Baby Betsy is One

Today we mark a special milestone in life. Darling little baby Betsy is a whole one year old. I can hardly believe it.20161025_152116

This time last year Betsy was popped into a pumpkin babygro at one week old. Now it adorns a dolly as decoration. It swamps the dolly. How tiny our little lady must have been at 8lb 6 and how quickly we forget.

She is crawling like an Olympic champion. Standing proudly to attention at her Peppa table. We have lots of gurgles and little words -sheesh (cheese), baba, mama, Dada, there y’are… (peekaboo game) and occasionally ‘durtee’ whilst she proffers a speck of something black, floor abiding and indistinct. ‘Kish’ and the planting on baby lips on your face with always the slightest threat of butting heads.

She is a ball of personality. Smiles, grins, bouncing and sweet. Big kisses given, thrown or even just licking your nose, she is precious at every level.20161025_093033-1

Betsy is her own little lady. She has carved herself a clear and beautiful corner in this home, all of her own. I cannot imagine a time when she wasn’t here pulling on my jumper to be picked up. Snapping necklaces in half. Kicking her legs over excitedly at the sight of blueberries. Screeching when something she wants doesn’t play fair. Winding up her sister.

Did you know a barely one year old can be proficient at deliberately winding up an elder sister? They really can. She adores Gigi like a stereotype and wants everything Gigi touches like any truly great fan. It causes friction and fun depending on the day.

Celebrating Betsy’s birthday almost has to be synonymous with Halloween. Who can boast having a child’s first birthday party with a decoration like this on the French doors…?20161025_093019-1.jpg

It has been a tough and terrific year really. Two smallies is hard going but we have been lucky to have healthy girls. Betsy will go to her own room soon. We will miss her but we all need our own space. She is one now after all…

On another pleasant note! For my ‘birth’ day I am giving myself a present. I am getting RID of the bottle steriliser.  Am so excited to get the kitchen space back. Woop! Small things…

For Betsy we have liberty as a gift. Mobility. Power. A green 3 in 1 trike, hopefully she loves it.20161025_151257

Happy birthday sweet little girl xx we love you so very much. You have made our lives so much richer with your toothy grin and your complete, all consuming, uncompromising  love of us. Have a great time celebrating your twelve months of life.

We sure will. It is all happening so fast. Happy birthday Little One x





Morphing into my Mammy

Sitting in a coffee shop, having a rare solo coffee on the way to meet friends, I have watched myself engage automatically-yet very deliberately -in a Classic Mammy Move. I cleaned the table. Myself. With my own wipes that I carry in my bag at all times.20161022_132012

Do we all get here eventually? I mean to that time when you are not just similar to your Mam, but you may actually be morphing into her?

My Mam is neat, tidy and orderly. She is calm and quiet. I don’t think I always have been.

In fact maybe we haven’t that much in common. One time I was aiming to be tidy. Craved order. Had no interest in calm and quiet. And yet…I see my house now. I am unsettled when it is unsettled.  I tidy. I clean. I obsess about order and routine. Calm and quiet?  These days I see this state as perfection and idyllic. If you can get it.

So to order.  I have been observing. Or more I have been assaulted by sniper like truth bullets when I least expect it as to why I am transitioning more and more into my own Mother. Here is an actual list of what has been happening.

Ordered you see.

  1. Bearer of Tissues. tissues-1000849_640I always have then in my bag now just like my Mam. I bulk buy. I am Official Cleaner of the Runny Nose. Like my Mam once was.
  2. V- Necked Jumpers. We both have quite the collection. My mother has a tidier figure than I, but often I catch sight of us both in a mirror and see a uniform of various coloured jumpers with obligatory V neck and ordinary black trousers staring back at me.sweatshirts-428607_640.jpg
  3. Comfortable Sensible Shoes. I have recently been diagnosed with Plantar Fascitis. See Atlas, did you develop a dodgy heel too?to see when I first became aware of the issue. Upon diagnosis my Mother admitted to ‘having had a bit of that too once’ and I quickly had a mental flash in memory of having watched her hobbling in and out of cars in the past and realisation dawns. This is now me. It is hereditary. Dodgy heels due to baby bearing runs in the family. Now none of us can run at all. Who knew?

    Bye bye high heels, hello comfort. Remain in my memories of noughties life.
  4. Talking on the Phone Everyday to- Mammy!  My mother spent at least an hour per day on the phone to her mother, my Granny. It drove Dad mad. What could they be on about? Sure they were only talking the day before?
    Generations of Gadding on the Phone.

    My Granny is now in her nineties. She is not able to do this any longer. I know know how wickedly tough this must be for my Mam. I know because I talk to my own Mam everyday. I do it because I NEED her. She helps me be a Mam myself. We talk about babies. How they are. How we are coping. What I need her to bring to me when she visits! Nannas immediately get a position as a Tesco personal shopper for their daughter as soon as the new baby is born.

  5. Talking about how Shocking everything is. Now that I have children, everything on the news appalls me.  I am horrified by events and images. Horror stores involving children appear to pop up everywhere. Together my mother and I talk about how Shocking they all are.newspaper-973049_640.jpg
  6. Tea.cup-339864_640 I rarely drank tea for thirty four years. I had children. Now I need tea. Another thirty years and I imagine I will be on the ten a day like my Mam. A trip to Paris (24 hours in 2005) where Irish tea with cold milk was not to hand caused near hysteria to my mother at the time. It was much to my amusement then. I know see it could be in my future. I have inherited belief in the healing powers of tea as a proper Irish Mammy should. In fact, I had tea when I realised I was turning into

There is more evidence but maybe I am not ready to probe that bear yet.sleeping-bear-clipart-black-and-white-clipart-panda-free-clipart-gpycpj-clipart

My Mother is wonderful. I am not sorry to become like her. There are much worse people to morph into. I am changing into someone I love. I know that I am very lucky to have a living Mother  who lives nearby.

Still though. It is a bit of land when you realise it is happening. You are aging. Swiftly!

Anyone else experience this phenomenon via genes and their outing?

I am imagining my little girls realising that they are turning into …well…me. I hope they aren’t disappointed.

Being Wedding Guest and Mammy

To start with, my babies aren’t coming to the wedding.

Just in case you thought this was a post about that kind of thing.

No. This is an adult only affair and I am glad. I love my babies but would they love a wedding? I don’t think so.

The invite arrived to our welcome.  We were happy to be asked, glad to

Time passed.

Suddenly it is here and I am all over the place.

I know. We aren’t bringing children. This does not mean the organisation load is lessened.

Oh no.robot-1470108_640

It is an epic event. Organising the sitter. The food. The sleeps. The lifts. The cars. Pre planning. Pre shopping.  Thinking ahead. I am the Thinker Ahead in our world. I am the Pre Planner. Work is busy, our evenings hectic and we are on the ‘eat (when we can), sleep (we wish), work (yup that always seems to be the case)’ hamster wheel and there is NO TIME for organising around Epic Events. I have squeezed in the planning into every spare minute of thought and action.

Sonething has got to give.heavy-934552_640.jpg

In this case it was my fashion.

Also our car’s cleanliness.

almost bought a new dress. Emerald green. Knee length. Cap sleeves. 100 euro. Didn’t do it. Put it off.

Tried on my old dress.


It just looks horrible. My Two Babies in Two Years Belly is poking out nastily, almost asking people to think I am still pregnant. At least six months,they must mutter.

Bigger tape please.


I have pulled out an oldie gown, so old it must be called ‘a frock’  that survived the Great Wardrobe Purge of pregnancy one. A silky purple and black affair, it is designed for the bigger booby. Didn’t look too ferocious on. Better than it used to.

It will do.

I have looked forward to this wedding. It is just now it is here, we are so tired from work and late nights with the little ones that I am nervous of staying out late!

How far the mighty have fallen.

Once a party girl, I loved the night life. Now I long for lie ins with my book. A glass of wine now makes me feel giggly and two induces a sickly feel.  I can’t finish three.bitmoji-20161012113629

Who am I? ?

Let us look at the positives. ..

The couple who are marrying are lovely. I want to celebrate their day.

The occasion is local. No big drive. Not far away should we be called on to return at haste.

We will have our dinner ‘handed to us’ as they say. No need to cook that particular meal…

Great craic to be had.

An Irish Wedding is a bit of a speciality of our culture.  It can go on for a few days, especially if you are close to the wedding party. You might take out a small loan for the event ( Joke but only kind of as Ireland is ridiculously pricey) and you might not be right for a week afterwards healthwise, but this is how we roll. Gluttony in gold sparkles.

Keep it coming…

Food and alcohol are aplenty. Dancing is understood. Discos reign until 2:30  am. There might even be a few longhaulers hanging about in the late bar until the tired, weary bar folk beg for mercy.

It is a little while since I have been one of those people.

However, let us not lie. There are many times I was. In a younger, lesser responsibility filled world.

I am quite glad that is over for me! Can’t handle the pain and can’t afford the lack of sleep.

So haste to the wedding shall we say, on Saturday.

Saturday will be grand. The wedding day itself is not the problem. Really..

It is the next morning. Babies. Dodgy heads. Tiredness.  Sore feet. Dora the Explorer. No guarantee of a midday nap.

Let us see what Sunday will bring.tomcat-835005_640.jpg