Writenowmom's Blog

My ramblings on life, kids and writing.


Filed under: Uncategorized — writenowmom @ 8:14 pm

I woke at six o’clock on Saturday morning to the sound of drums. Who could possibly be drumming at this time of the morning, I wondered? Have they no consideration for those of us who actually want to sleep? When I managed to make my eyes focus, I glanced up at the skylight above my head and that’s when realisation dawned. There was no drummer – just the persistent sound of torrential rain threatening to come right through the roof!

My heart sank. Typical of my luck! The weather had been glorious for the past two weeks and now, on the day when my daughter was making her First Holy Communion, we get this! It seems Murphy’s Law has no regard for the headless Child of Prague that my mother had positioned so carefully outside the night before. Neither does it care for the decade of the rosary recited by my hopeful daughter!

But we needn’t have worried. (Warning; gushing Mummy alert!) When I’d fixed my daughter’s hair into curls and helped her into her white dress, I realised that she was all the sunshine we needed. Her smile lit up the room, so happy and excited was she to be finally all dressed up and looking like a fairy princess. The weather became insignificant. Our house heaved with happiness until the early hours and I felt really lucky to be surrounded by such wonderful friends and family.

Maria x



Filed under: Uncategorized — writenowmom @ 11:25 pm

Today my six year old son went on his first school tour. Now having four children, you’d think I’d be fed up with all the palaver surrounding such events. Not so! In fact I practically led the Mammy Brigade in running alongside the bus, waving, until the end of the path forced us to let our little darlings go.

Seeing his little excited face this morning made me remember my own school days and our yearly foray into the great unknown. I can still remember the feeling of waking up on a glorious sunny morning (‘cos it was always sunny in my day) and realising that today was the day. I’d head off armed with the compulsory jam sandwiches and banana that never seemed to survive the journey intact and a bag full of sweets that would ensure I’d be fighting back the urge to spew!

Now one particular year our teacher announced that in three weeks time we’d be going to Drogheda where we’d see the head of St Oliver Plunkett. A gasp of disbelief rippled through the room as our seven year old brains tried to digest this information. We were going to see an honest to goodness, dead person’s head. How cool was that? And who said history was boring? Well that day was anything but boring as four girls threw up on the bus, one peed in her pants and two got themselves temporarily lost. I think I saw our teacher crying at one point, but I couldn’t be sure.

It seems that today’s school tours haven’t moved on much from those days. I’m still giving my children the sandwiches which will inevitably become soggy and the sweets that will make them sick. When my eldest son was eight, I gave him a plastic bag to bring with him as it was a long bus journey and he wasn’t a good traveller. On his return, he announced triumphantly that he’d been sick on the bus.

“Did you manage to use the plastic bag then?” I asked hopefully.

“Yes,” he said. “But Mammy, why did you give me one with a hole in the bottom?”


So what are your fondest memories of your school tours?

Maria x


MY PURPLE SON May 11, 2010

Filed under: Uncategorized — writenowmom @ 10:58 pm

Yesterday Miriam O’Callaghan tweeted that she was going to buy purple paint for her purple obsessed child. It reminded me of something funny that happened four years ago involving my then two year old and some purple paint.

We’re constantly watching our children do hilarious things and cringe daily when they allow words to escape their mouths that we’d rather they kept in. One thing we can be sure of is there’ll always be someone on hand to say; “Isn’t that priceless? You should write that down.” The other thing we can be pretty sure of is that we won’t, and we’ll regret it at a later date when we struggle to remember the exact details of said feat. Thankfully on this occasion I did write it down. I hope the vision of my purple son makes you smile.

I swept my canvas with a brush,
began to paint a work of art.
I took my time, refused to rush.
I gave it all my soul and heart.

An abstract vision – purple, gold,
I let my paintbrush be my guide.
I beamed to see my work unfold,
and truly felt enormous pride.

The masterpiece was now complete;
my first attempt at painting oil.
It truly was a precious feat,
a week of concentrated toil.

I locked it in a room to dry.
I laid it flat upon the floor.
But later heard a piercing cry,
and saw the tell-tale open door.

My son, just two, had found the key,
and went inside to take a peep.
The sight that was in front of me,
A memory I’ll always keep.

He’d stood upon my precious art,
his footprints forming on the paint.
Then slipped and fell, legs sprawled apart;
Oh what a sight – I thought I’d faint!

He looked at me from centre stage,
the canvas platform for his show,
expected me to shout with rage.
I felt a gale of laughter grow.

I picked him up, my purple child,
complete with paint on clothes and hair.
I watched his guilty face and smiled,
and of the mess – I didn’t care.

My masterpiece was now complete;
far better than the one before,
adorned with prints of bum and feet.
I’ll treasure it forevermore!

Conor is now six and not surprisingly has turned out to be the clown of the family. Roll on his wedding day. I have lots of tales to tell!

Maria x