On the 2nd October, my Dad passed away. This is the first time I’ve been able to write since as I haven’t been able to find words.

Dermot Heffernan turned 60 years old on May 10th 2011 . I carried out his cake and held it as he blew out the candles. On September 17th 2004 I took his arm as I started the long walk down the aisle to marry my Mr. Darcy. On September 21st 1998 he twinkled with excitement when he became a Grandad for the first time. On June 23rd 1979 he  held me in his arms the first time we laid eyes on each other. I will never lay eyes on him again.

We’ve all heard about Grief, there are many stages we are told to expect, anger, denial, acceptance etc. None of those words are big enough to describe the feeling you get when the world as you knew it is pulled from under your feet. It was unexpected, I was unprepared, and the news came as a full force, physical body blow that took every ounce of strength I possessed to pick myself up from.

Our relationships with our parents change over our lifetimes. When we are young we worship them, they are wise, and we bask in the security that they will protect us from whatever the world throws at us. As teenagers, we realise that they are flawed, and accepting that fact leads to all sorts of recriminations, rebellions and retaliations.

As adults, we finally learn to accept them for what they are, and appreciate all that they give. We realise the struggle that parenthood is, the daily sacrifices they made for us, and meet them on a level playing field, allowing new and amazing relationships to be formed.

When they are gone, the loss is monumental. Its only then, that we see them as human and vulnerable. Too late, we finally accept that our time together is limited and precious and no matter how long we have, is far too short.

Rest well Daddio xx

After 18 months the website has gone from an inkling, to an idea, to a reality and now, for personal reasons, its time to pass it to the hands of a competent professional to take it out into the big bad world.

Debs is going to be at the helm from here on in and I think the site will grow in success as she’s raring to go and full of great ideas.

I want to thank everyone for their support over the past few years, I’ve met some lovely kids and their equally lovely Mammies in my travels and I wish you all the best in the future. Thanks for sharing your stories, hints and advice. There is truly no harder job in the world than being a Mammy and no stronger support available than that offered by Mammies to each other.

I’ll continue to write on my blog www.clotheslineblog.wordpress.com. It will no longer be linked into the main website so I hope you’ll still drop by from time to time. Now that I’m no longer affiliated with a business I’ll be chatting about all manner of things.

Good Luck Debs, I look forward to remaining a valued customer.

T

x

I love complaining about money. Its the only hobby I can afford these days thanks to your buddies up there in the house of Leinster. But I really need to get this off my chest..

Dude, are you freaking kidding me with these book lists!!!!!!!

As you’ve obviously been napping for the last five years let me fill you in on what’s been happening. Theres a recession going on, and while we parents have reluctantly entertained your every whim what with the childrens allowance cuts etc we can no longer stand for the ridiculous rules and regulations that are putting us into debt in order to get our children their “free” education.

My eldest is going into first year soon. At the start of the summer we were issued with our “welcome” pack. The term “welcome” was obviously used to lure us into a false sense of security while they whacked me about the head and took all my money. The books cost €500. The school doesn’t have a rental scheme and the books weren’t available second hand. The books are replaced every year with new editions. This practice has to stop. How can you justify replacing books every year and deeming last years edition obsolete?? Have they discovered serious changes in world events and history? I say that unless it becomes clear that Hitler never existed and the Second World War was due to a woman from Scunthorpe called Margaret, leave the texts alone! As far as I’m aware land only moves a couple of millimetres every thousand years, so unless Greece takes flight and lands outside The Bronx we don’t need to throw our old Atlas away.

Anyway I paid for the books, picked myself up of the floor, had a stiff drink and went to get the uniforms. My day, was not about to improve. While Dunnes provide grey pants in teenage sizes for €8-10, Seans school insist that the pants be bought from a local mens suit shop. These particular grey pants cost €33-35. Whats the difference you ask? Have the later pair got inbuilt surround sound? Do they have one of those slimming panels that hide those lumps and bumps? No. They have a label attached to the pocket approx .5cm x .5 cm bearing the schools initials. I kid you not.

Now minister, I ask you, are grey pants not grey pants? People are losing their jobs, their houses, their savings, and their dignity. How can this practice be allowed?

Each secondary school child is costing an average of €800 to kit out to return to school. Parents are turning against their young. I have to admit that when, forced to hand over my hard earned savings, I looked at Sean with slitty eyes. He was, of course, dead right to protest that it wasn’t actually his fault, but still, I was a little bit mad at him for a while.

I’m seriously considering a revolt. Bring back hedge schools I reckon. Surely if all of us parents club together we could teach a group of moody teens some life skills. I have a currently useless business degree. Can’t I put it to use? I can teach the basics of Economics and Accounting sure, but I can also teach the youth of today such skills as stacking the dishwasher, optimising space, and talking traffic wardens out of issuing parking fines, or budgeting, as I prefer to call it.

But seriously Minister, the inexcusable cost of school books could be put to better use. I suggest that we be allowed to put that money towards a family holiday in Ireland, therefore saving the tourist industry in one foul swoop. Pass that idea in next door to the Minister for Tourism, even take credit for it, I don’t mind.

You’re on your last warning from me Minister, don’t make me come up there and deal with you in person.

Yours Truly,

Disgruntled Parent.

The past month has been a write off for the Darcy clan. We have been enveloped in our own little sickness bubble and are just returning to full capacity. Firstly I caught a pretty awful virus which I passed to Mr D. Because we are a giving and sharing kind of a couple he then passed it back to me threefold resulting in a late night trip to A&E follwed by drips and steroid doses.

Last Monday I was all set to return to work when our house received a visit from the pox…

We refused to be intimidated by the spots as, as some of you may recall, this time last year we were fighting meningitis, so chickenpox is a walk in the park for us.

Anyway, as a result, and as the clothesline is a one woman operation, the website has been lacking in new products and some orders have taken a few days to get out. We’re now back to full operation and I’m currently wading through the backlog of clothes, which will trickle on to the site over the next week or two.

Its been all change around here. Sean has graduated from primary school and is preparing to drag his size nine feet into the big bad world. While he feels ready, his Mother is not coping as well. Come September, theres a distinct possibility of my following him into class and demanding that everyone treat him as the delicate flower I believe him to be, while resisting the urge to kiss his face off in front of his teachers and classmates.

Freya is about to lose her first tooth. While some might consider this to be less than newsworthy, where Freya is concerned, everything is drama. We have to conduct hourly assessments as to the looseness of said tooth in direct comparison to the looseness status in the previous hour. I’m also conducting a survey as to the current tooth fairy rates. Has the fairy been hit by the recession? Is a first tooth worth more than subsequent teeth? These are important questions in the current economic climate.

As for Zach, well yesterday my baby turned three. I like to mark my kids birthdays with a blog post in which I talk about how they’ve grown and my hopes and dreams for their future. Here follows my heartfelt message for Zach on this special day…..

My Darling Beautiful Child,

Please, stop wrecking the house,

Lots of Love,

Mother

x

I knew that within the next few days I would be meeting my daughter for the first time and I tried my hardest to picture her face. I already loved her enough to die for her, but I was consumed with questions about who it was that I was so in love with.

Would she have blue eyes like her Dad or green eyes like me and her older brother? Would she inherit his dark curls or my boring mousey frizz? Would we have the bond that only mothers and daughters have or would she break my heart daily.

Six Years later I know that face by heart. I can recall in my mind every freckle, dimple and eyelash on her beautiful head. I brush her long blond locks every morning and wonder at the depth of her massive eyes and the length of her dark eyelashes.

I know every inch of her heart and her mind. I can tell foretell her reaction to situations before they even occur. If I want to see her face light up with happiness, I simply need to tell her that she has pleased me, that I’m proud of her or that shes the most special girl in my world. I can already see that she will grow to be a good person, as she lives to make other people happy, a trait that is both endearing and slightly worrying.

I recently read a prayer written by one of my heros Tina Fey, for her daughter.

Heres my own version:

Lord,

Let her never suffer with the frizz that runs my life. May she be blessed with the ability to wash and run, without having to comb through seven different products and spend an hour straightening, before seeing all her hard work for naught, whenever a shower appears. I’m starting off on a perhaps superficial note, but one that’s importance is only recognisable to one who has walked in my shoes.

Let her never doubt her worth, never settle for anything but what she deserves in life. Let her never bring home the type of man who makes my skin crawl, and causes her father sleepless nights. Let whoever she spends her life with worship her, and consider himself to be blessed in every day she chooses to share with him.

Let her not ever feel unlucky for never having a sister. I already regret that I haven’t been able to provide her with this amazing gift. Let her instead have lifelong female friends, with whom she will go from sharing BigMacs to Bacardi Breezers to cups of tea and apple crumble. Let her remain forever close to her two brothers, the older one who will always protect her, and the younger one who she will phone in years to come to remind him to send birthday cards to his parents.

Let her be sure of who she is, and always know that she is loved, no matter what choices she makes and where she finds her place in life. Let her always know that she has a home, where she belongs and where she will always be greeted with open arms. May she always know that its not the weight of the load that breaks you, but how you carry it.

Finally and most importantly, let her be happy x

After the birth of my second child I went through a major identity crisis, something a lot of us go through, but many of us don’t talk about. I found it hard to reconcile my role of being a wife and mother of two with the fact that I was still a young woman, who still had her whole life in front of her, along with all the hopes, dreams and ambitions that all my single friends had.

One of our own clothes liners, Maria Moulton, has just released her own book, “The Mammy Diaries”. The book gathers the experiences of many real Irish Mammys, of pregnancy, childbirth and what comes afterwards.

On finding out she was pregnant:

“Oh God, I am freaking out. I know, I know, I’m pregnant and growing an entire human being from scratch inside of my uterus, which until now has pretty much had as much responsibility as a self cleaning oven that has never been turned on, let alone baked anything. How do I know that its going to work? That its going to  know what to do? How do I know that it won’t burn the biscuits?”

On the reality of motherhood:

“I am an Irish Mammy. I indulge with sweets. We have ice cream on a cold winters day. We pack picnics for the big train ride. Dear god, I’d have it no other way.

My skin flaps are a testament to it. I stand proud in my micro fibre re-enforced smalls, stain resistant wash and wear garments, elastic side strap shoes and out of control hair.

I know how to live now, moment by moment and making the most of them all. Never feeling so complete as when in the arms of a child because you make them feel secure and loved.

Thats a mammy to me.”

This book is a great companion to any soon to be Irish mammy. You can buy it here. I for one am supporting it, if for no other reason, you and I both know that we can’t find the time to do the ironing, never mind write an ENTIRE book.

Well done Maria from all at the clothes line

x

We’ve had a very busy month here at the Clothes Line (web not actual). As a result we’re starting to run out of clothes, in particular those for kids age 12 months and upwards.

In order to get things moving and jump start our stock levels, we’re offering a FREE POSTAGE promotion for the first two weeks in April on all items submitted. It works like this:

1) You guys turn off the Ellen show (I know you all watch it, don’t deny it) and do a wardrobe spring clean for each of your offspring.

2) Get together at least  20 items of decent quality. This means that you only submit items that you would be happy to receive yourself. Nothing stained, ripped or overbobbly. It might be an idea to get a few friends to do the same as we can get them all posted together. As well as offering free postage we will also award you 15 free credits for every friend you tell about us who send clothes in the same bundle.

3) Drop me a line and I’ll send you a prepaid post label. This label allows you to send up to 30kg at a time so try to send as  much as possible and make the most of it.

4) Secure all the clothes in a box, attach the label and drop it to your local Post Office. Easy Peasey Lemon Squeezy.

By doing this promotion we are aiming to ensure a better selection of items for all our members. It’ll pay off for us all if we all make an effort. DO IT!!

T

x

Freya has been growing her hair for nearly six years. There’s no denying its beautiful…..

We have given it a sneaky trim on three seperate occasions under cover of darkness. The reason for this is that my husband, Mr.D, has told me that cutting his daughters locks constitutes grounds for immediate divorce with zero spousal support.

However, the hair is becoming an issue. Every morning, twenty minutes has to be allocated to the brushing and styling of these goldy locks. This means twenty minutes of cream curdling screaming by my poor child. The time has come to seriously contemplate removing a few inches in the interests of Freyas vocal chords and my eardrums.

Should I? Is it too beautiful? Is it fair for a man to fulfil his dreams of a full head of hair through his child just because he has less hair on his head than a Kiwi?? Should we stand our ground and remove a few inches and hope he doesn’t notice??

Is it time for her to realise that, dammit child, beauty hurts, and it’ll get a whole lot worse in ten years time. Should I explain to her that her life involves a whole world of pain involving plucking, waxing, dying and dieting all in a bid to meet her future Prince Charming, only to then be rewarded by CHILDBIRTH!!

No?? Too far?? Okay then.

This week has seen great improvements for the team here at Darcys Inc. Always in favour of training and development, Zach (night shift supervisor) is currently taking part in an intensive crash course in liquid and solid waste management.

Yup, we are potty training.

I couldn’t remember how I managed with the other two. That must mean that it was either easy peasy, or, the more likely scenario, it was so painful and traumatic I’ve blocked it out of my memory. So far, we’re doing okay. He seems to have grasped the concept, but we’re still working on timing and accuracy. Its such a big step, and a stark milestone ending the beautiful baby years.

While we’re doing okay, we haven’t actually left the house yet. I’m scared. I’m not ready to cope with puddles in tescos yet. I’ll just have to stick my “wet floor” sign in the handbag just in case.

Please leave any hints and tips below. I need all the help and support I can get!!

T

Now, it may be true that there was little choice back then in terms of groundbreaking T.V. There was thirtysomething and 21 jump street, but my mother and her friends considered the cast of thirtysomething to be part of their extended group. I remember my mother and my Aunt discussing the latest happenings over a cup of milky coffee having just completed the Jane Fonda workout LP in their leotards and legwarmers. (I’m  not even exaggerating).

When I saw that the show was going to be repeated on Sky Atlantic I recorded the first episode and watched it last night. You guys, this show is all of our lives, even now, thirty years later.

Take this conversation that happens between a man and his wife. He’s just come home from work…

Man: Whats for dinner?

Woman: I didn’t get to the store, theres food in the freezer.

Man looks at the messy house with one eyebrow raised.

Woman: I know the house is a mess. I cleaned it at 9, 11, 2 and 3 o clock. I just didn’t get to clean it at 5.

SEE!!!  Sky Plus, series link. Once you can get past the high waisted stonewashed Levis you’ll feel like you’re watching your own life!