Mummy, will you play with me?

These words seem to have become the soundtrack of my life lately, usually followed by a plaintive ‘pleeeease’. And it’s slowly, but surely, driving me bonkers.

I try to make some time every day to play with JP and Lou Loo, but it’s usually brief, due to the amount of cooking, cleaning and general housework that needs to be done on any given day. But even that small taste of time with me seems to whet their appetite and generate more and more demands for me to play with them. JP constantly tries to drag me out to the garden to play football, while Lou Loo keeps bringing me dolls to cuddle and dress. I do my best to get friends around to play so that they’re distracted, but as soon as the friends have gone home, it all switches back on. It’s like they’re watching me, waiting for me to stop moving for 2 seconds, so that they can pounce.

I’m increasingly finding that on Monday mornings, I look back on the weekend with a vague sense of regret, wishing that I had spent more ‘quality time’ with JP and Lou Loo. I never seem to focus on all the good stuff that I’ve done, like making home-made meals from scratch, cleaning the bathrooms so that an army of germs don’t take hold, lovingly ironing pyjamas and boxer shorts (I know I’m mad) and generally trying to catch up on all of the stuff I can’t get to during the week when I’m working. No, all I focus on is the things I've missed. Is this the nature of being female? Always wishing we could do more to care for our children? Mr G looks after the outdoor stuff, something that has become a little unspoken agreement between us and it works most of the time. Funnily enough though, I rarely ever hear JP or Lou Loo hounding him to play with them. He can just get on with his jobs uninterrupted and doesn't feel the slightest bit bothered about it. So, what is it about me? I know it’s flattering that they enjoy playing with me and want to spend more time with me, but it just creates a huge sense of guilt for me to carry around all weekend.

When I look back on my childhood, I can’t remember a single occasion when my mother played with me. And it never mattered. I just entertained myself and I was very happy. To ask my mother to play with me would have been a ludicrous suggestion – it’s just not what mothers were for. Don’t get me wrong, she was a bottomless well of hugs, encouragement and tenderness when I needed it. But she didn’t have time to play. Mothers at that time were far too busy keeping the house in order, feeding us, washing our clothes and scrubbing floors to get involved in entertaining us. In other words, all the stuff I do today while also holding down a job. And now, on top of all that, I’m expected to play with my children – because, by cultural osmosis, I’ve absorbed the notion that that’s what they really need from me in order to be truly nourished as human beings. Aaargh. Is the pressure never-ending?

And yes, I know that the time spent with them is more important than a clean house. But I’m not even talking about getting all of the luxury stuff done like hoovering behind the couch - just the basics that keep the place ticking over. When I was young, I was cast out into the garden for the day to find things to amuse me and I didn’t dare go near my mother unless there was a problem. It didn’t do me any harm, so should I try being equally firm with my two? Even so, I find myself yielding to them after the twentieth plea and probably feeding the problem.

As with many aspects of motherhood, there doesn’t seem to be any right answer.

Maybe one will just reveal itself to me someday soon and I’ll find eternal peace and time to have a cup of tea un-pestered.

Rosie and Maisy have arrived...!

After a fruitless trip to the Poultry Fair at Myshall a couple of weeks ago, we finally got our hands on two birds to get our little flock started. They came from a reputable breeder in Laois and weren't on the list of breeds I had shortlisted, but they're winning me over more and more every day. Rosie is a black Minorca and is proving to be a fairly plucky little lady. She's always the first scrambling out of the hen house in the morning for breakfast and it's usually her little head you'll see peering out of the hedge first when there's any grub on offer. Yesterday, she tried to climb the steps to the slide but skittered off abruptly with her wings flapping 'like a helicopter' according to JP when she couldn't make it to the top step. Maisy, on the other hand, is a lot more reserved. She's a Cuckoo Maran, with round haunches, who waddles swiftly out of sight if we come anywhere near. The two of them have been gradually venturing out further into the garden every day and seem to be enjoying the range of worms and slugs on offer. A couple of our neighbour's hens have wandered into the garden now and again and have even been audacious enough to try to nick Rosie and Maisy's feed, but they're learning their lesson slowly but surely. JP will happily pick up one of them quite firmly and throw them out of the enclosure if he sees them at it. It's funny how he's becoming really interested in them.. he asked me to read the whole 'Keeping Chickens' book to him last weekend. I'm not sure if the attachment is really there yet though.. he keeps asking if we can kill Maisy and eat her as she looks so fat. Hmmm...

Over the last few days, I've noticed Rosie and Maisy becoming more and more chilled out.. often nestling down together in a quiet spot and watching the world go by. They never leave each other's side and it's quite endearing to watch. On the subject of eggs, in case you're wondering, there aren't any. The two of them should start laying soon, although the breeder reckons he's missing a daily egg since he sold them to us. I still haven't seen any though, but hopefully they won't be too far off.

In the meantime, we're just enjoying getting to know them. We should have some more to add to the flock in about 2-3 months. A friend of ours bought a box of chicks on an impulse two weeks ago and is raising them at the moment under lamps in his garage.. two have been ear-marked for us and he might be getting some more soon. Can't wait! I'm beginning to understand why people find this poultry business so addictive...

Whose social life is it anyway?

I'm beginning to realise that JP (6) is turning into a paradox all by himself. He is - not unlike his dad - a sociable loner.

Since he started school last year, we've noticed a few things..

A. He has lots of friends. This is borne out by the jostling that happens when they all emerge from school at the end of the day and he's happily in the middle of it all.
B. When we're out at family outings, lots of children want to play with him, dragging him off to chase them or be thrown into prison. It never seems to matter which.
C. He gets invited to so many birthday parties that I have trouble keeping track.

In other words, he's relatively popular and seems nonchalantly comfortable with it all.

However, paradoxically, he loves his own company and is entirely happy to be alone, in peace and playing quietly with his stuff at home. He has zero interest in taking up any sport / activities that would drag him away from home and would quite happily stay put 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, if it wasn't for the inconvenient business of going to school. As a result, weekends in our house often end up like this..

Me: What would you like to do today?
JP : Em.. play with my Lego.
Me: Would you like to go to football?
JP : No
Me : What about a swimming lesson?
JP : No
Me : Will we go to the park and explore?
JP : No. I just want to stay at home and relax.
Me : Ah go on. You'll like it. Let's go.
JP collapses into tears and starts kicking things.

The strange thing is that, instead of being thrilled, I really struggle with the fact that he's so happy at home. I keep hearing about all of the activities that other children do and feel that maybe he's missing out, that maybe in a couple of years he'll be behind his friends in terms of sporting or social skills. I always promised myself that I wouldn't succumb to the pressure exerted by the perceived norm in relation to what children should be doing and when. That I would allow JP and Lou Loo the chance to relax and just be children. But it's still nagging away at me in the background and I guess I'm beginning to realise that it's my own hangups about fitting in that are having a bearing on how I'm feeling, rather than any real reason for concern about JP.

Mr G keeps repeating 'he's only six', 'he's only six', to reassure me. My sister, who has 4 busy almost-teenage children, tells me to enjoy the time with JP at home, as soon he'll be out and about all of the time and I'll be sick to the back teeth of chauffeuring him around.

I know they're right, but I still can't help worrying.. then again, I guess that's my job for life. Whether I like it or not.

New mantra for the day - 'let my children be themselves', 'let my children be themselves', 'let five builders free themselves'.. yawn. Time for bed I think..

Mr G’s Best Fluffy White Rolls

Mr G has always loved bread and has, over recent months, been learning how to bake his own. Below is the recipe he has found to produce the lightest, floury rolls yet. I made a big batch on Sunday to feed the workers (and children) at lunchtime and they went down really well with bacon (rashers) and sausages.

Ingredients

1lb strong white flour
1 tablesp sugar
1 tablesp salt
1 oz lard
1 sachet of dried yeast
¼ pint milk
¼ pint water

Recipe

Warm the milk in a pan until it is just hot enough to touch with your finger. Empty the sachet of dried yeast into the milk, stir and leave for 10 minutes or until it froths on the surface.

Mix together in a large bowl the flour, sugar and salt. Rub in the lard until it is fully blended with the flour mixture.

Warm the water a little, make a well in the flour and pour the water into it. Add the milk & yeast when ready and mix all of the ingredients together loosely with your hands. Turn the mixture out onto a board and knead for 10 minutes. Put back into the bowl and leave (we put a clean tea towel over the bowl) in a warm place for an hour to rise.

When the dough has risen, remove from the bowl and roll into small balls (about a third smaller than you would want the rolls to be, as they will rise further). Cover each roll with flour by putting the flour in your hand and rolling the ball of dough in it. Place all of the rolls on a baking tray (or two) and cover with the tea towel again. Leave for another 45 minutes or so.

Heat the oven to 200C. If you want to dust the rolls with poppy seeds, brush the top with a little water and sprinkle the seeds on them. Place the trays in the oven for 12 – 15 minutes. The rolls are done when they have turned a light, golden colour and sound hollow when you turn them over and tap them.

It may sound like a lot of effort, but the work involved actually only takes about 20 minutes... the rest of the time is taken up by the rising of the dough and you’re free to do other stuff during that time! In order to make these, we need to be home for the morning and start the process by about 9am / 9:30. The result is well worth the effort though, as the rolls are delicious and light and are always gobbled up by any children who are around!

If you're not too familiar with kneading, the link below gives a fairly good idea of how to do it.

http://breadbaking.about.com/od/beginnerbasics/ht/kneadhowto.htm