I wish I could read my five year old’s writing. He tries really hard, you can see the cogs of his brain working when he’s writing something and I’d like to be able to decipher it more easily. Many’s the slip between brain and pencil tip. It can be backwards; sometimes just a letter or two and sometimes the whole sentence. You would think it would take more effort to write that way but he has mastered it. He’s left-handed, I reason with myself. That crowd are fierce creative.
One little brown-eyed, brown-haired boy sat on his bedroom floor this morning, playing with cars and transformers and Lego bricks. His life isn’t hard. No three year olds life should be hard. To understate it entirely, it’s a lucky accident of birth that my particular three year old is safe and warm in his bed tonight, living here in Ireland in comparative luxury.
His mama rushed to him last night cuddled him and kissed him. She had seen another little brown-eyed, brown-haired boy, ripped apart from his family during a desperate attempt to leave their home, his mother and his brother meeting the same appalling fate as him. Continue reading
It’s that time again isn’t it? I can choose to spend either 15 minutes in the kitchen at night at it after all the jobs are done and the couch is calling me, or it can take me 30 minutes in the morning, while also dealing with Dom Jong-il & Ted Jong-un barking their very specific breakfast orders at me. Naturally this means I do it at night maybe once a week. Yes, that’s right. School lunches. My kids are in creche and full day summer camp since I went back to work so I’ve a head start on the back to school brigade. So, contain yourselves now; here is my Absolute Best Definitive Lunchbox Guide.
It’s time. Tomorrow I brush off my slightly less casual clothes (only slightly mind, I do love the creative industries for their lack of formal dress code) and return to work. I have headed back to the office from maternity leave twice before with a heavy heart but this is different. This is right for me right now. And the biggest change this time is that I’m working a fixed period contract not a full time job. That makes me happy, not fretful. I’ve spent eight months at home and I doubt it’ll be my last stint but for now, these are the 5 things I’ll miss and the 5 things I really won’t. Continue reading