I know I have written before I am one of 8
children; some of you - or maybe most of you - probably thought it was an
error! Well sorry, I’m proud to say no,
it’s true. I grew up with 4 sisters and
3 brothers, and me makes 8, and we always had at least one of our cousins from
Galway staying with us so growing up was in a very busy, noisy, but happy
house.
We had a very big back garden in Rathfarnham, Dublin, and every child on the street would join us there. I regularly remember my dad saying to any visitor who happened to call “No, no, they’re not all mine” when there were maybe 25 kids in the garden along with the ironing board turned upside down and used as a boat, and the kitchen table upside down was a ship! Mum’s good blankets pegged to the line made a tent, and all her pots and pans were drums… We must have had the most patient mother in Ireland. Big plates of homemade bread and jam and sometimes cake, and all this for the 25 kids – no-one ever got left out.
Mum baked all the time: bread, fruit cake, apple pies, buns, and I always loved to help. Someone arriving at our door with a cake from the shop or a packet of biscuits was a treat (completely opposite now - my nieces always love my home-made cake and I have given them all my recipes, cake from the shop is a no-no for them). Mum was a very imaginative cook and always gave us great dinners. I’ve no idea how she managed and she could probably have written the book “A thousand and one ways to cook mince”. I never had a room to myself until I moved to London when I was 20; I thought I had died and gone to heaven, everything was always where I left it and if I had a bar of chocolate it stayed on the table until I was ready to eat it.
Having so many brothers and sisters was great fun but also led to some huge rows between the older ones, and my dad regularly took my mum by the hand and said “That’s fine, me and your mother are moving into a hotel - you can all stay here and wreck the place”. Off they would go for a walk and come back half a hour later. Inside my little head I always wondered each time if it was true and they were never coming back - it may have been a bit harsh but how else do you manage 8 kids? I once had to look after 4 of my nieces for a few days and I almost had a nervous breakdown.
Going on holidays in the summer was mad. Dad always drove big Opel station wagon and it was 4 kids on the back seat and 4 in the boot on top of lots of pillows and blankets, 2 cots and 2 or 3 mattresses strapped on the roof rack. Dad never drove very fast so it always took us forever to get anywhere and of course his trick to make us behave did not help either as it would have to be at least 6 times with 6 different children. Whoever was causing the problem was placed on the side of the road and told that as they had been bold, everyone else was going on holiday and they had to stay there. Dad would then get back in the car and drive about 4 yards down the road - always enough that that child behaved on the rest of the journey, then he just had to deal with the other 5 or 6!
At the beginning of the summer holidays we would all go to Galway, my mum’s home town, to visit all our relatives: mum’s brother and sisters and all our (what felt like) millions of cousins - some of whom were much older than me as mum was the baby in her family. We used to visit my mum’s aunt, so our great aunt, who was 99 when she died. I was about 10 when that happened: she was auntie Katie and was as mad as a brush: she used to tell us she had a ghost upstairs in the wardrobe - the ghost of her dead son - and she had an outside loo which you were terrified to use in case the banshee got you! The only saving grace was that her sister lived in New York (probably another very old mad woman) who sent over lots of dollars which auntie Katie doled out to us. So it was well worth having the shit scared out of you and not been able to sleep for a few days on account of the nightmares.
Dad always said he rescued Mum from Galway, and looking back now maybe that was a good idea. Only joking… I have lots of lovely cousins and the wonderful auntie Josephine in Galway, and have always loved visiting them as a grown-up. And I’m happy to say the ghost stories have had no lasting effect.
What would generally happen when our two weeks in Galway was up was auntie Josephine (Mum’s sister) and at least 4 of her kids would pile in the car with us and then we would make our way to Wexford to the house Neil and I now live in and spend the rest of the summer on the beach. One thing I forgot to mention is dad was a very keen fisherman, and along with all the bedding on the roof of the car there was always a few fishing rods. Dad never passed a river without having a go to see if he could catch anything - so we would end up having to share the car with smelly fish too. Despite all this I would not swap one minute of my childhood for anything.
Dad always reckoned he got his education by helping all of us with our homework. It certainly made him a better Irish-language speaker, but when he died we found his primary school certificate and he had passed a long list of subjects in 1940 - including algebra and Latin - no mean feat I would say. He was a stickler about the way we spoke as he always said the first impression someone gets of you is when you open your mouth to speak. So regularly you found yourself with your back to the wall repeating 10 times a word he thought you had mispronounced. This all helped in later life, in job interviews etc, as we all had great confidence in the way we spoke.
While travelling in the car we would always have sing-songs, it was either that or listen to Dad’s operas, so “Take Me Back to the Black Hills of Dakota“ always won out, along with other classics such as Somewhere Over the Rainbow and The Sound of Music - all good clean fun.
I’ve posted a couple of childhood photos that illustrate all this – and me and my family back in the 70s – in my Facebook group, please join to see them.
I loved to go fishing with my dad and regularly spent a day away with him, always very proud if I caught something. Funnily enough I hardly ever eat fish now, and we lived on trout and salmon all summer when we were kids - all line-caught by dad. I know I make my childhood sound all sweetness and light but it’s all true. Even the rows were okay as you could fall out with two of your sisters, and one brother, and still have four people to speak to!
I suppose I should name check all my lovely siblings. Gertie is the eldest living in Dublin, then Norah who sadly left us 8 years ago age 46 from cancer. Anne who lives in Australia, Andrew who also lives in Australia, then I come next in line followed by Catherine in Australia, Ronan who lives in Dublin, and Liam who lives in Australia too. Yes, half the family moved to the other side of the world but believe me, we are all still very close. And the best thing about having lots of brothers and sisters is that I have 14 nieces 2 nephews and 6 great-nephews. This makes for expensive Christmas shopping but great fun when the whole family get together - loud and laughing, just like when we were kids.
The love and support of my husband Neil, and the love of all my family and friends along with all their support, is the main reason I want to go on living. My brain will function perfectly despite Motor Neuron Disease, and with Eye-Gaze technology I will be able to speak – albeit with a different voice! I will still be a fully-functioning member of my family and the human race – but only if I am given what I want: Invasive Ventilation – something I have been told by my consultant “No, not unless you have loads of money”. I don’t, of course! I am just a normal person with as much right to life as everyone else.
I have quite enough of a fight on my hands just living, without having to battle the HSE, and the Irish Government for what should be a basic human right. In Ireland it would be illegal for me to have assisted suicide, but by refusing me the treatment I want, that is what the HSE and the Irish Government are doing: assisting in my death.
More soon, thanks as always for reading. Don’t forget to join my Facebook group, and the Benefit Night that my friends and family have organised is coming up very soon on April 11 at the Amber Springs Hotel in Gorey. Read more about that on this Facebook page, and we’re all looking forward to it!
Ciao!
Eimear X
We had a very big back garden in Rathfarnham, Dublin, and every child on the street would join us there. I regularly remember my dad saying to any visitor who happened to call “No, no, they’re not all mine” when there were maybe 25 kids in the garden along with the ironing board turned upside down and used as a boat, and the kitchen table upside down was a ship! Mum’s good blankets pegged to the line made a tent, and all her pots and pans were drums… We must have had the most patient mother in Ireland. Big plates of homemade bread and jam and sometimes cake, and all this for the 25 kids – no-one ever got left out.
Mum baked all the time: bread, fruit cake, apple pies, buns, and I always loved to help. Someone arriving at our door with a cake from the shop or a packet of biscuits was a treat (completely opposite now - my nieces always love my home-made cake and I have given them all my recipes, cake from the shop is a no-no for them). Mum was a very imaginative cook and always gave us great dinners. I’ve no idea how she managed and she could probably have written the book “A thousand and one ways to cook mince”. I never had a room to myself until I moved to London when I was 20; I thought I had died and gone to heaven, everything was always where I left it and if I had a bar of chocolate it stayed on the table until I was ready to eat it.
Having so many brothers and sisters was great fun but also led to some huge rows between the older ones, and my dad regularly took my mum by the hand and said “That’s fine, me and your mother are moving into a hotel - you can all stay here and wreck the place”. Off they would go for a walk and come back half a hour later. Inside my little head I always wondered each time if it was true and they were never coming back - it may have been a bit harsh but how else do you manage 8 kids? I once had to look after 4 of my nieces for a few days and I almost had a nervous breakdown.
Going on holidays in the summer was mad. Dad always drove big Opel station wagon and it was 4 kids on the back seat and 4 in the boot on top of lots of pillows and blankets, 2 cots and 2 or 3 mattresses strapped on the roof rack. Dad never drove very fast so it always took us forever to get anywhere and of course his trick to make us behave did not help either as it would have to be at least 6 times with 6 different children. Whoever was causing the problem was placed on the side of the road and told that as they had been bold, everyone else was going on holiday and they had to stay there. Dad would then get back in the car and drive about 4 yards down the road - always enough that that child behaved on the rest of the journey, then he just had to deal with the other 5 or 6!
At the beginning of the summer holidays we would all go to Galway, my mum’s home town, to visit all our relatives: mum’s brother and sisters and all our (what felt like) millions of cousins - some of whom were much older than me as mum was the baby in her family. We used to visit my mum’s aunt, so our great aunt, who was 99 when she died. I was about 10 when that happened: she was auntie Katie and was as mad as a brush: she used to tell us she had a ghost upstairs in the wardrobe - the ghost of her dead son - and she had an outside loo which you were terrified to use in case the banshee got you! The only saving grace was that her sister lived in New York (probably another very old mad woman) who sent over lots of dollars which auntie Katie doled out to us. So it was well worth having the shit scared out of you and not been able to sleep for a few days on account of the nightmares.
Dad always said he rescued Mum from Galway, and looking back now maybe that was a good idea. Only joking… I have lots of lovely cousins and the wonderful auntie Josephine in Galway, and have always loved visiting them as a grown-up. And I’m happy to say the ghost stories have had no lasting effect.
What would generally happen when our two weeks in Galway was up was auntie Josephine (Mum’s sister) and at least 4 of her kids would pile in the car with us and then we would make our way to Wexford to the house Neil and I now live in and spend the rest of the summer on the beach. One thing I forgot to mention is dad was a very keen fisherman, and along with all the bedding on the roof of the car there was always a few fishing rods. Dad never passed a river without having a go to see if he could catch anything - so we would end up having to share the car with smelly fish too. Despite all this I would not swap one minute of my childhood for anything.
Dad always reckoned he got his education by helping all of us with our homework. It certainly made him a better Irish-language speaker, but when he died we found his primary school certificate and he had passed a long list of subjects in 1940 - including algebra and Latin - no mean feat I would say. He was a stickler about the way we spoke as he always said the first impression someone gets of you is when you open your mouth to speak. So regularly you found yourself with your back to the wall repeating 10 times a word he thought you had mispronounced. This all helped in later life, in job interviews etc, as we all had great confidence in the way we spoke.
While travelling in the car we would always have sing-songs, it was either that or listen to Dad’s operas, so “Take Me Back to the Black Hills of Dakota“ always won out, along with other classics such as Somewhere Over the Rainbow and The Sound of Music - all good clean fun.
I’ve posted a couple of childhood photos that illustrate all this – and me and my family back in the 70s – in my Facebook group, please join to see them.
I loved to go fishing with my dad and regularly spent a day away with him, always very proud if I caught something. Funnily enough I hardly ever eat fish now, and we lived on trout and salmon all summer when we were kids - all line-caught by dad. I know I make my childhood sound all sweetness and light but it’s all true. Even the rows were okay as you could fall out with two of your sisters, and one brother, and still have four people to speak to!
I suppose I should name check all my lovely siblings. Gertie is the eldest living in Dublin, then Norah who sadly left us 8 years ago age 46 from cancer. Anne who lives in Australia, Andrew who also lives in Australia, then I come next in line followed by Catherine in Australia, Ronan who lives in Dublin, and Liam who lives in Australia too. Yes, half the family moved to the other side of the world but believe me, we are all still very close. And the best thing about having lots of brothers and sisters is that I have 14 nieces 2 nephews and 6 great-nephews. This makes for expensive Christmas shopping but great fun when the whole family get together - loud and laughing, just like when we were kids.
The love and support of my husband Neil, and the love of all my family and friends along with all their support, is the main reason I want to go on living. My brain will function perfectly despite Motor Neuron Disease, and with Eye-Gaze technology I will be able to speak – albeit with a different voice! I will still be a fully-functioning member of my family and the human race – but only if I am given what I want: Invasive Ventilation – something I have been told by my consultant “No, not unless you have loads of money”. I don’t, of course! I am just a normal person with as much right to life as everyone else.
I have quite enough of a fight on my hands just living, without having to battle the HSE, and the Irish Government for what should be a basic human right. In Ireland it would be illegal for me to have assisted suicide, but by refusing me the treatment I want, that is what the HSE and the Irish Government are doing: assisting in my death.
More soon, thanks as always for reading. Don’t forget to join my Facebook group, and the Benefit Night that my friends and family have organised is coming up very soon on April 11 at the Amber Springs Hotel in Gorey. Read more about that on this Facebook page, and we’re all looking forward to it!
Ciao!
Eimear X
A friend of mine gave me a link to your Blog. Thanks for sharing your MND journey. My husband was diagnosed with MND in May and I started to write a blog to try and raise awareness and it helped me to write, Here is my link soulpixie.blogspot.co.uk. Do you share yours on Twitter? It is a good way to raise awareness. My Twitter address is @soulpunkpixie. I shall keep reading yours . All the best.x
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