Search

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.

Category

Family

My little sister, Jolene.


It was 18th February, 1988 and I was 7 years old.

Finally YOU arrived. I’d waited since 1983 for you to arrive and I was delirious when Dad called from the hospital that cold, foggy evening and told me that finally, my dream had come true – I finally had a little, baby sister – my little sister, Joanne.

You were the sweetest little baby that anyone could wish for – beautiful, sweet natured and you barely cried. Always wanting to follow me around, you were like my little shadow! Quiet, you’d sit on the sofa, often sucking your thumb, cuddling your comfort blanket and then you’d be gone – off upstairs you’d take yourself and you’d have climbed into bed, all of your own accord.

Always thoughtful and caring, you were a little worrier from the get go. You’d say your prayers and beg that each night, Mum & Dad, and your brothers and sisters would all be ok.

In the 29 years that I’ve had the honour of calling you my my little sister, you’ve always been there for me. Together we’ve travelled to the furthest corner of the world, lazed on beautiful beaches, drank so much jager that you’ve had to be the one that’s the voice of reason, cried together during our darkest moments, walked down the aisle with me and of course, being the best baby sister ever, shoved me into your size 8 clothes when I’ve needed that extra shove!

Today my little sister, you turn 29. One more year in your 20s before you hit another amazing milestone in your life. Our life hasn’t always been easy, but you make life so much more fun and you take the best of bad and sad situations and make the best you can. Your little laughter lines around your eyes are testament to how you spend your life and whilst yes, at times, you can be a pain in the arse, you’re my little sister and I love you to the moon and back.

Happy birthday my darling little sister, Jolene xxxx

 

I’m feeling sorry for myself. 


I’m ill and I’m feeling sorry for myself.

Whilst I have a cold, my husband has man-flu. Whilst I’m coping, he’s ‘dying.’

We went out to celebrate one of our BFFs birthday last night and ended up home and in bed for 10.30pm whilst our mates partied on.

This am, I’ve played my snapchats back my mates sent downing shots and generally being fucked and I’m laid in bed feeling for myself that my ears are blocked and I can’t hear my own voice (probs no bad think you haters are thinking) and my voice sounds like Estelle in ‘Friends.’

However, for the moaning I’m undertaking, my friends have woken rougher than I have, so I’m ever so slightly smug that I’m not the worst one laid in bed this am.

On that note, I’m off to stuff my face with  Lemsip before our little man arrives back  from his sleep over at his Uncle Ric and Aunty Alex’s – I dare say they’re feeling worse than me anyway! 

I love my husband because…


I’m really not into public declarations of love, mainly because I think it’s a bit sickly to be honest but also because sometimes you don’t want to ram how good you’ve got something, down other people’s throats as I totally appreciate that not everyone’s lives are roses and all that shit.

On this occasion, however, I’m going to make an exception.

I fucking love my husband because today, after a late night all round, when our little boy started yelling his head off when he woke, my husband almost jumped up out of bed and the first words I heard him utter were “let’s let Mummy sleep as she’s really tired.”

A day of Harry emitting Satan like behaviour as he’s tired from a late one last night and having every cartoon shoved at us known to man and Wayne’s nipped out to collect us dinner. This, despite the fact he’s torn cartilage in his knee and finds walking unbearable, never mind driving and he’s not grumbled once today.

I love my husband because simply, he’s the dog’s bollocks.

I hate to disappoint ladies, but “Mr Perfect” doesn’t exist in your world – only mine as I’m lucky enough to have bagged this mofo.

If Carlbserg made husbands; mine would be the very handsome and witty fucking blueprint.

Thank you God, I bagged him!

My darling, my love, my son.


My darling little son Harry.

We’re exactly one week away from your 2nd birthday; how time has flown! I can’t really remember what my life was like before you joined us – somewhat quieter I imagine but I wouldn’t change you for the world!

I’m unsure what I expected you to be like. We didn’t find out if you were a little boy or a little girl, although in my heart, I just knew you were a little boy. I couldn’t imagine what your little face would look like or even what colour hair you’d have, if you’d be serene or a proper little boy – all I knew was that I was beyond excited to take the step with Daddy to bring you into our world and that I’d love you unconditionally.

For a nearly 2 year old, you’re very bright. You can count to 14 independently and at the moment, we’re teaching you the alphabet but you always burst out laughing when reciting this!

Last night you were sat in your high chair (seldom you do this these days as you prefer your little table and chair) and you looked straight at me, as though analyzing me and said “Mummy, pretty” and smiled at me. You melt me each and every day, but last night was different – it was as if you’d looked into my very soul before coming to your solid conclusion.

You look at the world with a sense of wonder, mixed with an equal dose of mischief! Only this morning whilst I was ironing Daddy’s t-shirt whilst you were sat in bed watching Postman Pat, did I wander back in to the bedroom to witness you trying to cuddle Rocky whilst yanking on his poor tail; even Rocky doesn’t have the heart to tell you no!

Last night, for the first time in a while, you cried for Daddy at 11pm. We’d just turned the light out at 10.40pm and Daddy had slipped into a deep sleep, so bleary eyed after a full days’ work and having just dropped off, I stumbled into your room. We sat, cuddling on your rocking chair, you snuggling into me whilst I rubbed your hair and you fell asleep in my arms. I should’ve laid you down in your cot straight away, but I didn’t. I sat for a little while, snuggling and kissing your little chubby cheeks.

One day, you’ll be too big to snuggle in my lap and you won’t want kisses either. So i take them now whilst I can. Yes you’ll continue to wake, but you’ll learn to self comfort with me or Daddy just talking, without the need for cuddles and that breaks my heart for to me, you’ll always be my baby.

Last Saturday night, you wouldn’t go to bed, so I laid on the floor next to you. “Story Mummy” you kept repeating, so i recited 5 stories and then we came to you lying down to sleep. I laid too, pretending to snore in the vain hope you’d drop off, but you didn’t. “Mummy, cup of tea?” Well my little love, you had me in stitches! You’ll literally try anything to avoid sleeping when you’re in that mood! In the end, Daddy came in and took over reading stories… I think really, all you wanted was a bit of Daddy time!

We couldn’t have wished for a funnier, smarter or wittier little boy.

You’re our life; the light that has brightened our little world and strengthened our love. Beautiful inside and out, you’re loved by Mummy & Daddy very much and even Rocky too!

It may be a bit of cliche, but your arms around my neck, are the most precious jewels I could wear; you’re my darling, my love, my son. As you approach yet another milestone,  Daddy and I couldn’t be prouder and we look forward to watching you grow and develop into a beautiful little boy.

You’re my darling, my love, my son; and I simply adore you. 
 

 

 

My Mummy. My Angel.


It’s been 5 years since Mummy was beckoned to become an Angel. 5 long years without her.

Sometimes  I hear her voice, capture a passing whiff of her perfume or hear an old Motown record and she’s right back in the room with us again.

Mummy didn’t want to die. On hearing the dreadful diagnosis of Cancer her words were simple according to my Dad, “I can’t have Cancer; I’ve 6 children”.

October 2006 is when those words were uttered and Mummy would quietly, with no fuss, battle the bastarding Cancer that would eventually kill her. Watching your parent, who you’ve always looked up to, battle a disease, is horrific. Luckily Mummy’s hair didn’t fall out, but she’d be confined to the family home for days on end; tired, withdrawn and sometimes ebbing at an all time low – the despair I think would torment her of her of what would happen to Dad and my brothers and sisters should she succumb to the fucker.

Not once did she ever ask why. Mummy wasn’t frightened of death; she never spoke of dying, I don’t think she could look it in the eye, but she wasn’t afraid – she was afraid for those she was leaving behind.

Mummy is always with us, I know that. She’d never leave us. Eternally 51, I know she’s looking out for each of us and she’d be proud of the people we’ve all become.

Dad although he misses her terribly and visits her grave without fail, every single day, is both Mum & Dad to us. He has his moments, but slowly, he’s realizing that you wouldn’t want him to mope each and every single day.

Dave is an incredible Daddy to little Davy who you missed on meeting by 2 months and Richard has become a Teacher. Joanne is your carbon copy Mum and thinks of everyone else but herself and Matthew has graduated uni with a 2:1 ! Jayne is now Mummy to Thomas who is 7 months old and a little treasure and all bar Dave who is yet to meet the woman of his dreams, we’ve such amazing partners, you’d love the lovely bones of each of them!

And then there’s me. You’d be surprised wouldn’t you at me becoming a Mummy! Always so focused on everything but children and not even liking them! Harry’s nearly 2 and an absolute dream – I know you visit him – whether it’s in his dreams or if you talk quietly to him, but I know you’re with him after what he said the other morning to Wayne.

My Mummy is my angel guardian and I know she looks to keep my family from harm. I know that when our time eventually comes, you’ll be there at those Pearly Gates, chewing St Peter’s ear off and once again, one, by one, our family will join  together again.

 

 

Why hello 2016, you’ve arrived!


Happy New Year! A little late to the party (as always) but better late than never I say.

Wow. What a year 2015 was. Unsure where to start really. I enjoyed Christmas shutdown – 2 weeks of domestic bliss with Wayne and Harry I thought, oh no, the reality was oh so different this year. We literally spent the first week, like blue arsed flies, running here, there and everywhere. I’d forgotten a few presents this year (I’m not the most memorable person if I’m honest, having forgotten my brother’s birthday in November and my Dad’s in February, at the start of the year….thankfully they’re not the whingey, moany types and all has been forgiven). Anyway, we ended up shopping this year, right up until the 23rd. Never again. With this pissy, shitty wet weather we’re encountering at present, this wasn’t fun let me tell you.

New Years resolution number one made – to be far more organised and way less forgetful. I can’t promise I’ll stick to it as my life often feels like a whirlwind, but I pledge to try (I’ve a diary in my office, so it’s a start).

Christmas itself was lovely; no drama, just lots of fun, love and laughter. I feel for those families who’re slinging mud across the dinner table on what should be the most family orientated day of the year. What has gone so wrong for them that they can’t at least be civil is what my mummy always used to ask – ‘one day’ she’d say, ‘why can’t they be civil for just one day?’ As I’ve grown older, i have to say I disagree with mummy, the Idealist. Sometimes you just can’t simply forgive and forget for one day. It’s all or nothing in my book.. but that’s another story. I’m just thankful we didn’t encounter a Christmas like that.

Anyway, 2015 has been packed on its’ way – what a fun packed year that was! Harry learnt to walk (hooray because that crawling stage and not knowing where he’d become stuck, was frankly draining at times).  I welcomed a new job and career change (I didn’t see that coming, but god I’m so thankful it did come). We’ve enjoyed numerous BBQs in the summer months with our nearest and dearest, our little man became an official member of the Catholic club (what a relief),  date nights where we’ve been thankful to just eat without having a little hand rip food straight from your mouth,  we’ve rearranged our wedding and not to mention our little break most recently to the Coast, which was simply perfect from start to finish. Our little baby has officially made the transition from baby to toddler and Wayne and I couldn’t be prouder of the beautiful little boy that we’re proud to say is ours.

2015 was all about Harry. As will 2016 and 2017 and every other year – I think it’s fair to say we’re both just a little obsessed with him!

Onto 2016 and we can officially declare, that this year, we get MARRIED! We’re both so incredibly excited, that neither of us can wait for 11th June to bolt round. Our best friends but us a little countdown sign for how many days until we tie the knot (157!) and Wayne has been dutifully altering the days as we go – so cute that he’s so excited, given that when we first met, he said he never wanted to get married!

‘Save the Date’  cards have been issued and we’re officially on countdown! Wayne even talked me into booking our honeymoon the other day – this shit is proper real now! Hen and stag dos will sound be in swing – whoo hoo – married life here we come!

Talking of shit, there’s lots of this that I’ve left behind in 2015. Through sheer necessity (and tiredness) shit has been left where it belongs. If 2015 taught me anything, it’s that true colours shine from within. Sadly not everyone is equipped with this and they show nothing but envy and nastiness, leaving nothing but a sour taste behind. The good thing with a sour taste, is that if you’ve mouthwash strong enough, you simply spit it out and it disappears. So that’s what I’ve done. I’ve metaphorically spat all the crap out from my life.

Life is way too short to be sad, envious, vengeful or hateful – leave it where it belongs in the past. With enough positive events to look forward to this year, I’m refusing to let negativity affect my his year – cheers to 2016, watching our little boy grow and amaze us even more and becoming Mrs H!

 

Operation countdown.


Operation countdown is underway. Only 4 more sleeps until my Christmas break begins and I can’t bloody wait.

This am I awoke at my usual time of 6.20am and it was utter darkness. That darkness that hangs over us in the last few weeks in the run up to Christmas here in the UK. It’s the kind of darkness that makes you want to stay in bed. And hibernate. For the rest of the Winter.

Anyway, I’ve 4 more sleeps until a well deserved rest, I can’t wait to spend time with my little man, Harry and other half, Wayne the pain. I love Christmas and although I’ve still a shed load of shopping to do (although not as much as usual, thank god as I’ve ordered online this year) I can’t wait for it.

Harry’s loving the Christmas tree; so much so that he’s arranged and re-arranged the baubles about 673 times since it went up last week. I can’t wait to spend the next 2 weeks with my little love – 2 whole weeks with my bundle of loveliness, lie ins, cuddles, laughter with Wayne and fun times with the family – what’s not to like about Christmas!

Losing loved ones & impending Christmas time.


Losing loved ones isn’t easy. It’s the absolute pits.

It doesn’t matter how old they are, how ill they were; who they were to you (step or biological) nothing can prepare you for the passing of a loved one.

I’ve had two friends lose their beloved Father and another his Mum in the last few weeks. Both passings couldn’t be different – one had sadly been poorly for a very long time and the other, tragically died instantly in a car crash. The circumstances are still the same irrespective of the build up of events that led to their passing.

My heart breaks for my friends. There’s nothing of any comfort at all that can be said to soften their hurt. No amount of hugs can make them feel any less lonely and no amount of words can heal their worried minds.

There’s no ‘good’ time to lose a loved one, I should know, I lost my beloved Grandfather two weeks before Christmas a number of years ago and Mummy in March 4 years ago. However, the lead up to Christmas is a horrific time to lose someone.

Christmas is family time. It’s that time of year, you enjoy spending time with those nearest and dearest to you. Yes there’s tears (there’s always that one family member who grates on you), but there’s laughter too, and lots of it too. And that’s what makes losing a loved one at this time of year so hard; you should be listening to their laughter yet all you feel is a void and all you can hear is an eery silence.

The first Christmas we had after losing Mummy was undoubtedly the hardest Christmas my family have ever had. Mummy’s absence was the elephant in the room; brave faces and smiles to paste over the quivering lips, I don’t believe I ever thought Christmas could ever be so sad…

And that’s why I can’t help but think of my friends. Day and night I can’t help but think of them. My pain isn’t as raw as it was (if you’ve never lost a parent, you can’t imagine the pain and it never goes away, you just learn to live with that pain in your heart) but it still hurts, a dull ache in your chest. Even though I’ve lost a parent, springtime when she passed brought a new sense of life. The trees started to blossom not too long afterwards, birds had returned and flowers began to peep through.

This time of year isn’t centred around any of these things – it’s all about Christmas and family. They’ll get through this horrific Christmas (two of my friends have children and this will help like you wouldn’t believe), but it’s going to be the hardest thing they’ve done to date and my heart couldn’t break any more for them…There’s light but it’ll be a long time before they can see even a chink of it.

Brought up Catholic, I believe in Heaven and that’s where I believe Mummy is. It’s where I believe my friends parents are too.

I believe they never leave us and walk beside us every day, unseen and unheard but always there…..

 

 

Christmas is Coming!


It’s that time of year, which can only mean one thing, Christmas is on its way!

I LOVE Christmas, it’s truly the most magical time of the year. From decorating the house to carefully choosing gifts for loved ones, popping the tree up, stuffing yourself silly, arguing over the last Caramel Fudge in the Roses tin to switching those twinkly, winkly lights on – there’s no one thing that  I don’t enjoy about Christmas. I simply LOVE IT!

Last night our tree went up. Beginning a new Christmas tradition, Harry popped Tinkerbell on the top; his little face was to die for. Looking like he’d won the lottery, it was easy to see how in awe of this brightly lit tree, our little chap was. Touching every (and I mean every) bauble, his little face was beaming from ear to ear ‘pretty’ was his response and ‘more!’ when we switched the lights off on the tree!

Once the tree is up, Christmas is on its way. I’ve not been very organised this year what with exams and revision and feel like time has run away with me, resulting in me frantically trying to recall what each of our family would like this year as gifts (I must remember to begin shopping in March to gain a head start next year).

Having a large family does have its benefits and Christmas is defo one of them. There’s never a dull moment and there being so many of us, you’re guaranteed to end up with the best chocolate selection known to man as you can bribe, steal or swap chocolate to end yup with your selection of choice! After all, what’s Christmas without a selection box right?!

I’m not much of a cook if truth be known; I haven’t the patience. My excellent other half cooked for the family last year and my Father in law to be was beaming at the culinary delights that Wayne served up – he’s raised a good un there for sure!

I can’t wait for the roast potatoes, the stuffing, the gravy – ah the list could go on! Not long to wait now, be patient Jenny, be patient – after all good things come to those that wait!

Most of all though, I can’t wait for Christmas morning. Christmas morning up until recently was all about me. Not anymore; it’s all about our son Harry. At one and a half, he doesn’t understand the true meaning of Christmas or Father Christmas yet, but we’re working on that, so until then, I’ll just have to be patient. No gifts have been left under the tree; these won’t be popped under until Christmas Eve, for Harry loves presents. If there’s a present around, he thinks its for him (why wouldn’t he I guess!) and so he’ll have a go at opening it. Christmas morning is going to be magical – I can’t wait to see his beautiful little face when he realises that all the presents under the tree are for him!

It’s fair to say, that I simply can’t wait for Christmas. I’m lucky enough to work in an industry that shuts down for two weeks over the festive period. Christmas films, chocolates, nibbles and cakey with the people who mean the world to me; bring it on!

If we could just have some snow, that would top it off – I’m not fussed about gifts this year – just some snow – that’s all I ask for!

Christmas 2015 –  I can’t wait for you to arrive!

 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: