Appreciation!

When my first child was born and I realised the pain of childbirth, I found a new respect for my mother. And when my baby never slept and I had to function in a zombie like state, I found a new respect for my mother. When my toddler threw tantrums in the supermarket, doctor’s surgery, bus, school gate and every other place imaginable I found a new respect for my mother. And when the never ending mountain of homework started to arrive and preparing dinner and clearing a bomb site had to be fit in around it, I found a new respect for my mother. When I became the mother of a teenager and found myself in the alien territory of mood swings, strops and general hormonal breakdowns, I found a new respect for my mother BUT since my dishwasher has broken down and I have to wash the dishes myself on top of everything else, I’ve realised that woman, was a bloody saint!!!! 

Can we really have it all?

I am in the very fortunate position that I have worked part-time (mornings only) since the birth of my first child.  It has helped somewhat with the mammy guilt, enabled me to remove my school aged children from the childcare conundrum and has created a situation, for my school going children anyway, that I am home when they are home.  Through the use of parental leave and family friendly policies in my place of employment, I have managed to cover most school holidays (obviously at my own expense) with a few days left for sick days, hospital appointments and school shows. My leave is as precious as gold dust.  I never take a day off just because I fancy it – I never know what could crop up and I might need it.

I am regularly told that I have the ideal situation. I have to be honest, as grateful as I am to have the time with my children in the afternoons, I am left exhausted by the demands.  I am here for the morning chaos as I try to get my older kids to school.  I feel dreadful leaving my younger children at a time when they should have the advantage of more of my attention while their older siblings are at school and I walk out of a house that looks like a tornado has gone through it and will be waiting for me to tackle when I get back from work.  I face the heavy morning traffic everyday, do my job and then leave at lunch time (without having lunch obviously). I go straight to collect my younger children and from there on to the school to pick up my junior infant. I am immediately in full time mammy mode.  The smallies are delighted to see me, there’s a mountain of breakfast dishes and the older kids come home, forgetting I’ve been to work at all, with their homework and after school activities to be fit in.

A UK school principal recently caused uproar when she suggested that we shouldn’t be leading our girls to believe that they can have it all. This came on foot of a senior UK gynaecologist reiterating the importance of women understanding their biology and fertility.  Nature waits for no career! In an age where women’s rights have progressed, there’s no denying we still have a way to go and this particular issue is a difficult one to navigate.  Trying to build or progress a career without the distraction or commitment of children means postponing a family to a time when things might prove more challenging.

My daughter is now old enough to be giving serious consideration to the career she would like in the future.  The path she wants to follow is pretty specific and naturally I hope it will be the right one for her.  I also, as a mother and her mother, knowing how difficult it is to juggle everything, find myself wondering how family friendly it will be. Throughout school and college I had an ideal in my head as to how my life would be.  When the little people came along, my priorities changed – as did my perspective.

I don’t want to admit that there might be a glass ceiling for my daughter but I don’t think I believe you can have it all.  I think somebody is paying the price. I’m not sure how much things really have moved on for women now that they’re largely expected to do all the things their mothers did for their families and hold down a job on top of this. The demands on working parents emotionally and physically are huge. The guilt leaving your children can be enormous, the commitment to your employment challenged. The work of a stay at home parent however, is hugely undervalued in spite of being one of the most relentless, exhausting jobs there is. Sadly, enough importance is still not given to the role of a carer in spite of the workload and sacrifices involved.

I don’t want my daughter, as she considers her future life, to believe that there is anything she can’t achieve that her brothers can.  She is however, bound by her biology and may have to make some difficult and different choices to them. I don’t know what the answer is, or if the principal’s suggestion really is as outrageous as it first appeared, but it certainly gives food for thought.  All I do know is, that from my point of view, when my maternity leave comes to an end, the chaos here will become that bit more chaotic…..

Favourite Child

Research or no research, I’m not buying this claim that parents have a favourite child. My five year old, on the other hand, would beg to differ.  Somewhere along the way he has become convinced that he is my favourite child and if he’s annoyed at me threatens to withdraw this honour. “I won’t be your favourite child anymore” can be said to me for all number of reasons from insisting he eats his carrots to telling him Superman is cooler than Batman.  It has become quite the standing joke with the older kids in our house at this stage, while the younger ones remain oblivious to his claims. I’ve no idea where he got the idea from but he’s happy enough to argue the point with his Gran, who in her loyalty to my other children tries regularly to convince him that I don’t in fact have a favourite. He won’t entertain the notion, however, and remains confident that he holds the most privileged position in my affections.

Most definitely there are certain aspects of my children’s personalities that I find easier to live with (and certain aspects that drive me to the brink of insanity) but that’s human nature. I’m aware of my different children’s strengths and difficulties.  I’m aware of the fact that even though the same ingredients went into making each of them, the end results couldn’t be more different.  They might look alike but their personalities and temperaments are as individual as they are. We have a couple of them we call the “charm offensive”, the kids we send to meet and greet when we want to make a good impression. We have another couple we hang back on introducing to a scenario until that same impression is made! There are some in which I see a lot of me, both in mannerisms and interests and some so much like their father it’s uncanny. Having more in common with one or more children does not change how I feel about the others.  

I try my best to be fair to them all (though I’m sure they might disagree) but I don’t treat them all the same because they need different things from me. I don’t parent them all the same because they need different parenting from me. I do however love them all completely and utterly equally with all my heart….except for the ones who do their homework with least complaining….I probably love them a bit more…and my five year old of course! 

Last Day Of The Hols

The Easter holidays drew to a close here yesterday in pretty busy style.  We had visitors in the shape of my parents in law and my sister in law with her family.  Our nine year old returned from a friend’s sleepover after having far too much fun to sleep and so was in the sort of form you’d expect from a walking demon.  Our teenager went to the last disco before her Junior Cert which started at 8 o’clock so obviously she had to start getting ready from 2 o’clock, (that certain shade of tangerine they all like to be, takes a while to take hold) while the “in between” kids played happily with their cousins without any regard for the Department of the Environment noise pollution guidelines.

While eating we were treated to a floor show by my two year old who is well capable of using the toilet but preferred to show the accuracy with which he can aim at the potty , the sort of accuracy you tended to see from the person who answered the questions on bullseye.  The five year old meanwhile imitated Dusty Crophopper, complete with sound effects and actions from the Planes movie which was being shown simultaneously on RTE and the seven month old looked on bemused but definitely not fazed by the whole spectacle. It was a lovely afternoon.

When everyone was gone home and most of the kids were in bed, all that was left to do was wait for my daughter to come home.  The baby, who doesn’t rate sleep, kept us company and greeted his sister with a big smile as she came in the door.  It’s an almost surreal feeling sometimes to have a child old enough to go to a disco and have a child so young he needs propping up with cushions on the floor. It’s funny to have children who keep you up at night for very different reasons.

Today, much to my kid’s disgust will be about getting ready for the return to school tomorrow.  Trying to reel back in bedtimes which have gone more than a little askew over the last couple of weeks and making sure everything is ready for the week ahead.  I have loved the break from the routine, the freedom from homework and afterschool activities and the reclaiming of our afternoons.  There has been lots of fun had and far too many rows too but all good things must come to an end. Now how to convince them that the return to school is not all bad…… #atleasttheresagrandstretchintheevenings #mamatude

Breastfeeding shaming

I have read a huge amount online in recent weeks about episodes of breastfeeding shaming which still seems to happen on a much larger scale than I would have expected.  My son is almost seven months old and is breastfed.  No big deal in my eyes.  He’s a baby. He gets hungry.  He gets fed - pretty much wherever and whenever necessary. He’s slightly (very slightly) more predictable now that he’s older but, in the early days, I knew that any kind of an outing would most likely involve me having to feed my baby in public. Now, I’m not a whip ‘em all out kinda girl, (except that time I walked into my daughter’s school for a presentation and hadn’t put them completely away after feeding the little guy in the car – however, that wasn’t deliberate and she’s slowly recovering from the trauma and embarrassment I caused her) but then again I don’t know any breastfeeding mother who is. A huge amount of the time, no one would even know I was feeding the baby and I think this is the case for most mothers.  It has happened, however, and usually at the most inopportune time, that my son has decided to suddenly stop feeding, turn around, give a gummy grin to a passerby and expose my boob to any poor unsuspecting and potentially easily offended individual sitting or standing in my line of vision.

I’ve never been made to feel uncomfortable breastfeeding my baby in public. I’ve never had a disapproving look, someone moving seat or a comment about whether or not an appropriate proportion of my breast is on show.  I hope it’s not just a case that I’ve been lucky.  I hope the stories of breastfeeding shaming, while apparently plentiful at the moment, are a collection of isolated incidents. I would hate to think that something so natural could cause offence to so many people. To paraphrase a midwife I met while expecting my first child “Breasts have a function. They are there to feed your baby, even if men like to play with the empties!” For me breastfeeding is hugely convenient in that it allows me to adopt the motto “have boobs, will travel”. It saves me a huge amount of time in an already chaotic life. The biggest inconvenience it causes me actually, is the restriction in my wardrobe choices.  I am now a wearer, almost entirely of separates! #remembertoputthemawayafter #sorryhoney #mamatude