Tag Archives: children

I am Sick-of-Screens Mum.

Posted in children, family, parenting, technology by

  SmartPhone_child1

Put down the screen Dad, I’m right over here.

I want you to look at me, give me your ear.

What I have to say will not wait till you’re done.

I want your attention.  I want to have fun.

Put down the screen Mum, it’s really not clear

Why you must stare at it when I am right here.

My problems and needs require only you.

I don’t understand “In a second”. Do you?

Because “in a second”, I’ve grown even more.

I’ve spilled the whole Lego box out on the floor.

I’ve fallen and cut myself, bumped my wee knee.

I’ve not quite made it to the toilet to wee;

And then you are scolding and I’m so confused.

Why didn’t you look at me, instead of your news?

What’s so important that you have to stare

At things that in five minutes, still will be there?

Your virtual friends are not really real,

They don’t hold your hand or care how your hugs feel.

They don’t need you right now. They don’t even care

If you like them or follow them.  They’re not really there.

So when you are with me, in real time, right now,

It’s much more important to think about how

You are my world, the one world I need.

My virtual, actual, only news feed.

So put down the screen and look into my eyes,

Because I’m getting so big and time really flies.

Replies, mail and comments will wait ’til I sleep.

Why not make memories that we can keep?

Why spend your time looking at what people share?

When all that you need in your life is right here,

Waiting and watching you stare at the screen

Wondering what I must do to be seen.

It’s very important to look at me now.

See what I’m doing and let me know how

There’s nothing more special or vital in life

Than your beautiful children, your husband, your wife…

So put down the screen Dad and look at me Mum.

Because you are missing the real life that comes

With real conversation, with playing, with fun…

The things that can’t be found by scrolling your thumb.

The true affirmation that you need each day,

Is patiently sitting here, trying to say

“I love you”; “I need you”; “I like you”; “You’re mine”…

So put down the screen please and give me your time.

kids text

I am Sick-of-Screens Mum.

When you do have time for screen time, follow S-Mum on Facebook!  But not when your kiddies want to play 🙂   https://www.facebook.com/Secretsofsmum

I am Streetlamp Mum

Posted in children, parenting, toddlers by

Oh to be able to see the extraordinary in the ordinary, without even trying.

ordinary

On Saturday past, we received a last minute invitation to join friends for dinner.  Now, while we usually try to have Mini-me tucked up in bed by 7.30pm, we’re also aware that she needs to have the odd night out of routine.  We’re also very aware that in a few months time, we’ll be less able to make sporadic plans with a new-born in the house, so we gratefully replied to say “Absolutely!  See you in an hour.”

We had a lovely evening.  The kids played for hours, oblivious to bedtime passing.  The adults ate and laughed and talked. It was bliss.

In true Cinderella style, just before midnight, we packed an exhausted threenager into her car seat.  We assumed that she’d fall asleep and that Daddy would simply lift the Sleeping Beauty into the house and tuck her into bed in her clothes.  We were wrong.

Because what we had never considered or anticipated was the absolute magic that the journey would present to her.

As we drove through the town, she began to gasp in awe.  “Oh Daddy, I looooooooove them!” she announced.

We hadn’t a clue what was so exciting, until I looked around and saw her chubby little face illuminated by a streetlamp.  Her eyes were popping out of her head and her jaw was quite literally on the floor.

“What do you love?” Daddy asked, still unsure of what was so amazing that it had warded off the snoozes.

“All the magic lights floating in the sky,” she replied.  “They’re booootiful!  I love them. What are they Daddy?”

“They’re streetlights Darling.  They light up the town when it’s dark,” was his answer.

streetlamps

“Nooooooooo!!  They’re magic lights from the fairies to guide us home. They’re floating  lanterns like Tangled!” was her reply.

We agreed with her that of course the magical fairy lights were there to keep us safe and guide us home.

When we finally got home, our little Rapunzel was asleep before her head had properly settled into her pillow.  We drank cups of tea, both pretty bemused by the cuteness of the whole conversation.

The reality was that because she’s always at home in bed by 7.30pm, she’s never been in town in the dark; well, not that she remembers anyway.

And she taught us a lesson.  Because while Mammy and Daddy saw nothing but the familiar streetlamps along the town streets, if we had bothered, we could have seen something much more exciting and wonderful.

rapunzel

Through the eyes of a three year old, the industrial sized orange light-bulbs were actually the magical glow of the fairies who were lighting the road to make sure that our wee family made it home safely.

So while I like to think that I am good at seeing the extraordinary in the ordinary, I’m only a novice in comparison to Mini-me!  But I’ll never look at the streetlamps in the same way again.

I wish I had her perspective of the world and I hope that Mini-Me always sees her world through her extraordinary little eyes.

I am Streetlamp  Mum. 🙂

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I am Starting Pre-School Mum

Posted in children, parenting, teacher by

back to school

Tonight, I’m a little bit more emotional than usual.

Tomorrow, my little Mini Me will be taking her first steps into the big bad world without Mammy or Daddy.

Now I am fully aware that starting Pre-school is not quite the same as starting School School, but for the first time ever, I can empathise with all of the “Starting school” parents.  I can’t even begin to fathom how I’m going to feel this time next year when I’m packing her school bag for Baby infants.

It’s a typical last Sunday night in August.  For 30 years, it’s been a dreaded Sunday night because it marks the first day back at school for this Teacher Mum.  I never actually left the education system, so it’s routine by now.   Every year, I insist on going out somewhere for the day. I refuse to cook dinner.  I try to get an early night.  But this year, it’s not about me.  It’s about Mini-Me.

Her new outfit is perfectly pressed and hanging in the bedroom.  I have everything that she needs laid out for the morning. The table is already set for breakfast. She’s been read a special storybook that Daddy found online about her first day at pre-school and has been tucked in to dream of fairies and muddy puddles.

And I’m trying not to think about the fact that tomorrow is yet another first in my baby’s life.

I’m leaving her to the same childcare place that she usually goes to, but she’s going into her Big Girl classroom.  And she’s going to be going 5 days a week, instead of 2. It’s really no big change.  She’s more than ready for it and she’s so excited about starting Naoínra that it’s quite contagious.  It’s all good.  She could be terrified and refusing to go, but she isn’t.

And I wonder if that is helping Mammy or making me feel worse.

As parents, we have to let our babies grow up.  We mark every milestone.  We remember every achievement. We let them go into the world, little by little, and just hope that what they receive from us at home is enough to arm them for what the world holds for them.  Every little step is essential, and indeed we are very aware of how blessed we are that our mini-Me’s are healthy and able to step into the world.  But it doesn’t mean we have to be absolutely happy about it, all the time!

As parents, we also have to trust…To trust the people who will be responsible for looking after our little darlings.  We have to trust that their teachers will care for them; that they will be kind to them; that they will give their all to make them who they can be.

teaching

So while I feel that I need at least an hour with her new teacher tomorrow morning to go through a crash course, with power point presentation if I could, on what my Little Darling likes, what she’s afraid of, her habits, what upsets her, how she needs help with some things, how brilliant she is at other things and basically, everything about her, I know that I’ll drop her at the door with a smile, tell her to be a good girl and to have fun, and get into the car.

Then I’ll probably bawl my way to work.

But it’ll be fine, because I’ve realised that while I’m entrusting a teacher with the single most important thing in my world, I get to return the favour to other Starting-School Mums.  Because for the first time, I truly understand the angst and terror of the Mammies and Daddies who drop their kiddies off at our school’s big blue door every September.  I finally understand that I’m not just there to teach them English.  I’m there to care for them; to be kind to them; and to give my all to help mould them into who they can be.  And it’s the second best job in the world.

And while tomorrow she is only starting Pre-school, it is indeed a big deal for our little family and for my little Princess.  Yes, it might be just another day, but it’s one that we’ll remember forever.  Yes, it’s going to be emotional, but it’s good emotion.

And to all of the Mammies and Daddies whose little Darlings are taking their first steps into Pre-school, School School, Secondary School or indeed third level,  I send all of my S-mum love and good wishes, because tomorrow is most likely going to be harder on you than it is on our kids.

So we’ll put on our big girl (or boy) pants and we’ll suck it up.

Because we are Starting School Mums (and Dads).  🙂

PS.  This has been going around in my head all day.

Wee Hughie  
Author: Elizabeth Shane

He’s gone to school, wee Hughie,
An’ him not four,
Sure I saw the fright was in him
When he left the door.

But he took a hand o’ Denny,
An’ a hand o’ Dan,
Wi’ Joe’s owld coat upon him –
Och the poor wee man!

He cut the quarest figure,
More stout not thin:
An’ trotting right and steady
Wi’ his toes turned in.

I watched him to the corner
O’ the big turf stack,
An’ the more his feet went forrit,
Still his head turned back.

I followed to the turnin’
When they passed it by,
God help him he was cryin’,
An’, maybe, so was I.

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I am Snake Mum

Posted in children, parenting, terror, toddlers by

I am Snake Mum

I don’t use the word “hate” very often.  There’s very little in life that can cause that word to even appear in my brain…except for snakes.

frightened-woman

I hate them.  I hate everything about them; how they look, how they move, how my stomach flips inexplicably each time one appears on the TV screen.  They truly are the one thing that I’m afraid of…and I have no real explanation for this fear.

Over the years, I’ve managed to talk myself around from being a big girl’s blouse who would freak out at the mere image of a snake in a book.  I’m able to look at such pictures now.  I can even deal with them in movies, (well, depending on their size and what they’re doing!), although I will still hide behind a cushion.

I used to cry at even the thought of entering the reptile house of Dublin Zoo, such was the ridiculous extent of my “phobia”.  But my “phobia” is nonsense.  It’s nothing more than a notion I have; a reaction to something that doesn’t appeal to me; that makes me feel unsafe.

Until I had Mini-me, I don’t think I really knew what fear was.  After she was born, I began to understand the word.  The fear that comes with being a parent is real. It is founded and justified. I became afraid of everything; of every cough, of every sniffle, of every decision we were making. Every time she gets sick, it is fear that prevails in my mind.

I remember the utter terror the first time Mini-Me slept through the night; leaping from the bed in a panic.  I remember lying at night, listening to her breath, terrified for no particular reason.  Now, the toddler fears are different, but they are still real.  Why is she being so quiet? Does she mix at playschool? Is she frightened if I’m not there?   Is that a rash? Am I over-reacting?

The fear even follows me to my dreams sometimes.  Last night, I was screaming at her as she ran towards a road and I couldn’t catch up to her to stop her.  Another night, I watched as she ran towards a stairwell.  Thankfully, my brain usually wakes me up before I have to watch the outcome of these situations, but the palpitations of the heart and rapid breathing transcend from sleeping Mummy to the Lying-in-a-cold-sweat Mummy.  So while it may have been only a dream, the fear is still real.

What is it they say? 99% of the things we worry about will never happen?  Good.  But that doesn’t mean that as parents, we don’t worry.  It is natural.  It is exhausting, but it protects our children.  It allows us to see potential dangers and to avoid potential disasters.

As parents, we learn very quickly how to put on a brave face and calm voice to ensure that our little ones don’t stress or worry.

The-important-thing-is-to

So when we visited a local zoo this week and one of the zookeepers was offering the children the chance to pet and hold a snake, my initial reaction was to take Mini-Me’s hand and walk (Ok, run…) briskly to the opposite end of the room.  To me, the snake was huge and horrible.  In reality, it was a small, red, very tame pet and the children were loving it.

One look from my Husband reminded me that it was me who was afraid of the snake, not our daughter.  And so I put on my cherriest voice and said “Look at the lovely snake.  Why doesn’t Daddy take you over to pet it?” I possibly sounded like Mary Poppins on helium, but it was a huge step.  My acting skills have never been so tested as when I had to feign calm and delight while I watched her little fingers run over the surface of the creature.

The snake might as well have been wrapped around my neck.  I could hardly breath.  I hated every second of her experience.  I hated that I was not 100% able to protect her. But, I had to stand back (waaaaaaaay back!) and let her experience something that I’ve never had the bottle to do.

I hate snakes…simple as that, but I can’t pass my ridiculous fears onto my child.  If she decides she doesn’t like them either, good.  We’ll have something else in common, but I won’t be the reason she doesn’t like them.  She’ll have her own silly and irrational phobias to deal with in her life.  And someday she’ll have real fears to deal with too, but they’ll be hers, not mine.

So when she came running back to me, face glowing with delight, I pretended to be so excited that she’d touched the lovely, pretty snake!  Daddy’s face was a mixture of smugness and amusement as he watched me lie through my gritted teeth, but as we walked towards the much more loveable ducks and rabbits, the “Good Mammy” whispered in my ear made it all OK. J

So, just this once, I am Snake Mum.

nice-snake-27078615

I am Sometimes Soccer Mum

Posted in children, parenting, wrong answer by

We’ve all seen them on the tellybox haven’t we?

Soccer Moms…

pushy parent

The pushy parents who live their entire lives through their kiddies and whose routines revolve around taxi duty for their little darlings.

The parents who will stand up for their sproggies, regardless of whether or not Junior is in the wrong.  The parents who can’t see even the slightest possibility that their little darling might not just be absolutely fantastic at absolutely everything!

The mummies who drop their kiddies off at school or creche in their gym gear, all swinging ponytails and smiles, who subtly boast about their gifted child or their over-achieving genius: who ring the school to complain that their little angel isn’t playing the star in the school play when she was Mary in the Nativity three years in a row…

and we all smile smugly in the knowledge that we would NEVER be like them.

Even the thought is ridiculous!

It’s utterly absurd!… and yet, we’re all more than capable of it!

How do I know?  Because just last week, I found myself turning into one of these soccer moms, minus the swinging ponytail.  And I’m not ashamed to say it!

I took Mini-Me to the Public Health Nurse for her developmental check.  It was all pretty standard and uneventful really.  I’m happy enough that she’s developing at an exceptional rate anyway and didn’t feel that I needed anyone to verify it.  :p

Raising-Smart-Kids-for-Dummies-9780764517655

We sat in the office; me on a chair in the corner, Mini-Me on a cute little seat at a tootsie little table, with colourful blocks and crayons. Nurse’s voice was cooing and soothing and she quickly established a rapport with Mini-me.  She also quickly established that she was interested only in speaking to my daughter. Mummy’s voice was not required.

I quickly picked up that I was there as an observer only; to watch this stranger play with my little princess, while assessing her every move.

Fine, I thought, a little huffily if I’m honest.  I had nothing to worry about.  Mini-Me would show her how a three and a quarter year old rolls.

What I hadn’t banked on was that she’d be hit with a savage dose of shyness.  Nurse’s baby-focused cooing suddenly seemed to be her cue to act like a wee baby!

We started off OK.

“Put the blocks in a line”…easy.

“What colour is this one?”

“Pick out the yellow ones”…duh!

We were flying.  I was envisaging a gold star for both of us as we left.

“Now, can you draw a circle?”… yup!

“Can you draw two smaller circles?”… Uh oh.

I could tell that Nurse wanted her to draw a face, but the instructions caused confusion and she drew the two smaller circles outside of the large one.  Catastrophe!

“Ok, draw a smiling mouth”… Mini-Me looked at her as if wondering why the heck she’d give a circle a mouth.  At this point I politely interjected… “Just ask her to draw a face.” I suggested.  Nursey poos wasn’t too happy, but rephrased.  To my delight, Daughter turned the page over and promptly drew a face, with all required features, including eyelashes!

Hah!  Take that Nursey Poos!

At this point, I sat back on the chair, exhilarated and smug.  My heart was racing, just a little.

Then…

“Can you count the blocks?”

Well of course she can…

But then, she didn’t.

Instead, my beautiful, intelligent little darling announced “1,2,5,8,TWENTY!”

And this Momma-bird nearly fell off her perch.

I was about to interrupt again…until I realised that while Mini-me was playing the the I’m an ickle baby game with Nurse, I was turning into one of those mothers.

It was like an out-of-body experience.  My throat constricted as I tried not to scream “She can count to 20! In English AND in Irish!”.  I squirmed in my chair, trying not to get up and rearrange the blocks for her to try again. I noted my racing heart and sweaty palms as I tried to control the urge to ‘turn teacher’ and get her to do it right.

This was terrible!  How could I let this woman, who was assessing my child, think that she was seeing anything other than a genius?  She should be awestruck as she realises she is in the presence of greatness.  One day, she should say, “Oh yes! I remember her.  She was always so gifted.”

While I kept myself in check, I became suddenly aware that Mini-Me was counting again, slower this time and properly.. Ok, she left out 15 as usual, but sure who needs 15?  And Nurse was smiling, filling out her notes and finishing up the session.

I felt my heart rate return to normal-mental-mother pace, and when she asked if I had any concerns, I smiled sweetly and said “No, I think she’s fine. Do you see anything to be worried about?”

She continued to tell me that she was perfectly happy that Mini-me is just fine.  She seems like a very bright and intelligent child, and her counting is very good!

I was chuffed.  It was a metaphoric gold star for Mammy and for Mini-me.  Soccer Mom however, swished her ponytail and screamed “I could have told you that at the beginning and saved us half an hour!!”, but the normal Mammy smiled politely and thanked the lovely Nurse very much.

Because really, she was lovely and she did her job exceptionally well.  And I’m suddenly very aware that I might be determined to never turn in to one of those mothers, but there might be the possibility that there’s one inside me with whom I’ll have to wrestle every so often!

But hey!  Isn’t that just part of the job?

I am Sometimes Soccer Mum.adoring mom