We’re back from our holidays, two funfilled weeks in the west of Ireland. We had a lovely family time and I’ve lots to share about it on the blog over the next week. (Hooray, writing material).
As soon as we got back yesterday evening the three kids went into our small back garden and ran around excitedly as if it were a theme park.
This morning we’re surrounded by unpacked bags and piles of laundry.
The kids slept without needing too much cajoling last night, back in their own beds (and cot) in familiar surroundings. Laoise woke at her regular 7am, Ciarán had a lie in till 7.30 and Cathal is still snoozing under his robots duvet.
We’ve had breakfast, the small girl sitting up in her own highchair, not trying to swing off the temporary one at the “holidays house”. The rows about the breakfast bowls are back, I didn’t even notice that they’d stopped when we were away, the choice of a cream bowl or nothing putting paid to that, but now at home they’re back with a vengeance.
Laoise is tottering around in her pyjamas re-exploring her own toys and playing with her new friend, a little wooly sheep which has a green ribbon and a shamrock on its tummy. She fell in love with him in a gift shop in Leenane and never having seen any toy provoke such a reaction in her we bought it. “Baa” as she appears to have christened him probably expected to end up being given as a gift across the Atlantic and placed carefully on a shelf, but instead this poor shamrocked sheep is currently being energetically placed in and out of a plastic pushalong car by his one year old mistress. He must be wondering what might have been.
As I sit at my kitchen table and drink my favourite tea (Lyons’ Gold Blend) from my favourite cup (blue with polka dots) and type this on my phone I’m thankful for the cupboard locks. In the “holidays house” we tied cupboards with string to keep “the lady’s things” safe from our curious toddler, and in truth from her two big brothers too.
Our holiday home was beautiful, with original artwork, delicate ornaments and lots of things at child reaching heights. We did an initial childproofing exercise, but were always conscious of any damage that the kids might do. (In fact, the only damage that was done was the breaking of one cream breakfast bowl by a parent).
It’s lovely to see the kids comfortably find their own imprints on the couch, or on the floor with their toys.
It’s undoubtedly easier to keep an eye on them at home, where the precious dangerous things are on “the up high” and they know the lie of the land.
We had a great holiday, but this morning, tea in hand I’m relishing the little comforts of home.