DaisyWilson's Blog

My youngest attends a Montessori which shares a building with the local primary school. And on the day in which the United States of America inaugurated their 45th President, I overheard a small scrum of tiny boys, no more than six- or seven-years-old, holding a heated debate on Trump. They argued about whether he'd started work yet and one berated the others for not watching the news enough...
Last updated: 02/02/2017 by DaisyWilson
Christmas is here and I have all the symptoms: glazed eyes, tight chest, stress dreams, a house full of Sellotape and unwrapped presents hidden under the spare blankets in the hot press. My house is like a Christmas elf half-way house, stuffed with tubes of wrapping paper, cinnamon sticks and unfinished lists. My bank card is worn thin and my credit card is about to be brought out. If I could bear...
Last updated: 21/12/2016 by DaisyWilson
It's been fun recently, to watch Channel Four's program The Secret Life of Four Year Olds . The kids were sweet, naughty, vulnerable and hilarious, and the child psychologists that explained typical four-year-old behaviours had me intrigued. But LIVING with a child of this age is different from watching them interact at school. At home they are in their territory, their comfort zone. They...
Last updated: 02/12/2016 by DaisyWilson
Sunday evening a week before Halloween, the youngest is wearing a witch outfit from Aldi and has been for three days running. She pairs it with one of her two witch hats and spends much of the time lugging a medium sized pumpkin around the house. The eldest is supposedly studying for a French exam, but if I check I expect to find her listening to music and praying for long and drawn out strike...
Last updated: 25/10/2016 by DaisyWilson
A night terror comes to me every evening, at the same time. This night terror is four and no longer wishes to spend the whole night in her own bed... my daughter is depleting my brain cells, one broken night of sleep at a time. The problem started on our camping holiday in France whereby the child became accustomed to sharing a tent with one of us - whoever had gotten the shortest straw. She...
Last updated: 28/09/2016 by DaisyWilson
A new school term approaches, but I am reluctant to buy into the notion of summer being over. Even though I wasn’t on holiday, it feels like a holiday to let sleeping children lie; to not rouse and rout them out of bed to morosely eat cereal and drag themselves onto school buses. It’s luxurious to not panic on Sunday evening about the school uniform, still unwashed, or to not spend three hours...
Last updated: 23/08/2016 by DaisyWilson
On one of the many beautiful blue sky days recently, I stood on our local beach with the four-year-old, surrounded by tourists and locals picnicking, swimming, sunbathing, paddling. It was an idyllic scene; beach umbrellas, toddlers coated in sun lotion and sand, skinny-legged kids jumping over the waves, the knowledge that lifeguards were watching over everyone and that, just beyond the sand...
Last updated: 26/07/2016 by DaisyWilson
Parenthood teaches us to experience multiple opposing emotions on a daily basis at dangerously high levels. Take fear; f ear comes into its own once you become a parent. Who else wakes up seven times an hour to check on the breathing of a perfectly healthy human other than a new parent? Who else can spend an hour in intense conversation on the terror of choking hazards, on the danger of the...
Last updated: 29/06/2016 by DaisyWilson
Sadly, I wasn’t the lucky 5.5 million euro jackpot winner last Saturday. When I heard there had been a winner I knew it wasn’t me because I never remember to buy a ticket... Probably for the best really, I’m not sure that much money can be good for a person, unless you immediately gave the majority of it away. I wouldn’t mind ten grand though; ten grand would be lovely. My family is not...
Last updated: 27/05/2016 by DaisyWilson
The three-year-old was going through an extended period of tantrums, whining, complaining, obstinacy, sulks and any other kind of negative you can think of for a pre-schooler. She refuses to sit in her seat when we get into the car, slipping will’o wisp style into the front seats, always one step ahead of my grasp. When we arrive home she refuses to get out. You can’t see the car from the...
Last updated: 26/04/2016 by DaisyWilson
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