Time trickles away...

Sometimes the words just don't come. They ramble around for hours, days, weeks and even months (eeek) before the urge to purge is so great I have to abandon all other very pressing matters and sit down and just WRITE. That, or the fact that it is fast approaching Sunday evening, the whole weekend is gone and there is a growing mountain of unorganized (but clean and dry) laundry making itself known by its sheer size and volume.

I always feel like looking at current or past photos of either food or family will help encourage the flapping of jaws but this time instead of the photos encouraging me to write or share, they just made me cry. The first photo with the kids at the cool old knobby tree was taken by my Mum (Catherine) on her shwanky new iPhone. I hate that she advanced to the 'technologically' kitted out MORE than me. BUT I love that she captured the sugar-high she gave them last week at Barna Woods. You can feel their  happiness looking at this photo.

Sigh..........

This is where the tears start. What on earth has happened to my baby girl. Was it not yesterday she was just a little 5lb bag of sugar in my hand, snuzzling in between the Chef and I and sleeping her days away in the bassinet under the bar at Rondo's? Now, Ms. Rory-Belle is almost 8 years old. She is turning into the cutest little lady. She is funny, book smart, spiritual and wants to be a Vet. And, I might as well mention that she is pretty darn gorgeous to boot.

Sam, Sam Sam............

Wow. I had to pull some old photos from when the girls came to stay with us last May (2010) and was just shocked at the compare and contrast. I have not uploaded the photos I took from their first day with us, because even for me to look at today it was a little daunting. Sam, we were told, would 'never progress academically'. She ended this past week getting all her Irish and English spellings tests 100% right and her Maths test 100% right. Her feet have not touched the ground since Friday. Needless to say, her confidence is improving and I am a firm believer that beauty comes from within. I am fearful for the teen-years when the above two get going and we will have a whole world of other problems to deal with. 

Jack the (only) Lad...

My little man will turn 6 years old in just a few weeks. I am filled with this horrible heartache when I think back to that first year with him. Oh, how he screamed and cried. He could not be held or put down. He could not eat, or go hungry. All he wanted was his Mama and his Mama almost lost her marbles trying to be everything he needed. Thankfully, the Chef, my Mum (some pretty hefty phone bills that year I reckon) and our amazing babysitter (Erica - who we still miss sooooo much) dragged me through that year and we all survived.

And our youngest little one - the Lovely Lulu.

But by no means the Baby of the bunch. Lulu is the meek and mild child. She has had the roughest time and transitioning to a new home has been harder for her than for Sam. To see an earlier photo of Lulu taken last summer -- click here -- there is a lot of sadness in her little face. I think that Lulu could be the poster child for 'Feed 'em, Love 'em, Watch 'em Grow'. She knocks my socks of almost daily now with her stages of development. She is finally (aaaahhhhh finally) making some progress. She just got 'Gaelgoir na Seachtana' which is an 'in-class' award for the most Irish spoken in class. We have never seen a prouder little kid. What a little star.

The Chef's birthday was last week and one of our favourite little Sushi restaurants decided to celebrate the owners heritage and have a 3-day Korean festival. OH.MY.GAWD. The food was as authentic as it gets and we had a hard time, well, going home. We had to though because it was a school night and we had already kind of celebrated his birthday the weekend before with all our friends..........but we are hearing rumours that they might do a Korean menu once a month so for those that are local to my neck of the woods - stay tuned and next time we will have a bit of a hoolie!

Ok, so to sum it all up and not stray off topic, all is going well in the Wise family household. I am slightly buried under assignments but have only a few more months of school to get through before I am off for a nice long summer break. 

Due to another visit from Mr. Fox, the Chef and I are looking at building a new fence so our hens and ducks can roam free-range safely whilst we are at work and school. One of our friends, who is as nutty as we are, recommended we look into getting a Goat fence because if you can keep a Goat in, then there is no chance of a fox being able to get in to kill our feathery friends. 

So, when it is all said and done, if one builds a goat fence to protect ones flock, then would it not makes sense to have a few goats?

Please tell me you honestly do not want one. Stay tuned folks. After exams, I have a feeling that there will be some goats milk on the table!

And finally (the crowd goes wild with relief) to add to all my sadness about the kids are not being babies anymore and I am getting old and crabby, my (MUCH OLDER) sister sent me this video from when I was a child and Rory was a baby. (I cannot believe the Chef got away with marrying me when I was like only twelve).

Life is good folks. Tune out the election and turn of those damn TV sets. Play with your kids, get out and go for a bike ride or a walk. OR, get out there and help a child in need. You can do so much more than you 'think' you can.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today,

WiseMóna

I'm so lonely I could cry

Oh woe is me. I am only three days into the second semester and I want to run home crying. And stay there. I cannot say I have felt this way about 'being in college' since making the decision two years ago to get myself an education. So, maybe this was bound to happen sooner or later, I don't know.

This is a week of change for all students. Most classes are in different locations, at different times and with different teachers. No worries here. We are in college to learn for gawds sake - change is good, right?

Well, maybe it is, but here I find myself racing around the campus trying to find all these classes and feeling like a...well, feeling like a first year. I have umpteen 'class clashes' and now every department head knows full well who this 'WiseMóna' is because I have had to go cap-in-hand asking for special permissions to get into a new times slot or out of an existing one. 

To add to my level of insanity and to explain the title of this blog post, ALL my friends are off doing other subjects and other modules, so I have to sit in class with no-one to talk to. 

SAD.com, I know. But, in saying that, I am making no effort to recruit new friends either. I do not have time to nurture and grow a new gang of friends, especially since I cannot find time to maintain the relationships with the ones I already have! 

So, with all this doom and gloom (and I should mention it is bucketing down rain outside too) how can we find the silver lining on the cloud? Well, I have a little silver lining stashed away and it is all I need to motivate myself to keep plodding along and get through the next twelve weeks before I have my lovely long (four months worth) of summer holidays.

Silver Lining Project = 3rd year of College

Shocker, I know. Here I am complaining about being back in college but cannot WAIT to get started on 3rd year. Why, I hear you ask?

This creative writing degree course I am enrolled in is fairly new and fabulous. The classes are teeny tiny with only 15 students so we develop a great peer group to work within. Each of us have the option (September 2011) to 'Live the life of a Writer' and swan off into the sunset and write our novel.......editor provided and paid for by the university. It is a pass or fail class. 

You pass if you write your book, work professionally and proficiently within all the guidelines and deadlines your editor gives you and finish the book. 

You fail if you do not. 

NO PRESSURE HERE!

Of course, if you are just not ready to swan off into the sunset and write your novel, then you can enrole in a few film production and screen play writing classes right here on campus at NUIG and who would not want to take advantage of that?

Right before Christmas, if you were serious about the swanning off to write your book part, then you had to turf up a good 3,000 - 5,000 words of your book showing the outline and concept of said book in order to convince your teacher you 'had what it took' to go it ALONE for 3rd year. 

So there you have it guys n' dolls. I am going it alone. I have a decent chunk of the book already written and am bursting at the seams to get stuck in and just WRITE. OK, that might have been a slight exaggeration considering all I really have are a bunch of really cool food n' farm pictures and some recipes thrown together in a very cool PINK folder. 

I do not care. 

I AM VERY EXCITED. 

I am also terrified. 

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today,

WiseMóna

Rosy in the garden

Eh - not really actually. 

You know, writing or blogging can be something that consumes me on a daily basis. Even if I am not sitting at the computer staring at a blank screen the words are rolling around somewhere. 

They might be in my head, they might be on the creases of a pillow case as I iron, they might be stuck behind the lower part of a chid's ear where you have to check because they seem to think it is not necessary to clean that body part. 

The words are always there and it is just a matter of time before I can reel them in, organise them a little and allow them to tell the story. Sometimes, I get in a flither about something (mad at the chef or the kids or ANYONE) and I want to get on the laptop and rant my heart out on the page, but I am 'thinking' horrible thoughts and words so I have to step away from the keyboard and take a walk. Get it out of my system; Sleep on it - even. 

I have been on holidays from college for one week. During that week I have accomplished absolutely nothing (or so I have been told) and seem to have 'running around like a chicken with my head cut off' 

down to a fine art. 

I have came and went. I have fed and cleaned up. I have dropped off and picked up. I have laughed and I have cried. I have fed animals, bathed animals, taken lovely photos of animals, walked my (chunky) little neglected dog, cooked and catered for my very very neglected husband, played with my kids every day (as opposed to chasing after them and discipling them for something) and yet - nothing has been accomplished.

No Christmas cards have been posted (hell not even printed), the laundry pile has reached is maximum peak allowed and the grumbling from my (almost always) tolerant chef has started. 'What have you been doing all day?' 'Do you know how much I can accomplish in six hours at work each day?' 'What are you going to get done today?' These are the questions he hurdles at me whilst complaining over the nice breakfast-in-bed he was eating this morning. 

God, why did I spoil him so? Well, we all know why - he rocks. He is a calm person. And I am not. As a matter of fact, I am the complete opposite of calm. I wake up early every morning (6am - my whole life) and I like to have an hour of reading and coffee drinking before the rest of the house wakes up. Hence the breakfast toting for the chef. 

He is letting me go back to college and fart around for an undetermined amount of years in order to follow my dream of someday becoming a writer and I suppose someday getting a job so he can retire. That is why I honest-to-God feel guilty when he starts nagging me. I feel like I should at least try to straighten up around here. I feel all these things. I am just lacking the serious motivation needed to accomplish the tasks at hand.

Once he goes to work, I start corralling at the kids to get organized, dressed and ready for school. And by corralling the kids I mean 'me screaming and shouting' and them racing around the house like chickens with their heads cut off looking for a shoe or pencil case that is most likely right where it should be - because I am organized, well sort of.

So I see the vicious circle. I see that if I remain quiet and calm then maybe they will too? Maybe if I duct tape my mouth closed and cannot yell and scream at them to get ready, then they will just line up like little ducks in perfect (neatly-dressed-faces-clean) order and they will be all lunches-packed and buckled-in by the time I turn the key in the ignition to take them to school.

Then, when I return home, because I have remained so 'calm' I will just swan in zen-like and tackle all the housework and have it done in FOUR hours before the chef gets home and I have to go pick up the wee ones from school.

And now, while I was waiting for that image above (about enjoying the silence) to upload, I clicked on my Google-homepage to read my daily horoscope:

My Horoscope AstroSync

Pisces By Rick Levine Although you are quite competent in how you analyze a project by separating it into manageable components, it's not necessary to make a big deal of what you are doing today. Fulfilling your commitments is important, but don't waste energy telling everyone how you developed your strategy. It's not important for others to know your inner process now; just focus on getting the job done.

Resistance is futile. I cannot help myself. EVEN my horoscope is telling me to 'get the housework done' and quit avoiding it....I bet Ron had something to do with this. That fucker.

Alright lads and lassies, Christmas is all but here. Is everyone else out there all ready with a clean house and every stitch of clothing in their house all washed, dried, ironed, folded and put away?

If you are, then please please please do not by any means comment on that fact. My husband may use it as evidence against me in my next 'excuse' battle.

A bah humbug kind of day, methinks.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today folks.............freezing but really pretty outside so going out to take some more photos of the birdies!

WiseMóna

There are many ways to skin a cat

Can you just imagine the mother that named her child Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde. I mean imagine shouting that from the top of the stairs when you are trying to get your child to pick up his dirty socks? Well, the lovely Mr. Wilde has been in bed with me for a few weeks now and I have to say I am glad to let him go this afternoon, as I wrap up a couple of huge assignments and send them on their merry way to the eager grading hands that await them.

This is what I have been staring at for the last few days. Blank pages of nothingness. Having to sit down and write two academic essays back to back, both due on the same day at the same time - well it is just madness.
The level of reading and interpreting and then writing and re-writing that has to occur before you get anywhere near what you actually (and finally) submit, are worlds apart. AND I did not even mention all the time that has to be spent complaining, procrastinating and fecking around on Facebook.
My English Literature classes this year revolve around 'Literature and The Renaissance' and 'Critical Theory and Practice'. Kill - Me - Now. Yes, I chose these classes. I picked the best of a very archaic lot. 


So where does all my Creative Writing get squeezed in to this year? Well, it is a struggle. We have just completed our first 'Poetry' session for Semester 1 and are hurtling right into the second half with a new Irish-Canadian poet named Celeste Augé. I am excited and a little terrified about the end result of a poetry semester. Don't get me wrong, I love to linger on the lines a little longer than most people, but know that making a living as a poet in Ireland is just not practical - therefore, I doodle, and I draw and I do not 'work like my life depends on it'. 

I have hit the mid-semester slump. It has just dawned on me that I have only 6 weeks of class left before the dreaded Christmas exams. Then only 12 weeks of class after Christmas. The academic year is slipping out of my hands and I still feel like I have just started back to college this week. I cannot get my groove on. I cannot buckle down and get stuck in. I am obsessed with the pile of laundry that gets bigger and bigger each week. Not so obsessed with 'doing the laundry' mind, just obsessed. I am frustrated that the kids still have not gotten themselves organized enough in the mornings to just get up, get dressed, eat breakfast and go to school without spilling something all over them selves, losing a shoe, or forgetting a lunchbox. 

I am overwhelmed at what it is to be a thirtysomething-mother-of-four going to college full time doing something that I love to do. Overwhelmed is a feeling I seem to be able to live with. 

I have learned to say:

when I know that I have too much on my plate. I have learned to NOT answer my phone when I am in the middle of doing my homework. I have learned to close FACEBOOK and not check into it five thousand times when I have deadlines looming. OK, maybe I do not actually shut FaceBook down completely - I mean, the rest of the world might not fully survive without my checking in for God's sake. Anyway, I am setting up these walls and boundaries all around me because something big is happening. Something great. Something rewarding. Something that is going to be an enormous challenge, an incredible experience, and someday, something really pretty to look at. 

Going back to school Going to University for the first time as as an adult is a very rewarding experience. I feel (on an almost daily basis) that the world is filled with possibilities and all we have to do is work hard to get what we want out of life. For those of you that are already "following" my blog, THANK YOU, I am humbled. For those of you that are silently stalking - stay tuned, and for those of you that just pop in occasionally and leave me random comments and funny messages - keep 'em coming! 

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today,

WiseMóna

Letting go of Bunny-Love n' summer

My lovely white duck Grace delivers me 

a beautiful blue duck egg every morning.

Well, it is finally here. I have come to the end of a four month long hiatus from University life and 'Móna-Mom and Móna-Wife' have officially left the homestead and 'Móna-Student' (aka mean raving bitch) has returned to roost in the Wise Homestead for the next eight months.

Try as I might I just could not get all four kids 'clothed and booked' for back-to-school blissfully. I had to get all worked up in a dither, run around at the last minute looking for books they will not use until November and buy a few extra shirts and ties for their uniforms just in-case they lost one. I am a martyr. I needed to put myself through all of this and make it seem like I was dying from stress so my Mother (hi Mum) and hubby (ha ha - like he will ever read something on the internet) would feel a little empathy towards me before I leave them to care for my children for what seems like an eternity.

I know I am not LEAVING per-se, but on September 6th when I return to the books I do step away from being the primary caregiver of everyone here at the homestead. The Chef has already stressed the *dislike* button a few times over the last few weeks because, quite frankly, he likes having a wife at home doing all the wifey jobs. And whilst we are all being frank, I LIKE being the wifey at home doing all the jobs.

He also knows that I live and die for my college classes.  I am entering into second year of a four year degree course, with hopes to continue and get my Masters in Writing write after that, so it might seem a little endless this schedule of mine. 

He is ready, with the helping hands and heart of my Mum, to take on the kids. He is waiting in the wings as we speak to get stuck in with drop off's and pick ups and school bags and lunch boxes and most importantly (for me anyway) dinner and grocery shopping. I have done most of the cooking for the summer and although I do not hate cooking at all, I will be glad that I do not have to do anything but the dishes for the next several months. 

On a sadder note (and I am trying to not let this get the better of me) we lost our little Bunny Bob last night. When I say 'lost' I do not mean he went missing, I mean he is dead.

He is a bit of an escape artist and being a dwarf bunny with seemingly very few bones he was able to dig and squeeze through unbelievably small openings. He also chewed like a trooper to get through whatever he wanted. After reinforcing (and reinforcing) his little home area several times over the last few months we lost the battle last night. When I awoke this morning I found his cold little body out back near the polytunnel. He was unmarked, so no foul play is suspected.

Of course breaking news like this to veterinarian-girl-in-waiting was not easy as she is rather attached to all our animals, and I hated that this was the news I had to give her a few days before school. However, she handled it as well as can be expected. Remains will be buried along side his brother Leo (who passed away the day we brought him home) later today. Donations of hugs can be delivered to Rory-Belle if you can figure out a way to do that via the internet.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this morning as we brace ourselves for the back-to-school mayhem that awaits us on Monday!

WiseMóna

Let's talk about sex

I know, I know. It is another SAD.com WiseFarmYard story. But it is about SEX or at least the sexual habits of my fowl. See, Bart, our rowdy Rooster (above) is going through a bad spell right now. Just over six weeks ago we introduced Broody Betty the Bantam Hen to the flock. She sat for 38 days in a row on the eggs and produced a full and healthy flock. Now that she is done being broody she has decided that she wants nothing to do with our feathered frolicker. 

You may not think this is a big deal, but for Bart, this is a very BIG deal. Although a very dedicated Mother and 'hatcher' Betty lured him into a false sense of reality and now that the kids are here, she has made a few changes to her daily routine and let's just say it is not really going down all that well.

Betty, a full time broody hen sat on her eggs all day. Each evening around supper time, she would get off the eggs for a few minutes. Staying very close to her nest she would literally eat, shit and have a quick shag. End of story. For 38 days in a row Bart was getting some serious action, and that made him a happy guy.

Then all things headed south with the arrival of the first wee downy duckling. Broody Betty was reluctant to get out of the nest at all, due to the fact that there were still two more eggs ready to pop. Bart strutted around ALOT and even beat up Henry the Drake over a paternity squabble (which has thankfully worked itself out) and although I did not watch his every move, I kept the new arrival and Betty under lock and key because I felt uneasy about his mood swings.

Bart went back to dealing with his other feathered females and seemed happy enough. We figured he would just leave Betty alone and let her get on with her very important job of mothering.

The twins hatched almost three weeks ago, without incident. Broody Betty finally could leave the nest and start teaching her little ones how to forage and fly. (Trust me - this is a whole other story by itself).

Bart resumed his position of Rooster-at-large and has done everything in his power to get a leg up on Betty since all the babies are hatched now (I mean what else has she for doing??).

Saying he is quite disgruntled is an understatement. I'll admit that Betty lured him into a false sense of reality and I think that 'start as we mean to go on' is a statement she should have considered before she settled him into a daily routine.  

However, I am a Mum too. I can feel her pain right now. She has just had triplets for God's sake and the last thing she (probably) wants or needs is a sweaty male trying to rape hump her daily. 

Her job (as a very young first-time Mum) is to put the needs of her children first. We all know that the needs of a horny husband has to take a back seat. Bart has to just DEAL WITH IT.

But what does she do if she begins to notice that he has a roving eye. What if those other (childless) hens are start to look a heck of a lot more attractive to him. They have less baggage AND they have time for him. They hang around all day, waiting for him to seek them out for a quick 'Wham-Bam, Thank-You-M'aam. He gets what he wants, When he wants it, and goes back to being the 'Cock of the Walk. 

Broody Betty is surviving. She has settled into the role of motherhood like a pro and has not given Bart a second glance. She does not need him, and she no longer feels that she has to honour his wishes or give in to his bullying demands for sex. Over all she is doing just fine. 

She has made it evident that the welfare of the babies is all that matters right now. She knows that it is impossible to do it all and has decided to place their needs before that of her partner and herself.

When you make your bed, you have to lie in it.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this evening as I sit fireside (in JULY!) with my hubby,

(Names have been changed to protect the innocent)

WiseMóna

Baptism and FIRE

In the beginning God made Man. Let’s call him Adam. God then he decided that without a Woman to order him around to carefully guide him with his life choices - man would seem insignificant in this world. So God created Eve – otherwise known as the first Mother/Wife figure that we supposedly all stem from.

Loose biblical ramblings, I know. But what better way to start my collection of words than with a bit of memory jogging for all my friends out there as I launch into my own little story.

I am lost for words. Well, no. Not exactly. We have just had a momentous event occur in our little family and it was such a big deal that I am still trying to reel in all the feelings and emotions I have laying scattered all over my head and heart in the hopes that I can convey exactly how it went down and how much family, love, fun and friendship swaddled our home for this special day.

So back to the Bible. It is all about the Mother. I love my mother. She has been telling me what to do with my life loving me for more than (cough cough) 30 years now and may have finally forgiven me for causing that 3 day breech birth experience I gave her.

She likes to tell me what to do loves me, and now that she has taken on the role of educational liaison for our children so I can sit around all day at NUIG drinking yummy Chai Latte’s with my galpals follow my dream of going to college, I am constantly feeling like I ‘owe’ her. I mean, how can you repay someone for raising your children?

She started a few months ago with the nagging nudging. Small hints, a few prayer books laying around and some ‘learned by heart’ bedtime prayers.  Several trips with the kids to visit ‘Mary’ at the grotto during the month of May might have been a deal breaker for some kids, but instead they looked forward to the whole social aspect of it from the attention (and sweets) all Granny’s church friends gave them. The only thing wrong with this picture is that they were little heathen grandkids.

Would I not consider having them baptized?

Being married to a man that was never baptized and living a fine existence despite that, gave me no reason to worry about how the kids would fair out. I am not a big church goer myself so standing up infront of the church and making a promise to God and the congregation that I would raise them in the Catholic Church etc. well, that would just be hypocritical. I am not a catho-fake.

Talks were had, tears were shed, and voices were raised. Without my husband standing firmly by my side, I was not ‘into-it’ and as he and I have stuck together through everything else we have done in our life together, I felt no urge to ‘go it alone’. Leaving my Mum’s house heavy hearted, I hated that I could not ‘give her what she wanted’.

A 3 second phone call from Granny later that day changed the kid’s lives forever. ‘Well, what if I were to sponsor them and make the promise to God on behalf of you and Ron?’ (Says Mum to me).  ‘Eh, I dunno, let me phone the Chef and ask him how he feels about that’ (say I to my Mother). ‘Honey, Catherine can do whatever she wants with the kids’. (Says the man that I love).

Exorcisms were preformed, heads were blessed and even the heathen Chef answered all the questions correctly as we celebrated the children’s baptism. On a side note to any Mum out there, baptizing older children is a waaaaay cool experience for the children. They very much understood what was going on and methinks that the other sacraments they receive later in life (if they so choose) will be very spiritual for them.

The story could actually be written at book length. I trawled through all the photos from the family fun this past weekend and have decided that it is the photos that will tell the story.  No WiseWords needed to describe the flavours of the fabulous food or the loving laughter that lingers in the house this morning as I try to throw these words on a page for your reading pleasure.

Friends became family and family became friends. The Godparents we have chosen are as important to us and our family, well, as family itself.

For the family members (CA and Sylvia) that could not be there, we miss you terribly and hope that you can come to see us very soon.

Those are all the WiseWords I have for today,

WiseMóna

P.S.  - To the Godparents of our Children. Ron and I (and Granny) love you from the bottom of our hearts.
Thank you, for all the help and love. Now, and forever.

It is a dreary wet day here in Galway. The kids have settled into summer holidays nicely and for the most part there are no broken bones or black eyes (yet). Things have shifted again in the household as the routine (or lack of) is hard enough to adjust to for the new kids. The littlest one has been used to getting all the attention whilst the others are at school all day and the realisation has just hit her that she is no longer a 'lonely only' at home all day with all the toys to herself and now she has to learn how to play well with others and - dare I mention it - SHARE. 

Aside from begging and pleading their ever accommodating Dad for a pony, my trusty two are great ambassadors for teaching the importance of playing nicely together. Overheard in the back garden yesterday from Jack: 'if no one gets into the 'time-out' chair today maybe Mommy will give us some chocolate cake as a treat'. OKAY - so sometimes I cave in to their goodness and give them some crap. 

These days I have been asking (and expecting) a lot of my kids so maybe I am overcompensating my guilt and giving them a little extra sugar love. Shoot me now. The thing is, even though I feel the guilt over asking them to share their stuff (and Mom/Dad) with the newbies, they are quite happy to do so. 

I am overwhelmed at how much they are teaching me. I thought I had a good handle on this 'Mom' business, but as it turns out, I know nothing, and they - well, they know it all. It is easy to sit back and assume that taking on a few extra kids might not be too difficult. I mean aside from a load of extra laundry and plates at the dinner table, how hard could it be?

Pretty darn hard if you want the truth. Especially since we are talking about kids that have come from a traumatic or disadvantaged background. A house full of rules and regulations and contented kiddies goes out the window and a summer full of teaching and learning comes in. Things I never noticed before have started to become glaringly obvious annoyances. 

Take for instance table manners. I never had to teach Rory and Jack 'how' to use a knife and fork. At least, I do not remember having to 'teach' them. They just 'learned by doing' I guess? They do not speak whilst chewing their food and for the most part will wipe their face on their sleeve napkin. 

Next on the list of things that I have little tolerance for is whining or crying to 'get ones way or a toy'. Again, I cannot remember ever having to listen to mine whining or crying quite simply because I would not 'listen' to it. 

I can see (and hear) all to well how the little kiddies we are fostering right now have come from a totally different life. I can decipher the way their parents spoke to them, or about them, just by listening to the way they speak to us, or each other. Up until today I was waaay to busy catering to everyones needs and getting annoyed with their (absentee) parents for the lack of love and parenting  these kids have received to date, to even think about how they might feel being thrust into a house and home like ours. And before you go all 'lucky kids, of course they like it at your house and shur why wouldn't they, what with all the nice food, and fun with the animals etc' let's just think about it for a minute - from their point of view.

Home-life for them may not have been ideal hence them being removed by the powers at be and placed in our care. However, daily life probably did not suck either. It is apparent that these little lassies had a heck of a lot of freedom. So much freedom (like to go to the shops to buys sweets daily) that not having any freedom is downright impossible for them to comprehend. "Why does yer Mam not let ye go to the shops evah? If ya had 2 euros you could buy a can a coke and some bars of chocolate'. Grumblings and rumblings at pillow talk-time from the 'WiseTwins' give me reason to explain the 'price of freedom' to my little ones in as delicate a fashion as possible.

And going back to the food thing. Yes, I think it is great that we have a lovely food-culture lifestyle and love that we can offer yummy food options all day and all night, but when you are a 'Chicken-Nugget/French Fry' generation kid, then all you want to eat is, well, Chicken Nuggets. "My Mam leh me eat chicken nuggets every day, and we neveh eveh eated vegetahbelles er fish er sallid". Expecting more rumblings at pillow talk-time I almost fell of the chair when Rory (my eldest) piped up 'yeah, well did ye even have a poly-tunnel or garden to grow your own vegetables? Or did you ever go fishing with your Dad to catch and eat your own fish?'....ZaaZaaZiiing! 

Kids are so mean sometime. 

I am doing my best to take the high road and give them as much time, love and patience as I can to make up for lost time.  We hope to see their innocence return and a lot of laughter return to their faces before the summer has come to a close.

Although a rainy day today, they spent a lot of their time 'weeding' the garden for Ron. I am not sure if he appreciated the sentiment (based on the huffing and puffing he was doing as he re-planted some non-weeds) but the newbies now know the difference between 'Daddy's Basil' for the pasta sauces and 'Mommys Mint' for Móna's Mojitos!  

With a friend of the family getting married this weekend and another big surprise event happening on Sunday, the house will soon be overrun with even more children. My eldest sister Tracy and her hubby Tom with their brood of four, and my brother Shane, his lovely wife and their two kiddies will all descend upon us later this week. 

Come on over, the bar is open!

Those are all the WiseWords I have for this rather damp evening, as we sit fireside watching the World Cup semi-final (Netherlands v's Uruguay).

WiseMóna