I live close to the row of shops in Ardoyne with my husband Danny (36) and my four children Ciaran (14), Aaron (10), Leona (8) and Niamh (4). The last week has been a nightmare. After what happened in June we hoped that we could use the mediation process to make sure the children could get to school without being hassled, but it didn't work. I started at Holy Cross myself exactly 30 years ago this month. I can honestly say I never thought human beings would be capable of treating others the way we were treated by our neighbours.
Monday
None of the parents got much sleep over the summer, we certainly didn't get much on Sunday night. We had done everything as normal, sorted out uniforms and all the rest, and on Monday morning I got Leona up.
Niamh wasn't due to start school until the next day, so at 8.30 am I went with Leona to the shops where the parents had arranged to meet every morning. We would smoke fags together, discuss the situation, offer each other support.
When we went up to the corner of Alliance Avenue where the security cordon had been erected we could see a kind of Perspex tunnel for us to pass through and we assumed we would be very safe. It was strictly only parents and children allowed through and we genuinely thought everything would be OK.
But when we walked down the road there were men right beside us on the footpath, so close you could feel their breath on your face. They were shouting "fenian whore", "go on and smack your children so the world can see them cry", "your priests are child molesters" and even "which one of those molesters is your Daddy?"
We were spat on, verbally abused. The venom and bitterness was unreal. When we were nearly at the school, we saw hundreds of people standing in front gardens all shouting and spitting at us. They started throwing bottles and blocks.
The children were screaming hysterically and many parents were in tears by the time we got into the school. Leona didn't seem too perturbed, she was in a state of shock. I was sobbing, other mothers were in bits.
When I got home, I sent for the doctor because I couldn't stop shaking at the thought of this sick, vile, sectarian abuse. I had come out in a rash across my chest. He gave me cream for that and diazepam. It's the first time I have had pills in my life. I said then that I could not put my child through it another day.
Tuesday
Even the parents who had decided to take their children the other way met at the shops each morning - it was a sign of solidarity.
That morning, I changed my mind and decided to walk the usual route. There seemed to be a lot more RUC present, my husband was with me and the local priest, Father Aidan, told us he believed the security operation was much tighter than the day before.
When we walked through, it did seem safer, but the walk was still horrific. You could hear the verbal abuse. When we got to the school most of us agreed that we would be confident going up that route as long as the security was that tight.
Land-Rovers were lined up all along the road and police in riot gear escorted us. Don't get me wrong, it was still really bad, but your child has to go to school.
Wednesday
Because it had been safe the day before and also because parents who had taken the alternative route said they had also been subjected to abuse, I brought Leona to school up the Ardoyne Road.
As yesterday had passed off peacefully enough, we were slightly more comfortable when we set off this time. At first there were people with their backs turned to us and as we passed they started slow clapping.
When we got three-quarters of the way up the road there were blocks, stones and bottles thrown and we started to get frightened. We were almost at the school when I heard this almighty bang from the righthand side and all hell broke loose.
There was smoke and women and children were running and screaming and falling over. We ran the last bit to the school, where the parents' room was packed with people crying. The teachers had got those children who were calm enough into the classrooms.
That is the way it was every day - once they were in class with their wee friends they felt safe. Thankfully, my mother had driven Niamh to Holy Cross for her first day at school. Leona never flinched when the bomb went off, she just opened her mouth slightly and walked on. I'm not sure if that is a good thing or a bad thing.
As the day wore on I was being asked to do a lot of media interviews, and I didn't mind because I wanted the world to understand what was going on. Leona saw me talking on TV when I described the bomb as attempted murder.
She asked me: "Mummy, did people try to murder us today?" I told her I had made a mistake, that it was just a firework. I told her lies because that's how you get through it. How can you tell a child the blunt truth about something like that?
Thursday
The walk down that road is like the longest walk in the world. You can hardly breathe, you just keep your eyes straight ahead. It seems like it will never end and there is a really eerie atmosphere and such a sense of relief when you finally reach the gates.
The morning after the bomb, I asked Leona what way she wanted to go to school and she said up the Crumlin Road which is the alternative route. Danny, my husband, said well if she insists, take her that way but I would rather the two of them went along the normal route.
When we got to the shops Leona said she had changed her mind and so we walked up the Ardoyne Road. People might find this crazy, but I grew up with this hateful situation and while it might freak people out on the other side of the world there are aspects of it that don't freak people out here.
My children are used to seeing water cannon, used to seeing a massive military presence, used to being hemmed into their homes. People think we are being cruel to our children but it is this country that has been cruel to them, not us.
You take a risk just living in the Ardoyne, never mind walking up the road to school. If you took a child from Cork up here maybe they couldn't take it but unfortunately I have children who see this every day.
Leona knew there was something going on but it didn't terrify her. I brought both Niamh and Leona up the road to school that day because it is a fundamental human right to get an education.
We had been assured there would be no violence and there wasn't but it was still terrifying. Instead of shouting abuse they had their backs turned to us and were blowing whistles and tooting horns. The noise was the worst. Niamh asked what the whistles were for and I said this was party time for all the new girls going to school. Then she said she wanted a purple whistle for herself.
Friday
God knows how long we can protect the mental health of our children and our own peace of mind. There just has to be a cutoff period. We don't know about the long-term effects of this kind of thing.
The protest was a silent one today, the Protestants dressed in black in memory of the poor wee boy who had been run down, whose funeral was taking place, but what his death has got to do with my children going to school, I don't understand. I had a wedding to go to that day and was getting ready to go off on holidays to America.
All we can do is hope that talking will sort it out. If people have grievances, they should be aired through the relevant channels, but it should not affect the education of a single child. All we can do is hope. That is all we ever seem to do around here.