Going home

Moving the family to Ireland

Now that I have returned to Ireland, for good, my husband asked me over the phone, where is Matthew? I have no idea where Matthew is, I replied. And then it occurred it me, I really was in Ireland as it is here that your 11-year-old son can walk out the door, play out, float into other kids houses, and you are not too worried.

Over the years, as our family visited my brother and his kids (the cousins) it occurred to me how relaxed it all was. Frequently, my sister-in-law had no idea exactly where her 8-year-old son was. He was somewhere outside – he was ‘playing out on the road.’

This was in great contrast to our life in London where, the question, where is Matthew, was answered either, in his room, the siting room or the garden. Living in London, as my son grew older it became harder and harder to keep him entertained without screens. Our garden, although big for London, was never big enough for a growing boy. The petty arguments and clashes only increased.

Giving Matthew more space was one of the main reasons we decided, over the course of a few months, to relocate to Ireland. There were other drivers but this desire for my son to have more freedom, fun with local kids, preferably outside and not supervised constantly, was certainly one of them.

So our family of six have moved with the kids into the parents’ house, while we wait to sort out a house for ourselves. We managed to sort out schooling for the children and thought it only fair that they start the school year together, in Ireland. So far, it has been going well.

What has given me most joy, is not knowing where Matthew is. I know where he is vaguely – he is outside, in the estate with a boy he has made friends with. He can now stay out with all the other boys and girls until 9pm, when I drag him back. He is zooming around on a BMX bike or scooter or climbing walls he shouldn’t be climbing. He is free to be an 11 year old boy and he free from screens.

In this part of the world at least, the cars slow down for the kids. Frequently cars must stop to move an abandoned bike or scooter in the middle of the road. There is also a communal basketball hoop around the corner. I’m not sure how it got there.

I asked Matthew who else is out there, at 9pm? Oh, a five-year-old boy. What’s that now I say. Yes, a 5-year-old, he’s pretty cool. The next night, when I went out to get him, the place was like some kind of kiddie nightclub with five-year-old girls zooming around on scooters. There was an argument about who could count to 10 in Spanish. I’m not sure who won.

So as the rain has stopped and the evenings are bright, Matthew for has been spending his time outside. He seems to be enjoying it. I for one am delighted, as he gets to spend more time with boys, outside in the fresh air. He rarely asks for his phone now. In fact, he didn’t have it for 3 straight days once we landed in Ireland. Why would you need a phone when there is a BMX outside? His younger sister seems to be making friends also and his joining him ‘playing outside.’

We are certainly not in London now.