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!

My Children Are Driving Me Crazy

I met a friend for coffee the other morning and greeted her “How are you?” with an exasperated “My children are driving me crazy!”. It had been a busy morning, as usual and locating lost shoes, emptying unemptied lunch boxes, cleaning up cat poo and wrestling tangled hair meant I was frazzled. (Actually frazzled has become kind of a thing).

 Her response was “Don’t let anyone hear you say that. You’re supposed to be all Earth mother”. Am I, I thought? Because I write about my experiences of parenting? Because I teach classes? Because I’ve had home births and breastfed children past 2 years of age? Does that make me a particular type of mother? Does that mean I can’t have days where everything goes to pot and I make a complete mess out of parenting? Or that I can’t be stressed and completely lose my cool when I’m washing my teeth and turn around to see make up smeared all over the walls or the dog covered in Sudocreme (true story).

She didn’t mean anything by it. And I wasn’t offended but it got me thinking about perceptions and labels. I parent the way I parent because it works for me and my family. I teach the classes I teach because I have studied the psychology and philosophies behind them and they resonate with me. I am passionate about gentle parenting. I understand it works best for my kids. Do I get it right all the time? Unequivocally, no! Sometimes little arms are wrapped around me and I am told “You are the best Mom EVER”, other times doors are slammed in my face and “I hate you” is shouted at me (I’m not going to lie, that one hurts like hell.)

It’s really hard trying to find the balance between knowing the mother I want to be and being her. Every day brings challenges, sometimes I rise to them in a gracious way. Other days I am overwhelmed by responsibility and the kids bear the brunt. Sometimes I try my very best. Some days I am very far from my best and trying just seems like a step to far, so I do what I can. Every day is a new day and when I’m being crap and I’ve treated the kids badly by shouting or being unfair, then I own it, I apologise for it and we move on. I’m far from perfect. I make mistakes. And I’m certainly not trying to hold myself up as any kind of an example, other than within my own home. But I do hope that in being honest I let the Momma’s I work with know that we are in this together.

Earth mother, working mother, hippie momma, stay at home mother, crunchy mom. Routines, relaxed. Breastfeeding, bottle feeding, co sleeping, spoon feeding, baby led weaning, home birth, C-section, natural conception, IV.F., adoption, single, married, gay, straight. The only label that’s important in any of it is, simply, Mother.

So Long, Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Goodbye

I can barely bring myself to type the “word” Brexit.  Partially because it’s an utterly ridiculously constructed term and partially because the whole scenario is quite frankly, utterly ridiculous.  Like a ship without a sail, Britain drifts into uncharted waters.  Those that encouraged the maiden voyage, abandoned ship, rowing as fast as they could away from the outcome, their political reputations in tatters.  The rest of us hold our breaths and wait for the fall out.  That any right minded person voted in favour to leave is bizarre in the extreme to me, but democracy is democracy, right?

Whilst chatting to an English person recently, I asked what their opinion was. They said they would have voted leave and when I asked why, answered that they had witnessed huge changes in society, and not positive ones.  It led me to reflect on the very many positive changes that Europe has brought to us here in Ireland.

I’m an 80’s baby.  I grew up against the backdrop of dramatic change for women in Irish society.  In 1973 the European Economic Community opened its doors to us, dragging us kicking and screaming out of the dark ages. Before Europe it was legal for a man to rape his wife.  There was a compulsory ban on married women in the workforce - becoming a wife equaled unemployment.  It was legal to pay women less money for the same work.  There was no such thing as a deserted wives benefit, unmarried mother’s allowance or children’s allowance.
It was legal to fire a pregnant woman.  It was illegal to take the pill or to buy condoms.  There were no Women’s Aid or Rape Crisis centres.  Legislation in these and many, many more areas came because Europe told us it had to.  In fact, even when Ireland abandoned the marriage bar, our government tried to negotiate a clause whereby they could continue to pay women less than their male counterparts. Thankfully, Europe said no!

Domestic violence legislation, equal access to social welfare, maternity and paternity legislation, human rights and anti-discrimination legislation, family law, environmental legislation, all came as a result of European directives.  Directives that Ireland is sometimes lax in implementing.  In 1995 the State was forced to pay arrears to over 70,000 married women who had been discriminated against in social welfare payments, due to delays in implementing the 1985 Social Welfare Act.  And in 2012 we were ordered to pay €3.5 million by the European Court of Justice for failing to comply with environmental law.  The European Courts allow for domestic laws to be challenged on a daily basis. That is a very good thing.  It creates accountability and provides stability.
Yes, the European Union has problems and undoubtedly reform is needed but it is an overwhelming success. The European project emerged as a direct consequence of World War 2, during which over 60 million people were killed.  It is an alliance, a peaceful means of negotiation and economic integration and sadly, almost 60 years after its formation, all the Leave campaign have done is display a complete ignorance of the source of the legislation that they have benefited so hugely from. That, and attempt to legitimise racism. Bravo Boris!

5 in the bed & this Mammy said, I'm tired, I'm tired!!

Five in the bed and this Mammy said, I’m tired!!! The invasion of small people into our bed at night has been happening for so long now that I’m almost immune to it. Almost.

Usually a baby crying around 12, means he is the first to join us.  That’s ok. We’ll tag team on who gets up to bring him in, usually he calls for his Daddy, and who am I to argue? He comes into bed, has a drink of water, a snuggle and he usually settles straight to sleep.  Next come the patter of four-year old feet, usually after a bad dream or sometimes just because she’s feeling a little lonely and wants the comfort and reassurance of her parents.  She’ll give hugs and kisses, until eventually settling to sleep, her body twisted around one of ours.

Somewhere between 6 and 7am, the oldest Joyce will arrive, bounding in, full of 7-year old energy, ready to start the day with a family hug.  Mostly he’s greeted with a collective groan from the four prone entangled bodies that constitute the remainder of said family but it doesn’t deter him.

Our super king sized bed, that once felt like such a luxury, has become a necessity, and long may it last.  Someday, there won’t be any little feet making their way to me in the dark.  Small hands won’t reach for the safety of my arms.  I won’t smile as a warm breath is breathed onto my cheek.  I know the days pass quickly and my children will be grown and before too long I’ll be lying in this very bed worrying about where they are and who they are with.  My Mammy heart will long for these precious nights that we share now.

A recent South African study by paediatrician Dr Nils Bergman suggests that bed sharing or co-sleeping as it is more commonly called, is beneficial for the health of the baby’s heart, the quality of sleep and for parent-child bonding. I breastfed all three of my babies, so for me co-sleeping was the easy option.  Compared with sitting up at night, in the cold, trying to settle a hungry baby in their own room, snuggling and dozing in my own bed, while baby fed was always going to win.

Wherever baby sleeps, safety protocols apply. Surfaces should be firm. Bedding should be tight fitting to the mattress, which in turn should be tight fitting to the headboard.  Pillows, stuffed animals or blankets should not be near baby’s face.

There should be no space where a baby could roll and become trapped.  Babies should never sleep on a couch or other surface where there is a risk of becoming wedged between cushions.  Babies shouldn’t bed share with an adult who smokes, who has been drinking or taken medication, including over the counter medications.

Premature or low birth-weight babies appear to benefit greatly from co-sleeping nearby, but on a separate surface such as a dedicated co-sleeper attached to the side of the parental bed.  For us, knowing how to safely share our bed with our children has enriched family life hugely.

School's Out for Summer

School’s out for summer and this Mama couldn’t be happier. I find the structure and

routine of school days a little stifling, something that amuses me seeing as I always

considered myself a routine kind of girl. I think the free spirit in me is starting to

rebel! While I know that continuity and routine are important for helping children to

develop a sense of security, I also know that I absolutely love the freedom of getting

up in the morning, having a lazy breakfast of pancakes, chatting with the kids about

their dreams and then deciding on how best to spend our day.


I remember my own childhood summers, spent catching minnows in the river or

rambling up the side of Mount Leinster, making mud pies in the garden and playing

Hide and Go seek in Ballintemple, helping Daddy on the farm and stirring big pots of

strawberry jam with Mam. It’s those simple, sunny days that have stuck with me and

I want for my children to experience the same simplicity. We haven’t had a foreign

holiday for a couple of years now, choosing instead to stay and explore parts of

Ireland that we’ve never been to. Last summer we had an incredible trip to Northern

Ireland, starting with the Planetarium in Armagh, before heading on to Belfast and

spending an entire day at the fantastic W5 museum. We then spent a couple of

days renting a tiny cabin in Portrush, Antrim, braving the Carrick-a- Rede rope bridge

and learning about legend’s at the Giant’s Causeway before walking the Walls of

Derry and heading across to Donegal, to build sandcastles on the beach in

Bundoran. It was a fantastic holiday and the kids ask about going back constantly.

Carrick - a Rede Rope Bridge with Ruairí in back carry 

Giant's Causeway

We had a super week on Valentia Island too, where we holiday every year with my

husband’s family, sailing, kayaking, fishing and riding our bikes, jumping off the

water trampoline in the harbour, looking for fairies at Derrynane and flying kites on

Ballinskelligs beach.

Ballinskellings Beach, Kerry 

Kayaking from Valentia Island to Mainland 

Ireland has so much to offer. Yes, sadly you can’t rely on the weather and packing

sun cream, sun hats, woolie jumpers, umbrellas and wellies in the same bag can be

a massive pain, but it’s also really lovely to teach the children a little about our own

history. Learning how to pitch a tent into the mix, is a bonus in my book! I’m hoping

we’ll get lots of sunny day this summer, to explore New Grange and Glendalough

and visit Lough Tay, where we’ve never been. The beautiful Tomnafinnoge Woods

in Tinahely is an absolute must on a sunny day, stopping off at the Daisy Cottage

Farm café for some delicious home baked picnic treats . Wells House in Wexford

and the Dunmore Caves in Kilkenny will also be on our list. We’ll have days where

we’ll stay close to home and take in our favourites, Altamont Gardens, Huntington

Castle, Rathwood, Duckett’s Grove, Oak Park and of course, our very own back

garden. Happy holiday’s!

Tomnafinnogue Woods, Tinahely