At 10am this morning I stood outside a church and watched the coffin of a 32 year old man being brought into a church. Behind the coffin were his grief stricken wife, clutching their three young children - the oldest of which made her First Holy Communion three days ago - and beside her his shell shocked parents, brothers, sister, neighbours and countless friends.
On one side of the church entrance was a guard of honour dressed in uniform, and on the other side a guard of honour dressed in the team colours of the football team he played for.
The homily, coincidentally, was given by a priest friend of mine. He spoke very convincingly of the importance of living your life, however short it is to be, and of making a difference in the time you are here on earth.
That man in the coffin touched so many people's lives and he was deeply respected and loved because of it. His young widow has gained so much strength over the past ten days in the knowledge that she had married a truly good man who had time and energy for everyone. His children have a man to emulate. His friends will have an aching heart for quite some time.
So live life. Don't put off doing something until you retire, you may not be around. Be kind to those around you, create your own legacy. Make a difference.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
Scary Post
Last Friday the postman delivered four pieces of post. All in white envelopes, the kind you open with one eye closed and your head turned sideways.
The first one was a Visa bill covering late December, self explanatory I think.
The second one was from the Garda Siochana informing my dear husband that he broke a set of traffic lights (though he swears they were amber and he couldn't stop in time) and he is now the proud owner of two penalty points and an Eu.80 fine. At this juncture I should point out that he is a professional driver.
The third one was from the Blood Transfusion Service informing us that my husbands name was on the computer that was stolen in London and that his information could be retrieved and used for illegal purposes.
The fourth was a letter from the building society we have our mortgage with, informing us that from March 2008 our mortgage has gone up, AGAIN.
If anyone is looking for my husband and I try under the duvet cover. AND WE ARE NOT COMING OUT UNTIL JUNE.
The first one was a Visa bill covering late December, self explanatory I think.
The second one was from the Garda Siochana informing my dear husband that he broke a set of traffic lights (though he swears they were amber and he couldn't stop in time) and he is now the proud owner of two penalty points and an Eu.80 fine. At this juncture I should point out that he is a professional driver.
The third one was from the Blood Transfusion Service informing us that my husbands name was on the computer that was stolen in London and that his information could be retrieved and used for illegal purposes.
The fourth was a letter from the building society we have our mortgage with, informing us that from March 2008 our mortgage has gone up, AGAIN.
If anyone is looking for my husband and I try under the duvet cover. AND WE ARE NOT COMING OUT UNTIL JUNE.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
School Books and Banshees
Louise in Easons rang me today to tell me that the kids school books were ready for collection. I don't know why, but the whole family trooped into the car where we waited a further ten minutes as my son put on his trainers, brushed his teeth, changed his trainers for Heeleys, said goodbye to the dog, and eventually deigned to join us. It got worse, much worse.
We were no sooner out of the car when my husband sauntered off with a cheery wave and a 'will catch up with you in a while'. So now I am standing, shocked and stunned, on the pavement outside Easons with three kids who look like they are about to bolt for freedom at any second, an extensive shopping list for Tesco, bills to be paid in the bank, all the schoolbooks to be collected and all I can see is the back of my husband's head as he rounds the corner with the car keys in his pocket.
After several threats of what misfortune will befall them if they wander off, I make a bee line for Easons and think I am lucky because there is only one other person in front of me. WRONG. I have no idea how many children that woman had but twenty minutes later, as I was still standing in the sodding queue, I would gladly have strangled each one of them. Eventually, she departed with mountains of books and her wallet lighter to the tune of six hundred euro. As I approached the counter an almighty piercing scream filled the shop. It took me a full ten seconds to realise it was my youngest daughter who had run over to her sister, tripped on new (very pretty) shoes and fallen headlong, and at top speed, into a shelf. The bridge of her nose was bleeding and swollen, her left knee was very scratched and she couldn't bend her left wrist as it has walloped another part of the shelving. And she is now screaming like a banshee because she sees blood, and the child is dressed head to toe in white just to make it even worse.
I then do what any self respecting mother in the same situation would do. I pick her, kiss her, hug her, all the while making my way back to the top of the queue again. So now I have a very tall six year old on my hip (who is still doing banshee impressions, dripping blood all over the both of us), my other two kids are God knows where, and I am still trying to carry on a conversation about the bloody school books while the queue behind me is now in danger of spilling onto the pavement it is so long. Eventually I rounded up the troops and we exited the shop with three heavy bags, a very light purse, a limping child, and a very pissed off mummy.
At that moment I spot my husband across the road reading car magazines in a shop. We struggle across the road and one look gave him all the information he needed. He went to the car with the books and the kids while I dashed to Tesco to get something for dinner. Calm was restored and soon afterwards my husband went to work, my son to a friends house and the banshee impersonator was looking at tv on the couch while I sorted out the books.
It was then that I realised we were four books short, I hadn't bought clear plastic covers to cover them all, and I would have to go down to the shop tomorrow and go through all that queueing again. At that exact moment my period arrived.
Next year I am going to get school books in June, cover them in July, and even better still order them on-line and have them delivered to the door. It is just not worth it.
We were no sooner out of the car when my husband sauntered off with a cheery wave and a 'will catch up with you in a while'. So now I am standing, shocked and stunned, on the pavement outside Easons with three kids who look like they are about to bolt for freedom at any second, an extensive shopping list for Tesco, bills to be paid in the bank, all the schoolbooks to be collected and all I can see is the back of my husband's head as he rounds the corner with the car keys in his pocket.
After several threats of what misfortune will befall them if they wander off, I make a bee line for Easons and think I am lucky because there is only one other person in front of me. WRONG. I have no idea how many children that woman had but twenty minutes later, as I was still standing in the sodding queue, I would gladly have strangled each one of them. Eventually, she departed with mountains of books and her wallet lighter to the tune of six hundred euro. As I approached the counter an almighty piercing scream filled the shop. It took me a full ten seconds to realise it was my youngest daughter who had run over to her sister, tripped on new (very pretty) shoes and fallen headlong, and at top speed, into a shelf. The bridge of her nose was bleeding and swollen, her left knee was very scratched and she couldn't bend her left wrist as it has walloped another part of the shelving. And she is now screaming like a banshee because she sees blood, and the child is dressed head to toe in white just to make it even worse.
I then do what any self respecting mother in the same situation would do. I pick her, kiss her, hug her, all the while making my way back to the top of the queue again. So now I have a very tall six year old on my hip (who is still doing banshee impressions, dripping blood all over the both of us), my other two kids are God knows where, and I am still trying to carry on a conversation about the bloody school books while the queue behind me is now in danger of spilling onto the pavement it is so long. Eventually I rounded up the troops and we exited the shop with three heavy bags, a very light purse, a limping child, and a very pissed off mummy.
At that moment I spot my husband across the road reading car magazines in a shop. We struggle across the road and one look gave him all the information he needed. He went to the car with the books and the kids while I dashed to Tesco to get something for dinner. Calm was restored and soon afterwards my husband went to work, my son to a friends house and the banshee impersonator was looking at tv on the couch while I sorted out the books.
It was then that I realised we were four books short, I hadn't bought clear plastic covers to cover them all, and I would have to go down to the shop tomorrow and go through all that queueing again. At that exact moment my period arrived.
Next year I am going to get school books in June, cover them in July, and even better still order them on-line and have them delivered to the door. It is just not worth it.
Monday, August 13, 2007
I NEED A HOLIDAY, NOW.
Today is one of those funny (unusual funny, not funny ha-ha) days that you just wake up tired. Not the 'when you dont have enough sleep' tired or the 'out of the lash' tired, but just tired to the bone. Tired of doing laundry, tired of walking the dog, tired of answering the door to yet another ten year old boy looking to play with my son, or alternatively six/seven year old girls looking to play with my daughters, tired of watching what I eat in case the two stone I lost come back, tired of cooking, tired of smiling when I want to scream but don't want to scare the kids.
As luck would have it I am going away in a couple of weeks to New York with four other women for a week. My husband is not amused as he has to take the week off work (well, its not as if he loves his job THAT much), and it happily (for me) coincides with the week the kids go back to school after the summer holidays. Never in my extensive years am I so ready for a holiday. Please God let the weather be good, the restaurants fabulous, and the shopping marvellous. AMEN.
As luck would have it I am going away in a couple of weeks to New York with four other women for a week. My husband is not amused as he has to take the week off work (well, its not as if he loves his job THAT much), and it happily (for me) coincides with the week the kids go back to school after the summer holidays. Never in my extensive years am I so ready for a holiday. Please God let the weather be good, the restaurants fabulous, and the shopping marvellous. AMEN.
Sunday, August 5, 2007
Summer Days and Dublin Zoo
This summer has been a total washout. I thought I was being stingy only buying two tubes of factor 50 for the kids this summer. One tube is barely used (I sometimes put it on the kids to fool myself that it is actually needed) and the other lies in its box, taunting me every time I open the medicine cabinet.
Yesterday we went to the zoo and then for a lovely picnic in the Phoenix Park. My husband took a photo of the three kids and I, huddled under golf umbrellas munching soggy ham sandwiches and drinking rain sodden tea from a distinctly musty smelling flask. But we would not budge off the picnic blanket and return to the car. It was like to do so would unleash further downpours and so we waited it out until the sun made another appearance.
We laughed a lot yesterday and after the picnic the kids decided to roll down the hill beside the papal cross. The still humid air was punctured with shrieks of laughter as my husband and I held hands and looked on in pride at our children.
Yesterday we went to the zoo and then for a lovely picnic in the Phoenix Park. My husband took a photo of the three kids and I, huddled under golf umbrellas munching soggy ham sandwiches and drinking rain sodden tea from a distinctly musty smelling flask. But we would not budge off the picnic blanket and return to the car. It was like to do so would unleash further downpours and so we waited it out until the sun made another appearance.
We laughed a lot yesterday and after the picnic the kids decided to roll down the hill beside the papal cross. The still humid air was punctured with shrieks of laughter as my husband and I held hands and looked on in pride at our children.
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