Bernard O'Shea: Now that I have kids, here are five things I owe my parents an apology for

Having my own kids has made me realise my parents weren’t unreasonable at all. I was just an absolute pain in the arse

The circle of life is well and truly alive in the extended O’Shea family tree when it comes to being able to fight with brothers and sisters. Picture: iStock. 

Saying 'I’m bored' 400 times a day during the summer holidays

It wasn’t my parents’ fault that Ireland had a chronic unemployment problem in the 80s and early 90s. I eventually got a job on a nearby farm when I turned 13, but up until then I was a nightmare.

There were no Xboxes or Nintendo Switches. I distinctly remember long summer days daydreaming that Alf, the lovable sitcom character, would descend from the heavens and be a distraction until September. 

Every time I would complain to my mother that I was “soooooo booooored”, she would always come back with: “Well, if you’re bored, I’ve plenty of jobs around here you can do.”

A phrase I have employed myself at least 100 times this summer to my own kids. So for all the times I slammed doors and screamed something incomprehensible, I apologise.

Asking ‘what’s for dinner?’ and then being annoyed by the answer

There are days when I cook three dinners. Each child wants something different. I swear if it wasn’t for the air fryer, I don’t think there are times when they’d eat at all. My mother thinks it’s insane.

There were four kids, my parents, and my granny all in a small house growing up. If you didn’t like your dinner, you didn’t eat dinner. 

But there were several times a week when I’d ask: “Maaa, what’s for dinner?” and when an answer came back I didn’t like, I’d be a pain in the arse. 

Now, all these years later, when I put the dinner in front of my kids and they mumble: “I don’t like that”, I just walk away and do an extensive breathing triage to calm my nervous system. 

The next time it happens, I’m going to leave bows and arrows on the kitchen table and tell them to hunt their dinners themselves. For all the times, Mum, I huffed at your stew, I apologise.

Never knowing where anything was

This is why I’m losing my hair. Every day, every hour, every minute, one of my kids asks the following: Where are my shoes? Where is my gum shield? Where is my Ireland jersey? Where is my charger for my Switch?

The list is effectively everything they own and, more importantly, everything that is theirs. I tried the traditional “Why would I know where YOUR (insert whatever they haven’t even started to look for) is?" 

But they don’t even listen to that retort anymore. I’ve had near nervous breakdowns on school runs where shoes can’t be found, or water bottles mysteriously disappear.

I’d love the CSO to do a survey on how many water bottles every Irish house with small kids goes through every year. I’d say it’s in the millions.

So for every time I asked my mother: “Maaa where’s me football boots?”, I apologise.

Fighting with my siblings over absolute shite

The circle of life is well and truly alive in the extended O’Shea family tree when it comes to being able to fight with brothers and sisters. 

For the record, I had three older sisters, and they terrorised me and were stronger and far more skilful than any male foe. 

My father would roar at us: “Shut up fighting over shite”, and it was always truly idiotic stuff. 

Yet when we meet up, the best stories are about sibling fights and the several different perspectives from all players.

Now my kids can’t look at each other without something being said. Even when they’re getting on, it’s eventually going to turn into a spat. 

But it’s what siblings do; it’s their job. So for those times my mother turned to us and said: “You’ve broken my heart”, I apologise.

Thinking money just existed

One of my earliest memories was hounding my mother about what £100 looked like.

I’m not interested in money. Don’t get me wrong, it’s essential, and I’m a realist. I’m not some new-age hippy that wants to live on organic wild berries and thin air. 

I know the value of it, and I work hard for it. There are times my kids randomly pick up things in shops as if everything on a shelf is free.

When I was six, I heard that a Raleigh Vector bike was £100, and I obsessed over it. I begged my parents to get it for me. Looking back now, it was like my kids asking if I could get them a Bugatti. 

I couldn’t understand why we didn’t go on foreign holidays or why we didn’t buy a new car.

Nobody had money growing up. It wasn’t just us, but nearly everybody I knew. 

So when my mother eventually broke and wrote a cheque for £100 and said: “Look, that’s what it looks like,” I grabbed it and ran in the direction of the town, thinking it was real. 

Unfortunately I was caught, and later in life learned that I would have had to scratch off two zeros if I were to cash it.

For all the things I asked for growing up that were unaffordable, I apologise. BTW, the cheque bounced.