Ready for the Hills

It's been a bit of a week in our house. A wave of sickness has hit the boys, one after the other, so for me, it's been a blur of changing beds, constant laundry and frayed nerves. We've gone through industrial quantities of calpol and our trusty old grey puke basin has done the rounds and done us proud. In truth, The best thing about this week is that it's almost over.
Looking back, I haven't risen to every challenge as I should - on one particularly stressful afternoon, with a vomiting child upstairs and a clingy baby and a mountain of ironing downstairs, seven year old Cormac revealed that he had forgotten his homework folder, which meant a return trip to the school- the absolute last thing I felt I needed to be doing right then. But I loaded up the car (again), and off we went, amidst lots of scolding from me. Upon our return, I opened the homework folder only to find that his spelling book wasn't there AND that his homework was to make sentences from his spellings. It's a woeful understatement to say that I didn't receive this news with sensitivity or patience. Ten minutes later as I read a tearful Cormac's third sentence 'I will continue to try and be a good boy.' I hung my head in shame.......
Then yesterday, five year old Rory came in from school, and laughingly informed me that he had accidentally worn one of Jude's shoes to school. His teacher had quickly spotted it, hardly surprising given that it was four sizes too big and on the wrong foot, but his mother didn't . Yes, even as he walked backwards into school , blowing kisses and shouting 'I love you mummy', did I notice that my sweet boy had a boat for a shoe? Not a bit of it. If I'm honest, my own foot was probably nudging the accelerator, itching to get a jump start on MY plans for the day. Again, not my finest hour, I'm afraid.
Thankfully, children, and most especially boys, are very forgiving and although I may berate myself for my shortcomings, they don't. I'm certainly not going to win any Mother of the Year awards and but I've got sticking power and I ain't going anywhere. Honestly, I think that's half the battle- being a parent is a marathon, (make that an Ironman)- some days the pace is tougher than others, but whatever you do, you don't give up. So I'm drawing a line under this week and my less stellar moments- the puke basin is scrubbed and back in it's cupboard, it's Friday and things are looking up. Have a good one, Emmax