Dear Diary

We recently visited Dingle while in Kerry on holidays.  I hadn’t been since a family trip with my parents when I was a teenager. As we walked through the brightly coloured streets, I was assailed by memories of that holiday, a time I hadn’t thought about for years.  I remember we travelled with my uncle, packing fun in, not knowing then that the following summer he would die, leaving us to say goodbye forever.  I remember being curled up in the back of a campervan documenting the trip in my diary.  And as the memories came, so did the regret because a few years ago in a moment of sheer and utter madness I threw all of my diaries into the fire.  They were so personal and contained so much of me – so many ramblings, hopes, dreams, desires, love, loss, sadness, poetry, secrets so tightly guarded that their existence made me feel too exposed.  Too vulnerable.

I first started keeping a diary when I was 9 years old, and although we tormented my oldest sister by reading hers, I think my own managed to stay in the most part, private.  My secret special friend. I wrote in it daily, a bright blue A4 hardback that I covered in stickers and mindless doodles.  Photographs were arranged haphazardly, love hearts drawn, boy’s names scribbled out.

I remember writing about buying my first pair of jeans from the Jeans Den, with money I had earned strawberry picking.  Followed a week later by Metallica’s “Black Album”, the first tape I bought for my inherited Walkman.  That blue book was replaced by many more as the years went on, capturing the highs and lows of my teenage years, leaving home for college, the years I spent living in London and Australia and my world travels with friends.  The unrequited loves and the ones that didn’t last but left lasting lessons.  Today as I write this, the adult me aches to read the childhood scrawl of that small girl, with such big dreams and the strengthening of my character and confidence as I grew in life.

After I had my own children I started to think about what I’d like them to know about their mother.  I don’t for one minute expect them to think I’m perfect or flawless.  In-fact, I know that even my very best efforts couldn’t hide my flaws from them, but I also didn’t want them to know the darkest corners of my mind either.  I’ll regret that decision for a long time to come.  As we passed Paudie’s Bar, I longed to take out my diary and read the words I wrote the night I visited there with my parents, remembering my Dad singing along to the trad band that played to the packed pub. As I grow older, increasingly I think that rather than being shocked or embarrassed by reading my most private thoughts and experiences, that my children would be proud of the mother I grew to be.

The Jigsaw Puzzle of Life

I’m writing this with half an eye on the kids as they play in the garden.  My littlest is following his big sisters every move, idolising her, her shadow.  She has replaced me as the object of his affection and anything she can do, he must follow suit.  ‘Mawn Evay’ is uttered countless times during the day, as he reaches for her hand and they set off on some mischievous adventure or another. I love seeing the dynamic between the kids. Each of their three personalities similar in ways and yet very different. Strengths shining through even at such young ages.  My oldest son’s innate confidence, my daughter’s fierce determination and my littlest boys absolute need for independence. I love watching them grow, seeing their bonds deepening as they explore together, learning from each other. Making memories that they’ll carry through life.  

They are close, my three babies.  Friends at this age, although I do have to referee more frequently as they grow.  I can hear the shutter of the camera as my husband watches them too, through his lens.  Seeing something different than I do. Adding to the thousands of photographs already waiting to be printed.

Sometimes as I watch them growing and changing before my eyes, I try to imagine what the future will hold for them.  I wonder what career paths they might follow or where their travels will take them, or what kind of partners they might choose to share their lives with.  I hope they will remain close and that even if they are separated by land and sea, the bond that they share now will remain strong, as they count on each other, friends as well as family.  I hope they will always hold a soft space for each other – the people that know them best in life and that loved them first.  It’s hard to picture them grown, and gone from me, even though that separation is a natural one and happens a little bit more each day.  I hope that I’m preparing them well for the future.  I hope that I’m giving them the coping skills they will need for the very many challenges that life, no doubt has in store for them. 

Sometimes I have to remind myself to stop more often. To watch them a little more closely. To listen a little bit more attentively and to play with a little more abandon, to drink it all in, knowing that I will never have this time with them again.  Someday they will climb out of my bed for the last time or not need the reassurance of my hand in theirs crossing the road. They will need me in different ways, rather than the all-consuming survival needs of these formative years. 

   

My babies are like jigsaw pieces that combine to make up the whole puzzle of me.  I hope that throughout the years, even as pieces are misplaced and get tattered around the edges, they will always be easily reassembled.  

The Baby Room Is Open For Business

The idea of opening my own premises, especially dedicated to the health and well-being of Mum’s and babies has been developing for a number of years.  I think mothers are hugely undervalued by society.  We are expected to be all things to all people, often putting ourselves last.  Having three of my own children, I’m acutely aware of how much I rely on family and friends for help and support. I’m incredibly lucky in that I get it in spades. I am also aware that lots of mums aren’t so lucky.  I had my first son in Dublin and felt incredibly isolated.  I wasn’t prepared for the loneliness being at home with a new baby brings.  I wasn’t prepared for the utter exhaustion, the tears, the dependency on my husband for news of the outside world. I didn’t enjoy mothering until I found my village. I joined a breastfeeding group and went to sensory play classes. We did baby swimming and movie dates and found like-minded mamas to share our journey with. I became someone more than “Calum’s mum”.   I became a new version of me.

Look out for our signs leaving Fairgreen, towards Barrack Street 

My goal in establishing The Baby Room is to bring together my background in Social Care and my training in GentleBirth, Pilates, Baby Massage, Toddler Yoga and Mindfulness, to offer a multitude of classes designed to meet the needs of mums and their families at various different stages of the parenting journey.  Located in the heart of Carlow town, at the Fairgreen Shopping Centre, The Baby Room will open its doors, next Monday, August 8^th.  It’s been a rollercoaster, but I can’t thank John Brophy and his team at the centre enough, for all of the help and encouragement.  I’m really excited to join the fold and bring an extra dimension to all of the great businesses already operating at the Fairgreen.

I’ve been working hard on developing my classes and creating a really lovely, welcoming space.  On Monday’s our Mommy & Me Pilates classes allow you to exercise while children play close by in our dedicated play area. Monday’s are also about Mindfulness at The Baby Room. We’ve got our Mindfulness for Kids classes in the afternoon and our Mindfulness for Pregnancy and Mums classes in the evening.  Tuesdays we have Toddler Yoga and two Pregnancy Pilates Classes, tailored to your stage of pregnancy.  Wednesday’s we’ve got a general early morning Pilates class and an up tempo Fusion class at lunch, while the evening is for Beginner’s. Thursdays are Baby Massage and Kids Pilates and on Friday mornings we’ll have our Drop & Shop, where you can leave kids to take part in a play workshop while you take advantage of the great shopping at the Fairgreen or just grab a well-earned cuppa. 

A sneak peek :)

Each Saturday we’ll have Toddler Yoga, followed by a different workshop each week, from Elf & Fairy house building, to Sensory Play to Master Builders and one weekend per month will be dedicated to the incredible GentleBirth programme, which encourages parents to prepare for a calm and confident birth experience.  And loads, loads more, including space for a cuppa and chat and our brand new treatment room.  All course information and booking is through our website www.thebabyroom.ie or calling 086 0569137.  Drop in and say hello!