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.



Be a human first.

Always an avid people watcher, I can’t help but analyse the words, actions and behaviour of the human race (sometimes I lament way too much some would say, but that’s another story, for another day).

Watching how people react in particular scenarios amazes me. Sometimes I almost want to pat myself on the back, for I could have foretold the outcome before it even began to unfold. At other times I’m dumbfounded; literally blown from under my feet, I often can’t believe what I’ve witnessed.

Now as you’re probably sick of hearing me say, I’m not really a people’s person. I’m not particularly empathetic nor am I tolerant, but observing people is a hobby. In the 20 odd years that I’ve been people watching (or at least aware of my doing it, for I’ve probably done it since I was a small girl), one re-curring theme that propels itself forward, is the need for humans to label one another.

“You’re a knob”, “You’re a bloody Feminist”, “You’re a narcissist”, “You’re a woman, what would you know?” “Pah. Men are complete morons”, “You’re Catholic, of course you’d think that”, “You’re 21, grow up first”.

Why do we, as humans feel the need to label one another? Is it a reflex, protective primeval instinct? Why can’t we just treat each other with basic respect – be a human first? Before labelling one another, let’s just try and be basic humans first and foremost.

What does being a human encompass?

Well for me it’s treating another homo sapien as you would like to be treated yourself.

Being kind (something that perhaps I need to work on myself), respectful to others views and opinions (you can still air your own, but in a tolerant manner and one that does not hurt or harm another), and empathetic towards others feelings (again I need to work on this, as admittedly sometimes I’ve the tact of a gnat on a hot evening when you’ve slathered your lips in lipgloss) are what I think are the basics. Of course there’s a ton more and of course, the human nature would perhaps wish to sit and argue the toss over what’s deemed the most important…

Just why is it so hard to exhibit the above and just embrace one another? It’s a rhetorical question that no doubt has been asked for thousands of years and will continue to be asked until the end of time.

I’m not saying don’t label, all I’m saying is be a human first. Refrain from apportioning blame, shamelessly calling people out, slinging accusations around on ones’ personality traits – stop it. Stop it and be a human first.

Think the next time you wish to first label. How would you wish to be treated?

Be. A. Human. First.





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





Happy 2nd birthday my little love!

Happy birthday my darling son! Today you turn 2 and Mummy is sat here wondering how this has happened so fast?

This time 2 years ago (Daddy hates when I reminisce but it’s good for the soul and the mind my love), Mummy was cradling you in her arms – I was thunderstruck by your arrival (and how big you were!) and I couldn’t believe you’d finally arrived, safely (although it was very touch and go at points) and how beautiful you were.

A 16 hour labour filled with Daddy making Mummy laugh the whole way through and we couldn’t have envisioned what a beautiful little baby you’d be. Actually, Mummy is lying. When you born, you weren’t pretty – not immediately anyway. You were battered and bruised and very, very swollen – 2 days later and and you were a corker, an absolute beauty my little love!

And here we are, anyway, 2 years later and you’re quite a little boy. Incredibly well mannered (people are always commenting on how you always remember to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’), polite, boisterous and funny; we couldn’t be prouder of you.

This am you opened your presents from Mummy, Daddy, Aunty T, Aunty Laura & Grandad Pat’s card as well as Nanny & Grandad Ron’s  and you were thrilled, but little did you know that Mummy & Daddy have another present for you this evening to open once your Aunty & Uncles and Grandad Pete arrive and Mummy is so excited, she can’t concentrate today!

“Thank you Daddy” you said when Daddy opened you your Mickey flip flops from Aunty T – so polite and thankful; Mummy’s eyes were brimming at how cute you were. You’ve been spoilt by Aunty T and Uncle Nige and no doubt your other Aunts and Uncles and Grandad Pete will later too – you’re the apple of their eye after-all and they love to shower you with attention and in return, you adore them too.

We’ve your party on Saturday; all your favourite people under one roof – you’ll be in your element no doubt! All your cousins will be present; they adore you and you adore them too – it’s so cute to see you altogether, especially Lexi as she trys to boss you around!

2 whole years we’ve been lucky enough to be Mummy & Daddy to you and you’re a pleasure to be around. Witty, articulate & funny – Mummy could go on all day!

You’ve enriched our lives beyond belief; we’re the lucky ones to be graced with you and whilst you’ll always, always, always be my baby, I look forward to the future milestones we’re going to share with you and I cherish each and every day with you and all the memories we’re making.

I’ll continue to document your life and hopefully one day, when you’re older, should you want to, you can look back and read Mummy’s blogs with the love and affection in which I write these.

For now my little one, enjoy your 2nd birthday and with much love, hugs and happiness, Mummy will sign off.

Happy birthday Harry, my darling little love, all my love, Mummy xxxxxx





I can’t concentrate.

I can’t concentrate.

I’m tired, I’m ratty (I feel this, no one’s actually confirmed this) and can’t think straight. I’ve a lot on at the moment and I feel like I could actually sleep for 10,000 years. OK so a slight exaggeration, but you get me don’t you?

Today is my middle sister’s birthday and I have to confess, I almost missed it. Last year I missed a few people’s birthdays (one being my Dad – my Dad! How the hell I forgot that, I’ll never know) and a few people got arsey about it, yeah I get it, but my life doesn’t revolve around you, it revolves around our soon to be 2 year old, Harry and my husband to be is nearly 37 but stuck in the mindset of a 14 year old boy. Oh and paying the not so little mortgage we have.

So this year I thought I’d be organised and write all birthdays in my diary – and I’ve still forgotten. I’ve forgotten to check my diary and if it wasn’t for Facebook reminding me, I’d have forgotten once again.

I’m putting my lack of concentration, tiredness and all round mardiness down to trying to juggle Mummyhood, Fianceehood, our forthcoming wedding (not long now!), a demanding full-time job (which I love so I’m not at all complaining) and being a domestic goddess (unsuccessfully as our house permanently looks like a bombsite since we let go of our last cleaner).

I’ve never felt so tired trying to juggle all this (thank god the studying finished in December to give me a break). If I’m not collecting Harry from Nursery or his beloved Grandparents, I’m trying to amuse and play with him whilst cooking dinner and playing with the dog. If not this, then I’m trying to find bunting for the wedding, or decide upon which toilets to hire in for the day, trying to juggle maid of honour and bridemsaids dresses or I’m failing miserably at trying to maintain a decent looking house in case anyone pops by.

With all this whirring around my head, a forthcoming Audit at work, worrying if the cars service or MOT has run overdue seeing as I miss everything else, I barely have time for 2 minutes to myself. These days having a wee on my own, in the privacy of my own en-suite feels like a smug day at the Spa. I just can’t seem to concentrate so I’m perpetually caught up in what I can only describe as a whirlwind of everyday life.

Even when I’m sleeping, my mind is off on one!

It may seem like I’m complaining; far from it (though the haters will no doubt disagree -go jump off a bridge is my advice to whatever sarky shit you’re thinking), i just sometimes wish there were two of me! Life would be so much easier – me 1 could whirl about doing the doing whilst me 2 could simply think. If only life were that easy!

Well off I trot; I already feel somewhat calmer for this somewhat calmly approached rant and well, it stops me ripping the nearest persons head off in any case. I really should write more, maybe when Harry’s a tad older I’ll have the time – maybe I’ll even wrote a novel. My little man is so terribly independent (takes after his Mummy) and soon he’ll realise there’s a whole world out there to explore and he won’t rely on Mummy & Daddy quite so much. Until then,  the whirlwind of my life will continue!

In the words of Christian Grey, Laters Baby!




Refusing to go to bed.

Over the last few days, we’ve interrupted Harry’s routine. The result? Almost disaster, I’ll tell you what.

Before Harry arrived, the one thing that I promised Wayne we’d do, would be to ensure that our baby a) had a bed time routine and b) knew that he or she would have to stick to it (by and large I mean by this, I’m not some sort of Nazi after all). Anyway, Harry’s always had a routine and has always, barring from a few exceptions such as teething, stuck to it. Sometimes he’s even been known to take himself off up to bed ahead of his usual time.

So as I say, the last few days for one reason or another, he’s gone to bed in excess of his bedtime by about an hour. Well Holy Mother of God has this affected him, has it.

The night before last, the Christmas tree went up and we didn’t feel it’d be fair to send Harry to bed until we’d finished – he did have to pop the fairy on top after all. After a little fuss, Harry went to bed, but it wasn’t without some persuasion and bribery shall we say.

Last night his beloved Aunty Jo and Uncle Ross paid a visit – I wish they hadn’t to be honest. I love seeing them, I love them as individuals, I do, I do, I do, but god, they caused havoc (I mean that in a nice way Jo & Ross if you read this). At the mention of Uncle Ross coming over, Harry undertook laps around the house, giving any long distance runner a run (excuse the pun) for their money. Was Harry excited they were coming to visit? Oh just a tad.

Laughter, tickles and lots of shrieking followed and by the time they left, a few hours later, Harry was revved up like a 90s teen off their face on Speed at a rave. Ace.

Two attempts at settling Harry to bed, were an absolute failure to say the very least. “Mummy, Mummy”   the arms were around my neck trying to strangle me in Harry’s attempt not to be put to bed. The second was Wayne trying to let him ‘self settle’. What a load of bollocks that is; if they don’t pass out from a sore throat at the bellowing, then you probably will from the incessant wailing emitting round your ears and banging migraine that ensues. That didn’t work either, so back downstairs he came. Another bottle of milk , Disney Cars for about the 56th time this week and a laughing Harry sat smugly in his Daddy’s arms (he’s totally learn how to play us off against one another).

Third time’s a charm right? Nope you’d be wrong there. The whole family wrapped up (we were all in pjs by this point), we loaded the car up and went for a family drive in the freezing cold. Just what you need during British wintertime.No sooner had we set off and before the warmth could kick in, finally the munchkin fell asleep….

I guess my moan or rant or point or whatever you wanna call it, is that really, don’t fuck with your kiddie winkles bed time routine. You’re basically holding yourself to ransom and ultimately you become the victim of your own success.

Tonight we’ll be back to the usual routine; tea, playtime, bath and then a story, followed by a bottle of milk whilst watching ‘In the Night Garden’ – I hate that bloody programme with a passion, but Harry finds it hilarious so as long as he’s happy, Mummy’s happy.

Tonight I will not be the victim of my own success.

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!


Bad decisions.

Bad decisions. We’ve all made these from time to time. Some have made them worse than others, however, it’s not for us to judge, the big fella upstairs I believe, will do that one day.

I’m not sure what started me thinking about bad decisions, I think it’s my sister. My sister is hoping to be a teacher and was telling me that in British schools these days, children aren’t taught that they’re naughty, but rather, that they’ve “made a bad decision.” Children are then encouraged, that once they’ve understood that they’ve made a bad decision, how do they turn this in to a positive decision and outcome.

This recently led me to think about our little Prince, Harry, who’s one. Recently it would appear the’ terrible twos’ have arrived early (on occasion). If Harry doesn’t want to do something, he lets Mummy and Daddy know – in no uncertain terms. Now I know that children often paddy and throw themselves around, and Harry will and does do this, but I’m not about to raise a brat.

I’ve witnessed brattish behaviour over the years and it’s awful to see, because in my opinion, brattish kids turn in to horrific adults and then the damage is done and the bad decision has been well truly executed. Hence me wanting to nip Harry’s behaviour in the bud as he gets older, should he continue to display it as that will be a very bad decision on my part that I most certainly won’t be able to turn in to a good one, as the damage will be done by then.

Sometimes we make bad decisions consciously and sometimes they’re unconscious.The unconscious decisions can sometimes be far worse than the conscious ones, but I guess what really matters is how we put these right regardless of how you got there.

The problem doesn’t lay where a bad decision has been made, that in a way, is irrelevant,  but it’s how it’s rectified. You know when you’ve made a bad decision, what makes you a better person I guess, is if you decide to rectify it and then how you do it.

If you know you’ve made a bad decision and decide to nothing about it, then on your conscience be it – I guess you live it because what other option do you have?

When it comes to teaching our little Prince Harry, the rights and wrongs of life, he’ll also be taught that whilst sometimes, bad decisions are inevitable, it’s how you rectify it and this is what matters the most…

The best things in life are free.

Such an old cliche, “The best things in life are free” but one of the greatest (if that’s possible with cliches, of course). 

Take our little ray of sunshine, Harry. Recently he’s learnt to walk and at at the same time, his vocabulary has suddenly developed. All of a sudden, our little prince has turned into a little boy. Chasing our little dog around the house, it makes me smile hearing him shout “Ocky, Ocky” (Rocky!) in between all the shrieking and laughing radiating from him. 

Nothing warms the cockles of my heart more than hearing our son laugh and watching his face break into a smile – even the most miserable of fuckers would struggle not to laugh at my little prince. 

And Wayne. He’s perfect. If Carlsberg were to make a chap, Wayne would be their choice of carbon copy. Whilst I adore my husband to be , it’s important that we maintain our own identities and undertake activities individually; after all they say absence makes the heart grow fonder.

 A recent stag do to Munich for Wayne and I swear he texted way more than he does when he’s home! Time apart was nice as I know he was busy enjoying his bro time, and equally on his return, it was delightful to have him home and be our little family again.

Love and happiness is all you need in life. Of course it’s nice to have those digits on your bank balance, but that doesn’t bring you joy. Not proper joy anyway. 

The love my husband to be and my son provide me is as strong as a diamond. They ask for nothing but love and in return they offer a life time of comedy, a lifetime of holding your sides because you’ve laughed too much and love. Love is one thing you can’t buy. I wish sometimes I could bottle the feeling I feel when I look at them both for all those sad and lonely people in the world; if only life were that easy. 

Everyday I wake with a smile; this am I woke to Harry sticking his fingers in my eyeballs and laughter as he dug that bit further and to Wayne holding my hand. Life may be shit at times, however, when you’re lucky enough to be bestowed your diamonds, you polish and look after them with pride and you look after them so fiercely, that you’d give anything for them. 

Life is good with my gems and now I can’t get that Janet Jackson song out of my head… “the best things in life are freeNow that we’ve got each other, the best things in life are free…” 

Childbirth. It’s not as bad as you think.

Childbirth. It’s not as bad as you think. Or so I was told.

I was terrified of giving birth; shitting bricks didn’t even come close. I’ve always been honest and open that it petrified me and that it was something I never felt the urge to do. It was so bad that I begged for a C-Sec, a big no, no when it comes to the medical profession (and my Physiotherapist Fiance too, who was worried about infection and damage to stomach muscles).

“Why do you want to be cut open?” I remember being asked by my Midwife.  I could’ve punched her in the baby making oven at that moment. What the fuck? “Who the hell wants to be cut open at any time,” I was screaming in my head, but of course I didn’t say that, because I feared it’d trigger an argument and I wasn’t in the mood for shit at that point.

I’ve never thought any part of having a baby was ‘natural’. Even as a child pregnant women weirded me out and still to this day, I freak when near them. Having been pregnant you’d think I’d have come out the other side on some hippy trail singing the beauty. Er no. I’m still weirded out – especially when school friends get pregnant – it’s weird I know.

Anyway back to the whole giving birth thing. I was so grossed out by it (much to the amusement and also dismay of friends) – I mean it’s the most natural thing in the world, isn’t it? No, not it’s not in my opinion. So after a number of frustrating discussions with my Midwife, she referred me to a therapist. Great, let’s go through the whole sch-bang – again I thought. And I did. Finally after much to’ing and fro’ing on the medical professional’s front, they talked me into ‘trying’ a natural delivery. ‘Try’ I laughed, so what, half way through if I don’t like it, I can opt for a C-Sec eh? No love, it doesn’t quite work like that.

Well D Day arrived and I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. I remember being sat on the hospital bed alone, whilst Wayne had nipped to the loo before I was taken to my delivery suite and thinking “this is IT. Now or never”. No amount of people telling you, that you can do it, that’s natural or the one thing that drives me bat shit crazy, is being told that women have being doing it for thousands of years… (I literally wring the fuckers neck who  says this to me), can prepare you for delivering your child.

I’m not going to tell you about my actual delivery as it was traumatic and we nearly lost our little darling, and although I’m happy to talk about it, I don’t wish to distress any prospective mother. I’m very lucky and I credit Wayne with getting me through it. Funny, caring and loving, Wayne knew his role in the delivery room as Team Coach. He took his role, so seriously that when we got to the pushing stage, the team of midwives laughed and told Coach to hold his horses, he could only give me the ok once they’d given him the ok!

Wayne knew how utterly terrified I was and not once did he regurgitate the usual crap everyone else was spouting. Nor did he belittle or humour me. He just listened and supported me and when you’re as petrified as I was, that’s all you need (and a lot of drugs!). This single person is what made childbirth nowhere near as bad as I thought it was going to be (apart from when at home, on tip toes trying to work through the pain and leant against our fireplace, Wayne asked what I wanted and I said to be left alone for a moment. I turned around a minute later to find him playing Champ Manager on his laptop. “What’re you doing?” I almost yelled – the only time I almost lost it with him, to face the reply of “You wanted to be left alone”. WRONG ANSWER. I wanted to be alone, but not if you catch my drift… ).

Yes, it hurts like hell, yes you feel like you’ve lost every ounce of your dignity, yes you’re frightened and you feel 5 again, but as long as you’ve someone who loves you and supports you in there with you (sprinkled with a little humour I must add), then trust me, coming from the world’s biggest scaredy cat, childbirth really won’t be as bad as you think.

It can’t be – I’m thinking of doing it all over again one day!

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