The ramblings of Mrs. Hoolihan

My rants on life and everything in between. Desperately trying to remind myself that it's just not worth the jail time.



Another year gone Mummy….

2.50am, 2nd March 2011 you were beckoned to Heaven to become an Angel.

Our world stopped. Tick tock, Tick tock, the silence suddenly became so deafening.

Filled with bleakness, panic and a void, we’d only ever known the strength and love of you our Mum and of Dad too. A quiet, steely strength, you were the anchor of our family ship.

The life and soul, you’d light a room with your presence. Never one to shout and scream, you quite literally held the patience of a saint.

Never one to complain, you always put others before yourself. Upon reaching you at hospital at 11.30pm on 1st March, on seeing me enter that little room, your first words were, “Jen love, what’re you doing here, you’ve work tomorrow?” Hours from death and you were more worried about me than yourself – your love for us children was your only thought, not what you were about to face – your love never waived, we were never second only ever first to you.

When you died, a piece of us died with you. A void swept in; shock overcame us and time stood still. It’s been 6 years now and not a day goes by that  I don’t think of you, wish you were here or long one last time, to hug  and smell your skin, the way I used to as a little girl.

You’re still with us, I know for certain. I know you were there on my wedding day last year, the sunbeam on the photos when there was no sun demonstrated your presence. Last year you also missed the birth of your 4th grandchild, your first Granddaughter, Isla’Rose. A little beauty, I know that you’ll be the proudest Grandmother in Heaven and each night, you’ll be looking over your beautiful grandchildren, ensuring their safety as they dream of all things sugar and spice and all things nice…

Harry asked me the other day whose Mummy Nanny Marilyn was and I explained she’s Daddy’s Mummy. He then asked me where my Mummy was and I told him that Nanny Karen is a twinkle twinkle in the star and he asked if you ever spoke to me.. My heart broke but I was determined not to cry – you’d laugh and cry at my beautiful and funny little man – he quite simply has no idea how much I miss you.

I wish you could join us from Heaven once again, if only for one last time for larger than life family meals to meet the newest members of our ever expanding family. You’d adore Wayne and Ross – they’d never tire of your never ending feeding! Your grandchildren you’d adore and you’d relish being able to enjoy looking after the munchkins of a weekend and whilst we worked, baking and cooking with them all – you’d have them domesticated before they even went to school!

Dad, Dave, Ric, Jolene, Maffu and Baby Jayne miss you terribly Mummy. Time may distance us but our hearts never will. You’ll be pleased to know that we’re all as close as ever and together, we always ensure that your memory is kept alive.

Dave undertakes his climb to Everest’s basecamp later this year; please watch over him and keep him safe as  he climbs that bit closer to Heaven won’t you?

Another year may have passed Mummy and yes the void is still there, the pain is still there (sometimes it’s as raw as the day you were beckoned) but I can still feel your warmth, hear your infectious laugh and feel your arms around me – our memories never fade and a piece of you is will always be with me xxx





One minute she was here, the next she was gone.

One minute she was here, the next she was gone.

It’s been over 4 years since Mummy left this Earth for Heaven and not a day goes by where I don’t miss her that little bit more than I did the day before.

I knew Mummy was going to leave us, I just never at the time, anticipated it was going to be as soon as it was. That’s the thing with bastarding Cancer, it’s poison in every sense of the word. It poisoned Mummy and it left a vile and bitter taste in the mouths of us left behind to miss her and pick up the pieces afterwards, much like how I would imagine poison to taste.

Mummy was the nicest person I ever met. I’m not just saying that because she’s not here, the way people often reminisce nostalgically, I’m saying it because it’s true. Mummy always put my Father and me and brothers and sisters before her. Always the first one leaping up to make visitors a cup of tea or to ram a ham sandwich down their throat before they’d even taken their shoes off in the hallway – she was definitely the Mrs Doyle of the family! You see Mummy, was an angel that graced a large number of us with her presence and made such an impact that even kids who I went to school with over 30 years ago, still speak fondly and warmly of her.

The love my Mother shared with me and my brothers and sisters is like no other and every day with my own little boy, I strive to be the Mother that I was so wonderfully given all those years ago. Sometimes, I struggle to believe she’s not here – often when I want to share something Harry’s done and then I’m reminded she’s in Heaven and not at the end of the phone.

They say that it gets easier with time. Not strictly untrue, it doesn’t get any easier; you just learn to live with them not being here. Mummy was like no other person I’ve ever met. She had no temper, she didn’t dislike anyone and I don’t know of one person who ever had a bad word to say about her. Mummy would take the weight of the world’s heartache on her shoulders; like a sponge soaking it all in and not readily letting it go.

One of the things I miss most about Mummy is her infectious laugh; one minute it was here and the next it was gone. Mummy was always laughing – she always used to say it was better to laugh than cry and she was so right (as she often was about most things). And listening, Mummy was an excellent listener.

Mummy would sit and listen whilst I often ranted about the trials and tribulations of the world. Never butting in, she’d offer her wise words calmly and always remind me that no matter what’s said to you, to take it with a pinch of salt, never judging.

For 29 years, I was blessed with the best of Mothers that one could be graced with. Yes I’m sad and very often furious with the powers that be that Mummy was stolen from us at such a young age, but at the same time, I feel blessed to have had her for those 29 years. Some of you will live a lifetime with your Mother and never experience the love I felt, so i’m grateful for the time we had.

No I will not see her grow old, no she’ll never meet the loves of my life (my future husband and my darling son), and nor will I ever hear her infectious laugh ever again, but I know that when my time does come, Mummy will be at those pearly gates, gently urging St Peter that she’s been waiting all too long to see me again. And then I’ll hear that infectious laugh once again…

The wonder of children.

I never wanted kids. If I’m honest, I never really liked them.

They were always a bit of an inconvenience, much like shaving your legs really. I could stand them for a small amount of time and then by home time, I’d be elated to hand them back. I hated teenagers especially; those surly sullen bad attitudes – jesus I’d want to punch them square in the face and tell them to have a word with themselves.

And then I met Wayne. Boom! Not sure what the hell happened, but all of a sudden I was overcome with a desire (that and hitting 30 i think) to produce a mini me.

I can’t imagine life without our little son. Harry’s one and he’s the funniest and charming being I’ve ever had the good fortune to be blessed with. Had you said to me a few years ago, that I’d jump up out of bed when I heard a little one shouting ‘Mama’ at the top of his little lungs, I’d have laughed. Laughed at the absurdity that I’d have agreed to reproduce with someone (I was single at the time) and then laughed again at me jumping up out of bed – I’m not known for being of the caring disposition.

Harry only has to smile at me and he melts my heart. He’s his absolute Father’s mini me and I couldn’t be prouder. My Fiance is an excellent Father and Harry adores him. There’s nothing that makes me smile more than seeing the two of them cuddled up together, laughing away at each other – i just know that as the years roll by, these two are going to be thick as thieves and Harry is already starting to demonstrate signs of hero-worship at this tender age!

My little man knows his mind and isn’t frightened to show it either. Only last night he opened ‘his’ drawer in the kitchen (his drawer contains his bottles and snacks etc) and proceeded to pull a box of gingerbread biscuits out. Calmly taking his seat on the floor, he opened said box and helped himself to a biscuit. Looking at me with his beautiful big blue eyes, he coolly bit the head from the gingerman’s body and laughed. Laughed! He may only be one, but he knows when he’s being a cheeky monkey!

Harry laughs when he breaks wind when you remove his nappy, in fact he finds it hilarious. I laugh with him but if he’s still laughing at 17 when he breaks wind, we’ll be having words – he’s not growing up skanky without manners after all.

I sometimes sit and marvel at this little human being. This beautiful little angel who is so precious and loved. It’s beautiful to see my Fiance blossom into this wonderful Father and to  watch our beautiful little boy transition from baby to toddler – I feel truly blessed and very lucky.

One day, my baby will grow into a man, but one thing will always remain the same….

To me, Harry will always be my baby, even when he’s 34 with his own kids (the age I am now), I’ll still hug him as tightly as I do now and tell him how loved he is and how he’s enriched our lives beyond our wildest dreams. The wonder of children.

My Dad, the legend.

My Dad, the legend.

My Dad is ace, he’s irritating as hell at times, condescending and has an opinion on just about everything, but he holds an absolute heart of gold.

At 62, Dad should be entering the golden era of life with Mummy, enjoying grandchildren (with three grandsons, he’s kept on his toes) and the ever-growing side to our family, however, the big ‘C’ cruelly stole Mummy away from us four years ago. Instead, Daddy faces the cruel twist of fate of growing old without her, whilst she remains ever young, immortalised at the tender age of 51.

It’s taken its toll on Mummy passing; yes you expect your husband or wife to maybe pass before you, but for Daddy to be robbed at 58, it seems so ridiculously unfair. But, as I say, my Dad’s a legend. Yes he has his days where he misses Mummy so much, he can barely get up, but he knows that for her, he must get up every day and carry on as normal as he possibly can.

I know that we call the likes of Bobby Charlton and David Beckham, legends, however, in my eyes, seeing what my Dad achieves each and everyday is truly humbling and that’s what makes him the every – day – joe – of  – legends.

Dad is funny and charming and a complete drama queen too. If there’s drama, Dad’s always at the centre of it. I think he secretly enjoys it to be honest as he always tries to see the funny side and he has such a knack of saying the most inappropriate things at the totally wrong time but Dad is way past caring about social convention these days.

My Dad is a legend for many number of reasons, I’d be here all day if I were to list them. However, the primary reason i believe my Dad’s a legend is because although he’s endured a ridiculous amount of heartache, he never questions the powers that be for all he’s endured. He simply takes it on the chin and deals with it the best he can – for that you can be nothing short of legendary.

Most people look back only after their parents have passed to the next life to reflect on how good or bad they were. I’d rather not wait until then having already lost Mummy, I’m all too aware of how short life can be and how there’s nothing better than today to say how you feel.

My Dad, the legend. I love you.

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