To all the Mother's of the World......I salute you!

 

This is Lexi (my sister's baby)

My sister-in-law and my wee sister have both just become mothers.  This is weird for me as the oldest sibling of 5 and being 11 years older than my wee sister, because to me, she is still my wee baby sister even though she's 25 years old.  When I look at her, I still see the curly little blonde haired puddin', with her chubby wee cheeks and toothy grin, holding on to her life long companion and favourite doll, Lulu at the age of 3.  And yet here she is now, at 25 years the adult, confidently nursing her own baby girl with all the self assurance and fearlessness of someone who had been a Mother for years even though its only been a few weeks.  But don't get me wrong, my sister is not naive to the fact that Motherhood will be difficult, hard and even heart breaking at times, but the rewards that it gives and will give her in the future has afforded her the determination to do as good a job as she can but the grace and realism to know that she may not get it right every time.

This time last month all my sister had to worry about was herself.  Just her.  And after a few hours of labour.....which she completely owned by the way, she suddenly has this little human being that instantly means more to her now than she ever thought was possible.  Her life changed instantly, from the moment her baby daughter was born.  That little bundle of 8lb 9oz of dark haired joy that she has to live for and now sees as the centre of her universe is everything to her.  This is an incredible change in her life and one to be celebrated.  But as much as she is rejoicing at the creation of this little being, she is also very realistic at the hard work it takes to keep this little Bean in the manner of which she is accustomed to, previously in the womb....well fed, warm and loved.

So, whilst my sister shares various cutesy photos of her new born child with us all and photos of herself looking as fabulous as ever......she also sends me the not so cutesy ones and funny little videos of her new born baby making strange faces or a photo of herself without make up on, looking exhausted but ultimately happy as she ever could be because she's holding her whole life in her arms.  To be a Mother, you don't have to be able to "do it all" to be a successful parent and woman.  You don't have to be a Master Chef, super housewife and Top Executive glass ceiling breaker extraordinaire to call yourself a successful Mother.  To that end, I am here today to salute my sister, my sister-in-law, my own wee Mummy and all the Mother's out there for doing everything they can to be a good parent; but are accepting of the fact that they won't always get it right or do it like all these "Super Mom" blogs, YouTube channels and magazines that say you must attain a certain amount of success to be a real Mother.  I am sorry, but they sometimes set unrealistic goals and promote impractical practices on new Mother's who already find themselves in an overwhelming and emotional situation.  I'm not saying every Social Media outlet or Magazine does this, but a lot of them do.  I think in this day and age, there is a lot of pressure on women to somehow "have it all" and get it right at every turn.  But sometimes, getting a 2 minute shower amongst baby feeding, nappy changing and burping is an achievement in itself.  So, don't be too hard on yourselves ladies if the wash basket is over flowing or there's a dust ball forming in the corner of your living room.  That is just stuff!  And stuff gets done as and when it can.

So I write this post today to salute all the Mothers of the world who keep it real.  Who know that Motherhood is hard but they tough it out because they've created this little spectacular being who they love and will worry about for the rest of their lives.

To my own wee Mummy, who wanted to be a Mother from she was no age....I love you and admire you.  You have successfully raised (and let's face it....are still raising) 5 children.  And yes, you've told me many a time that as the first born I was the guinea pig and test subject in your new venture as a Mother.  But someone had to be and I wouldn't swap my position as the first born child for anything.  I had an awesome upbringing and love being the oldest so I can spoil my siblings when I can.  So, maybe you didn't realise that as soon as I was able to walk that you had to watch me like a hawk otherwise I'd be away up into the fields on my own trying to chase cows......I'm still alive today, regardless of my dangerous toddler adventures!  You've shown me that being a Mother is a full time job and no matter what age your children are or how much they tower over you in height (where did our height come from woman?), we are all still your babies and you'll love us and worry about us until the end of time.

To my wonderful sister, who is realistic about being a Mother and knows that sometimes it won't be all cuteness and light.  I love you, respect you and am so proud of you.  You recently sent me a photo of your newborn baby girl, wrapped up in a pastel coloured towel looking all cute with her fluffy dark hair, just after her bath.  It was beautiful.  But you also admitted what really went down just to get that photo.  We ohh and we ahhh, but the carnage in the background was real and she had no issues with admitting it either.  Yes, her little daughter wee'd all over her Daddy and then poo'd in said pastel towel whilst Daddy accidentally flooded the bathroom.  THAT is real and being a parent.....and you are awesome for admitting it.  Although, I know you wouldn't swap this new mess and carnage for anything in this world.

To the Mother who's hair looks a mess and can't remember the last time you ran a brush through it.....So what!  You made that little bundle of beautiful joy lying in your arms....no one can compete with that.

To the Mother who's bathroom hasn't been cleaned and you've lived on Super Noodles for a week.......your child has been fed, watered, bathed and clothed.  You are fantastic.

To the Mother who wants to bury her head under her pillow because her baby has just started screaming for a feed.....just as she herself is closing her own exhausted eyes for the first time in days.....you are stronger than you know.

To the Mother who thinks she's somehow a bad Mother because she either can't breast feed or doesn't want to breast feed.  They are your boobs and no one should dictate to you how you use them.  Is your child fed and content?  Of course.  You are a brilliant Mother and don't let any nurse, news article or blog post tell you otherwise.

To the Mother who feels a great sense of achievement when she finally pulls out that gross little booger that has been hiding in her baby's nose......Good for you!  It's not easy or glamorous picking someone else's nose but it has to be done.  It's the little victories that keep you going.

To the Mother that let's out a joyful "Woowhoo" when her baby finally lets rip of a massive burp after being winded for 20 minutes straight.  Who knew that a burp could bring so much joy but it actually does.

To the Mother who sneaks a peek at her phone to quickly check on her twitter or facebook page when her kid is off playing on the jungle gym (but is still within eyes and ear shot).  There is nothing wrong with allowing yourself a little internet time.....there are only so many photos or videos you can take of your kid going down the same slide, time and time again.

To the Mother who tells her baby sitter that she has an important hospital appointment to attend but really goes home to sleep for two hours....good on you girl, don't you feel one bit guilty.  Sleep is a rare and beautiful thing when you are a Mother.  And for you to be a good Mother, you need to see to your own needs too from time to time.  So off to the land of nod you go, guilt free.

To the Mother that cries uncontrollably because her baby is crying for her bottle......and the damn thing is still too warm.....you cry as much as you want.  What ever happened to the days of pre-made bottles sitting all ready and waiting in the fridge?  If you want to cry because your baby is crying for a bottle that is still too warm, you go for it.

To the Mother that guiltily skulks into MacDonald's and buys their toddler a MacFlurry, just to keep them entertained for the 20 min drive home.  Don't feel bad........it's one ice cream for 20 mins of silence and it's not like you do it every day.

To the Mother that cried leaving their toddler off to pre-school for the first time, but soon began to enjoy those few hours to themselves whilst their toddler was at school......don't feel guilty.  You are entitled to a little "Me time" too.  You are still you, even as a Mother.

To all the Mother's out there who, despite all the messiness, lack of sleep and hit to personal grooming, manage to put every ounce of energy they have to keeping the little person they created, happy, healthy and loved regardless of how hard it can be sometimes, this blog post is for you.  Because every smile, giggle, kiss and hug is worth all of the hard work and stress.  You are strong, beautiful and powerful even when your hair roots are showing and you're wearing a t-shirt for the 2nd day in a row that is covered in baby sick.  YOU ARE AMAZING.

You can't be a Genius at everything.....

You've heard me speak (brag, boast, gloat.....etc., etc.) about my 15 year old brother Corey, a few times now I'm sure.  I'd love to say he gets his incredible intelligence from me, but......no, no, wait....what am I saying?  Of course I should say he gets his intelligence from me.  Am I crazy?  Of course I want to say its all from me and nothing to do with our parents, or our 3 other siblings......or just his own intelligence, lol.  So....he gets his intelligence from me.....obviously, haha!

I dragged my little Minion down to my house last weekend.  There are desserts to be prepared for Christmas, like our coveted and secret family recipe for Chocolate ice cream that can not be given to anyone outside the family.....House Rules apparently.  Boy did that make for an awkward conversation one Christmas when I brought the ice cream up to my in-laws and they asked what was in it!  Technically they are my family.....but I didn't know what the "rule" was for when one of us gets married.  Could I give away the secrets from my side of the family to my husband's side of the family?  I was confused and didn't know what to say!  I just sort of sat there awkwardly, shifting in my seat, looking at my husband for support, who's head somehow conveniently at that very moment got lost staring into the bottom of his empty dessert bowl.  The bowl was empty!!!!  There was no more ice cream to find in there dammit!  HELP ME!!

Anywhoodles, I digress.  So I get my Wee Minkete down to help me (that's my pet name for Corey, its a hard one to explain, so I won't right now, lol).  He was actually excited to do a bit of baking because its basically science in his eyes.  You need to add exact measurements of this to certain measurements of that and bake it for this long and hey presto you get a beautiful dessert at the end of it.  Now he doesn't do much baking at home which is so strange to me as I was baking from I was 6 or 7.  I made my first Profiteroles when I was 12!  They were scrummy.  In any case, he hasn't had much incentive to bake basically but he said he wanted to get into baking and cooking more.  So he was all geared up for a bit of baking.   On the menu....the Family recipe of chocolate ice cream (no baking needed....that's all you're getting *wink, wink*) and a chocolate ganache cake (not for Christmas in fact....just for whenever he wanted it, lol).  But because of his inexperience with baking our baking session ended up being more of a comical evening with a mess in my kitchen that had never been seen before.  Let me begin......

Everything was going great.  We had gotten to the stage of merely mixing the ice cream and cream mixtures together so it could be put into tubs and frozen.  Needless to say when I asked him to separate the eggs into whites and yolks, his reply to me was,

"I can do it.  But is it important not get bits of yolk into the whites and possibly bits of shell too?

To which I replied......."I'll do it!"

So the mixing of the ice cream mixture requires a folding motion so not to deflate the air in the whipped cream but it also needed to be done with a bit of gusto because there was a lot of mix in the bowl.  And if you stand there gently folding, you'll be there pretty much all night.  So I showed him how to fold it in with a bit of a quick wrist action and I left him to it, turning my back to him to deal with the mess in the sink.  And then I thought to my self,

"Oh Jesus, if he has never folded anything like that, there's a chance its going to go flying out of the bowl".

So, I quickly turn to him and said... "Oh my God, I just thought.  Be careful doing that action or its going to go..........!"

And just as I said that, Corey flicked his little wrist and exclaimed "UH OHHHHHHHH".

And with that simple little wrist action and exclamation of "Uh Oh", there was our secret family recipe of chocolate ice cream.....having evacuated the mixing bowl and finding itself the whole way up my kitchen wall.  A large, long streak of dark, brown coloured ice cream mix, ALL up my WHITE tiles in an artistic splat strewn up the wall, like it was a Jackson Pollock painting.

Well, what else could we do but pause, stare at the mess and be in awe at the timing of both our exclamations and...... LAUGH HYSTERICALLY!

Then our brains kicked in and we were both scrambling for a cloth, cleaning spray, kitchen roll, dettol wipes.....my long haired fluffy cat.......pretty much anything that would clean the mess.  I'm busy saying things like

"Oh no, has it gone down the back of the cooker, because I can't pull that damn thing out". 

Meanwhile Corey is still laughing hysterically, trying to mop up the mess.  And I continue my monologue;

"Oh no, its all in the grout".

The response I received had me almost doubled over in laughter....again!

"Grout!!!!!  Grout??  What is grout and where is it so I can clean it?"

This is my baby brother who is basically a child prodigy and he'd never heard of grout before!  I have to admit, I was a little disappointed at this revelation because my Daddy taught me to clean grout with an old tooth brush and bleach solution.  And yes....my Daddy taught me how to clean....thoroughly and industrially clean, teehee.  Which meant he had never tortured....opps, I mean taught Corey how to do it!  So now I'm in stitches laughing at him, trying to point at the now brown coloured pasty looking stuff between my used to be white tiles.  But eventually, he got it all sparkling white again....even the grout.....and I didn't even make him use a toothbrush either, lol.

If that was the end of our giggles, I would leave it there.  But things just got giggly-er as the evening carried on!  We got over the ice cream/grout fiasco with the odd reminder of it every so often with a crack from Corey saying "Oh nooooo, my grout" in a mocking, girlie voice.   I won't bore you with everything that happened, but I have to tell you this one so bare with me.

It's the chocolate ganache cake's turn (it's pretty much a chocolate fudge cake but with ganache instead).  So the instructions for this cake is pretty simple.  No need to divide the eggs so I assume he can manage to crack those.  I even show him how to lift bits of egg shell out using the broken half of the egg shell to retrieve any wee bits that might fall in.  Now, Corey wouldn't be mad for his hands being dirty, gooey, slimy etc.  But I wanted him to go away with a bit of skill and knowledge.....even if it destroyed my kitchen.....which he was doing a pretty good job of by that stage, lol.  So I said,

"Let me show you how to crack an egg with just one hand".

He looks at me with large, horrified eyes.  Here he was having broken more eggs in 5 minutes than he'd ever done in his whole 15 years of life and I was expecting him to do it one handed.  But in his defence, he agreed to take on the challenge....he does like to learn new things.  So I cup the egg in my left hand (we're both lefties) and I'm showing him how to use his thumb to pull one half of the egg towards him, whilst using his index and middle finger to pull the other half of the egg outwards and away from him to release the egg.  But we only had two eggs left, so I could only show him one attempt of me doing it and then it was down to him to do the last egg.....no pressure then?  So he watches me intently and he bravely picks up his egg, gives it a tentative tap off the side of the bowl........but instead of using his thumb to pull one half of the egg shell away from the other half...........he slowly and cautiously started to stick his thumb right into the inside of the egg.  Well obviously he realised this wasn't right.  But he couldn't adjust his thumb.....it was inside the egg!!!  And as it was the last egg and we needed it for the recipe, he couldn't just ditch it in the bin.  So he had to carry on with the motion he was doing as he couldn't adjust it by removing his thumb or he'd risk dropping the egg, lol.  So by now he was screaming;

"UGHHHHHHHH" in a high pitched screech that I didn't know was possible to come out of his mouth.  And as his thumb started to feel the egg squelching around his thumb, his panicked "Uggghhhhhh's" got louder and more frantic.

Well I mean the only logical reaction to this was.....yes you guessed it.....its payback for my grout......LAUGH.  And laugh I did.  I laughed like there was no tomorrow.  I enjoyed the lack of air in my lungs and the burning in my chest from laughing so much.  I took great pleasure in seeing his little thumb disappear inside that egg, knowing he had no control over the situation.  And for a young man who likes to know how everything works and control as much of everything in his life that he can....this was not a comfortable situation for him to be in, Mwahhhhh!

He was looking at me shouting "What should I do?"

I couldn't answer!  I was laughing, just staring at him with his disappeared thumb inside an egg!  And the more panicked and disgusted he sounded, the harder it was for me to answer him........or maybe I was just enjoying being the torturous big sister a little too much.....Mwahhhhh!!!  What?  Oh come on!!  A big sister has to get her kicks somehow you know, LOL.  And he can get me back by sticking me in a home......as I'm 21 years older than him (yes....21 years older).

"AHHHHHHHHH, what should I do?"  He shouts again.

I try to contain myself and answer "Just keep'er lit.  We need the egg.  Just get it in the bowl and if there is any shell, I'll get it out."

Much to his disgust and with an exasperated "Ughhhhhh" he soldiered on.  But because of where his thumb was he couldn't do anything but continue to shove his thumb into the egg until it finally cracked open enough that he could get it into the bowl.  And as if to add insult to injury, his thumb had pierced the yolk (obviously!!  LOL) so the slimy, runny egg slid down his thumb and plopped into the bowl.  Corey quickly dropped the egg shell, looked at his hand with his fingers all spread out in front of his face.  He looked at me in horror and frantically shouts,

"PUT THE TAP ON.  PLEASE PUT THE HOT WATER TAP ON!!" as he stood with his hand held out like it was radioactive material.

Well that reaction did it for me.  I crack up again (excuse the semi-deliberate pun).  Here was my highly intelligent 15 year old genius wee brother......being beaten by an egg.  He had been confidently beating them 5 minutes before and now the tables had turned....oh the irony!  His horror at the sight of the sticky, gooey mixture of egg all over his hand had me in absolute kinks.  My sides were killing me!  He was even holding the culprit hand by the wrist with his other hand and holding it out as far away from himself as he could!  I was dying!  He doesn't get flustered over solving University level maths questions.  He can code a website in his sleep and talks about Quantum physics like he's discussing his shopping list.  But here he was, freaking out over his thumb and hand being all goo'ed up with egg.

Haha....maybe you had to be there to understand just how funny that night was.  But I had a blast.  And surprisingly.......Corey wasn't put off by his traumatic experience and even wants to do more baking with me.  Oh and the cake........OMG it was delicious.  And just to prove it, here are some photos.  Looks a bit messy with our awesome ganache spreading abilities....but it tasted incredible.

Nice little side view.  Excuse the mess.  We had just finished demolishing my kitchen!

This was so scrumptious.

Sorry this isn't a great profile photo of the cake.  Blame Corey!  He took it, lol.  In fairness though he was videoing it and managed the take a slightly blurry photo in the middle of recording.

There you have it.  Our fun filled, laughing 'til we cried, baking night.

Thanks for sticking with me.

Toodles Noodles.....Lee :)

Am I prepared for Auntie-hood?

I have a very close relationship with my siblings.  I'm 35 and the oldest of 5 children.  The youngest......well, he's 14.  Yes, go on....quickly work that number out in your noggins.  Take a minute, I'll wait.  Yes, that is correct.  There is 21 years between me and my youngest brother, Corey.  Yes, 21 years.....that isn't a typo.  Technically I was old enough that he could have been mine, lol.  He's not however.....don't get excited.....there is no deep, dark, family scandal here where I had a kid and got my parents to raise him......honestly.....he's not mine!!!!  Sorry to disappoint you Corey.....you are only my wee brother, so you'll just have to be content with having a wayyyyyyy older (but awesome) big sister, lol.


Anyway, I digress.   So, my brother, Jay (who is only 1 year younger than me) phones me one night recently and whilst talking to me, sends me a photo to my phone and asks me to open it whilst on the phone to him.  Now this is nothing unusual......my brother is always sending me daft photos of himself and vice versa......it's what we do.  You have to get my family really to understand our strange behaviour in sending really stupid photos to each other.  Between all 7 of us (parents included...and don't even think about arguing your sensibilities Mammy.....Star Wars?  Remember?  That's all I'm saying, Mwahhhh) there probably isn't a sensible bone in any of our bodies, teehee.  Anyway, back to the photo.  So, here I am on my mobile, trying to open up this "daft" photo whilst attempting to not hang up on Jay at the same time.  But oh dear God, instead of there being a posy photo of Jay doing a duck-face on my screen, there was a positive 2-3 weeks pregnancy test staring at me.  I just sort of stared at it for a second, kind of confused as to why Jay would send me this.  And then the penny dropped.  OMG! I cried!  I screamed!  I think I just went through about 10 different emotions in about 10 seconds.  It was such fantastic news.  This was the first child being born of all of us siblings.  Then, my sister Tara (who is 24) dropped by just over 3 weeks later to say "hello" to me.  Again, nothing unusual so it was just like any other visit....or so I thought.  I had bought her a wee dress and I casually handed it to her, saying "I hope it fits you ok", to which she replied "well, it probably won't fit me for long.  I'm pregnant".   I swear to you now, I froze but at the same time, nearly fell off my chair onto the kitchen floor.  I didn't believe her at first.  I sort of laughed and then re-evaluated the look on her face.  To be totally honest, and please don't judge me for this, I answered both my poor siblings in the exact same way, weeks apart but unintentionally of course but looking back on it......at least I was fair in my reaction and I didn't treat ones news any differently than the others.  No?  Yes?  Maybe?  Maybe not, when you hear how I replied to both Siblings, just weeks apart!!

"F*** Off, you are not!  Are you?"
Obviously, Jay is not pregnant!  But his wife, Karen is, lol

I know, I know!  I can hear your disappointment from here and the "Ohhhhhh Lee".   That was so un-ladylike and such an appalling reply.  But you have to understand, these announcements came out of nowhere!  Don't tell my Granda!  I'd die if he knew I'd used that word.  It was the shock Granda......honestly!  I was totally and completely shocked.  2 pregnancy announcements in so many weeks which just seemed to come out of nowhere and the bad word just kinda slipped out.  Im so sorry!!!!  I'm apologising to my blog readers for my reaction to my siblings pregnancy announcements......well that's a new feature, lol.

Needless to say, the whole family is delighted. My parents have been wanting Grandchildren for forever, and now it looks like they'll be getting 2 in the same month, lol.  Ha!  Be careful what you wish for, lol.  So, once I calmed down, I of course have been getting more and more excited for the arrival of my first nieces or nephews.  I heard my sister's Wee Bean's heartbeat for the first time a few nights ago and it had me almost in tears!

Anyway, I started to obviously think about being an Auntie.  And then I was thinking about the influences that my Aunts and Uncles have had on my life.  Then I was thinking, OMG will I be any good at this Auntie malarky?!  Obviously, I was 21 when my wee brother Corey was born so I know how to do all the baby stuff like feeding, cleaning, dressing, bathing etc.  But what about all the other stuff that Auntie's bring to the table??  I'm not sure I'm ready for this.....I'm too immature (at 35!).  My Aunts and Uncles were awesome to us as kids and adults.  But I don't even class myself as an adult even though I'm practically middle-aged!  Will I be any good at all?  I sat here for ages just thinking about my childhood, my upbringing and my how my Aunts and Uncles influenced my young life to make me into the (somewhat) adult I am today.  And sitting here thinking on it, I didn't realise just what an influence they all had on my life but really, the impact my Aunts and Uncles have had on me has been quite massive.  Not only am I a product of my upbringing from my parents, but a product of my Aunts and Uncles too.  That is a pretty massive thing to realise!  How am I going to compete or even measure up to these wonderful people?  I sat there thinking about them individually and all the great memories of each of them that I have.  Here are just some of the things that I remembered:

How my Auntie Fiona had the patience of a Saint when I tried to learn, well anything.  I remember specifically trying to grow out my nails.  And even though my nails were virtually non existent, she came up to our house to show me how to file them and look after them properly.  I thought I had done an amazing job at growing them out but being a real wee Tom-Boy, I did tend to break them a lot and found it hard to grow them with me climbing trees and basically doing everything that little princess girlie girls didn't do, teehee.  But when I thought they were "long", there was my Auntie Fiona, loaded up with her full nail gear, graciously congratulating me on doing such a good job on growing them out.  And even though they hadn't really grown out much more than a millimetre, she patiently sat giving me a manicure on my non-existent nails and taught me how to file, paint and maintain them.  Or how she taught me silly words like "diddle-lumps" which was a much more polite way of saying "boobs". Or how often she babysat for us, eating Tayto cheese and onion crisps and galaxy chocolate in one bite whilst playing Twister or Kerplunk!  Or having her boyfriend write me a letter from Santa, because I had had a fight with a boy at school who insisted that Santa didn't exist and I came home so upset.  But because I knew my parents and her hand writing and not wanting me to be upset, she got her then boyfriend to write me a letter from Santa.  Boy did I shove that letter down that boys throat next day at school, lol (not literally of course!).  Here is a woman who will gladly spend all her time with her nieces and nephews, even if she hasn't had 2 minutes to talk to her own siblings. You'd usually find her in the middle of her nieces and nephews, on the floor playing whatever game we wanted.  And she never once gave us a feeling of boredom or like we were hogging her time (even when we were).  That's quite the feat when you have so many nieces and nephews.  Her kindness and generosity are unparcelled and if I manage an ounce of it, I'll be doing ok.   Her genuine affection for her nieces and nephews is as loving as any parents could be.

And my Uncle Paddy & Auntie Jennifer who have supported me in more ways than I could ever imagine.  They took me and my brother, Jay down to their house every year for some fun, regardless of where they lived.  So, be it Bangor, Scotland, Wicklow or wherever they lived, it never seemed any trouble for them to have us stay and spoil us rotten, even when Jennifer was heavily pregnant and was probably knackered with tearing after two excitable children.  Nothing ever seems to be trouble for them.  Their home is open to whomever wants to visit.  You'll never meet a more welcoming pair.  When they went on holidays, they always gave us their house for the 2 weeks so my family could get a holiday away.  Nothing is ever a bother to them.  I love nothing more than a good sing-a-long with my Uncle and listening to one of his funny stories, of which there are many.  And Jennifer is always so welcoming and generous with her time and home.  They have been so wonderful to me and to all my siblings.  We are so lucky to have them in our lives.

Uncle Cathal & Auntie Bernie.  Here is a man, that no matter how much I jumped about him, shouted "UNCLE CATHAL" at the top of my lungs and acted like a total idiot out in public in front of complete strangers, never once got embarrassed, upset or annoyed by my obnoxious behaviour.  And the more I tried to embarrass him (in good humour of course), my Uncle Cathal always laughs and greets my madness with affection and acceptance.  As soon as I need anything.....there is my Uncle Cathal, always happy to help.  If it wasn't for him I wouldn't have a floor to walk on in my home.  But one request for his joinery skills and there he was in a flash to put down my floors in my new house.  Nothing seems to be a bother for him.....even when I'm being a bother.  You'll not meet a nicer gentleman than my Uncle Cathal.  And Bernie, his wife with her quiet demeanour and glowing grace always has a smile, laugh and a little "Oh Lee" when I say something a little bold or cheeky, but is always completely accepting of who I am and what I am like.  There isn't a thing these two wouldn't do for you.  If I live my life having half the humility or being half as kind and considerate as these two wonderful people are, well then I'll be a happy camper.  I only hope I will be as kind and generous as my Uncle Cathal and Auntie Bernie have been to me.  I don't think they quite realise just how much they have graced my life with their loving presence.

My Uncle Morgan, although he lives in Turkey has always had a big influence in my life and has always supported me in my academic endeavours and everything I've ever wanted or tried to do.  He encouraged my love of birds as a child by giving me a bird book and his very expensive binoculars to use for the weekend, even though he was only home for a short time and probably intended on using them himself on his many adventure walks into the Mourne Mountains.  And to trust a 10 year old with those binoculars, didn't even spare him a thought.  I like to think I've inherited his dry sense of humour too.  And of course my love of pistachio nuts because he arrived home on one visit with the biggest bag of pistachios that I have ever seen, lol.  Bless his cotton socks, he even proudly showed off my handmade wedding invitation to all the ladies at his school, even though it was early days in my crafting endeavours and they were probably a bit rubbish, lol.  He always encouraged me in whatever I wanted to do but never made me feel like a failure if things didn't quite go to plan.  And although he lives in Turkey I know he is only a phone call away or a funny little email away, whenever I need him.

My Auntie Anne-Marie lived in Scotland for most of my life until a few years ago.  However, the distant doesn't mean she didn't have any influence in my life.  Thankfully My Auntie Anne-Marie now lives back in Northern Ireland but even when she lived in Scotland, she always had an open door whenever I wanted to visit.  She encouraged my love of reading, patiently standing for what must have been over an hour as I strolled around Waterstone's and then Eason's, taking in as much as I could.  And of course.....leaving with as many books as I could carry, kindly provided by Anne-Marie.  She has the most amazing hearty laugh and a hug that just pulls you in so much that you never want to leave it.  I remember vividly her showing me how to do the breast stroke in a swimming pool in Scotland, and how to do it properly without drowning myself, lol.  And how she would raid her daughter's wardrobe and send me bags of the most amazing and gorgeous clothes, as I was 2 years younger than her daughter, Kerry.

My uncle Tony, well what can I say....Big T?  Everything he did, I wanted to do.  He is a successful actor and director in the South of Ireland.  And boy did I want to be a Thespian, just like him.  I was very active in acting and singing as a child, in school, the local dramatic society and entered as many acting and singing festivals and competitions as I could and that was all down to my Uncle Tony.  His fantastic comedic sense of humour is addictive and when he sings, he could silence a room in seconds.  He has incredible time and patience for children and gladly nurtured my desire to perform.  I followed him about like a little shadow and he never once made me feel like I was a bother or a burden.  And although I don't get to see him now as much as I'd like, he had a great hand in my overflowing confidence as a child.  He instilled a sense of self-confidence in me that couldn't be shaken.  I proudly got up on stage and sang and acted my little childhood heart out.  I had a dress sense, that although was probably a little embarrassing to look back on now to say the least, I loved it and it was mine and no-one would tell me otherwise.  If someone didn't like something I did, wore, liked or had, well that was their loss.  He taught me not to conform and that it is perfectly ok to be different and not be a sheep like everyone else.  So, I would proudly strut my stuff down the school corridors wearing my bright florescent green or orange socks, even though everyone else was wearing boring navy ones.  And I didn't give a damn if they liked them or not, lol.

So, with all these wonderful Auntie's and Uncles, I've started to panic a bit wondering am I ready for the responsibility of being an Auntie, lol.  What could I possibly have to offer these little lives that will be coming into my life very soon?  I know I'm 35, but am I even mature enough to be an Auntie?  Let's be honest here, I may be the oldest of all 5 children in my family......but even my 14 year old brother can be more mature than me and I'm not even joking.  You should see my ridiculous hat collection that I have no problem with walking out in public in, teehee.  I misbehave something shocking sometimes.  Nothing bad of course.......just playing about and embarrassing my family in public in any way I can, lol.  Or just acting like an eejit.  But maybe they are perfect traits to have in an Auntie.  Maybe I have nothing to worry about at all.  Maybe I'm just being silly, after all I'm not going to be a parent so technically I can be the fun, silly Auntie who gets to do all the fun stuff without all the hard stuff, teehee.  But just thinking about how my Aunts and Uncles had such a profound impact on my life, I only hope I will do as good a job with my nieces and nephews.  And really, kids don't have expectations of grandeur, they just want to be loved and don't expect much more than that really.  But reminiscing about my wonderful Aunts and Uncles, I'm thinking I have pretty massive shoes to fill.  But I hope I will be able to take a little bit of each and every one of them and share that with my own nieces or nephews.  I suppose, I can only do my best.   And if I have a positive impact or influence on my nieces or nephews, even if its a fraction of how my own Aunts and Uncles have had on me, then I think I'll have done a good job.  So roll on Spring 2016 and bring on the babies!  I'm ready for you......dirty nappies and all, lol.

Thanks for stopping by folks.

Toodles Noodles..........Lee xx

A little Cat ........A lesson in French

My Parents and youngest brother, who is 14 are not long back from 10 days holiday in the South of France.  My wee Brother is pretty good at speaking French and was trying to teach my Daddy a few things too.  Who am I kidding, my wee bro is pretty fluent in French.......he got 100% in his French exams and when I told him I wanted to buy him a wee treat, he asked for a French linguistics book to improve his French as he wanted to be able to speak "proper French" and not the French he is taught at school.  Had that been me when someone asked me if I wanted a treat, it probably would have been a book too........but certainly nothing school related.  No way!  But this is the kind of kid Corey is.  He always wants to improve upon everything he does........even when he gets 100% in his exams, lol.  So he's pretty good at speaking the old French.  Oh and did I tell you that he's teaching himself Italian and Russian too?  Yeah, I know!  But that's a completely different story for another day, lol.

Anyway, I digress (with talking up my wee bro as a Super Genius.....which he is to me, lol).  Corey was sitting with my Daddy trying to teach him just some simple things in French which in turn my Daddy would impress my wee Mammy with his multi-lingual prowess.  So, Corey sat very patiently teaching my Daddy how to say,  "A little cat" in French.  He sat repeating and repeating:

 "Un petit chat", "Un petit chat", "Un petit chat"

But it was a bit too much in one sentence for my Daddy who is a pure Northern Ireland man through and through and has only ever spoken English his entire life.  He didn't learn languages at school so never had a chance to learn another language.  But because he wanted to try speaking some French, Corey was more than happy to oblige.

And so, Corey with his everlasting patience decided to break the sentence down for my Daddy even more so he would be able to hear and understand the sentence.  So Corey says, in his beautifully honed French accent;

"Repeat after me........UN"

Daddy replied......"Un" (in his gruff Northern Irish accent)

"Ok, now say "Petit"

And because he pronounced "Un" so well, my Daddy is getting pretty confident in his French speaking abilities.  So he replied  with "PetiT"

"No, no don't pronounce the T so harshly.  It's a soft T, barely audible, if at all.  Pretend the last T isn't even there.  So try again: Petit".

This time my Daddy gets it right and says "Petit".

"That's good.  Now say "Chat, but again with the T barely there are all "

Again Daddy replied with "ChaT" as harsh as ever.  But Corey quickly prompts him again and he tells him how to say it.

So again Daddy says "Chat", with less of a T this time.

"Very good.  Now say, Un petit chat".

And to Corey's amazement my Daddy replies "Un petit chat",

"Brilliant, that's it.  So just repeat that over and over until you remember it perfectly", Corey said.

And with that, Corey goes about his business (building a website of all things!) and my Daddy sits watching tv and every so often says "Un petit chat".

Next morning, Corey and my Daddy are down stairs chatting and having breakfast.  My Mammy comes down to join them and Corey thinks to himself that now is the perfect opportunity for Daddy to impress Mammy with his French skills.  After all, he sat repeating the sentence to himself all night and as its early in the morning, Corey believed it should be still pretty fresh in our Daddy's mind.  So Corey says:

"Daddy why don't you say that sentence in French for Mammy".

"Oh", Mammy replies "What's this about?"

My Daddy sheepishly looks at Corey and says "What sentence?"  My Daddy tends to get a little embarrassed and shy when he is put on the spot, it's actually quite adorable, lol.

Corey says "You know, the one I taught you last night.  Say "a little cat" in French".

So, my wee Daddy with his wee shy face, musters up the best French accent he can and proudly announces to my Mammy.......

"A LITTLE CAT, IN FRENCH".  

Yes, you have read that correctly.........it's English.  And not only is it English and not the French statement he was meant to say, but he repeated exactly what Corey told him to say, in a fictitious French accent.

Well of course as soon as he came out with that, the 3 of them erupted with laughter. The poor man had already forgotten what he was taught the night before and Corey put him on the spot the next morning, so he had to say something.  He must have thought he would get away with it if he put on some kind of strange accent, teehee.

Ahhhhhh my family.  I do love them to bits.  And believe me, this silly story is only a taster of what every day life is like in my family.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this silly little story and it gave you a giggle as much as it did me.  Have a great day whatever you are up to.

Toodles Noodles....Lee xx