Where is the time going? Four weeks ago I gave birth to our daughter, Sadie Mooney, and in less than nine weeks Sadie, her 15-month-old brother Colum, my husband John and I will be settling into a new life in Ireland.
It’s been a fantastic and yet frenzied past few weeks. After spending four days in St. John’s Riverside Hospital I was discharged home with my pink-clad daughter.
The first week home was great. Sadie fell straight into a routine and only woke once or twice a night for a feed.
As we headed into the end of the second week we hit a few bumps on the road but thanks to good friends we are coming out the other end. My friend Deirdre Power, whom I’ve known since we were four years old, flew in from Ireland to help out the day Sadie turned two weeks. She was a godsend to say the least.
The night before she arrived Colum came down with a fever and Sadie decided she was bored with sleeping at night. So between looking after our son and a wide-awake frantically feeding newborn, John and I were sleep deprived.
This pattern continued through the week. Deirdre got up at 5 a.m. most mornings so I could go back to bed for a few hours of sleep.
A few days into her visit I came down with mastitis. A quick visit to the doctor revealed I also had an infection in my wound where I had the cesarean section.
I’ll hold back on the gory details, but since that day it’s been a lot of medications and a lot of giving out about the pain (and in between spluttering the words, “I really am grateful for my kids though.”)
I’m coming around now, but I’m still slow on my feet and depend too much on those around me.
hankfully it’s all curable, and hopefully by the time we get home to Ireland I’ll have fully recovered.
It hasn’t been all bad though. Seeing Sadie become so alert in the past few weeks has been fantastic. She responds to our voices and even looks like she is sharing a smile with us every now and then.
Colum is enjoying his little sister a little too much. He tries to give her a bottle, feed her his dinner, hug her too tightly and feels it’s his job to clean out her nose with his finger!
A gentleman’s family they tell me I have. During the quiet times John and I sit back and realize how happy we are, how having children around us really makes us a complete family. It’s a wonderful feeling that we wouldn’t change for anything.
NOW that the countdown to home is on (my mother keeps us updated on how many weeks, days and even hours it is before we land in Shannon) everything is becoming a bit hectic.
John has lists of things that need to be done before we leave. Stuff to buy, places to visit, people to see (and say goodbye to), find a house to live in in Ireland, get jobs -- the lists go on and on.
I’m given a list each day to complete and it’s not easy with two kids; albeit Colum is in day care some of the week. I’m hoping this week my routine will fall back into place and things will run smoother.
We’re selling a few bits (strollers and bikes) on Craigslist, and boy have we gotten some weirdoes replying. Mainly scam artists wanting our address and bank account details, but I’m on to them this time.
Unfortunately I wasn’t so clued in nine years ago before I left Ireland for New York.
Moving to another country prohibited me from bringing my vast array of clothing, and not knowing when I would return (and what dress size I would be then) I decided it was best to sell some of my good stuff, mainly apparel I hadn’t yet worn.
I took out a classified advert in a local newspaper. I had a few genuine inquiries which lead to the sale of some of my clothes.
But two particular phone calls (one which turned into meeting the person) were a little strange to say the least. One gentleman from Co. Galway (not sure why he was looking in a Kerry newspaper) called saying he was a cross dresser at the weekends and wanted to know if I had size 14 clothing that would fit a man’s body -- I didn’t.
The next man to call seemed genuine at the beginning. He told me he lived in Killorglin (a town about half an hour from Tralee where I am from). He said he sold clothing at a local market at weekends and asked could he come to see in person what clothes I had on offer.
We proceeded to arrange a meet the following morning. I had my clothes laid out in the living room, price tags attached to each item.
The man arrived in a white van. He introduced himself as John and spent about half an hour looking carefully at each item of clothing. He looked like he was really doing his homework. He carried a note book and every now and then would open a page and scribble something down.