Tric Kearney: Adjusting to a house full of adults has its challenges

PARENTS of young children take note… these are not the best days of your life. Being sleep deprived and dealing with a toddler who’s inconsolable because you’ve opened the car door instead of letting them do it, is not a thing you should ‘enjoy’.

A heartfelt hug at the end of the day helps but doesn’t erase the memory of a public meltdown or watching your child act as if you’re trying to poison them because you put broccoli on their plate.

I can say this with clarity, now I’ve reached the other side.

My youngest had a birthday recently which brings us within a year of having a house of adults. Roughly translated this means at weekends we can sleep as late as we like, my dinners are appreciated and there’s always someone to share a cup of tea with.

However, adjusting to a house full of adults, who you thought had moved out and before you know it were back again, has its challenges. Such as, who gets the television?

Yer man is easily pleased so makes no demands at all. This leaves four of us competing for two TVs. Such was the hoo-ha one night last week that I was forced to leave TV number one and mediate, which I did by entering the fray and attempting to out-roar everyone else. As the room emptied amid lots of door banging, I sat down to resume watching TV, although the tension in the house was at a peak.

Yet despite such arguments, the advantages outweigh the disadvantages. Yer man is no longer my only late-night taxi and we have our very own Mr Fixit on site.

I’m not great when it comes to caring for my laptop, which decided years ago to only work if it’s plugged in. Last week while transferring it from one room to another I heard something drop on the floor. I didn’t pay it much attention but as I plugged my laptop in, in the other room, all manner of top-secret looking code came up on its screen. I hit a few random buttons, but it didn’t go away.

“Yikes,” I said to Mr Fixit, “I think my laptop is sick.”

With a heavy sigh, he muted the TV and looked at my screen. I’ll not quote him directly, but his voice became high pitched and his language was of a rather colourful nature, mainly blue.

I suspect he was trying to say: ‘What have you done?’

I stayed mute, a tactic I’ve learned works well.

Looking beneath my laptop (who even does that?) he exclaimed, “I think your hard drive is missing.”

It was then I remembered the ‘something falling’ in the other room. Like Pat, the dog from the old Peter and Jane books, I ran to fetch it, although Mr Fixit looked more horrified than pleased on my return. After some screwing in and much keyboard tapping, he looked up, “I’m not sure what’s wrong now, your laptop is very slow.”

“Oh, don’t worry, it’s been slow for weeks,” I said.

Thankfully, words failed him. He continued his fixing punctuated by much sighing and groaning. One Coronation Street episode later he handed me my fixed, super speedy laptop. As I smiled my thanks, he shook his head. I decided it was not the time to remind him yer man’s laptop was almost dead.

Today, as I sit here in silence, I know my house full of children days will not last forever. All too soon they will leave one by one — again. And that is as it should be, but how I’ll miss them… especially on nights out and slow laptop days.