We're no Brian and Amy...that's for sure.

Relationships are hard work. Someone once told me that if you can get through the first few years of marriage with young kids, you’ll make it through anything as a couple. Pure and simple: a cocktail of sleeplessness, hormones, tantrums, no down time and no couple time makes for very thin ice. And in our house, we’re not just skating on it - at times we’re bloody well stomping on it. We’re a lot less Brian O’Driscoll and Amy Huberman and a lot more John and Mary from Father Ted. I reckon we could actually kill one another at times, if looks and seething exasperation could kill, that is.

Speaking of Brian and Amy, I couldn’t help but have relationship envy whilst ogling their date night pix from the U2 gig recently. They still have that sparkly, young love glow about them. There’s not an eye roll in sight in any of the pictures. Not a hint of resentment or an “oh for fuck’s sake” muttered under their breaths. How do they do it? With two young kids at home - who, let’s face it, are probably gorgeous, sleeping through  the night and eating their dinner as opposed to throwing it on the floor - how do they manage to keep their love all twinkly and shiny? Do they ever fight about who did or didn’t leave a stinking nappy on top of the bin instead of throwing it out? Does Brian ever call Amy a nag? Does Amy ever bitch at him for fecking off to the gym right in the middle of the witching hour before bed? 

Don’t get me wrong, I still love my husband. Sometimes. A lot of the time I just don’t like him very much. In fact, he can be a bit of an asshole. And I’m well capable of being one right back. Are we the only couple like this? Is the world really full of Brian and Amys who still hold hands and kiss and breeze through life on a magic carpet of giddy love and Instagram filters? Are they really managing to keep their relationships fully intact whist trying to juggle kids and work and life? Jesus, if there’s a secret to it, no one ever filled me in, so please, spill the beans someone. In the meantime, himself has just made me a cup of tea and plonked a chocolate brownie in front of me. And I’ve just ordered him a new pair of pyjama bottoms online. All is not lost.

What kids REALLY want for Christmas this year

This time last year I had all my Christmas shopping done but this year I haven't even started thinking about what anyone wants. I know that George wants everything he sees in the Smyths catalogue and Maisie wants a toy fried egg and a tiara. Tessa wants what everyone else has at any given moment. For anyone who missed it, here's a reminder of what kids really want for Christmas this year though...

I sometimes wonder why we bother getting toys for the kids at all. Or why Santa does, I should say. The house is packed full of all sorts of paraphernalia that most of the time doesn't get played with at after the initial excitement has worn off. Here's a list of things I genuinely think they'd love to get from Santa. 

1. A toilet. A classic that never gets old. The five-year-old could spend the day on it and the 3-year-old loves nothing more than chucking stuff in there - especially rolls of toilet paper. As for the 18-month-old, every time I turn my back she's disappeared off and I will inevitably find her splashing around in there. And it's even more fun if the aforementioned 3-year-old has left a turd in it. Or what about a nice refreshing drink from it using the tea set to scoop it up? Check. Who needs a soda stream with the bad boy in town. A must. 

2. A washing machine. More so for the younger two. George loves turning it off mid-cycle or putting random objects in there when I'm not looking. Tessa could sit watching it spin all day. Hours of fun, especially when Maisie is at school. 

3. A torch. My pair have battered the shit out of one another fighting over the one in their granny's house. Honest to Jesus, we were there for two full hours over the weekend and they didn't play with anything else. I have yet to discover a toy on the market that would hold their attention for as long. 

4. Forget selection boxes. I'm getting them a slab of  Kerrygold this year. The stuff is like crack cocaine to the three of them. I literally have to lock it away or otherwise they're trying to eat lumps of the stuff. With fingers, spoons or just biting right in, they're not fussy. A firm family favourite.

5. A biro. You'd think when you've got two journalists living in the same house that pens would be easy to come by. Nope. I can't put one down without one of them coming along and swiping it, finding an item of my clothing, a precious photograph or the wall to scribble on. 

6. Keys. Every kid I know wants a proper bunch all to themselves. Forget the plastic ones with lights and sounds and music and pictures of Elsa or Spider-Man or whoever else. No good. It has to be the real deal. Sure they're no fun unless they're capable of gouging your eyes out or cutting the throat of yourself when you're having a good old chew. See also a real remote control and a real iPhone. 

Replicas. Will. Not. Do.

7. A cardboard box. Actually get a few ones of varying sizes. Way more fun than anything you could ever find inside the box. 

8. A sweeping brush. Can be used as a sword, for playing witches, as a light sabre or just for undoing any actual sweeping that I've done. Also handy for beating one another up. 

9. A saucepan. Preferably a few of them so they can take them all out at once and make the biggest racket possible when you're trying to take an important phone call or listen to something on the radio.

And there we have it. Have I forgotten anything?

The Definitive Hospital Bag List - For Dads

Hospital bag lists have been all over the place lately - each one claiming to be the ultimate or definitive guide to packing for the birth of your baby. Most of them ignore the daddies though - so here's my guide for him: what to throw into a bag and have ready for when your other half goes into labour. Keep it in a handy spot so that you can just grab it on the way out the door, or better yet, in the boot of your car.

*Pack a spare change of clothes - socks, jocks, the works. You could get puked on. Or leaked on. Or you could be a sweaty wreck from all that pushing. Or pacing. Seriously. You'll want something fresh to change into when it's all over - and for that all-important first family pic.

*Bring basic toiletries - deodorant, a toothbrush, comb and towel.You might not have access to a shower but if you have a private room with an en-suite, it'd be nice to be able to freshen up. Labour can take a while so you could be sleeping in a chair (like my other half did at one point) or pacing the room trying to keep yourself awake. See point number one - you could need a good scrubbing at some point.

*Swimming trunks. Yes, really. Your partner might want to get into the shower, or if she's lucky enough to have access to one, a birthing pool. She also might want you in there with her rubbing her back or just leaning on you for support. It's best to be suitably dressed for the occasion.

*Bring snacks for yourself and herself. Whatever tickles your fancy. Your other half could go into labour in the middle of the night when there are no shops open. Make sure you've got things in your bag to munch on. The vending machine could be broken - don't rely on it. So whether it's a Mars bar or a protein bar, a bag of nuts, bottles of water or cans of soft drink - just make sure you have something in there. Lucozade Sport is good for energy and if you're really struggling you could have a Red Bull. Grab some fruit from the bowl on your way out the door for some healthy snacks too.

*Your phone charger. You'll need to make sure your batteries are powered up so that you can send out all those birth announcement texts and take those precious and priceless first photos. And if things are moving slowly, you'll probably be eating into the battery from surfing the net or streaming music.

* Change. Plenty of coins. You'll need them for the aforementioned vending machines are for parking. The last thing you need to be worrying about in the labour ward are the clampers.

*Some areas have text parking services available so you can top up your parking meter without having to leave the ward. Check out your local area. We did this when I was having my first two babies in Holles Street and it was brilliant.

*If your partner is using a Tens machine, check out what kind of batteries it needs and have a spare set in your bag just in case.

And your best tools are your eyes and your ears. Listen to your partner to see what she needs. Chances are she won't know until she's in the throes of labour whether or not she's the type of person who likes being touched or rubbed or massaged, or if she's the type to want everyone to stay the hell away from her.

Have a copy of her birth plan and know what she wants. Discuss everything with her in advance so that you can be her voice and her advocate in hospital.

And enjoy! You'll be meeting your baby soon - it doesn't get much more exciting than that!

The gory details about pregnancy and beyond that no one ever has the heart to tell you...

***DISCLAIMER - these don't happen to everyone and they haven't all happened to me!!***

Yes, pregnancy is beautiful, blah blah blah. New life, cute babies, glorious. But what about the stuff that goes on that no one ever talks about? The stuff that, if and when it happens to you, you think you’re the biggest freak going? I’ve scouted the opinions of my closest female friends and asked them to spill the beans on the most embarrassing and horrifying things that happened to them during pregnancy, birth and beyond. And here’s the ultimate list.. 

*Iron supplements make you constipated and when you eventually manage to squeeze one out that bad boy will be jet black. Scary shit. Literally.

*All that squeezing, grunting and straining has given you piles. Great big itchy, ouchie, piles.

*You’re nine months pregnant and your waters have just broken. Oh wait, no, that’s just you pissing yourself. Back home you go.

*After giving birth, the peeing of oneself, or the almost peeing of oneself can be quite common. Thinking about a yoga class? Just be careful when you’re stretching. A leisurely jog? You might want to wear a panty liner. Or a nappy. Those pelvic floors aren’t what they once were. Get squeezing them. Or sit on a towel when having a sneeze. 

*You can get stretch marks. On your vagina. And on your arse. And everywhere in between - not just on your belly.

*Your nipples can be seen from outer space and them even rubbing against the inside of your bra can be agony. And the areolas are like saucers. Dark, scary looking saucers. 

*Pregnancy brings farting to a whole other level. And post-pregnancy can be even worse. Farts come from every crevice. At least with regular farts you can sometimes hold them. There’s no escaping fanny farts. 

*Hair. What’s with the crazy hair? You’re practically a yeti during pregnancy and then suddenly a few months after birth and you could do with a combover. Other women report having no hair growth at all for nine months. 

*You could *actually* kill your partner. Stone dead. What is with that loud breathing? Or the way he chews? How in the name of God are you going to raise a child with someone so infuriating? And then he brings home chocolate. Or a 3 in 1. And you love him to pieces again.

*Labour can make you vomit. All over yourself. Multiple times. Bring a few changes of clothes to the delivery room just in case. 

*Having a baby really changes your relationship. Like really. In good ways and in bad. So be prepared.

*When your milk comes in it hurts like hell. Your boobs will be like rocks and even the slightest touch can have you squirting milk all over the place.

*Nothing, and I mean nothing, will prepare you for that love. Overwhelming.

Pregnant belly - not mine!

The celebrity parents I look up to most...

I often wish that the makers of Peppa Pig could come up with some sort of parenting guide, piggy-style. Out of all the parents on telly - of human or snouted variety - Mummy Pig and Daddy Pig are the ones I look up to most. What's not to love about them? They never lose their tempers, they always seem delighted with life and they manage to get their message across to their kids without shouting,  getting angry or pulling their hair out.

I mean let's face it, Peppa and George can be a bit of a handful at times. Little assholes even, dare I say it. Peppa with her superiority complex and sassy attitude, and George's tantrums and tears can be a bit hard to bear at times. But rather than lose the plot and or the run of themselves, an ever-cool and calm Mummy and Daddy Pig handle all the trials and tribulations of parenthood with the kind of grace I can only aspire to. Gentle parenting at its finest.

I'm not saying they're perfect. Daddy Pig has a reputation for being a bit of a flake and a buffoon, for example. But for the most part, if I could learn to be a little bit more like them in my parenting techniques, I'd be a lot happier. Getting annoyed with kids, or shouting, doesn't work. Distracting them to avoid tantrums, being positive as much as possible - that does. I'm not talking about letting them have their own way all the time so that they grow up to be little shits, or big shits for that matter - far from it. I'm saying that being compassionate with them and acknowledging their feelings, and trying to steer a negative situation into a positive one often stops meltdowns before they really begin. Less stress for all the family.

I have three children aged 5 and under and often find myself getting into a fluster over the smallest of things. They really have a natural talent at winding me up or kicking up a stink at the worst possible time. They fight over toys and get annoyed over what to watch on the telly. So instead of twitching over dirty clothes and spilled milk, I am trying to take a leaf out of the Pig family's book by taking it a bit more in my stride. A kiss and a cuddle and an "I know how you feel, sorry you're sad" whispered into a child's ear is so much better than getting annoyed with them for being upset. 

Today my over-tired eldest started crying because there was no ham for her sandwich. Instead of rolling my eyes and telling her to get a grip, which is what I felt like doing, I took a deep breath and told her we'd buy more ham tomorrow and offered to help her look in the fridge for an alternative. The tears stopped pretty quickly and I got a hug and a smile and a thank you. Definitely worth that extra effort on my part.

And as for Mummy Pig and Daddy Pig as a couple, they too seem to have a lot more patience with one another than me and my other half do. "Oh silly Daddy Pig" is the worst I've heard Mummy Pig come up with when he hammers a hole in the wall when hanging a picture, or forgets the picnic basket again. They go on date nights and laugh together often. She never looks like she's fit to throttle him and he never, ever calls her a nag. We could all learn something here I think... . 

Mummy Pig and Daddy Pig having fun with the kids

Mummy Pig's birthday - Daddy Pig organises a surprise night out

Work-from-home Mummy Pig takes time out to spend with Peppa

How could this happen?

It was the shoes that got me. Tiny ones made of leather that had walked way too many miles of hardship for a dozen lifetimes, let alone one that had been so short. Then there were the dolls and toys. Treasured possessions that little hands had clung to, offering a glimmer of joy and play in a world that had otherwise been saturated with hard labour. Auschwitz. It pained my soul. "How could this have happened?" I asked as we walked around the camp, from the gas chambers to the hellish sleeping quarters and to photographs of prisoners hanging on the walls, like ghosts, haunting the place. "How could the world have stood by and watched as this happened?" It blew my mind. It still does. Train upon train of people being herded like animals to the slaughterhouse. And yet here we go again...except this time, instead of shipping Jews off to extermination camps, deporting them to their deaths, we're barricading people out. People that are running for their lives, for the lives of their children. We're strangling them with red tape and inaction as they beg for help, for asylum, for refuge from the madness of the homeland they're fleeing from. How could this happen?

Today, I cried for little Aylan Kurdi as I saw his lifeless little body washed up on a beach in Turkey. I cried for his five-year-old brother, Galip and for his mother Rehan who also died with him on that beach. I cried for their father, Abdullah, who survived in body at least. I'm sure his heart and his soul are crushed. As a mother, when I saw Aylan lying there, face down, I wanted to pick him up and rub the wet sand from his baby-soft skin. I wanted to dry him off and give him a cuddle, tell him everything was going to be OK. The same age as my little boy, the war in Syria is all he ever knew in his too-short life. It had already begun when he was born and he died trying to escape it. A child. An innocent, beautiful child.

Here we are again, 70 years later and the images are scarily similar. How could this happen? The same question...over and over and over...Who's going to answer it?

Syrian refugees trying to get on a train in Hungary

Jews in Holland being deported to Auschwitz 

Syrians travelling from Turkey to Greece

Women and children on deportation ship in Greece, March 1943

No more exploring for Dora

So Dora isn't a freakin' explorer anymore. Instead she wears makeup and hangs out with her friends and goes shopping and worries about princess dresses. And poor old Boots is nowhere to be seen - at least in the episode that I had to sit through. I was never really a Dora fan. That high pitched twang went through me and the way she stared back at the telly after asking a question kind of gave me the creeps. But credit where it was due - she used to climb mountains and overcome obstacles and wrestle alligators and the likes. Dora kicked ass. With her almost androgynous looks and her little bowl haircut, she was so much more substance than style. I remember my nephews loving her 10 years ago, and so did my nieces. A rarity in a world of Barbies and Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Something for everyone. But this new Dora in the City or whatever it's called, Dora seems more concerned with collecting sparkly things and going to the mall with her gal pals than she does about going on adventures. She wears makeup and is accessorised to the hilt. She doesn't rely on her trusty backpack or map anymore. Instead she's got a posse of tween friends who accompany her to parties and on shopping trips. How disappointing. Another kids' brand that has succumbed to turning our little girls into image-obsessed, two-dimensional characters with nothing but pink on the brain. 

I have two girls and a boy and I've spent the past five years since becoming a parent trying not to allow the gender divide into the playroom. Toys are toys - there are no girl toys and no boy toys in our house. My eldest two, a boy and a girl, play 'superheroes' and 'shops', they play out scenes from Frozen and take turns being Elsa or Anna or Prince Hans. They both love Blaze and the Monster Machine and Paw Patrol, Ben and Holly's Little Kingdom and Peppa Pig. Peter Pan, Pinocchio, Cinderella - they're all hits and we like to mix things up. She plays with toy cars and he plays with dolls. It's how we roll. I haven't banned princesses (I was a huge Disney fan growing up!) and I haven't banned swords. I let them play, use their imaginations but I want them to know that they can be anything or anyone they want - and it has nothing to do with their gender. 

It's hard to find positive female role models for kids these days when a Ben and Holly toy set I got in Smyths one Christmas has the Ben character saying things like "I'm really good at fixing things" versus the Holly one that says "I'm really good at looking pretty." And when a huge, iconic brand like Lego suddenly starts dividing up its sets based on gender - with the boy stuff being based around cool things like robots and space adventure while the girl items are things like "shopping malls" and hair salons. Groan. Even a set of 'happy family' cards by toymakers Spears contains a set of characters like Mr Smiles the dentist and his wife Mrs Smiles. Mrs Curls, the hairdresser and her husband Mr. Curls. There's the doctor and his wife and the florist and her husband. You can see where this is going...

We're supposed to be getting better, not worse, with gender equality. So why then are we starting the brainwashing younger than ever?

Why our €14,000 bill just doesn't add up...

So I'm settling back home after a two-week stint away that cost €1000 per night. Fancy shmancy... Or not. This €1000 per night room charge didn't include my breakfast and I had to sleep in a chair for the first five nights, and then on a postage stamp-sized mattress on the floor. The shower didn't have any toiletries and I had to provide my own towels. Tessa, my one-year-old, was with me. She was treated to lumpy Weetabix or Readybrek for breakfast, along with a couple of slices of white toast. Lunch was usually pureed vegetables of varying shades of yellow and orange - I never quite figured out what they were - along with gravy infused mince and mashed potatoes. Every day. For two weeks. In the evenings, we could chase someone down for a bit of reheated scrambled egg and we once managed to score some fish fingers. So for €1000 per night you'd think I'd be screaming for a refund, yes? What kind of accommodation provider could bill €14,000 and provide such basic facilities? An Irish hospital, that's who.

Don't get me wrong. Not for one second am I complaining about the excellent healthcare that my baby received during her stint in CUH. The staff there were excellent. Professional, warm, attentive - everything I could want when trusting people with the wellbeing of my child. They always went that extra mile with her and always tried to make her smile. But €14,000 for the room - before the consultant's fees, ultrasounds, bloods, surgery and whatever else will be totted up? To me, it's crazy. I know it's the insurance company that will be stumping up the cost, and if we had been public patients we'd have been limited to €75 per night for up to 10 nights. But that's not the point. If a hospital is benefiting to the tune of €14,000 from our stay, I think the least that should be on offer is proper nourishment for the patients and some basic facilities for parents. After all, if I had decided to go home and leave Tessa alone overnight, they'd have to invest a lot more resources in her care. She was constantly trying to climb out of her cot, for example. And I spent most of my days doing laps around the ward with her. At 16 months old, she can't exactly take care of herself, and unlike some of the tiny babies in there who were not doing much more than eating and sleeping, despite her illness, she was looking for constant entertainment and interaction. So my presence there was necessary, unless of course they wanted to dedicate a nurse or carer to her around the clock.

Another point was the lack of food for me. Tessa didn't eat much at all during her stay. I'm not sure if it was the illness, the high dose of anti biotics or the quality of food that put her off. I'd hazard a guess that it was a combination of all three. All she wanted to do was drink milk. I breastfeed her so she pretty much reverted back to being a newborn - feeding around the clock, clinging to me as her main source of nourishment and comfort. I was delighted to be able to do it - I never once had to worry about dehydration or her going hungry and having her close to me meant I knew when she was spiking a temperature. I was an instant source of comfort after yet another blood test or canula insertion. I certainly burned up a lot of energy though, and given that I wasn't provided with any meals, I spent a lot of my time in there feeling hungry - especially in the first few days before I had managed to organise myself and buy some provisions. We live an hour away from the hospital and my husband was at home with the other kids, so I didn't have anyone else to mind Tessa while I went off for something to eat. There is a lovely parents' room on the ward - it has tea and coffee, a water cooler and a fridge, along with a comfy couch. The trouble is, I wasn't allowed to bring Tessa in there, and I wasn't allowed to bring cups of tea into the room we were staying in. So it wasn't exactly practical in that sense. And given that I was my daughter's main source of nourishment during our stay, a sandwich here and there, or even one of the god-awful hospital dinners, would have been really appreciated. I survived on Tesco ready meals snaffled when Tessa went to sleep for the night, and chocolate. Lots of chocolate. 

So as we settle back in home and relish in the luxury of things like fresh fruit and vegetables, fish that doesn't come in a rubbery yellow coating, and bread that isn't in the form of cold and soggy toast, I realise what a massive shakeup our hospitals need. The nurses shouldn't have to chase down kitchen staff to send up food for our babies who are in there recovering. Our babies shouldn't be deprived of fresh and nutritious food while they're at their weakest and most vulnerable. I shudder to think what the catering bills for CUH are, given the lack of proper and nutritious grub. But the €14,000 that our insurance company will end up paying for our accommodation would buy a lot of grapes, strawberries, oranges, rice cakes, bread sticks and other healthy snacks, plus dinners that don't consist of congealed gloop covered in salty gravy. That €14,000 would more than cover our rent for a year. Or if we were really splashing out, it'd provide 50 nights in the Grand Suite of the 5 star Castlemartyr Resort in Cork - including breakfast and 25 dinners. Now that's some food for thought. 

Giving birth is a piece of cake...well, almost.

Disclaimer: These are my own experiences and obviously I know there are certain things that happen that mean medical intervention is necessary. But I love giving birth. And I love doing it my own way. 

I always thought pregnancy was disgusting. Pretty strong words, I know. When my sister was expecting her first child and felt him kick and squirm in her swollen belly, my own stomach flipped over in a nervous panic. I imagined being pregnant felt like your body had been taken over by a parasitic alien. And don't get me started on when she'd pull up her top and you could see the outline of an elbow or a foot and her flesh rippling under every move. It freaked me out. And giving birth? Jesus, the thoughts of it made me cross my legs and squeeze my pelvic floor muscles with all my might. So what about the end product? The beautiful wrinkly little creature that emerged when the nine months of pregnancy was over? Well of course they were adorable. Little old man faces and stretched out fingers and toes and slow motion yawns. But I never wanted one. Having nieces and nephews was enough. I always said that I'd only have a baby when I could grow it in a bubble that simply popped when the baby was done baking. No mess. No squeals. No pushing or stretching or ripping, thank you very much. 

So you can imagine my thought process when I discovered my eldest was on the way. Don't get me wrong, not for one second did I think 'shit, I don't want this baby'. I was just panicked at the thought of growing it and squeezing it out. The baby part I could handle. The pregnancy and birth part, not so much. I'd heard horror stories of women going through agony for days, pooing all over themselves and their midwife, being left with scars and a walk like John Wayne. Nothing about it was glamorous or something that I wanted to go through. So I decided I needed to brainwash myself. Yup. I needed to re-programme my brain. For as long as I had been old enough to know anything about the birds and the bees or had been able to watch scenes on the telly of women giving birth, it had been presented to me as a torturous experience that everyone had to endure in order to meet their baby. The squeals, the sweats, the terror and agony. I wanted to erase all that from my memory and convince myself that really, it can't be that bad. Surely people would never have more than one child if it was that horrific an experience.

So I read positive birth stories, told myself that I was looking forward to labour and bought a birthing programme called Gentlebirth - which was actually created by an Irish midwife and has a really great support network of mums on its private Facebook group - and listened to the tracks on my iPod as much as I could. I usually ended up falling asleep after a few minutes of it but listening to affirmations like 'my baby is the perfect size for my body' and to a calm and soothing voice telling me that I could do this really flipped things around for me. Even if I was asleep most of the time, it obviously had some sort of an impact because I eventually got used to the idea and my fear disappeared. 

I'm not a hippy dippy type of person at all - I don’t fit the stereotypes of the ‘type’ of woman who would shun the drugs on offer and go for an au-natural approach. But most of the Gentlebirth mums aren’t. They’re smart, educated, fun, normal women who want to take control of their own bodies and allow birth to happen to them as naturally as possible. Gentlebirth helped me enjoy my pregnancies for the most part. And my labours, thankfully, were amazing experiences that I'd do all over again a heartbeat. Of course labour is no walk in the park - they don't call it labour for nothing. But it's not the nightmare that women are brainwashed into thinking it is. We're constantly being prepared for the worst and being told that we're not strong enough and need as much intervention as possible. We're poked and prodded and if things don't happen to someone else's timetable, they stick their oars in with talk of 'rupturing membranes' and sticking needles in your arms and 'helping things along'. Of course intervention is necessary in some cases. People need help to cope with pain or may need a C Section for their own or their baby’s safety. But when a woman who is birthing normally and in her own time, her own way, is told by medics - often men who no matter what their qualifications are will never really know what it's like - that she's doing it wrong or needs to listen to them as opposed to her own body, then I'm sorry, but please get lost. Women are second guessing themselves and encouraged to ignore their own feelings and instincts as they don't fall in line with hospital policy. 

My second child was born less than three minutes after arriving in hospital. Three hours before that I'd been sent home from a scheduled hospital appointment after being told 'your cervix is high and unfavourable, you're not going to be back here for another week at least'. I replied, telling her I thought she was wrong, that'd I'd be going into labour very soon. That in fact I was in labour at that very moment. She stuck me on a trace and smiled, "see, you're not in labour at all. No contractions, nothing." I smiled and told her I thought the machine was wrong and although I wasn't in any pain, I left the hospital and knew I'd be back there that night. Sure enough, an ambulance dash, a smashed iPod and a bit of drama for the neighbours who thought I was going to have a baby in the garden, I returned and my little man was born straight away. After being told he was a boy, my first words after giving birth were, "I told you I was in labour". 

Baby number three was different. My waters went in the middle of the night despite me not having any contractions at all but I went to the hospital anyway. They told me I would be induced if I didn’t go into labour within the day and they’d already put the canula in my arm to administer an anti biotic in case of an infection. I spent the day walking the wards, bouncing on a birthing ball, trying to rest and willing my baby to kick herself into action. And she did. Just as the midwives were about to change over for the night and as my husband was about to find out where we could get a decent curry near the hospital, I felt an unmistakable twinge. Less than an hour and a half later, Tessa emerged into the world like a little superstar. I did it. We did it together. A little team from the start. 

Must read breastfeeding tips for first time mums

I DIDN'T have a clue about breastfeeding before my first child was born. I went into it with an “I’ll give it a go and see how it works” attitude. I wish I’d done a bit more homework and gone to some breastfeeding classes before she was born so if you can at all, do. It’s not that it’s *that* complicated, but information is power and when you know what to expect and what’s normal, it takes a lot of the worry and insecurities away. Also, I highly recommend reading The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. It’s a wealth of information. And if you remember the following tips, your breastfeeding journey should get off to a wonderful start. I don’t claim to be an expert, but these tips definitely saw me through and I learned more with each baby thanks to tips I picked up along the way.  

• Skin on skin is really important. Make sure you place baby onto your chest straight away (assuming you’ve had a normal delivery and all is well with you and baby). Choose a labour outfit that will have easy access to your tummy and chest. I bought cheap nighties from Dunnes that had buttons all the way down the front. 

• Let the baby find your boob and latch on him or herself. We hear a lot of complicated instructions like holding the baby in your arms, nipple to nose, waiting for them to open wide and shoving your nipple right in, making sure your entire aereola is in there..bring baby to the breast and not breast to baby….The thing is, it doesn’t have to sound so complicated. Babies are like all mammals in that they are born with instincts and know what to do. Your baby didn’t need instructions to move down the birth canal and be born - it made it this far on its own and it will find your boob too. Watching a newborn baby do the ‘breast crawl’ and latch on herself is amazing. In saying that, practice makes perfect - for you and for baby. 

• Going back to my last point: the latch. It’s key to get it right. A good latch will make feeding a dream. A bad one will leave you clenching your ass cheeks, curling your toes and dreading the next feed. Nursing your baby shouldn’t be excruciating. A little pain and sensitivity in the first week or so is pretty normal - your nipples aren’t used to being used in this way. But if you’re experiencing bad pain to the point that it’s giving you nipple damage or making you dread feeds, ask for help. Your hospital should have a lactation consultant on duty. Ring that bell and ask for help. Don’t be afraid to “make a nuisance of yourself”. Lip tie and tongue tie are quite common - get your health care professional to check for it. And if you need to, hire a qualified lactation consultant to come to your home. They’re worth every penny and your private health insurance could cover the cost, or at least some of it. YouTube is also your friend - have a look at things like the ‘flipple technique” such as this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=deKN3wJ17Mk

• Your milk will take a few days to come in. Your baby is getting enough from you, please don't worry. Their stomach is minuscule at this point and it doesn't take much to fill it. In the early days, you may wonder if you’re starving your baby as he or she seems to be looking for grub all the time. Don’t worry - it’s their way of building up your supply. You don't have to top up with formula. Things settle down and you don’t have to sit feeding all day every day forever - I promise! There will be days when you’re wondering if your breasts seem ‘empty’, when well-meaning people tell you to give yourself a ‘break’ by offering formula because the baby seems starving…Don’t listen to them. If you want to continue exclusively breastfeeding your baby, introducing formula at this stage could really mess with your supply and do more harm than good. Growth spurts are normal and normally don’t last more than a few days to a week. Take to the bed, settle in with some extra grub and drinks, set yourself up with some box sets on Netflix and just go with it. Before you know it, things will get back to normal and you won’t be feeding around the clock. 

• Follow your baby’s cues. Don’t wait for them to start crying before offering them a feed. You’ll learn to recognise the signs of hunger - licking their lips, rooting around, opening their mouths. Crying is the last thing they do and by that stage they’re usually more frantic and it can be harder to latch them on. Also, watch your baby, not the clock. Don’t bother timing feeds or becoming obsessed with getting a routine established. Just feed when your baby wants it. 

• Drink plenty of water and eat regularly. I clearly remember the thirst in those early days after giving birth. Have a bottle of water with a sports cap to hand for every feed. Snack plenty. In hospital, you’ll get (pretty grim) meals three times per day. You’ll be starving unless you have some snacks to hand for between meals. I recommend chowing on almonds (they help milk production), plenty of fruit, have a few health bars handy and of course whatever tickles your fancy. Breastfeeding doesn’t mean you have to avoid any foods in particular. There are lots of myths out there that make breastfeeding sound very limiting. You don’t have to avoid spicy foods or cabbage or green vegetables or dairy or even alcohol in moderation. You might notice that your baby is sensitive to certain foods - I had to cut out chocolate in the early days, for example, as it gave my babies wind. 

• Drink at least four cups of fennel tea per day. You can get it in your health food shop. It’s great for thirst quenching and making sure you get enough fluids. It also helps reduce instances of wind in your baby and it can help boost your supply. Other good foods for helping your supply include porridge for breakfast or fenugreek in curries and the likes. You could also make a delicious batch of lactation cookies - there are loads of recipes online.

• Mulitmam compresses will be your friend in the early days. If you have sensitive nipples they offer huge relief and quick healing. They’re available from most pharmacies and cost around €14 per box. Pretty steep, but you can make them last by cutting each strip in half and using one for both nipples instead of one on each. Lanolin cream before each feed also helps, and you can get Multimam balm as well. 

• Don’t pump for the first six weeks unless you have to. Your supply is being established. Pumping could over stimulate production and you could end up being engorged. Don’t worry about your partner - they will find other ways to bond with the baby - you don’t have to feed a baby to have a bond with it. Get daddy to do the nappy changes, skin on skin, have a bath with baby and enjoy plenty of cuddles.

• Your baby doesn’t need anything except breast milk for the first six months of their lives. It’s the best thing for them. You don’t need to give water when it’s hot, or if they’re constipated. Your milk has everything they need to quench thirst, hydrate and nourish. It changes with your baby’s needs.  You can feed them when they’re sick. It really is the best thing ever for comforting them, no matter what the problem is. Don’t listen to people who say “your baby is using you as a soother”. Do they really think that soothers existed before breasts?

• If you encounter any issues such as engorgement, mastitis etc, the best thing you can do is feed, feed, feed. There is a breastfeeding solution to every breastfeeding problem, in the vast majority of cases. A lot of Irish health care professionals - wonderful and all as they are - don’t have the most updated information on breastfeeding. Question them. And then question them again. 

• There’s a wealth of information and support out there. Excellent online resources include Dr. Jack Newman’s Facebook page and website and Kellymom.com There are also some excellent private Facebook groups you should seek out. For information on medications and breastfeeding, there’s an app called LactMed, which is available on the iTunes store for free.

• When it comes to feeding in public places, the first time is usually daunting but don’t worry, your confidence will grow and you’ll be more comfortable each time. You can legally breastfeed anywhere you choose so don’t be intimidated. I’ve only ever encountered one negative reaction in the almost five years I’ve been breastfeeding - and that was from a woman who was giving her child Coca Cola from a bottle. The World Health Organisation recommends exclusively breastfeeding to the age of six months and then introducing healthy sold foods, and continuing to breastfeed until your child is at least two. We have a long way to go in this country before it’s seen as the norm but fingers crossed we will get there. 

I'm going to be doing a series of exciting giveaways soon to celebrate the launch of The Baker Farm and one of the prizes up for grabs will be a gorgeous hamper full of breastfeeding-related goodies. Please like my Facebook page to make sure you are notified when the comp is up and running. 

Minions Cake Recipe

When Maisie turned one, I for some reason decided to make a Peppa Pig cake to celebrate. I'm not quite sure why, given that I don't think she would have cared either way if I had just bought one from the supermarket as opposed to spending hours on getting her snout "just right". Since then, I've always gone for homemade novelty cakes. It's a tradition now, I suppose, although in the middle of making a cake I always swear that next year, it'll be shop bought. It's always worth it in the end though. Some turn out better than others but either way, the kids always love them and it's good fun trying to come up with ideas and designs.

This year, George became obsessed with Despicable Me 1 and 2 so a Minions cake was always going to be a winner for his 3rd birthday. I Googled Minions cakes and there are loads of them out there - both 2D and 3D ones. George decided he wanted a one-eyed Minion so that's what we went with. I looked up some ideas on YouTube and started attempting to follow the directions and designs exactly but I ended up winging it. Here's what I did:

Day 1:

For the first layer, I made a chocolate biscuit cake using the Odlums recipe - it's great as it shows the different quantities for different sized and shaped tins. I leave out the fruit and nuts from the recipe and add a few packets of Malteasers and some chopped up Crunchie bars instead. Some people like marshmallows in it, but I'm not a fan. As for the type of chocolate, don't use cooking chocolate, whatever you do. I use half and half dark and milk. I typically buy it in Lidl as it's much better value than the branded stuff. I used a six inch tin for this but used the 8 inch recipe and really packed the tin right to the top. I always stick the chocolate biscuit cake in the freezer for an hour or so and then transfer into the fridge and let it sit overnight at least. You can prepare this well in  advance though.

Next, I make chocolate ganache. I make this by heating 200ml of cream in a pot on the hob until it starts to show dots on the surface right before it starts to boil. I then pour this over 200g of finely chopped dark chocolate and swirl it around until the chocolate melts, then I stir and make sure there are no lumps, allow to cool and refrigerate overnight.

At this point, I also make a batch of my buttercream. For this cake I made vanilla, but added a couple of dollops of lemon curd. I like Tesco's Finest but I plan on sampling some more locally produced  ones if I spot any around.

Day 2:

Remove the chocolate biscuit cake from the tin and cover with the ganache. It'll probably be really stiff from the fridge so you can make it more spreadable by microwaving for a few seconds but don't overdo it. Cover the top and sides of the cake and make it as even and as smooth as you can as any lumps or bumps will show through the icing. Place it back in the fridge.

This is where pictures of the Minion come in handy. I looked at loads and used them as a guide to make the shoes, buttons for the dungarees, the spikes for the hair and the grey goggles. I bought black ready to use fondant from a specialist baking shop as I find it's really hard to get a dark enough black if you dye it yourself. For the rest, I just bought the white fondant and dyed the colours myself using the gel - not the liquid - food colouring. This can be time consuming and messy to get right so you could also buy pre-dyed packets. Put the little shoes, goggles  etc in a cardboard box like a shoebox and keep in a dry place - not the fridge. They'll keep well and harden for when you need them.

Day 3:

For the next part of the cake, the Minion's head, I used a Pyrex dish, also six inches, and made a sponge cake using this recipe, but I'm sure your own sponge recipe will work just as well. Don't fill the entire bowl with cake mix as it will rise and overflow if you do. (I had some cake mix left over so I  put them in some bun cases and made a few little buns to go with the cake and I iced them with leftover ganache and buttercream.) Make sure you grease the Pyrex dish well with butter to make sure the cake doesn't stick. Cool the cake down fully and then use a sharp knife to cut it on half across the middle so that you can put some buttercream and jam in there. I used raspberry jam and heated it in the microwave first before putting it through a sieve to remove the seeds. Sandwich the cake back together and then cover with a light layer of buttercream - this is called the crumb coat as it catches all the crumbs. I pop in freezer for 15 minutes and then add another coat of buttercream so that it's nice and smooth with no crumbs visible. Pop the cake in the fridge.

Day 4:

A really handy piece of equipment here is a turntable - I find it makes it a lot easier to cover the cake properly if you have one. If not, don't worry - just place the covered chocolate biscuit cake on a cake board and top it with the head. Cover with yellow fondant.  Watch a few YouTube videos if you're not sure of the technique but you basically roll out enough fondant to cover the entire cake, then use your rolling pin to drape it over and you can use your hands to rub it down then. Smooth any kinks or air bubbles out with an icing smoother, which kind of looks like something you'd use for plastering a house. I got mine for a few euro in my local shop, Tom Sheehy's, which has loads of great baking equipment and the ready-to-roll fondant as well.

Next, I cut out the dungarees and stuck them on by using a brush and painting the back with some water and holding it against the cake for a few seconds to make sure it stuck. Again, I used pictures as a guide and just drew out a template and worked from that. I used edible glue to stick on the buttons and the goggle and for the eye, I gave it a 3D look by layering the black, brown and white circles on top of one another. I cut out a yellow eyelid to complete the look. Next I added a little pocket to the dungarees and used a butter knife to give it the stitching detail and to make the indentation of his mouth. I shaped out a little pink tongue and just made very basic arms and legs and the string for the goggles. I used tooth picks to pierce holes in the head so I could stick in the hair.

The next time I make a cake I must take note of how I do it and take photos and videos of each stage in case anyone wants to see. But that's the best I can do for the Minions cake - it's not perfect by any means! If anyone has any questions feel free to post in the comments section and I'll do my best to answer. And if anyone makes one of these bad boys, please post a pic on the Facebook page!

Dear New Dad-to-be...

Dads can end up feeling a bit useless during the whole pregnancy and birth lark. Let's face it, apart from the compulsory bit at the beginning where their presence is required, a woman can technically do the rest of it alone. But the support of a partner is key to a smooth pregnancy, birth and journey home with your baby. If you're a new dad-to-be, these tips are a must-read. I promise they'll earn you loads of brownie points!

• Practice installing the car seat before you get to the hospital. Make sure you're confident in fitting it and taking it out before you have to make the journey home with baby. It's nerve-wrecking enough putting a teeny tiny baby in your car for the first time, so you want to be positive that the seat is in correctly.
• Get in a cleaner and make sure the house is spotless. Chances are your other half will have been nesting in the weeks and days before birth anyway, but there's always stuff that didn't get done. Get in the professionals to do the floors, bathrooms, dusting etc. She's bringing a brand new baby home and will want the place to be perfect. There's no need to mention you've done this and she might not even notice - but she will notice if the place isn't clean or is messy. (If she's like me, that is!)
• Turn the heating on and make sure it's nice and cosy - but not too hot!
• Change the bed clothes - there's nothing like climbing back into your own bed with nice fresh, crisp sheets after having spent the past few nights in an uncomfortable hospital bed.
• Make sure the fridge is stocked with loads of handy foods. Think prepared fruits, nice quality ready meals from the likes of M&S or your local deli, fresh juices, salads, breads, her favourite soups and of course plenty of biscuits and cake! Get some bottles of water too, the ones with sports tops - if she's breastfeeding she'll be extra thirsty and will want one to hand for every feed. 
• Buy her some magazines and books that she can flick through. In the early days, especially if she's breastfeeding, she will be sitting and feeding the baby a lot. It's nice to have something to read or look at - apart from baby of course!
• Buy flowers. Leave them on the kitchen table and you could even do a welcome banner. Make a fuss over the homecoming. It's a big deal and a little touch like that will make her smile.
• Get a present for her. I've heard of a lot of people getting a "push present" (I never got one, *cough*) - something nice for yourself to say thanks for the nine months of pregnancy and for going through birth to bring a couple's child into the world. I think it's a lovely idea. It doesn't have to be a big, expensive gift but maybe a handbag or some nice creams, depending on your partner's taste. Scope it out ahead of time and pay attention if she's drooling over any items in a magazine or online. Write a card and tell her how grateful you are for the past nine months and for her going through labour. 
• Agree with her! Be helpful. Take the baby between feeds so that she can get some sleep. Run her a bath. Give her a foot rub. The first few days after birth are an overwhelming mix of hormones, sleeplessness and euphoria. Be gentle with her and help her in any way she needs. 
• Do the nappy changes and help get baby's wind up. Have your own baby bonding sessions by doing 'skin on skin' (strip baby to nappy and take your own top off and allow baby to lie on your chest - don't fall asleep!)  
• Co-ordinate the visitors. Chances are lots of well-meaning people will want to come over and see the new arrival. It can be overwhelming in the early days, especially if mum is trying to get a hang of breastfeeding or isn't getting much sleep. Obviously very close family and friends can be an excellent help in the early days, but you can politely tell anyone else that you'll be in touch with suitable days/times for visits. 

And don't forget to try and relax and enjoy the experience. Take plenty of pictures and savour the moments - even the mad ones. It all passes by so quickly and the next time you do this (if there is a next time!) you'll also have an older child to consider. This is a unique and wonderful time in your lives. 

Bless this mess....

I posted this picture on my personal Facebook page recently and it provoked quite the reaction. Dozens of 'likes' and comments and people recoiling in horror as their OCD kicked in. But it was the private messages and texts that surprised me. So many people got in touch with me on the QT, thanking me for outing myself as someone who doesn't have a perfectly manicured home. In a world of "sharenting", where parents present the smiliest, happiest, most airbrushed version of family life on social media, apparently my dose of reality was a welcome break from sunshine and rainbows.

The fact is, having children often means that you have to put up with an element of chaos that in a previous life would make your skin crawl or your ass cheeks clench. They're messy, energetic, Tasmanian Devils that sweep through the house, undoing any work you've done to make the place look half decent. Some days I give up chasing my tail and let the madness ensue. It's not always easy to turn a blind eye, but for the sake of my sanity, I let things slide. The playroom has a door that I have no problem closing after I've done a sweep of the rest of the house and just fling things in there.

Some day, it'll be like something out of a magazine, with quaint artwork on the walls and little wooden, educational toys dotting the floor, with clutter hidden away in stylish storage solutions. But for now, I'm embracing the plastic explosion because the kids really love messing around in there. And I promise it's not always that messy. My husband tidied it the other day, so it'll probably be OK for the next 20 minutes or so....

So now please...post your #parentingshame confessions in the comments section!

The Perfect Family Getaway

I wrote a piece for the Irish Mail on Sunday yesterday about finding the perfect family holiday. Here it is in full for anyone who missed it...

HAVE you ever had a family holiday where, by the time you got back, you felt more exhausted than you did at the beginning? Where you turned to your significant other and uttered "we'd have been better off staying at home”? Holidaying with young kids in tow - in our case, three children aged four an under - certainly tries patience levels and requires the juggling skills of a trained member of Cirque de Soleil. Walking through the airport, we had more than one glance of sympathy as we carted our brood and all the paraphernalia required for a week abroad. People looked at us like we were crazy for even attempting to have a relaxing holiday overseas with such a young family. And as we queued to get onto the plane, I could see nervous glances in our direction as people silently hoped they were sitting far away from us as possible. That’s the thing: travelling + kids = stress and often without a pay off in the end. But not this time. This time we weren’t going to put up with second best just because we’ve had the gall to procreate. 

‘Child friendly’ holidays - for me at least - conjure up images of horror. Screaming toddlers in urine-soaked ball pools and a never ending queue for a buffet of soggy pizza and chicken nuggets and chips. Loud, chaotic, uncomfortable. What’s with that? Why do so many businesses think that people should put up with sub-par quality just because they’ve had children? Before we had kids, holidays were all about going somewhere that was an escape from the realities of the nine to five grind: a week or two in the sun where you relax, unwind and come back feeling refreshed and recharged. Now that we’re parents, guess what? I still want that. And after researching and searching, we found somewhere that ticks those boxes. 

The Martinhal Beach Resort and Hotel in Sagres on the Algarve offers the rarest of things: a genuine family holiday where everyone feels pampered. It officially opened in 2010 and has quickly garnered European-wide reputation as the go-to location for five-star family breaks. After spending a dreamy week by the sea here, it's easy to see why. The food on offer was varied and delicious, the view of the sea and beach spellbinding and the service was top-class. But it was more than that. In a world where all too often restauranteurs view bringing infants to the table like a request to dine with your pet crocodile, here you really belong. You're not the unwanted necessity, the eyes-to-heaven annoyance to fellow diners - you're the centre of attention in all the right ways.

Everything in this part of coastal Portugal seems to have been designed with families in mind. It was buggy friendly, for example. All the restaurants have a play area (supervised) in the back so that when kids inevitably get bored towards the end of the meal, mum and dad can sit back and enjoy their dessert and a glass of wine in peace. The bar area serving cocktails, beers and juices is next to a play ground AND an ice cream parlour. So as we sat sipping a mojito in the glorious sunshine, the kids had a blast at what they dubbed the ‘pirate ship playground’ but which was officially known as the Village Square. The bar, which doesn’t feel like a bar in the traditional sense, has even got its own play area inside, complete with iPad, plus a vintage Volkswagen and a hammock so the children - and adults - can channel their inner beach bum.

If you're not a parent and still reading this, don't flee in horror. It really isn’t all about the kids - I never once felt like I was holidaying in an episode of Barney. The place isn’t colossal in size either (the hotel itself only has 37 rooms, there are 55 houses with full sea views, 28 houses with partial sea views, 39 garden houses and 10 houses in a small complex called Pinewoods, each one with their own private pool) so it doesn’t feel over run with children or families at all. Far from it. You have plenty of space and room to breathe and there’s enough of everything to go around. The place is chic and the campus is centred around a beautifully designed two storey hotel building, right next to a glorious beach and across from the small harbour of Sagres town. Everything is beautifully laid out. There's no clutter, zero high rise and the footpaths around the resorts are edged with greenery and flowers. We stayed half board in an Ocean House, a building with a full panorama of the beach below. Our delicious buffet breakfast had everything we could think of and more on offer, and we had the choice either lunch or dinner in one of the four restaurants. The starters, main courses and desserts were all delicious and the kids cleaned their plates every time. Not a soggy pizza or wilted salad leaf in sight. The lunches and dinners were table service, not buffet-style. 

It’s the little touches that set Martinhal aside, head and shoulders above other ‘family friendly’ places we’ve been. Upon arrival we were presented with a refreshing juice and a wet towel for mopping up the inevitable sweat that forms when travelling with kids. There's a cool rocking horse in the reception area and children get a goody bag including hats, beach bags and a ball. They were delighted. The range of activities on offer for children is mind-boggling. In a week my three never complained of boredom. If they were older, we could have gone on a bike ride or hiked one of the nearby coastal walks, but they were in heaven attending the local kids club or one of the four heated swimming pools.

As for you, the person paying for all of this, there's no sense of being shortchanged. With children being entertained and supervised, you can actually start to relax. There's a crèche and babysitting service if you really want to branch out but even if you stay close to your kids, you're not skimping on your own sense of a holiday. We walked the beach, sat out in the sun, bought and beautiful bottle of red wine in the Martinhal shop for a little more than €8 and sipped it on the balcony looking out at the lights of Sagres twinkling on the sea. I treated myself to a solo massage while himself entertained the kids at the playground and beach. But if I’d wanted to make it a family affair, there are treatments suitable for children too. I saw a few mums and their daughters pad through the spa in their matching dressing gowns, off to be pampered with a mum and mini-me bonding session. 

Martinhal is an hour and 20 minutes drive from faro airport and it's worth every kilometre. Freshly baked bread in the shop, great range of individual and family activities, the surrounding attractions - surfing, hill walks, trips to the lighthouse, the fortress of Henry the Navigator, etc. So are there any downsides? Not really. Sagres town has good nightlife  and if you fancy a pizza, D’Italia is highly recommended. The weather is lovely although you can overhear the odd comment about how the wind can pick up. I found the one day we did experience a stiff breeze a welcome escape from the dead heat of the rest of the week. And in true Irish mammy style, sure wasn’t it great for drying our clothes. 

Ultimately, Martinhal is a five star resort, so it's not in the cheap and cheerful category. But then, you genuinely get what you pay for, and there are competitive packages available if you keep an eye out, especially if you’ve got younger children and can travel outside of term time. As well as that, If you're like me, and staring into the next 18 years of having holidays dictated by the school calendar, then you'll want to make any break count. This seems like the kind of place that rewards repeat visits, where as your children get older, they don't get bored and you don't feel like you're compromising on what you want from that well-earned break. And where, the usual parental anxieties aside, you can actually relax. Who wouldn't want to do that?

*How to get there: Aer Lingus and Ryanair both fly to Faro directly. Martinhal is approximately 1 hour and 20 minutes from the airport. 

*Packages: Late Summer deal, valid from September 5th to October 31st: 7 nights for a family of two adults, two children under 12 and a baby under 2 in a two bedroom house €2506. Price includes a sumptuous buffet breakfast and three course lunch OR dinner every day, use of all four pool areas and free activities including family football, cinema, free wifi. Other packages available for smaller or bigger families!

Active Winter Holidays, valid from November 2nd 2015 to 30th April 2016: 7 nights in a two bedroom house for two adults and two children under 12, plus a baby under 2. Price includes breakfast plus lunch or dinner. Use of jacuzzi, steam room, sauna at Finisterra SPA, indoor/outdoor heated pool, 1 hour of tennis or padel tennis court hire per day, complimentary kids club, complimentary wifi. 

There are plenty of other offers available online, check out www.martinhal.com

There's no such thing as a freebie...

I wrote a piece for the Irish Daily Mail this week about the fact that no GP in our town has signed up for the free GP for under 6s scheme yet. Here it is in full for anyone who missed it...

MY eldest started pre-school this year and to say our home has become a hotbed for germs would be an understatement. I’ve started sleeping with a pile of towels next to the bed so I can catch projectile vomits before they penetrate to the mattress. I’ve become an expert at syringing antibiotics into the backs of their mouths so they can’t spit them out. From December to April alone, we’ve had six vomiting and diarrhoea bugs, two of which lasted more than a week per child, so low sugar levels and dehydration became a concern. And when you have three children aged four and under, that’s a lot of poop and puke to contend with. So yes, we visit the doctor. A lot. In fact, in one month alone over the course of the winter, we handed over €350 between visits to the GP and the out of hours service, SouthDoc. And that’s not taking into consideration the cost of prescriptions or the bottles of Calpol we’ve had to fork out for to deal with high temperatures and the likes.

When I heard that under 6s were getting free GP care, it was music to my ears. It’s not that I go running to the doctor with every cough and splutter, and I know there’s nothing they can do for viruses. But it’d be nice to know that money wasn’t a consideration when deciding whether or not your child’s illness warrants a visit. I’m a firm believer in trusting my gut instincts, so having to check my bank balance to make sure that I can actually afford to get expert medical advice is not a nice feeling.  So over the past few days, I’ve been checking and re-checking the list of GPs that have signed up to the free care for under-6s scheme in the hopes that my lovely family doctor will be on the list. Not only is she not, however, no GP in our area is. Clonakilty has no shortage of doctors - there are a few practices in the town itself and more in surrounding areas. But the only GPs I’ve seen on the list in West Cork are in Bantry. And I’m not going to be driving over an hour there with three children in the back of a car. It can be hard enough to keep kids settled in their car seats for a two-hour return trip at the best of times. But throw in sickness, high temperatures, nausea or whatever else into the mix, and that’d be no fun for anyone.

I love my GP. She’s on the ball, good with kids, is thorough and knows her stuff. She doesn’t prescribe anti biotics willy nilly and has even given me free advice over the phone on more than one occasion . But if another GP in town signed up for this scheme, I’d have to seriously consider changing. At the end of the day, we’re a young family and every cent is accounted for, with most months running pay cheque to  pay cheque. A €50 visit here and a €50 visit there all adds up and we really have to skimp on things like the food shopping if it’s been a heavy month for doctors visits. So far though, it seems that it’ll continue being a regular expense for our family. I've been told that when the youngest is seven, the what seems constant sickness will ease off and their immune systems will be hardy. Great. Only six more years to go then.