Mommy Diaries: Saying goodbye to family just gets harder and harder

Another family trip to New York, another tearful farewell at the airport.

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Nana Liz and Colum at JFK Airport

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He is too young at this age to even comprehend that Liz is his nana, but soon enough he will be clued in and I don’t want to have to explain to him that ALL his grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins live an ocean away.

I want him to take for granted that he can see all those people when he wants. It will make him and us happy (and nana Liz too).

As the time for booking flights back to Ireland quickly approaches it becomes crystal clear that Ireland is the place for us.

Yes, we’re well aware that there is a looming recession with no end in sight, that jobs are few and far between and people don’t have the same quality of life as they used to have.

“It’s just like the eighties were,” I hear over and over again.

If I’m being honest I can’t remember the eighties being bad. Granted I was a child, but I was a very happy child who wanted for nothing even though we didn’t have much money.

I don’t want my children growing up in a world where everything is handed to them. I earned pocket money by vacuuming, washing dishes, cleaning the bathroom. It may have only been a pound a week, but it showed me the value of working for what you want.

My kids don’t need Play Stations, iPads and designer jeans. They need love, love from family and friends.

People have “warned” us about our social lives when we return to Ireland.

“You won’t be able to go out as much at home now April,” they say.

I’m always quick to remind them that we’re now parents, and going out to the bar is something we don’t do anymore unless it’s a special occasion (and can get a sitter).
 
We’ll be perfectly happy having family and friends over to our home for dinner and chats (once I learn to cook properly). 

And if we’re all honest, the best nights out we have are when we are surrounded by friends nattering about life’s trials and tribulations; it just doesn’t have to be done on a bar stool.

I’m lucky enough to go back to Ireland with a skill that’s still in demand. In my former life I was a sign language interpreter, and to my advantage there is currently no working interpreter in Limerick (where we will hopefully live). 

So my days of working from home will be coming to an end, and that’s good too.  I’m sure after the second baby (God willing) I’ll be ready to get back into a suit and out into the world of work in Ireland.

And if I’m being honest, most of the people I know (who bought big houses in the boom and fancy cars) are still able to afford their yearly trip to Spain, a ticket to the All-Ireland and an odd weekend away. And some of these people have lost their jobs.

What we have on our side is the radical drop in house prices and a strong work/survival ethic that life in New York gives all immigrants.

Yes, the Irish weather is bad, but anyone who knows me in New York knows I strongly dislike our summers here.  (It might have something to do with the fact that I was pregnant for the past two, but a bit of rain will do us no harm.)

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