Tiny Surfers: Internetiquette for Kids and Parents

'Mummy, can I please be on Instagram?' If this had been a scene from a sit com, I would have spat a mouthful of tea across the kitchen at this point. My 7 year old wants to be on Instagram? Wait, my 7 year old has heard of Instagram and wants to post pictures? WHAT? Why? How?

It is truly astonishing how much kids pick up about things they don't actually use or have direct contact with. We must refer to things all the time, like our Facebook status, or sending email, that we don't really register as being taken in by little ears.

My friend got an iPad the other day and by the time she got to it in the evening, her 7 year old son had downloaded all her apps from her iTunes account, except for Facebook, '... cause I wasn't sure what your email address was...' 

We got both boys fairly cheap tablets that Andy picked up in Malaysia when he was there for work. Matthew took his and got started with some of the games that Andrew had preloaded. But within minutes he turned to me: 'Can I send messages to Jack on this?' And then: 'Can I have a password so no one else can go on this?' That would be a big fat NO to both of those questions! But we were surprised that he thought to ask them...

There is also a PlayStation in the living room and I was taken aback to come in and see Adam, 5, playing a match with 'some guy.' Um, pardon? Who? How? My solution to that one was to just turn the bloody thing off and to alter the access settings. Thankfully Adam was pretty freaked out by this and won't be trying this again - mainly cause the guy was thrashing him in their FIFA match...

Although we knew of course that we had to work hard to stay ahead of the kids in terms of technology, we had thought we would have a bit more of a cushion before they were snapping at our heels. And this is from a pretty IT savvy family. Andy works full time in IT and I am not frightened of it myself. But I have already had to hand my phone over to Matthew, when he was 6, so that he could find a particular app that I couldn't. And the boys discovered how to get onto YouTube through the PlayStation before I even knew that was any kind of an option.

We are helping out at a Parenting Course at the moment and the bulk of the course is dvd presentations from a great couple who are full of practical, realistic, loving and helpful advice. Last week's session was all about boundaries and they touched on the area of screen time and added the usual advice around kids' security on computers: keep the family computer in a central area in the home and then you can monitor what the kids are doing online. However, that is really quite outdated as advice goes as things have changed so rapidly in this arena. Now it is a matter of everyone being on their own devices, or perhaps multiple devices at the one time.


So, what's the best advice for a family with young kids? Here are the 4 main things I think it's worth taking into account:

1. Screen Time: limit this! Establish a culture whereby your kids ask you before they use technology and know that they have a certain time per day to play on screens. See also: http://sarahkeene.blogspot.ie/2013/07/screen-sanity.html

2. Have the conversation with your kids about the internet. In the same way we all find the right time and words to discuss Stranger Danger, the topic needs to be extended to the web. 'Never give your real name on websites', 'How to make a good password' etc. And set up the conversation to prepare them for the day when they come across something that you'd rather they not find online. Cause they will. Realistically, you can't stop that from happening - but you can influence what they choose to do next. 

3. Media Stacking is the snazzy term used for using more than one device at a time: watching Netflix while playing on a tablet and texting too. There is some thought that kids using technology in this way are losing the ability to focus on one thing at a time and that this is affecting the attention they can really give to films, books or other activities. I am not sure what I think of this, but it's an interesting idea and worth keeping an eye on.

4. Look at the devices that they use. There are actually a lot of settings on tablets and games consoles that implement security. Alright, today's kids will probably be able to circumvent these by the time they are 8 and  a half, but it's worth trying! And there are also a lot of great apps out there for parental controls. The best one I have found is Norton Family Security. It's great - you can tailor each child's access as you register them with this service. There is a free element to this, and then you can choose to pay as you need more detailed and specific requirements. It's well worth a look and fairly easy to set up. https://onlinefamily.norton.com/familysafety/nofToGo.fs The main thing I like about it, is that its number 1 recommendation for parents is that they have an open and evolving conversation with their kids about their online activities, thus bringing us neatly back to points 1 and 2.

It can feel very overwhelming, especially if you aren't at all techy. And very quickly terms like cyber bullying start to get chucked about, which can escalate fear and panic around this whole issue. I firmly believe that starting this conversation with your young children, who probably already know more than you realise they do, will give you a better chance of protecting them as they get older. I am not naive enough to think that my boys won't find porn or get silly or abusive messages from their friends as they get older. But I can give them a decent foundation in internetiquette, and hope this will help them negotiate this whole minefield, which is only going to grow in their lifetime.


One key message to take from this:  have the conversation with your kids, about safety, about screen time and keep this conversation open and developing as they get older. But, also, make friends with a tame geek and give them cake and beer at regular intervals so they can help you with this. I took this to the next level and married one. Now you know why I bake so often...

If Anyone Asks, We Are A Nice Normal Family

The first time I blithely agreed to play cards with Andrew and some assorted relatives, I didn't realise I was opening myself up to grave censure and critique. I thought we were going to play cards. But, as it turned out, we were going to Play Cards - something that was done nearly every Sunday and where an enormous amount of unspoken expectations and rules came quietly into play without me knowing this. Probably without anyone else knowing it as well, as they all just had an innate sense of this as 'the normal way' to play cards and 'the way we do things on Sundays'.

It was the first and last time I played cards with any Keenes-in-law or family branches thereof!  Not realising there were sacred rituals involved, I trampled all over them and was looked at aghast, like a cultural outcast, or at the very least, a fairly stupid person. Not that anyone there realised that's how they were looking at me, or how they made me feel! 

Any given family has their own family culture, whether they realise this or not. Values, norms, rituals and traditions are part of any household and shape the members accordingly.  Often you don't realise you are part of a very specific micro culture in your family. I guess kids assume that their family is the same as most others and that the way things are expressed or done in their house is the 'normal' way. Those first few playdates or sleepovers will soon change that...


When you end up in a relationship with someone and meet their family, it's probably the first time you are seeing another family really close up.  I was 19 when Andrew and I started going out and 20 when I first went to stay with his folks for a few nights. He was the same age when he came over to Holland to stay with us that first summer we were together. It's weird to feel quite close to someone and then to see them in their most familiar environment when you are beginning to establish your own mini culture together as a couple. It definitely helped us get to know each other better and understand some of each other's idiosyncrasies and assumptions.

One of my relatives-in-law was a good bit older when he became part of the family. He has opted not to really get to know or stay with anyone. There are some days I think he might have the right idea! On the other hand, it's part of who we all are, our family culture, for good or for bad, whether there was ever an intentional culture or not; or just a sense of 'this is how things are' and you only found out later that this was actually only true in your house.

The games that drove Andrew mad in my family home were all word related: Word and Question, Fold Over and Consquences were big favourites with us and I couldn't wait to introduce him to them. Well, he did NOT enjoy them and was made to feel equally foolish and as much of an outsider as I had with the cards scenario. There is a certain amount of writing and even rhyming in those games that just frustrated him and felt like work rather than a game.

So, very early on in our marriage, we made a solemn pact: he never has to play word games with my family and I never have to play cards with his. I am not saying this is the main reason we have been together for nearly 20 years, but it's definitely helped!

And now we get to create our own family culture! It's one of those things you might not know you have until you hear your kids jabbering away to their friends or their friends' parents and see the confusion and bewilderment on their faces. Then you realise you have normalised something that they now assume is universal, but no one else is really interested in!

A big part of Andrew's family culture is music. Both he and his sister played in the Hampshire County Youth Orchestra and this was a massive part of his teenage years. Play any piece of classical music and Andrew will more than likely have played it in some concert or band or other. When Matthew was born, Andrew's folks both said 'I wonder what he'll play', as one of their very first comments on meeting their grandson. It's a huge value to them, clearly.  Which is why it's exciting that Matthew has just started piano lessons, 5 weeks ago. After a good start, we had a dodgy week, after which I had to sit him down and explain why yawning loudly and incessantly for 30 minutes of the lesson was not very polite and why I was mortified listening in from the corridor. Bless him, he got the message and has been doing really well.

One of my favourite family memories is time spent at the dinner table playing: 'Think of a Question.' Mam and Dad used to ask us all kinds of questions!  Dad would generally go for general knowledge and the news headlines and Mam might get us to list our 5 favourite something or other. Capital cities, prime ministers, historical figures - all part of dinner time.  I remember fun, happy mealtimes, including some where we laughed so much that my sister fell off her chair. There was of course the memorable dessert flinging episode as well...  In my mind, this is linked to family question time; although the spoonful of pudding that my sister flung directly at my dad wasn't actually in answer to a question, it was definitely something that shaped our family culture and has gone down as a key family moment. As has his spoonful chucked right back at her. Ah, memories...

Imagine my delight when I went to collect the boys from a meal at Opa and Oma's house, to find they had been playing 'Hard Questions' at the dinner table. This has very quickly become a ritual whenever they are eating with Opa, especially. There is maths, there is geography, there is football knowledge and there is a load of fun and encouragement. It's brilliant!  The other night, I was blown away by some of the stuff the boys knew, or by watching them work out things they might not have known already. This is a wee culture they have with their grandparents and it is beautiful to see!

As for our family culture, it is partly just an organic process, but also one we need to be intentional in shaping. At the moment, it is drawing heavily on Angry Birds and Star Wars for its cultural references.  I would like to think we can up the standard soon - although I am quite proud to know as much as I do about Piggy Island, Pig Troopers and Ham Solo.

Ghosts, Ghouls and Lollipops

Halloween is almost here!

At the age of 38, I am about to have my very first experience of Trick or Treating.  Even though Matthew is already 7, we have so far managed to avoid the whole scenario, by claiming he was too young, or by being away over the midterm break.  But this year, the boys are both old enough to know all about it, to assume they will be going out and receiving vast quantities of sweets and we are here for the week off.  So, that's that.

When we first lived in Ireland, we were surprised by how big a deal Halloween was.  Unless I was extremely unobservant at the time, I don't remember any houses in England being decorated at the start of October in the lead up to Halloween.  I don't really remember shops or cafes being done up either.  I may be completely wrong about this - it is worth pointing out that we didn't have kids then, so the whole thing would have potentially passed me by.  It's amazing how differently you end up seeing the world when you keep having to interpret it for sharp eyed, inquisitive little boys. So perhaps there was a Halloween buzz in the UK, or maybe there is more so now as American TV culture is increasingly everywhere. I certainly don't remember it even being mentioned in Holland. 

But over here, it is EVERYWHERE!  There are loads of houses on our road that are draped in cobwebs and have skeletons hanging from the doorposts.  In one particularly tasteful case, there are severed limbs poking out of the letter box. Yesterday, heading into a cafe, a massive spider swung towards me as I went in - and skeletons leered at us from the counter as we sipped our drinks.

We have run out of sweets every year - heaps of kids come to the door!  I always insist on knowing who is looking after them before I give them the sweets; you'd be surprised how many quite young kids are going house to house in the dark, relatively unsupervised. It's always a bit of a shock to open the door to a green faced zombie or a pale vampire! Especially one that is high on sugar and roaring 'TRICK OR TREAT' at you.

Certainly, the haul of sweets is all that the kids are thinking about!  They have buckets ready for Thursday and are really excited.  It will be the one time that getting them out for a walk round the estate really won't be an issue, compared to the battle on a lovely sunny day when Andy and I feel we could all do with some fresh air and have to bribe and cajole them out the door.  But a walk in the cold, dark October evening? Let's go... 

They seem quite taken with the decorations all over the place and were disappointed that we weren't going to decorate our house. Apart from the fact that it would seem like a bit of a waste of money to me, I really wasn't keen to decorate the house.  Although at least I can leave those cobwebs for another while - you know, those real actual ones that I didn't pay for.  I tried to explain to Matthew that we decorate the house for things we want to celebrate, like birthdays and Christmas.  But Halloween is really about scary things and we don't want to celebrate being scared really....  He was a bit nonplussed and I think he thought I was just making up a random answer.  Well, I was...  But it's true really!  

I am certainly not squeamish about scary things - one of my favourite tv programmes is Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which is wall to wall demons and goblins.  And I am a huge Harry Potter fan. Yet, something about this full on explosion of witches and skeletons is very off putting and I find myself a bit uncomfortable with it.

Perhaps it's because of the kids. It's one thing for me to watch Buffy or read Harry Potter and enjoy the battle of good vs evil. But here it seems it's just about 'the evil'. We spent a good portion of the morning looking for costumes for the boys and every shop had the option of: skeletons, witches, devils or vampires.  Where were the cowboys? Or the astronauts?  Why did everything have to be so icky?  

Plenty of people see it as harmless fun and really don't see why there would be a problem with dressing a kid up as a demon or a ghost.  Perhaps it depends on your wider belief system and whether or not you ascribe any truth to the concept of the supernatural.  If you don't believe there is such a thing as devils, then it amounts to the same thing as dressing up as a smurf, I suppose - 2 things that don't exist.  

I know of one family whose child was in Crumlin Children's Hospital for many months as he battled cancer. He eventually made a great recovery.  While they were there, Halloween came around and they were horrified with the gruesome decorations that went up.  They felt that putting up decorations of skulls and ghouls - things effectively associated with death - in a ward where children were genuinely fighting for survival, was contradictory and in poor taste. I don't know to what extent they actually felt the images would have a wider or negative impact on the children, but they certainly felt it was inappropriate and complained to hospital management.  They were heard, but the hospital management's view was that they felt it was important to keep the kids connected to what was going on in the outside world as they were stuck in the ward, missing out on all that their friends and classmates were experiencing.  I can see both points of view, but I tend to side with the family.  I am sure they could have found friendly pumpkin decorations rather than going for the macabre.

The boys were keen to be ghosts and I had more or less caved and was going to cut up a sheet and paint their faces white.  But I wasn't happy with it - I just don't see the attraction or need for them to dress up as something linked to death. That may seem hyperbolic and over-dramatic on my part - but there you go. I should of course have been the ultimate Pinterest Mum and run up a home made costume or two, but the last time I used a sewing machine, it caught fire.  And there was no Buffy-like demonic involvement - that's just how bad I am at sewing.  Eventually, we found one shop that had a brilliant range of all kinds of costumes and I am pleased to report that I will be taking Finn McMissile and a Ninja Trick or Treating on Thursday. 

Of course the truly frightening thing about Halloween is that once it's over, it genuinely won't be long until those same houses that are now draped in cobwebs and pumpkins, will start uncoiling the flashing lights and the whole street will turn into a Christmas disco wonderland. Then it will be time to make the lists and get on with the Christmas shopping.  Now that's scary...

Love and Kids and Silly People

Friends of ours have just set off today on the adventure of a lifetime - they are about to become parents!  But in this case, they don't have the heart stopping, pain filled, crazed ride to Holles Street to contend with. They have headed to the airport and away to meet their little boy for the first time. Equally heart stopping, no doubt. He will return with them in a few weeks, and they will begin life here as a family.

When we met them, Matthew was 8 months old and they were already a few years into their adoption process.  Matthew turned 7 this month, and they are only now getting to put the last pieces of this into place.  There have been years of paperwork, waiting on phone calls, social worker visits, care plans and any number of meetings and rubber-stamping, all with the aim of proving they will be good parents and can adopt a child. 

Of course I accept that children can't just be handed out to people who say they want to adopt with no due process or care.  But it surely doesn't need to take this long?  And how can any of us prove we will be good parents, really?  If I had been asked for a care plan or had to meet a social worker before I had kids, how would they have assessed me? If a social worker came and saw me now, I would like to think I as doing ok.  But only in the same way as most parents are; one day and one mistake at a time. 

I am not sure I could devise a better system. But I do know that this one isn't great and is delaying a lot of great people from being parents and keeping children in homes and institutions for longer than needed. 

A few weeks ago, I met a lady I hadn't seen since her daughter and Matthew were in a toddler group together. Her daughter was adopted, and at the time, she had many health issues.  There were endless allergies, medications and hospital visits and it was all quite stressful. It was great to see what a healthy, lovely girl she is now and to hear that most of those issues have settled down. The most serious concern was that she has a hole in her heart. I can't tell you how shocked I was when my friend told me that some people had actually asked her: 'If you had known she had a heart condition, would you have adopted her?'

WHAT? Matthew could just as easily have been born with a heart condition. If that was the case, can you imagine anyone asking me if I planned to keep him? No, they wouldn't dream of it.  Which makes an adoptive parent facing this question just utterly scandalous. It's implying that the bond between adopted kids and their non biological parents is less valid somehow, less true. How can anyone claim this to be the case?

Years ago, when the boys were tiny, I found the 'bounty' parenting website very helpful.  It can be very isolating to be with newborns and toddlers all day and I enjoyed the interaction on the forums, and the support and encouragement that people gave each other.  However, I remember one thread where an argument broke out around the issue of whether parents who had their kids by IVF loved their children more.  Seriously.  Those who agreed with this said that unless you had gone through the process of IVF, you could never know what it takes and that the love they felt for their kids was somehow deeper and more precious because of all they had gone through to have them. The deeper the agony they went through, the deeper the love they now felt, or so they argued.

Well, I haven't gone through IVF, so I can't speak from experience.  And I am not trying to downplay the heartache and trauma that is IVF. But I can tell you what I think - which is that that is utter drivel.  How anyone thinks they can claim they have more love for something than someone else does, for their children of all things as well.... Love is not quantifiable in that way, surely? They love their kids  to the power of 15 cause they had IVF and I can only reach 12 maybe?  What about families that may have had one kid by IVF and others without? And where does that leave adoptive parents? Lower cause they're not biologically linked? Higher cause they've probably gone through more stress, worry and pain to get to be a family at all? If this logic is followed through, then my friends' son will be the most loved child ever in the universe, as all the waiting, hoping, despair and heartache finally culminates in their meeting him.

Loving your kids isn't about how much you love them. It's about unconditionally loving them. And unconditional can't be measured. There's an un- in front of it - measure that! It's about loving them even when you are having a bad day, or they tell you they don't love you or they get piercings and silly haircuts. And a whole lot more, for every single day that follows. How can someone claim they love their child more unconditionally than someone else does theirs? 

They can't - it's not possible.  And no loving parent, no matter how they became a parent, should ever feel the need to justify or prove their love for their child. 

Rush Hour

A typical morning last summer term:
Me: 'Please go upstairs, get your uniform on, get your shoes on and brush your teeth.'

Fifteen minutes later:
Me: 'Why are you still in your pyjamas?'
Child: 'I forgot to get dressed...' (This is an actual quote...)
Me: 'Come on now, you need to hurry!' (still calm and pleasant here, perhaps slightly impatient)

Ten minutes later:
Me: 'Please put the book down - why are you only wearing pants?' (in mildly hysterical tones at this stage...)
Child: 'Sorry, I just NEEDED to finish the chapter...'

Ten minutes later:
Me: 'Where are your shoes? Have you brushed your teeth?'
Child: 'Oh, I forgot.'
Me: 'Back upstairs please, (through gritted teeth) we are running out of time.'

Five minutes later
Me: 'Right, let's go... WHY HAVEN'T YOU GOT ANY SHOES ON?' (way past hysteria now, straight to rage...)

Please tell me this is not just in my house! Some mornings I really despaired!  I absolutely hated the way this turned me into a nagging, shouty, miserable whinge, rather then the modern, relaxed parent I actually am. (ahem.) It nearly felt like the child wouldn't have remembered to breathe unless I reminded him, never mind get dressed and ready for school in any way independently. And it's not like each day was different - he had to get dressed and ready for school every day, yet every day this seemed to be something he forgot about unless he was reminded. By me. Often.

Two weeks ago, the second child started school and I realised that I was going to lose my mind completely if I didn't put something in place to encourage a bit of self starting on the kids' part. 

Now I am definitely a chart parent - there have always been charts in this house: sticker charts, reward charts and screen time charts.  I absolutely love making them and am a very list/chart sort of person in organising my activities anyway, so it's natural enough to apply this to parenting. 

Cue this latest chart:

It's pretty simple - each boy has 5 things to do, based on what they would struggle to remember or get done independently. They tick things off as they complete the tasks. Each tick corresponds to 5 minutes game time earned. So their guaranteed screen time has now been reduced and the remainder can only be earned by readiness and 'getting on with it'ness on school mornings. 

The ultimate threat that accompanies this is that I have said if they are not ready when it is time to leave, I will quite happily take them to school in their pyjamas. This is not a threat I expect to have to implement, but a tiny part of me kind of wants to - just to see their face.  (I know,  (sigh,)  my Mother of the Year certificate is probably already in the post...)

Research has shown that parents often assume that kids will grasp what is obvious to them: these things need to be done for us to get out on time, everyone knows this - it makes perfect sense. But does it to everyone in the household? What seems like a natural sequence of events to us adults, can in fact be a jumble of confusing signals for them. We get frustrated when they don't cop on and the mornings descend into arguments, frustration and rushing.  Parents need to recognise what they can do to make things move more smoothly - what can be set out the night before? How much time does everyone need, realistically? But also, how realistic are the expectations we have of our kids? And do they really know what has to happen and when? Or why?

One article I read on this issue gave the example of a dad who broke his daughter's morning list of activities down into 22 items listed on a spreadsheet. If I gave my sons a 22 point list of things to achieve between 7:30 and 8:45, I think they would take one look and just head back to bed.  So would I! But the principle of my wee chart is the same: make sure these 5 things are done! And you will be rewarded. And the chart is tailored to things that each boy will struggle to do easily, of their own accord. 

And here's the thing - so far, this is working brilliantly.  All I have to say is: 'please check your list and do what it says.' I may have to say this a few times, but it is better than having to mentally get everyone dressed and ready, every step of the way... It is making for much more relaxed and easy school mornings. Long may this last...

Now if only I could make a chart for myself - 5 minutes solitary reading for every shirt ironed or lunchbox filled? 

Grass Widowhood (no, not that kind of grass..)

Grass Widows are defined as wives whose husbands are temporarily away, on business.  Apparently in America it has come to mean a woman who is separated or divorced, but that's not the context for this blogpost. 

There is no total consensus on where the term originates, but the most likely way that it came into common use was through Anglo Indian slang. In the hot summer, wives were often sent away to the cooler stations, where the grass was greener, while their husbands remained stationed on the plains. There is a suggestion that the phrase came to infer a certain amount of bad behaviour that may have gone on while the wives were away, both back home and in the green grass of the hills. 

It's not a phrase you hear very often anymore, but definitely one I apply to myself in my own mind when Andrew goes away. He travels a fair amount, usually for less than a week, and most often to the States. But occasionally just for a couple of night to mainland Europe, and very infrequently, for longer than a week.

For many Irish families, this is a far more regular occurrence. Since the economy took a nosedive, many people have had to seek work outside of Ireland and often this means that Daddy works away all week and comes home at weekends.  This can be very hard and if you google 'husbands working away from home', your screen will fill up with posts from Mumsnet and similar forums, with people asking for support or expressing concern around this issue. And of course for Army Wives, this is a way of life, with the attendant fear and worry about the husbands' safety.

I know a few families where the Dad is away more than he is around and while it is not easy, families generally make the best of it, because they just have to.  I recently heard of a very sad situation, where the Dad moved to England for work, on the natural assumption that he would be back as often as possible. In actual fact, he chose this fairly spineless way to leave his wife and to simply not return. Try explaining that one to your kids...  But this is of course extreme and plenty of families do make Dads' absences work. 

I find there are some advantages to grass widowhood. People often seem sympathetic towards me when they know Andy has jetted off once more - but I would far rather have him enjoy the variety that travel brings than feel chained to his desk.  It definitely breaks down the monotony of the same faces and meetings every week and, for Andy at least,  travel is preferable to boredom. Mind you, it's not as glamorous as it sounds - generally, he gets to see the airport, a hotel and an office in any given city and very little else.  And jet lag is a real killer.  But before you get out the violins, there are of course great meals out, and some free time to explore new places also.  He had a great weekend in Washington DC a couple of years ago, for example. Jealous? Me?

As soon as he is on the N11 en route to the airport, my privileges kick in. One of my favourite is that I can park sprawled all over the driveway however I choose. No idea why, but I get a kick out of this! In addition, I become the sole proprietor of the remote control.  Or the mouse really, as I mostly watch Netflix these days. I try to pick a series that doesn't look like something he would be fussed about, like Grey's Anatomy, and watch that.  More often than not though, I find myself thinking 'ooooh, Andy would love this!' That's how I found Bones, which we both loved. And I started watching the IT Crowd last night, which I think he would like as well.  I will have to find something else tonight and save that for when he's back!

And of course, there is the bonus of presents!  Kudos to him, he is not bad at buying presents. Put it this way, I haven't run out of Clinique products since he started this job. He has even branched out into the area of clothes, especially in the States, where there is an outlet mall near one of his frequent sorties.  I was pretty impressed when he bought me jeans - how brave was that!

But all the Clinique and jeans in the world can't make up for the disadvantages of his absence. Generally, I find that I don't sleep as well.  There is a slightly hysterical irony to this, as I spent 10 years complaining about his snoring until he got that sorted out. And we frequently have duvet possession wars, or one of us reads for too long in bed while the other one is trying to sleep. But the bed seems awfully big when I am in it alone and I don't sleep as deeply.

Perhaps that's partly cause I am more alert to the safety of the boys and the house. I really hate being the one to lock the doors at night and turn off all the lights.  I never realised how much I value the security of Andy being the one to do that every night, until I started having to. In addition, I am now also supposed to remember to water the plants and the garden. And to wind the clocks. Never going to happen...  So Andy generally has to do emergency aftercare on the poor neglected plants and sort out the clocks once he returns.

And of course the biggest disadvantage is that the boys miss their Daddy. This has actually become harder as time has passed since he first started going away.  There used to be a big sense of excitement and we would consult the atlas and learn the names of new cities. Trips away were strongly associated with presents and the poor man would barely be out of the car before 2 boys launched themselves at him for a cursory hug, before asking for their gifts. 

But as they are getting older, they are making the very healthy transition from Mummy being the main focus, to Daddy being the hero. This means his absence carries more weight. For the first time ever last night, I had a boy come down to me in floods of tears long after I had put him to bed: 'I want Daddy!' He was very hard to console and I had to resort to kissing every single stuffed animal in his bed good night before he was sufficiently distracted and calmed down. 

For me, I measure his absence by the laundry basket.  If he is away for only a few days, he might only just have disappeared from the laundry cycle, but there are probably still a few clothes to fold and put away that are his. On a long trip, he vanishes from the laundry. Until of course he comes home and fills the entire basket in one go...

While he is away we get on fine, because we have to. It's easier during the school term, which kicks in tomorrow, and we are in our little routine and it's grand.  In fact, the trick is to realise how well we have coped, and therefore to recognise that we all need to readjust when he returns. Because we have to just get on with it, the Daddy shaped hole becomes less pronounced each time he goes away, or for each day that he is gone.  This is helpful while he is not here, but can make his return tricky. This is not a big issue - just one of those areas where we have to be aware and intentional in recalibrating ourselves to having four of us in the house once again.

He just left yesterday, and this will be a long-ish trip.  And he will be away for his birthday again, which is a shame. On the other hand, I was beginning to run low on Clinique...

Flat 7Up and a Duvet on the Couch

Remember that feeling of being sick as a child? I am not aware that I was a particularly sickly kid, but I have very strong memories of being unwell and being looked after, in particular by my Mum.  Even though these are memories of sickness, they are very happy memories as well, as I just remember being warm, snuggled and looked after with care and love. 

One of the best things was being allowed to go into my parents' bed for part of the day. No idea why, but this really felt like a big deal and was reserved for occasions of sickness. I remember feeling very important and special in what seemed like an enormous bed. The other really great thing was a duvet on the couch.  If you were lucky, a double duvet folded over, so you were lying both on and under it. Mmmmmm... the sense of comfort from that should be bottled! 

And I would extend that sense of comfort into the deeply uncomfortable arena of throwing up. It's horrible - the way it takes over your body and, just, yuck.  But when your Mum is rubbing your back and murmuring soothing phrases, you know you will be ok.  I had a French teacher who used to encourage us as we spoke French in exactly the same tone my Mum used when we were being sick.  I always felt a bit nauseous in his classroom...

Then there is the paraphernalia: medicines, dry crackers or biscuits and of course flat 7Up. Nobody ever recovered properly from anything without flat 7Up. And books that you had already read before so you didn't have to think too much. And tv: Anne of Green Gables or Mary Poppins (but not too loud for the singing).

I am of course not talking about hospital sickness here, which is a whole other scenario. But the childhood flus and bugs, which prevented you from going to school and presumably prevented your Mum from doing much of anything, although she was gracious enough not to let on. As a child, I almost revelled in the whole experience - you were allowed to ask for almost anything to eat, drink or watch and the chances of being told no were severely reduced. 

My husband has a very different experience of childhood sickness.  Not that my mum allowed me to be a hypochondriac, but his mum was just not having any of it.  Unless there were broken limbs or blood coming out of his ears, he was going to school...  Consequently, he is rubbish at being unwell himself.  Following surgery, I looked after him while he recuperated and he was totally uninitiated in the art of the couch duvet. There is a knack to the placement of the pillows, the proximity to the coffee table has to be judged carefully and there is of course the all important 'socks or no socks' debate.  All of this was foreign territory to him and I was happy to educate him...

Now it is my turn to be the Mum who looks after sick kids.  Today, my younger son has a nasty tummy bug. Although of course my heart breaks for him, a tiny part of me loves suddenly being needed so much again.  It goes so fast and we are so proud of every milestone.  But each of those means more independence and less direct interaction with me! But today, even though his little woebegone pale face was very tragic indeed, I was secretly delighted at all the extra cuddles I was getting. And, yes, I now get to hold the sick bucket and make the soothing noises.  It is strangely un-gross - it just goes with the territory and I don't mind it at all.

Of course this is all very well for me.  I don't work regular hours outside the home and am in charge of my own schedule. In the recent times I worked in office jobs, I was very fortunate that both kids were relatively healthy, apart from a dose of chicken pox. But today, all I had to worry about was getting the oldest guy a lift to and from football camp.  No drama, no stress really.

How different for working Mums.  And I say Mums here rather than parents.  I think there is a real urge within a very young child for Mummy when they are sick.  With the greatest respect to all Dads everywhere, Mummies are just better at sorting out the duvet on the couch. But when the same Mummy is due in 5 meetings that day, it's a different story. It's a monumental juggling act, loaded with guilt on all sides.  Whatever she does on a day her child is sick, she will be left feeling that she is letting someone down. 

A friend had a sick child just this week, on the day she was due to have an important job assessment talk with a manager. It was just so typical that this was the day there was a sick child in the house. Next thing, the manager sent a mail: his Mum had died and he was cancelling. My friend was delighted! And then horrified at her reaction!  And then just relieved and probably a bit guilty - there always has to be guilt...

My heart goes out to working Mums as they juggle so much to begin with - housework, laundry, shopping, cooking, childcare and the job itself. Adding a sick kid to the mix is just too much and can send the whole dynamic out of whack for the family. The pressure is enormous and sometimes simply having an understanding employer will make the difference.  That is, of course, not a given. Laws about time off for sick kids vary tremendously and it can be a minefield to have to negotiate your rights. As I understand it, in the States, some parents risk job loss or the docking of pay if they have to mind sick kids. Grandparents and aunties can help out, but only if they are around to begin with and even then only if the child is well enough to have anyone but Mummy.

This is perhaps one area where equality is a bit of a flawed concept.  It's great that woman can and do work of course, but kids need their Mummies when they are sick and perhaps employers should allow for this.  But then you can see where employers would avoid employing women of a certain age (where they are not already doing so), and the whole thing gets a bit murky. 

There is no obvious solution here - each family just muddles through and keeps their kids as healthy as possible. Having recently seen a family close to me go through two weeks of stress around this issue, I wish I could be a fairy godmother and swoop in to help with this kind of situation. Maybe that's what all families need! 

Meanwhile, I need to go and wake my poorly bunny and hope the sleep has done him well. Think it's time for Toy Story, watched from the vantage point of a duvet nest on the couch - prepared by an expert!  Now where did I leave that 7Up?