Life just flies by. Its a busy hustle of deadlines, alarms, appointments, organising and sorting. It will never all be complete. You cant have all your laundry washed and freshly ironed when you still have three sprigs and a hubby wearing tomorrows washing…just proves the impossibility!! It eould be so lovely to walk into a clean fresh home with a roaring fire and homecooked dinners wafting in the air. Instead its a ding of a microwavable dinner amidst the homeworjs and missing folders/ for the various after school activities. If we dontvhave things perfect we will spectacularly fail as a parent right?? Well actually NO!!!. It took a long time to realize (and still takes practise) but we have what we have by making it ourselves. We are not here for a dress rehersal. We only get one shot at this so we make it what it is. As long as the home is within safe limits of “habitable” we should be fine. Forget about Mr and Mrs Jones (fuckers have a cleaner) and concentrate on your own family. Learn to ignore the mess you can clear when they have gone to bed. Listen to their stories and give them a voice. If they know that their parents listen they will be more confident with their opinions in the future.  Encourage them to help where possible so they dont grow up expecting a maid to secretly clean their messes while they surf you tube. (American accent “hi guys” is making me need alcohol) Encourage independence fr a safe distance and love them unconditionally and tell them daily. Last but by no means least, dwell in silence ( unless your missing your sudocrem) take ten minutes at night to walk around the beds. saviour their smell, listen to their breaths, say a prayer over them, and soak in the tranquilty of a sleeping house where everyone is warm, cosy and peaceful. Where everyone is family and safe and secure under the one roof. As quick as the days go by, someday the beds will be empty as they fly from the nest. Enjoy the chaos and prepare their wings for flight. Enjoy the calm..(until tomorrow mornings alarm!)

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keeping it real!

Saturdays used to be caught up in a ball of nerves and excitment. The fake tan was applied with precision and it was impossible to do a dish after 3pm! Starting to get ready at 6pm. Perfume, hairspray,make up and a bottle of cheap plonk that would help you build the confidence to walk into any building thinking you looked acceptable.

Sunday mornings, after aiming to rehydrate enough to take fur tongue from its permanent position at the roof of my mouth, was a post mortem of the night before! No mobiles and nearest internet being several miles away and taking two hours to load, led us to use our imagination and anticipate the next time we would possibly see the guy we liked from night before. We couldnt do the quick facebook background check to see what they were like. We had to find out for ourselves if we liked them or not based on face to face conversation. When we met someone it was usually a week before we met again. No tweets or messenger in between times.

My Saturday nights are now spent ironing or tidying. The only bottles I handle are those of milk needing heated with a teat in top. Would I like to be back in my old bedroom preparing for my big night out instead?? answer is no! I do sometimes wish for a break in responsibility. A time where i could be flippant and spontaneous and my own self. This however is quickly replaced by the simple fact that the snuggles and smell of my precious off spring beats any night out even with a great chippy at end of the night. My thoughts as i dwell on my old nights out are how are night going to look in ten years time when said offspring are going out. Will my children know how to conduct proper face to face conversations? will they even meet without technology being a link? Little did i ever think i would be quoted “in my day” but it has happened!! I think we are perhaps better not knowing and enjoying the interim period. Assisting them to talk to each other, write letters on paper and respect and notice others and our environment. Assist them to live in our real world and differientate it from the virtual world. Encourage the reading of a book with pages without needing to swipe. Give them the opportunity to put a “dog ear” on a book page and use it as the marker to continue reading the next night. Learn them to run, skip and jump without the need to “map my ride”. Climb real trees, not virtual ones in a game. Encourage their sense of smell at the seaside and cutting grass and slurry! keep it as real as I possibly can for them. Let them, feel , taste, hear, and live real life. So i have swapped high heels for bedroom slippers and skirts for pyjamas but im where Im supposed to be. I am a wife, a mother a daughter and a sister. Each with its own set of responsibilities. I still am glad to be snuggling on the sofa tonight compared to standing hypothermic waiting on a taxi with blistered feet. In years to come il get my chance again, but ive been there and done it…for now, for my children i will keep it real.

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Super sunday??

While many , many years ago, the idea of a super sunday was no ties and beginning with a liquid lunch and requiring a “sickie” on Monday. Now Sundays are waited on in complete anticipation. They are for what we strive, what we aim for, our goal for working hard all week. Now that we get there we have the case of “what are we going to do??” From we wake we are  aware that were back at work tomorrow so have that dreaded depressed feeling. We organise uniforms, lunches, washing and ironing. Aim to tidy that “room” which is definately multipurpose. In fact mulit purpose suggests used for different purposes. Ours is used to store EVERYTHING!!! . We set everything inside that door “for a minute” and suddenly there are clothes that havnt fitted the children in 3 years still hiding in the corner. Fancifully its called “the gym”. This includes a treadmill full of super intentions with aprox 2 miles on the clock! It also has proven to be a shockingly luxurious price to pay for a clothes horse!!. There is also a yoga mat in the bowels of this “room” somewhere. Thats the height of the gym so the term is extremely loose.

Anyway back to point. Why do we look so forward to Sunday when as soon as it arrives, with it comes dread and depression. The lack of routine helps no one and the day seems to slip threw my hands faster than the cup of spilt blackcurrant.

Super sunday will only come back if I change my attitide. Now the mid day drinking has past me by a long time ago but i should start making a bigger effort. Why feel depressed? Its the beginning of a new fresh week, my family are all healthy (snotters doesnt count), the weather is improving, I am alive!!!!! Hope this little bit of cognitive behavioural therapy will help my Sunday be super!!

Happy sunday folks.

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With the recent absolute and utter devastation in our world between suicide bombings and ever increasing  homelessness etc, we can feel so guilty with our daily “crisis’s” . However, this guilt doesn’t seem to stop me feeling extremely sorry for myself at times. They say a willing horse carries the heaviest load. Well, that’s how I feel. In stature and nature.. I seem to fill every second of my frazzled life somehow assisting others to make theirs easier at the expense of my own. I could simply say “no” but you see I’m a coward. What if they take offence and hate me forever? Or what if they say that its “OK” but don’t mean it. Bit of paranoia I suppose I should add to my ever increasing repertoire of f#£%ed upness. A particular hard few months have passed. Feeling extremely over used and unappreciated but 99.9% is my own fault. I need to set boundaries and avoid this feeling becoming repetitive.

I really jumped on the blog again today to relieve the feeling sorry for myself emotion’s before I sank a bottle of wine along with any other mind altering substance I could find. ( does calpol count??) And to remind myself to catch a grip. I could be the poor lady from Derry who has buried the most of her wee family in the most tragic accident, or not even have a fridge to hold said wine so I need to suck it up and realise that I’ve created this accommodating monster…I’m the one with the power to stop him!!!!!!!

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when do we step off???

The wheel goes faster than the speed of light. Turning, turning, turning. Keep going, stay upright. How much longer can i possibly do this?? Lines blur and mix and thoughts mix and blur. Thousands of thoughts rush at once, each thought and feeling if its own utmost importance untill the next thought invades and swoops and takes over in force. Each feeling fighting for the luxury of a second at the forefront of your mind but there are too many. A luxury it would be if we could afford just one problem at a time. They come in multiples. Great locust storms of tboughts, feelings, roles, responsibilities. How do we put on the brakes? How do we step off?? When will it cease? Is it possible for the brain to explode? This is me, this is my life and my blog to see if i can get the dynamics of this wheel sorted. Staying upright is a necessity but is it one i can achieve?? Stay tuned…

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