cubes, a dash of cranberry and OJ when the kids are gone to bed – you could be anywhere in the whole world.

Get in.

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(Via Pinterest)

 

 

Irish Breastfeeding Mum Says Exactly What We All Need To Hear

Emma Howlin is a friend of mine. In fact, she has written for Raising Ireland as a guest blogger several times.

She is funny, she is eloquent, she is smart. She is a mum of two and she has breastfed both of her kids like a rock star.

Not only that, but she has completely lovely, solid, sound advice for other mums who are hoping, trying or struggling to breastfeed. She does it with a calmness and wit that doesn’t make you feel like you’re being judged or pressurised, just that your mate is giving you a dig out.

It’s pretty astounding that breastfeeding support isn’t her actual job, because we could use more people like her. I sure wish I’d listened to someone helpful like Emma to give me the encouragement I badly needed when breastfeeding wasn’t working out for me. But then hindsight is still a total bitch.

Check out this recent post on Emma’s Facebook page about the latest media attention breastfeeding has received, courtesy of celeb parents Jamie Oliver and Adele – Emma’s message is beautifully written and is understandably getting a lot of attention online.

Bear with me here 🙂 I’ve mulled over the whole Jamie Oliver breastfeeding comments and Adele’s response and you know…

Posted by Emma Howlin on Monday, March 28, 2016

 

See what I mean about her? Amazing x

My Top 10 Proudest Moments Of 2015

Happy or sad to see it go, 2015 is just about behind us. The last day of the year can be emotional for many people who have struggled or who have had a wonderful year that they would like to hang on to.

But like it or not we must let it go and move onwards to tomorrow, a new day, a new beginning and just like the Monday of every week, take the opportunity to start over.

I generally don’t mind New Year’s Eve and take it as an opportunity for reflection, to pick out all the positives in the year behind, ignore the negative moments and give myself a few pats on the back for hard work, successes and continued happiness in watching our family grow.

Here are the things I am most proud of in 2015:

1. Celebrating Eva’s first birthday

The first birthday of any child is a real milestone and we marked our baby girl’s with a big Peppa Pig-themed garden party. It literally lashed rain every other day of the year except for this one, we reckon she was worth the Rain Gods taking a break for ;o)

She's a MANIAC

She’s a MANIAC

2. When Alan built a shed room, or a ‘His Very Own Doghouse’, if you will.

Our Ass Monkey generally speaking doesn’t do much in terms of recreational activity, but give the man something to build and by Jesus he horses in with the gusto of someone queuing up for a half-off telly at Harvey Norman’s on St. Stephen’s Day. It MAY have something to do with the beers he promises himself at the end of a hard day’s graft, who can really say.

3. Finally Getting A Book Out There

I have been banging on about writing a book for a long time. At the beginning of 2015, I got the finger out and horsed myself head-first into learning how to self-publish and then did just that by May. The launch was literally one of the proudest nights of my life.

4. Saying, ‘HELL, YES!’

When Ass Monkey brought the entire family for a walk to the Botanic Gardens in April, I literally considered dumping him for being such an awkward, controlling bastard who wouldn’t let me decide where the we and the kids should have our picnic. Turns out, he was trying to find the perfect spot to pop the question. The RIDE. I’m still bawling.

Engaged

5. Seeing Jacob Turn Four.

What a cool dude this little man is turning out to be. At four, he is still sleeping in bed beside us at night and I LOVE IT (#sorrynotsorry), he has the cutest cheeky grin, thinks he’s a ninja all day long and just the other day asked me ‘why do willies have bones?’ I HEART HIM.

Scarlet for his life

Scarlet for his life

6. When We Voted YES!

I was glad to be Irish this year in May when our island voted YES to equal marriage for all. I missed a flight to stay behind and vote and didn’t regret it for a single minute. I LOVE love!

YES7. Catching THIS Awesome Video Of Ass Monkey in Portugal.

It must be seen in slow-mo to be appreciated. Phwoarrrrr.

8. Landing The Dream Job

I wasn’t really looking for a new job but when The Most Perfect Job Ever came knocking at my door, I grabbed it with both hands. Getting paid to write, be on Facebook AND make funny videos each day? It’s still a little bit unreal but I totally love it.

Maureen

9. Rocking Out In Rush

My bestie Rory and I threw an awesome 80’s bash in Rush in September, to raise funds for a new much-needed local playground. Needless to say, everyone is still talking about it. And our hair ;o)

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10. Becoming A Godmother For The Very First Time

Tobi Hayden Tarrant hurtled into this world at rocket speed in October and I seriously could not be any more in love with her.

Tobi

What will 2016 bring? So far we have a house extension and a wedding booked in. Be grand, won’t it?!

What are you most proud of this year? Let me know in the comments!

Kid’s Birthday Parties. Never again, right?!

Ass Monkey and I do like to throw a party. He likes to cook, I like to bake, he likes to build things like super-sized sheds in the garden that he can lean on when chatting to guests so that he can inconspicuously tilt his head towards it every 24 seconds or so until someone asks, ‘Oh did you build that yourself?!’ We are very needy..

I swore after Jacob’s first birthday that I would never repeat the crazy shenanigans of inviting everyone over and catering for them ourselves, and all the cleaning before and afterwards, and then all the shame for drinking in front of the children, the shame that doesn’t leave you for weeks on end.

But we did it again with Miss Eva!! Oh yes, in the height of Summer 2015, or ‘The Monsoon’ as it will forever be remembered, Ass Monkey and I elected to throw a garden party in her honour, and in honour of our getting engaged (don’t talk to me, I’m still just getting over the shock).

We landscaped gardens, painted fences and gates, borrowed tables and chairs, got a couple of kegs of craft beer in, baked until the cows came home, power-hosed, polished, filled vases.. The party was due to kick off at 2pm and by 12.30, it was still pissing down. PISS-ING.

At 1.30pm, I was mopping the mucky kitchen floor (AGAIN) in my PJs when the first of the guests arrived early. Disaster! That’s the golden half hour, when you get dressed, remember to put toilet roll in the jacks and forego hoovering the stairs for stashing the dog in the neighbour’s house. Doesn’t everyone do all that last minute too? (I know, I’d never win on Come Dine With Me, unless I just got all the guests locko and mesmerised them with some interpretive dance so that they forgot there was supposed to be food).

By some Baby Eva miracle, the sun came out at 2 o’clock on the button and we were able to sit everyone outside for the rest of the day. I don’t think Ass Monkey and I sat down to enjoy a bite to eat until about 4 or 5pm but Eva got the day she deserved, and himself and I necked an ole bottle of champers to celebrate our own little bit of romantic news. And also, because drinking at kid’s parties is one of the only ways to get through them.

We were so wrecked afterwards that we said the usual, ‘We are SO never doing that again, deal? DEAL!’ But true to form, by the time Jacob’s 4th birthday party rolled around a couple of months later, we invited his entire class over for the afternoon for a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle party, complete with pass the parcel, musical statues and badass behaviour on the bouncy castle.

Mostly from yours truly. One can’t help herself, she does like a party ;o)

 

 

 

You’re A Better Parent Than You Think

I was given the great honour of speaking at a Cheerios Childline Breakfast in The Westbury last week (can someone please book me an overnight at The Westbury?! Omg it’s gorge). Anna Daly, the Cheerios Childline ambassador – and yes, even more beautiful in person – was speaking first,  followed by a woman called Gabrielle who works as a volunteer for Childline. I won’t repeat the heartbreaking stories she told us from the calls that she has received over the years, but suffice to say, the entire room of parents were pretty much crying their hearts out….

And then I had to try to lighten the mood….holy shitballs. Almost IMPOSSIBLE and so hard to try and keep it together myself! Anyway, I am hoping to host my own Cheerios Childline Breakfast shortly, to help raise funds for this amazing support for the children of Ireland. If you would like to too, you can register here: Cheerios Childline Breakfast Info

My speech on the morning was short to begin with, and made all the shorter by my being unable to stop myself from blubbing. You can read it below. And can I just sign off by saying this: the volunteers at Childline are ANGELS. I so could not do the job that they do x

 

‘My four year-old son Jacob peed on me yesterday. It wasn’t intentional, nor direct, thankfully but he’d had a little accident which he hadn’t told me about, and happily sat on my knee to eat a yoghurt. I was wearing quite thick jeans so it took a few minutes for it to sink in…and then for it to SINK IN, if you get me. 

Of course it happened in front of a friend who had dropped in for a cuppa, but I’d invited her at the wrong time: 6pm, or AKA ‘Witching Hour’. It’s that time of day when every corner of your house resembles a scene from Love/Hate, your children have suddenly turned into tired, screaming messes and you are counting down the minutes until your partner comes home and/or bedtime. 

And this friend is hoping to start trying for her first baby soon and so you sit there, with a fake smile plastered to your face, in your wee-stained jeans, sitting at the table in your Love/Hate house and lie ‘Doooo it. It’s amaaaaazing….’

Wee accidents are just wee accidents, they can happen to the best of us – and I’m willing to bet that there are a few of our preggo mums here today who have had a couple of wee accidents since leaving the house this morning ;o)

And so we don’t react to a four year old having a wee accident, we don’t want to give him a complex or feel bad, so we don’t give out. And of course we’re well used to dealing with gross stuff since becoming parents – we become immune to finding wee and puke and poo in or around our favourite handbags, on our favourite clothes…in our freshly washed hair (praying that it’s chocolate – praying).

And so we say goodbye to our friend (poor Sandra) and take our four year old upstairs where we put him into a bath and then into clean, dry PJs. Because that’s normal. And that’s my good parenting story from yesterday. But that’s not the story I remembered when Alan came home, I didn’t pat myself on the back about it. When Alan came home, I was exhausted and emotional and cried to him about how crap a parent I was yesterday, because I was grumpy and shouty and impatient and at times, unkind to the kids. I didn’t remember being a good parent. Office Mum wrote a fab article this week called First Child, about not expecting so much of our kids, especially the eldest, which resonated with everyone who read it, and I am totally guilty of expecting too much of Jacob, and then feeling rubbish about it later.

But after listening to the calls that some of the children in our country are making to Childline….I think we need to give ourselves a break….because I’m glad that my kids have us as their parents’.

How To Prepare For Travelling Abroad With Kids

5 Sleeps To Go

  1. Locate all summer clothes. If you live in Ireland, they’re probably still in the attic.
  2. Wash and dry all items. In the dryer. (See above)
  3. Return to attic to retrieve large suitcase.
  4. Realise gave large suitcase to brother on loan two years ago. Remind self to badger Ass Monkey later about why we don’t go on more holidays.
  5. Ask brother for suitcase, who informs that suitcase was in fact returned, but broken, so remember bashing it into small pieces to fit into the green bin last Christmas.
  6. Send Ass Monkey into town for a suitcase that is big enough for four people’s summer clothes, but not so big that we’d be charged extra baggage weight at the airport. Ass Monkey nods silently.
  7. Lay out all clothes on the spare bed. And top of dresser. And most of floor. It’s never going to fit into one suitcase.

4 Sleeps To Go

  1. The sun is shining! It’s a miracle. Promise to bring kids to the beach. Go to spare room for summer clothes items for all to wear.
  2. Finally cop that a double buggy is the most essential item for going abroad with a 1 and 3 year old. Ask to borrow one from a friend – inform Ass Monky of it’s whereabouts for pick up. Ass Monkey nods silently.
  3. Go to chemist for all summer essentials: sun cream, after-sun cream, baby sun cream, mosquito repellant, first-aid kit, Gaviscon, Motillium, headache tablets, Teethas, Calpol, Arret, shampoo, kids shampoo, body wash, moisturisers, hats, goggles, sun glasses, nappies, swimmer nappies, baby wipes. Reach the condom aisle but find self too exhausted to lift the box off the shelf.
  4. Have great day at the beach with the kids – return home to wash and dry all summer clothes again.

3 Sleeps To Go

  1. Everything in the house must be eaten and there will be no more food shopping. Try this combination for dinner: chicken breasts marinated in easi-singles, topped with sausage slices, with a side of peppa-pig shaped spaghetti with an avocado and mayonnaise mousse. Dessert will be mushed banana, digestive biscuits and petite flous. Eggs must feature in every meal, we must get rid of the eggs. What if they hatch while we’re gone?
  2. Pack everything into the new suitcase and stick to the ‘Seven Of Everything’ rule. If they run out of shorts, we’ll wash the shorts. In baby shampoo, perhaps. Might need to buy more baby shampoo.
  3. Vow not to have a repeat of THAT trip to Ibiza years ago and diligently pack underwear.
  4. Clean the oven and the fridge – who knows who’ll be inspecting your house when you’re gone? Also book in the window cleaner, just in case of extremely close levels of judgement.

2 Sleeps To Go

  1. Take the contents of the medicine cabinet and dump them into the toiletries bag. Realise how bloody heavy the toiletries bag and that you’ll definitely get charged for an overweight bag at the airport now. Send Ass Monkey out for two backpacks – sure we’ll divvy them out and carry them on our backs, I declare. Ass Monkey nods silently.
  2. Clean up all dog poo from garden, in case anyone might pop by to cut the grass in your absence.
  3. Leave spare key with neighbour (see above).
  4. Realise have made no provision for dog’s welfare while you are gone. Ask neighbor but they have a new cat. Reluctantly ask parents although mother is not a fan of dogs. They agree. Feel sorry for dog.
  5. Open a bottle of wine as you are so nearly on your holidays now.
  6. Order in the dinner – there is now only milk and half a tin of Peppa Pig-shaped spaghetti in the house. Feel proud.
  7. Dye hair and paint toe nails while a little bit tipsy. Be grand.

1 Sleep To Go

  1. Book self in for an emergency appointment with the beauty salon as one’s nails and general appearance is not grand. What happened to the days when one would spend weeks exercising for being ‘poolside ready’ and getting hair and tan and nails done ALL WEEK leading up to the hols?
  2. Remember am a mother now and whilst still a human being, have not had a cup of coffee alone this week, never mind had the opportunity to have a facial so just fork out the cash.
  3. Beautician comments on hair being ‘lovely and shiny’. Book self in for emergency hair appointment. It is Saturday so Ass Monkey can figure the kids out.
  4. Get home to find that entire family decided to ‘play’ in the spare room and now all packing is undone and must be re-done. Great craic. Love family.
  5. Open another bottle of wine. Sure the taxi will be here in 8 hours – it IS holiday time.
  6. Re-pack and weigh all bags when kids are in bed. We might just get away with it.
  7. Make sure to finish all open bottles of wine and spirits. Flies have a terrible habit of being drawn towards the sugar in liquor so we have to finish them in case of, you know, the plague.
  8. Drunkenly try to figure out how to navigate the double buggy up and down the hallway in pisses of laughter.
  9. Remember with horror that I did, in fact, forget to re-pack my underwear. Shove it all into my carry on and hope no one wants to search my bag at the airport.
  10. Set alarms for 4am and fall into bed. We’ll definitely wake up…won’t we??

 

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** This Post Originally Appeared On The HerFamily.ie Website. Keep Reading HERE! **

What You Bleedin’ Looking At??

We visited Loughshinny beach a couple of weeks ago, that’s in North County Dublin for all you who are unfamiliar. It’s a five minute drive from our house, and we’ve managed to get there twice in total this, er, ‘summer’. Eva was still getting over the chicken pox so we weren’t staying too long – it was more an effort to get us out of the house than anything.

The beach is so small that I knew we could get away with not bumping into too many people who might stare at us in that judgemental way they do, because it looks like there’s something wrong with your kid. Alan said he had it with Jacob in the playground when he just finished with the chicken pox too, and was still covered in spots – parents looking at Jacob, then back to Alan, then back to Jacob, then, you know, moving away...

It has occurred to me though, that most parents understand that when the spots are out, it means that the contagious part is generally over. (I know this is gross, but essentially, when they’ve crusted over, you’re in the clear). And so I wondered if perhaps the paranoia is our own? Maybe those parents are looking at us with sympathy, because they’ve been in our shoes, because they know what we’ve been through. Maybe they’ve moved away to go and write down the name of some excellent cream that will help with the scarring from those bastarding spots, and we just didn’t hang around long enough to get it. Right? YEAH RIGHT.

But there was a woman at the beach that day, the day I brought my heavily spotty post-pox child, and my mildly spotty post-pox child. And that women had a son with her who was severely disabled. And she was blowing bubbles into the air for him and he was delighted and made all of these very loud, very happy noises.

And I looked, and I smiled, and I walked away. And I want that woman to know: I wasn’t staring to be a judgmental other mother: I was staring because I thought that you were the best mother I had seen that day. You rock.

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