MOVING ON

So there we were two gormless, clueless new parents just emigrated Down Under Aussie Land with a beautiful, bouncing baby boy. God help him. To this day I’ll never know how he survived. Our saviour came in the form of a work colleague from Belfast who was staying with us for a while, Mary McGowan. She had me relaxing in a lovely scented bath, took charge of Seamus and the baby and let me luxuriate for a while.

I have noticed over the years at home that once a new baby comes along, presents flood in for the wee bairn. And rightly so. They have come through a traumatic time. But so has the Mother. The Mother who bore the brunt of the pain, discomfort and embarrassment is slowly shifted to one side, not intentionally I know. Its just the excitement about the little life just entering the world.

A wee footnote here, by the way. They say it’s the pain easiest forgotten. Well, I big to differ! It’s not! Why did I do it four times? Hmm!! Because I thoroughly enjoyed the beginning bit. Sure did!

Anyway back to the story. My Aussie neighbour Pauline, living above me, arrived at the party with a present FOR ME! Really! Gorgeous scented pamper box. FOR ME! I was so grateful and surprised but pleased. Before we enter the frivolities of the party I have to mention the christening. At that time, I would have considered myself Catholic  . Confession, Communion, the whole nine yards. Not now thankfully. What we both didn’t realise was that the parents have to actually stand up on the altar, facing everyone and recite the prayers with the priest. Now, I know I stated I was a little religious at that time but still I didn’t know all the words to the recitations. Seamus was even worse. Not at all religious. We disgraced ourselves. We would have needed a recording so we could ad lib. Horrendous! Embarrassing! Like guppie fish. Mouths opening and closing with nothing coming out. The wee priest didn’t  condemn us to Hell. He actually came to the Christening party. Shorts, sandals, open necked white shirt, tanned, fit, good looking, young. Flip! I’m perving after a priest. I’m definitely going to Hell.  Well, I’d rather be drinking Harp than playing one.

Mary left us soon after that but we were on a learning curve with no harm coming to Jason. Not much harm really. Just one little incident comes to mind. I always placed Jason on the same side when he was sleeping. Never to my cost changing that position. Big Mistake! His wee ear started to stick out somewhat. Oh Flip! My son is going to be deformed. Dumbo comes to mind only he has two sticky out ears. So my faulty brain came up with a solution. Perfect! Double sided tape. What the Hell was I thinking! We ended up at a pharmacy where the people were quite knowledgeable and probably wondering what kind of a Mother I was who attempted to mutilate her son. Or else just thinking what a stupid Irish woman.

When the pharmacist started to remove the tape my wee son began to cry. I couldn’t stay. I ran out and left Seamus to it. I felt so guilty. I should have been made to stay on and witness what I’d done to my son, feeling his distress. Sorry, there was another thing. My Mum would send over lovely cardigan sets complete with boottees and hats. But it was so hot Jason couldn’t wear them.          Also some really lovely romper suits but slippery romper suits. Not my fault this time. I blame my Mother’s kindness. I was visiting my friend one day, Jason in my arms when he slipped. I’ll never know how I caught him before He hit the stone floor.

As to other aspects of moving on I have to say I was a very naïve nineteen year old wen I got hitched. I knew how the baby got in  (loved it) but no idea how he was getting out.  Total shock to the system  Also I couldn’t cook an onion so I bought an Australian cookbook and proceeded to make Saratoga Skivvies. What, may you ask are they? Well, they are potatoes cut into slices and fried. I’m looking at your puzzled faces now, hearing you whispering

“But that’s just scallops, not that Sarasota thing.” In my defence I didn’t know that. I was so pleased with myself, waiting expectantly for my husband’s praise when he came home from work. I presented him with what I thought was my first Australian dish.

“Scallops” He says.

“Saratoga Skivvies” I said.

So we moved on with our new life down under, enjoying the sun and the beaches. Getting tanned and fit and Jason growing bigger every day. We both got jobs in Tennyson Textiles, Seamus having worked in the Silk and Rayon on the Falls Road. I had to leave after a threatening miscarriage. When Jason was a few months old I got a position in Tuta laboratories, making drips and stuff for the hospitals. I’m sure I’ve killed a few people because sometimes the tubes would split. But we had  a checker there so hopefully not.

A funny thing happened on my way to work one day. Waiting at the bus stop I noticed a fruit shop behind me. A nice pear would be lovely for my break I thought so in I goes.

“ Could I have a pear please/” simple enough request I really.

“ A pair of what Love” the assistant says.

“ Hmm! A pear. You know a pear. A piece of fruit.”

She looked at me completely stumped.

I tried describing it to her.

“it’s this shape” and I attempted to draw a pear in the air.

No sign of recognition at all. Out of the corner of my eye I saw my bus approaching.

“ Oh”, says I” Just give me an apple. My bus is coming.”

It was the accent of course. No comprende!

Next episode of the dynamic duo, now threeo !