Hey Mama's Hip fans, subscribers, avid readers, casual glancers and lurkers. This is Barry, Niamh’s husband, here taking over the airwaves, metaphorically speaking, this mothers day morning.
I’m in a bit of a predicament. Previous mothers days, I have gifted Niamh something to show my undying adoration for her; video montages, homemade photo albums etc, etc. This year however I’ve fallen short. Very short. I’ve pretty much dropped from standing.
I have nothing for Niamh, save an 11:30 car jaunt last night, mothers day eve, to three different petrol stations to find her a big bag of Liquorice Allsorts. She said this would suffice as a token. I don’t think it does suffice. So I’ve decided to take over Themamship blog for a post, which could be seen as endearingly charming or an indecent invasion of her privacy. Lets see how this day pans out!
I’ll get straight to the task at hand and tell you why Niamh is my personal hero.
Each day I’m in awe of the patience she demonstrates when guiding our two boys through this barbed world.
Patient with certain parts of society that questions her mothering.
Patient with a child, who, at 4:30, digs his heels or his taloned toes in, to go watch Peppa Pig.
Patient with me; sometimes I’m lost in my work, and Niamh can be the sole parent for weeks at a time (I’m getting better at this though).
Patient with the Unschooling method of schooling. The boys may not be able to impress others with a rote learn ed two times table; a glazed, children of the corn look on their face, singing the Nazi Youth Esq times table tune (sing it in your head. Now imagine hundreds of kids singing it. Now tell me they couldn’t do a dictators bidding) . But ask Charlie and Noah what they’re interested in at the moment and you’ll be answered with; astrology, magnetism, herbology, cooking and more (although Noah may just answer “chanted hoo loo”, but come on, he’s only two) This is all down to Niamh’s gentle guidance.
Patient with the sometimes lack of adult conversation. Although spending considerable time talking to a two and a five year old, Niamh is remarkably compos mentis at the end of the day, still up for a laugh, still up for a gossip and yet still more time for the two and the five year olds conversations.
I could go on. I’ll go on (a bit of basterdized Beckett there for you)
Niamh rarely gets a break. She’s a mothering juggernaut. From the moment she awakes to throughout the night breastfeeding, she is on like Donkey Kong; comforting, nurturing, entertaining, teaching, guiding, dancing, planting, wiping, reading, not interfering, talking, listening, listening, listening. And through all this you’ll rarely hear a raised voice, a condescending tone or an ounce of controlling from Niamh. Patient! Niamh is like a Buddhist monk of patience (though I suppose a Buddhist monk is a Buddhist monk of patience. You get what I mean)
If, in many years to come, you happen to meet either of our two sons, Charlie or Noah, perhaps they’ll hold a door open for you, maybe one of them will give you a firm handshake while meeting your eyes, Noah might make you laugh with a joke or Charlie, make you cry, with his sincerity, they may astound you with their brilliance or simply hold your hand to let you know they’re there for you, whatever they do, however they treat you, you can thank Niamh for it. Niamh is molding the men they will be. Niamh is giving them the freedom to discover who they are. Niamh is teaching them how to be the next generation of men. The world will be an ok place because of the Niamh’s mothering. I don’t say that lightly.
Thank you Niamh for teaching me the patience that’s needed for parenting. And thank you for being a stunning wife while doing all of this. Even though you're pulled this way and that by the little powers that be, you still manage to stay true to the girl I fell in love with all those years ago.
I love you.
Happy Mother’s Day.
Your husband, and partner in crime