Even though the days have been getting longer since the darkness of the winter solstice, there is something about the clocks going forward that catapults us into spring.

Of course, we’ve all noticed the ‘grand stretch’ in recent weeks, the brighter mornings and the gentle warmth of the sun. Lambs dancing in the fields, the safe delivery of calves and the yellow burst of daffodils all declare that spring is here. But it’s on the weekend that the clocks go forward that the dullness of winter officially lifts.

It was especially obvious this year with a beautiful, sunny Mother’s Day. Many mammies even dismissed the fact we got one less hour of sleep on our special day, such was the gusto that we welcomed the lovely weather.

My husband treated his mother and I to a lovely Sunday dinner in the Station House Hotel in Kilmessan, Co Meath and I might as well have been in sunny Spain sitting out on the patio afterwards with a glass of rosé and the kids playing.

‘Sure, what time is it, at all?’ I asked, because as you well know, you haven’t a clue what time it is when that hour changes. “Half past five,” my husband replied. “No, it’s half past six,” said my mother-in-law.

My blood ran cold. We were nearly an hour from home, there wasn’t a uniform laid out and most importantly, the children’s sleep would be all over the place. With the good weather and Mother’s Day, we lost the run of ourselves completely.

But if I’m to be honest, it had all gone to pot before that. You see, I want to be the mother who follows the advice from the likes of Lucy Wolfe and all those other sleep experts.

I know I’m supposed to bring their sleep routine back (or forward – I can’t remember which one) by 10 minutes every night in the days running up to the clocks changing. But it didn’t happen, because, well, life happened.

I knew in that moment we were going to pay the price. What ensued was a long car journey home singing Old McDonald and Ireland’s Call (my two-year-old’s favourite song) to keep the kids awake, followed by a torturous bedtime where they were both overtired, and a mammoth task to haul them out of the bed the next morning.

Rinse and repeat folks for the following few days. I’d like to say I’m enjoying the spring sounds of birds chirping but ‘bag of cats’ is a more appropriate description in our house.

So shout out to the parents who don’t get it right all the time but try their best anyway. And could someone send a memo to the genius that set Mother’s Day on the same Sunday as the clocks changing. Please do better next time.

Finally, Katherine O’Leary has a heartwarming column on the back page about a lovely new mum, Aoife Slacke. Many will know of her husband Darragh, formerly of this parish and presenter on Ear to the Ground. They just welcomed their baby girl Grace, born through surrogacy in Cyprus, after a long journey.

I stopped into their shop at Elmgrove Flower Farm last week and there was great excitement in the community, especially with Aoife being the principal in the local primary school in Stamullen.

At the farm, there were fields of yellow daffodils waving in the wind. What a beautiful welcome home for a special little girl. And folks, I have a baby sleep book that I’m happy to donate.