So long 2010....

For me 2010 was a bit of a rollercoaster. I spent the first half of the year trying to pick myself up from the crushing grief of losing my Dad, the second half of the year brought us the joy of a new baby. And there were lots in between those two life-changing events. Here are a few highlights.
January saw my two older boys pen a letter to Santa, detailing his questionable decision to leave them educational toys and books in the stead of Nintendos, Xboxes and bikes that they had requested.
The month also saw a three-week run-up of hard core stressing over Caolan’s birthday plans. On the day itself we endured 30 screaming kids, kitchens on fire, kamikaze-related bouncy castle injuries, permanently painted limbs and mental trauma caused by discovering doggy graves in neighbouring gardens.
In February we announced that we were building an army and that baby number four was on the way. We felt so blessed after the horrendous year living through my father’s illness and death.
I spent most of that particular month eating prawn crackers with sweet corn and my favourite, apple crumble with melted cheese on top. And also being violently ill. That was the month I developed an unhealthy and obsessive addiction to sniffing disinfectant wipes.
The latter part of the month was spent watching too much 24-hour news and fretting about bird and swine flu. The husband was stationed on the roof of the house (while we hid in a big hole) with a yard brush to scare, maim or kill any feverish feathered creatures or flying pigs that might happen to float by. After a time the husband gave me this advice.
1. Switch off the TV
2. Wise up, shut up
3. Make his tea
In March I was shocked to discover that my seven-year-old son had an actual girlfriend.
Like any Mum I was curious to know about the girl who had stolen my boy’s heart from me. I asked him the normal questions – if she had a criminal record, a good job, all her own teeth and plenty of money. I also told the boy to inform his new squeeze that should she break his heart his crazy mother will bring her down. D.O.W.N. No questions asked.
My fears were calmed somewhat by the end of the month after they ‘broke up’ due to an altercation over the superbness, or lack therefore of, of her Hello Kitty handbag.
We also spent nine hours in A&E after Dan had an asthma attack. With 22 pence, no cards, no mobile phones and no means of purchasing consumables we had a rip-roaring time. Highlights included the husband attempting to convince the hospital shopkeeper to sell him a packet of crisps at 1979 prices, contemplating ram raiding the car park barrier to get home and me asking nursing staff to prescribe sedatives for the male O’Neill members present.
The end of the month saw me face my greatest fear – people-carrier-aphobia – and purchase a vehicle fit for a family of six.
In April saw the middle boy take centre stage in a police drama after a lady up the street had her car window smashed and her handbag stolen. Caolan had been playing out in our driveway at the time of the incident and we asked him if he saw anyone.
"I saw a man," he said.
"What did he look like?" says I.
"He was big and wearing a hat," he replies.
"What kind of hat?" I ask, thinking that the boy could possibly hold the key to the entire investigation.
"It was a burglar's hat," he says. "You know, like a black hat with the word burglar written in big letters across the front of it."
In May I suffered from awful pregnancy insomnia, and addiction to Murder She Wrote and all my boys got chicken pox. Daniel’s 7th birthday celebrations were marred by prison-style riots, burnt pizza, mutant milkshakes gone wrong and apocalyptic rain.
June saw us prepare for the annual school sports day and I geared my boys up with a pep talk on the proud O’Neill history of winning everything.
“Recall the sacrifices of your ancestors as you muster the strength to beat your classmates at the egg and spoon race. Your forebears may have proudly wielded shiny swords of iron and you may this day wield shiny spoons borrowed from the canteen, but the aim is still the same – beat your enemies and bring home the glory in the name of all things O’Neill.”
July saw us playing the waiting game and the eventual arrival of our darling baby girl. Maolíosa Grace O’Neill was born on the 21st of the month bringing even more sunshine into our lives. August was lost in a beautiful new baby haze of feeding and not sleeping.
September saw the blessed end of the summer holidays and the start of the lurgy season. The first bout of sickness kicked in three days into the school term.
September saw the phasing in of the youngest boy’s terrible twos. The weeks passed in a blur of tantrums, some of which were quite inventive. During October the child regularly channelled the spirit of the late Ollie Reed in fabulous displays of foot-stomping, drunken bare-knuckled boxing, line-dancing strops. It’s a wonder we survived October at all.
November saw me being branded a bad mother by a 12-year-old dentist after Daniel had to get a tooth filled, ruin another perfectly good family car in an altercation with a trolley bay at a retail park and be made to feel totally stupido at a parent’s meeting focusing on times tables.
December was an up and down kind of month marred by snow and infuriating car troubles. I taught my boys to fashion proper flesh freezing, face stinging snowballs and
we were snowed in for well over a week. We requested, through these very pages, for you good people to send help. And chocolate.
We rounded the year off with a lovely family Christmas and a peaceful and relaxing New Year celebration.
Roll on 2011 and the next big adventure.