A lover of books all of my 48 years, I'm trying to remember when that first gifted moment was that I discovered the joy of reading. As a four year old girl, I adored picture story books where the colorful characters told most of the story. I thought I would miss those types of books at age seven as I moved on to those without pictures, but as my own imagination developed, the pictures in my mind were beautifully explicit, leading me on to my real love of reading.
My Dad, an uneducated man, loved reading and he would encourage myself and my five sisters to read the newspapers, telling us the importance of current affairs. He also liked to play a 'Capital's' game with us, where every Friday he would ask each of us the names of the capital cities from around the World. He would then go and buy us our favorite weekly magazine that he had pre-ordered in our local shop. The beautiful glossy magazines would have each of our six names written on the covers.
I was happy to leave school at sixteen and get a job as a hairdresser. There wasn't an option to go to college. It just wasn't the done thing in the north side of Dublin city, so I didn't feel I missed out on anything.
I gave hairdressing my best shot for almost thirty years, but something didn't feel right. I just couldn't be successful at it and I wanted success in my life. Success in the sense of a secured income from my own job. I couldn't get that from hairdressing.
Towards the latter few years, I found myself writing thoughts down on little scraps of paper and popping them into my bedside locker. I didn't know exactly what I intended to do with them but the thoughts or words were the inspirational kind. Sometimes they were words that my little girl Yasmin would say that made me smile, or sometimes it was information I had just heard from someone on the radio. Sometimes they would be words and thoughts of my own that I had to write down immediately, in case I lost them from my memory for ever.
I knew after I had read a great book, in the back of mind I would think 'Wouldn't it be great to be able to write like that?' But I knew for sure that I wouldn't know where to start. That I didn't have the skill nor the education.
Until one day, three years ago almost to the day, I got all of my pieces of paper and notebooks from my bedside locker and I began.
One thing that I noticed about me through my life was that I always had an opinion about things. The Human Being's plight had an impression on me. I was and still am, truly touched by the unfairness of racialism, the suffering of the poor and the destruction of their life at the hands of their murderous leaders. I would often phone radio hosts with my opinions until I realized, that I should probably write these communications down as I also would have the chance to express my words properly.
One of the things that had prevented me from writing in the past was my technology skills. Where would I start writing on my computer? What section? I didn't have 'Word' on my apple, so I chose I-writer. I found that I was able to type chapters and then save them onto the computer. Fab! I couldn't believe my luck! It was working! I kept re-checking the files to be sure I hadn't lost any of my precious words and it was all systems go. I wrote about my own personal struggles and growth in my life. The words flowed and I was quite amazed at that. I was amazed also to find that it wasn't a bad story. In fact, it was a little good!
When it came for me to copy my story onto a disc and send it to a publisher, I unplugged my whole computer and brought it down to a very amused lad in the computer shop in my local mall saying "Please copy this for me!"
Three years on and my writing and my computer skills have improved!
I've found my passion in life is now writing and as I write my stories, I'm doing so from the eye of a reader. I feel in my gut if something is repetitive and unhelpful.
I also know how to use 'word' and my only delay from attaching and saving files is our sometimes unreliable network!
It's true what they say about learning from your mistakes and the computer is such a great tool in that words are easily erased and re-written, unlike the hand written books of past authors from not too many years ago!
I can see that I'm improving with each piece I write and I aspire to be a great writer. My regular blogs are about life in general and are informative and sometimes even funny!
There is a whole world of talent out there and it's hard to get your work noticed, but there's room for us all. I like to take note of some inspirational quotes to keep me focused and motivated and one of my favorite is Walt Disney's (shortened version) "When you do something, do it well! Do it so well, that people will want to re-visit it time and time again!"
Jean Murray
Wednesday 23 September 2015
Saturday 19 September 2015
The plight of the Irish Homeless....
Listening to Pat Kenny this morning on Newstalk on my way to feed our pony in Broadmeadows Stables, they were talking about the disturbance the new Luas line is causing in Dublin city. The Newstalk reporters were interviewing people on the street and they came across this homeless woman. She was pointing out in her broad North side accent that the government should put the 360 million euros into providing homes for the homeless. I smiled when she went on to say she wasn't long out of prison for armed robbery and now she was living on the streets again. The reporter obviously not in touch with poor people's reality, (and I'm not holding this against him) asked her 'Was she proud of her herself?' To which she replied, "No, I didn't get a Blue Peter badge for my behavior! Duh! But I did what I did to provide for my children."
You know, in this woman's uneducated life full of poverty and addiction, she still tried to provide for her children in the only way she knew. And what happened to her children while she went to prison? Obviously they ended up in care. Who paid for all this prison and children's care at a very high cost? The government.
So where are the government going wrong? And why is the Homeless situation so bad that women have to live on the street with their children?
Deeply effected by the conditions that the homeless people live in, I wrote a poem about it and it's in my book 'My Beautiful Flower' called Under the Great Gates of The Bank of Ireland.
Unfortunately, most of the people I see homeless are effected with addition problems. I deeply sympathize with people with addictions as I have experienced family members with addiction in my life also. And I know it's almost impossible to live with an addicted person, that there is very little you can do for a person who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. They have to want to tackle that issue themselves.
This is a harsh one, but people who are addicted end up on the streets because they can't conform to living a regular life either with a family member or especially on their own. They may have a better chance of not being homeless if a family member can tolerate everything that comes with addition. They can't perform as a responsible person in the home, going to bed at a normal time, they have no interest in their appearance, they don't contribute to the household, they don't clean their surroundings. And often with addiction comes a soiling problem. Despite love, it would take a very strong person to be able to cope with an addicted person.
An addicted person cannot live in a home by themselves for all of the very same reasons and unfortunately their main goal is to feed their addiction, leaving no money to pay bills or feed their children. They end up homeless. Even the homeless centre's have restrictions. They won't provide a bed for a person who is intoxicated or drugged. They also have to be in by 9pm which doesn't go well with the addicted person's lifestyle choice. At this point in the addicted person's life, they unfortunately are the only one's who can change their dilemma.
The other percentage of young people homeless are those who have been abused by addiction in their family home and they are forced to live on the streets. I can imagine it is a huge struggle for them to stay sober in the harshness of an indignant life on the streets.
This is where the government is to blame. In my book, I go into great detail proving that children who's emotional and educational needs are not met in their early years leads them to depression or/and addiction. When these children are going to school and it is soon apparent that they have learning difficulties, the resource should immediately be available to these children and instead it's not. The government do not provide enough resource's fro the teachers in the schools to help these children. The children often suffer with low self esteem as young as five years of age and then the problem grows as they get older and they have to struggle through the educational system. The government is failing our children in our schools. And they know this. They've known it for a long time, even as far back as when I was a child, (I'm 48). There were kids in our classes that were left down the back and got no help. Our government has always been educated to know this, us ordinary people are only catching on.
It is only parents with money who can afford the high prices of private assessments and tutoring who meet the needs of their child with learning difficulties.
Can you blame the other parents for being resentful? They love their child just as much but are not equipped to help them.
The other reason people may end up homeless is the huge cost of mortgages and rent. We all know during the crash many people had to leave their dream home because they couldn't meet their payments. Did the government give them a hand? No. Maybe they could have given them their 60,000 euros stamp duty they had paid on buying their expensive property. No, the government didn't do that either. They put these Father's and Mother's and their four children out of their home and onto the street. Into hotels that the government paid their rents for. Really? Come on Government! Didn't you think? Would you leave your beautiful homes? Oh no, you don't have to, because your humongous salary met your needs, your children's needs and indeed all your mortgage repayments.
You can't help people being resentful and angry. Of course we appreciate the construction of modernization for our city and the tourists that come. But can't you see you're doing just what Maria Antoinette did in the French Revolution all those years ago?
"If they have no bread, well let them eat cake!"
Jean xx
You know, in this woman's uneducated life full of poverty and addiction, she still tried to provide for her children in the only way she knew. And what happened to her children while she went to prison? Obviously they ended up in care. Who paid for all this prison and children's care at a very high cost? The government.
So where are the government going wrong? And why is the Homeless situation so bad that women have to live on the street with their children?
Deeply effected by the conditions that the homeless people live in, I wrote a poem about it and it's in my book 'My Beautiful Flower' called Under the Great Gates of The Bank of Ireland.
Unfortunately, most of the people I see homeless are effected with addition problems. I deeply sympathize with people with addictions as I have experienced family members with addiction in my life also. And I know it's almost impossible to live with an addicted person, that there is very little you can do for a person who is addicted to drugs or alcohol. They have to want to tackle that issue themselves.
This is a harsh one, but people who are addicted end up on the streets because they can't conform to living a regular life either with a family member or especially on their own. They may have a better chance of not being homeless if a family member can tolerate everything that comes with addition. They can't perform as a responsible person in the home, going to bed at a normal time, they have no interest in their appearance, they don't contribute to the household, they don't clean their surroundings. And often with addiction comes a soiling problem. Despite love, it would take a very strong person to be able to cope with an addicted person.
An addicted person cannot live in a home by themselves for all of the very same reasons and unfortunately their main goal is to feed their addiction, leaving no money to pay bills or feed their children. They end up homeless. Even the homeless centre's have restrictions. They won't provide a bed for a person who is intoxicated or drugged. They also have to be in by 9pm which doesn't go well with the addicted person's lifestyle choice. At this point in the addicted person's life, they unfortunately are the only one's who can change their dilemma.
The other percentage of young people homeless are those who have been abused by addiction in their family home and they are forced to live on the streets. I can imagine it is a huge struggle for them to stay sober in the harshness of an indignant life on the streets.
This is where the government is to blame. In my book, I go into great detail proving that children who's emotional and educational needs are not met in their early years leads them to depression or/and addiction. When these children are going to school and it is soon apparent that they have learning difficulties, the resource should immediately be available to these children and instead it's not. The government do not provide enough resource's fro the teachers in the schools to help these children. The children often suffer with low self esteem as young as five years of age and then the problem grows as they get older and they have to struggle through the educational system. The government is failing our children in our schools. And they know this. They've known it for a long time, even as far back as when I was a child, (I'm 48). There were kids in our classes that were left down the back and got no help. Our government has always been educated to know this, us ordinary people are only catching on.
It is only parents with money who can afford the high prices of private assessments and tutoring who meet the needs of their child with learning difficulties.
Can you blame the other parents for being resentful? They love their child just as much but are not equipped to help them.
The other reason people may end up homeless is the huge cost of mortgages and rent. We all know during the crash many people had to leave their dream home because they couldn't meet their payments. Did the government give them a hand? No. Maybe they could have given them their 60,000 euros stamp duty they had paid on buying their expensive property. No, the government didn't do that either. They put these Father's and Mother's and their four children out of their home and onto the street. Into hotels that the government paid their rents for. Really? Come on Government! Didn't you think? Would you leave your beautiful homes? Oh no, you don't have to, because your humongous salary met your needs, your children's needs and indeed all your mortgage repayments.
You can't help people being resentful and angry. Of course we appreciate the construction of modernization for our city and the tourists that come. But can't you see you're doing just what Maria Antoinette did in the French Revolution all those years ago?
"If they have no bread, well let them eat cake!"
Jean xx
Wednesday 16 September 2015
Being a rule breaker myself.....
I got a great giggle from my daughter Sarah and my nephew Ryan who shared their tales of their job as ride attendants this Summer in Roller- Coaster parks. These poor unfortunate 20 year olds had to do special training against the most unwelcome visitor of the parks, 'The Mother'. Yes, 'The Mother' is the most dreaded customer of a Rollar-Coaster Park. The young employees were warned,"Do not back down, nor give in to 'The Mother' at any time! If you need back-up, call security!
Do not underestimate 'The Mother'. Because 'The Mother' will do anything to skip the queue!
She can also harvest the seven most deadly emotions at any one time: Agitation, Impatience, Sensitivity, Stress, Anger, Aggression and Tears and fire them at you like missiles, one after the other. She won't stop until she has, A. accomplished her mission to skip the queue and B. get future free admission to The Roller-Coaster Park.
Now we can all get a little bit frustrated with these gorgeous young ride attendants. They could probably go a little bit faster themselves to help things move on a bit quicker, oh yeah, but then we'd have to wake them up! Or we might have to interrupt their flirting with Josephine or Mary across the next line.
The Mother in the mean time has already broken her first rule of The Roller-Coaster Park as she doesn't like to pay the full cost of entry for her ten year old twins. They will be shoved into a buggy with soothers in their mouths and told to say they're nearly three, they're tall for their age! When they get to their ride of choice, she will lift them up to reach the required height, saying, 'They are twelve!'
She will sneak pets in, not wanting to leave her little doggy home alone. She'll hide him under the jacket of little Susan just to give him the life threatening experience of his first Roller Coaster. If the ride attendant is awake and comes over to investigate, The Mother will roar, 'Get your hands off my child!'
She will sneak food into the Park saying if caught, 'My children have lots of allergies and can't eat that Park food crap!'
If the ride attendant is not chatting with 'The Mother' and her little angels while she's at the top of the queue, because the attendant is too busy doing selfies and checking her pose in her IPhone 6, She will immediately call the manager and complain about the whole day! The price! The service! The ride attendants attitude! The queues! The heat! The rain! The people! The seats, not enough of them or too many that she's banging into them! The kids! And don't forget the lockers! The Mother hates to put her bags into lockers, she insists on bringing them on the Roller-Coaster!
And God help you if you're the attendant who has to weigh her family for the latest four seated rubber tire that can do double flips and dives for the modest family combined weight of 700 pounds. If they weigh over the 700 pounds, they'll have to go in twos. "What do you mean we weigh over 700 pounds? Are you saying we're fat? That scales is wrong! We are not over weight! Bring me another scales! Get me the manager!'
And if you are neck and neck in line with 'The Mother' don't even think about skipping her because she will come up to your face and threaten to kill you, kill your mother and kill all of your family! And she is not joking!
When the ride attendant's shift changes three times and 'The Mother' is still in the queue and the tired and over worked attendant lets the next person in before her by accident.....
He may just run for his life!
'No Shauna! The Mother is not me!'
Jean xxx
Do not underestimate 'The Mother'. Because 'The Mother' will do anything to skip the queue!
She can also harvest the seven most deadly emotions at any one time: Agitation, Impatience, Sensitivity, Stress, Anger, Aggression and Tears and fire them at you like missiles, one after the other. She won't stop until she has, A. accomplished her mission to skip the queue and B. get future free admission to The Roller-Coaster Park.
Now we can all get a little bit frustrated with these gorgeous young ride attendants. They could probably go a little bit faster themselves to help things move on a bit quicker, oh yeah, but then we'd have to wake them up! Or we might have to interrupt their flirting with Josephine or Mary across the next line.
The Mother in the mean time has already broken her first rule of The Roller-Coaster Park as she doesn't like to pay the full cost of entry for her ten year old twins. They will be shoved into a buggy with soothers in their mouths and told to say they're nearly three, they're tall for their age! When they get to their ride of choice, she will lift them up to reach the required height, saying, 'They are twelve!'
She will sneak pets in, not wanting to leave her little doggy home alone. She'll hide him under the jacket of little Susan just to give him the life threatening experience of his first Roller Coaster. If the ride attendant is awake and comes over to investigate, The Mother will roar, 'Get your hands off my child!'
She will sneak food into the Park saying if caught, 'My children have lots of allergies and can't eat that Park food crap!'
If the ride attendant is not chatting with 'The Mother' and her little angels while she's at the top of the queue, because the attendant is too busy doing selfies and checking her pose in her IPhone 6, She will immediately call the manager and complain about the whole day! The price! The service! The ride attendants attitude! The queues! The heat! The rain! The people! The seats, not enough of them or too many that she's banging into them! The kids! And don't forget the lockers! The Mother hates to put her bags into lockers, she insists on bringing them on the Roller-Coaster!
And God help you if you're the attendant who has to weigh her family for the latest four seated rubber tire that can do double flips and dives for the modest family combined weight of 700 pounds. If they weigh over the 700 pounds, they'll have to go in twos. "What do you mean we weigh over 700 pounds? Are you saying we're fat? That scales is wrong! We are not over weight! Bring me another scales! Get me the manager!'
And if you are neck and neck in line with 'The Mother' don't even think about skipping her because she will come up to your face and threaten to kill you, kill your mother and kill all of your family! And she is not joking!
When the ride attendant's shift changes three times and 'The Mother' is still in the queue and the tired and over worked attendant lets the next person in before her by accident.....
He may just run for his life!
'No Shauna! The Mother is not me!'
Jean xxx
Tuesday 15 September 2015
A New life
As I lay in my bed tonight I just thought that tomorrow will be my first born's 26th Birthday. I was remembering all the funny details of his birth and I had to get up and write this down. Isn't it funny how you can remember your first child's birth with such clarity? I don't remember half the details of my girls births now aged aged 20 and 11!
I was just 21 years of age when I became pregnant. I wasn't married but I was engaged to my boyfriend Anto, (now hubby). We were madly in love and we were at it as often as young people in love and lust can be at it. I was actually one of those girls who was on 'The Pill', believe it or not, it happens more than you think!
We had been away in America working and had come home for a visit when I realized I was caught! Anto was in shock to say the least. I guess boys don't get good sex education in school as he kept saying, 'How did it happen?' I would say, having loads of sex had a big part to play in it! I actually took the news very well. I was in love. All would be well. Women are more mature like that....
I remember telling my poor Father who became traumatized and horrified that his young daughter was to be an 'Unmarried Mother' as we were called in the day.
We were soon back in America and me and my bff shared an apartment with our lads. There was a big crowd of us Irish in Naples Florida and we had lots of fun. We loved the Florida weather and we would spend every weekend on the beautiful gulf beaches, everybody laughing and tanned. I forgot how young and carefree we were.
I had a very healthy pregnancy and had no need to go to the doctor till I was about seven months. We had no insurance over there and I wasn't sure if I was going home to Ireland to have the baby. I think I was waiting for my dad to say, 'When are you coming home?'
Anyway the doctor decided for me, it was too late for me to fly, I would have to check into a hospital.
Now my Ma had already been sending me over bottles of liquid parafin. Does any body know what that is? Well neither did I, but my Ma said take it every day, it'll help the baby come out easier. 'Holy Mother, this didn't sound good. What did she mean?' My poor Mother. I can only imagine the worry she went through then over me. Her first child giving birth and she not being able to be there for me. To be honest, I wouldn't have wanted my Ma to see me in such pain.
Because the pain came. Oh dear Lord Mother of Jesus! Like a hot poker up your bum! Theres no really other good way to explain the excruciating pain that is Labour. Oh my God.
I had been in Labour all day on the 15th September 1989. To be fair, it was all very bearable till 12 o'clock that night, when the real pain came. It was so funny because my Ma's advice was, 'not to go into hospital till the third stage, they'll only be fiddling with you!' So I had been reading the book on the stages and the feckers got it wrong, because my first and second stage didn't happen. There was no mucus, there was no plug, there was no water, just Mother of Devine chronic burning pain. Eventually, at 5.30 am, I let Anto wake the others to bring us to the hospital.
Everybody was so excited, but I was just counting the minutes till I got to the hospital for that thing that took all pain away, 'The Epidural'. My other pal Teresa and her fella decided to come along too, so John drove and I was in front beside him and Anto and the other three were in the back. I didn't feel like pushing at all but I did feel an overwhelming pain in my groin. I told John to drive faster and he speeded through the early morning dawn to the Naples Community Hospital. It was 6am when we arrived (thankfully alive) and my friends somehow got me into a wheelchair and rushed me in. I still had no leakage so the first thing I asked for was the Epidural. Because in my reckoning, I was still in my first stage of labour!
The nurses took me away to have a 'Look' at me. I knew then what my Ma meant by fiddling with me. (Not for the faint hearted) At that the nurses got very excited, "You're ready to push! Aren't you great? Very quick you are! Fab!" As they wheeled me off to delivery. "But my waters didn't come, there's no mucus! Can I have the epidural please?" I whimpered in pain. "It's too late for that! You're baby will be here in a minute! Push!"
Well I checked the clock and it was 10 mins past 6 when I went into the delivery suite and at ten mins to 7, I was still pushing! (And make sure you have a good clear out, otherwise pooh comes! It's all very embarrassing!)
Then the mean old nasty Doctor came in to have a look, "Needs an episiotomy," I heard him say. "Whats an episiotomy?" I asked as I found out to my horror as the knife cut me open down below, (without anesthesia). "Aghh!" I screamed as I heard a gush of water come out, (There was my stage 1) with blood and mucus, (My stage 2) and a baby's cry. It was a boy! He looked perfectly formed and he had ten fingers and ten toes and he was the most beautiful thing that I would ever see in my life. A new baby.
A new life.
Jean xx
I was just 21 years of age when I became pregnant. I wasn't married but I was engaged to my boyfriend Anto, (now hubby). We were madly in love and we were at it as often as young people in love and lust can be at it. I was actually one of those girls who was on 'The Pill', believe it or not, it happens more than you think!
We had been away in America working and had come home for a visit when I realized I was caught! Anto was in shock to say the least. I guess boys don't get good sex education in school as he kept saying, 'How did it happen?' I would say, having loads of sex had a big part to play in it! I actually took the news very well. I was in love. All would be well. Women are more mature like that....
I remember telling my poor Father who became traumatized and horrified that his young daughter was to be an 'Unmarried Mother' as we were called in the day.
We were soon back in America and me and my bff shared an apartment with our lads. There was a big crowd of us Irish in Naples Florida and we had lots of fun. We loved the Florida weather and we would spend every weekend on the beautiful gulf beaches, everybody laughing and tanned. I forgot how young and carefree we were.
I had a very healthy pregnancy and had no need to go to the doctor till I was about seven months. We had no insurance over there and I wasn't sure if I was going home to Ireland to have the baby. I think I was waiting for my dad to say, 'When are you coming home?'
Anyway the doctor decided for me, it was too late for me to fly, I would have to check into a hospital.
Now my Ma had already been sending me over bottles of liquid parafin. Does any body know what that is? Well neither did I, but my Ma said take it every day, it'll help the baby come out easier. 'Holy Mother, this didn't sound good. What did she mean?' My poor Mother. I can only imagine the worry she went through then over me. Her first child giving birth and she not being able to be there for me. To be honest, I wouldn't have wanted my Ma to see me in such pain.
Because the pain came. Oh dear Lord Mother of Jesus! Like a hot poker up your bum! Theres no really other good way to explain the excruciating pain that is Labour. Oh my God.
I had been in Labour all day on the 15th September 1989. To be fair, it was all very bearable till 12 o'clock that night, when the real pain came. It was so funny because my Ma's advice was, 'not to go into hospital till the third stage, they'll only be fiddling with you!' So I had been reading the book on the stages and the feckers got it wrong, because my first and second stage didn't happen. There was no mucus, there was no plug, there was no water, just Mother of Devine chronic burning pain. Eventually, at 5.30 am, I let Anto wake the others to bring us to the hospital.
Everybody was so excited, but I was just counting the minutes till I got to the hospital for that thing that took all pain away, 'The Epidural'. My other pal Teresa and her fella decided to come along too, so John drove and I was in front beside him and Anto and the other three were in the back. I didn't feel like pushing at all but I did feel an overwhelming pain in my groin. I told John to drive faster and he speeded through the early morning dawn to the Naples Community Hospital. It was 6am when we arrived (thankfully alive) and my friends somehow got me into a wheelchair and rushed me in. I still had no leakage so the first thing I asked for was the Epidural. Because in my reckoning, I was still in my first stage of labour!
The nurses took me away to have a 'Look' at me. I knew then what my Ma meant by fiddling with me. (Not for the faint hearted) At that the nurses got very excited, "You're ready to push! Aren't you great? Very quick you are! Fab!" As they wheeled me off to delivery. "But my waters didn't come, there's no mucus! Can I have the epidural please?" I whimpered in pain. "It's too late for that! You're baby will be here in a minute! Push!"
Well I checked the clock and it was 10 mins past 6 when I went into the delivery suite and at ten mins to 7, I was still pushing! (And make sure you have a good clear out, otherwise pooh comes! It's all very embarrassing!)
Then the mean old nasty Doctor came in to have a look, "Needs an episiotomy," I heard him say. "Whats an episiotomy?" I asked as I found out to my horror as the knife cut me open down below, (without anesthesia). "Aghh!" I screamed as I heard a gush of water come out, (There was my stage 1) with blood and mucus, (My stage 2) and a baby's cry. It was a boy! He looked perfectly formed and he had ten fingers and ten toes and he was the most beautiful thing that I would ever see in my life. A new baby.
A new life.
Jean xx
Sunday 13 September 2015
A Beautiful Sunday morning in Ratoath village Co. Meath!
As I drove over to Broadmeadows Stables early this morning to feed Yasmin's pony in preparation for her first SJI registered event today, it is a beautiful mild September day. The sun is up and there's not a breath of a wind and there's no rain! There is a buzz of excitement in the air. I couldn't help being happy at my surroundings.
We moved to Ratoath village 13 short years ago, along with many other Dubs who could afford a bigger house during 'The Celtic Tiger' boom in Ireland. Us snobby lot settled here with the rest of the fast moving career people of our time. Life was very busy. We spent a lot of time shopping for designer brands to keep up with the proverbial Jones's as one might say. We wined and dined in all the new and fancy places. We could afford to pay ghastly prices for food in Shanahan's on the Green! Oh those were the days! Those of us who narrowly escaped being raving alcoholics have lived to tell the tale of how the Irish people changed during that short wealthy period in our lives.
You see, us ordinary Irish people weren't used to having money. We are called working class and we lived week to week just paying our bills and providing for our families. Who could blame us for getting excited when extra cash graced our doors after a hard week's work?
What happened was and what most people chose to forget is that our country was graced with 'foreigners'.
They may have started with asylum seekers in the 1990's arriving on our shores but because the rest of the world saw how us lovely Irish people helped their neighbor, ordinary people from all over the world began to settle here. They wanted to raise their children in a country that wasn't biased nor racist.
These people needed accommodation and so began the need for more apartments and houses. Irish trade workers now had more money in their pockets so they were now buying new homes to live in. Climbing the ladder of a property owner away from renting or living in a parent's corporation dwelling.
Then we changed. As what mostly happens with us ordinary folk, we forgot who started us on the road to wealth, 'the foreigners' and we began to resent them and blame them for taking our jobs. Us resentful Irish during this wealthy time forgot our good manners and good raising and judged people and resented people. We stopped helping our neighbors.
When the crash hit in 2007, we all had a lot of egg on our faces. But I will say one thing about the Irish, when we are wrong, we admit it and we see the damage of our wrongs and we realize that life's value is not all about the money, it's about living life with the other human beings on our planet.
We began to have sympathy again at people's losses. Especially when we realized people were taking their own life in shame. That is so sad. If only they knew there is no shame in having no money.
So what did we all do with no money? We stopped eating out in fancy restuarants' and we all embraced ourselves in Sports. All sorts of sports. Us Irish have always loved our Gaelic football and hurling, a fab game and indeed soccer. But all of a sudden we had these once wealthy Rugby guys teaching our kids Rugby. We had extra Mams and Dads coaching the soccer kids and the GAA kids. And cycling began to become a very popular past time.
Ah yes, as I saw the local Centra packed with early morning sports Mam's and Dad's filling their coffee cups and water bottles, relishing their breakfasts rolls and heading off in comrade-ship this morning, I thought this is what it's all about. The yellow jacket guys were lining the Ratoath road to Ashbourne in plenty of time for the arrival of 3000 cyclists coming our way this morning.
Of course it's Sunday morning and I'm sorry Father Gerry, I know us Catholics should be in mass this morning, but don't you worry your head off, God is happily sitting in our kitchens witnessing the normal goings on of our families! Supporting us as we take our children off to their sports of passion. I can see him nodding happily as I find all the missing items of my roaring kids (and husband) this morning.
Gone is the traditional Sunday roast that my children only get in Granny's on a rare Sunday visit now, replaced by packed picnics. Because the mammies aren't staying home to cook any more. They want to see their kids in action too!
Sure isn't this what's all about?
Jean xxx
We moved to Ratoath village 13 short years ago, along with many other Dubs who could afford a bigger house during 'The Celtic Tiger' boom in Ireland. Us snobby lot settled here with the rest of the fast moving career people of our time. Life was very busy. We spent a lot of time shopping for designer brands to keep up with the proverbial Jones's as one might say. We wined and dined in all the new and fancy places. We could afford to pay ghastly prices for food in Shanahan's on the Green! Oh those were the days! Those of us who narrowly escaped being raving alcoholics have lived to tell the tale of how the Irish people changed during that short wealthy period in our lives.
You see, us ordinary Irish people weren't used to having money. We are called working class and we lived week to week just paying our bills and providing for our families. Who could blame us for getting excited when extra cash graced our doors after a hard week's work?
What happened was and what most people chose to forget is that our country was graced with 'foreigners'.
They may have started with asylum seekers in the 1990's arriving on our shores but because the rest of the world saw how us lovely Irish people helped their neighbor, ordinary people from all over the world began to settle here. They wanted to raise their children in a country that wasn't biased nor racist.
These people needed accommodation and so began the need for more apartments and houses. Irish trade workers now had more money in their pockets so they were now buying new homes to live in. Climbing the ladder of a property owner away from renting or living in a parent's corporation dwelling.
Then we changed. As what mostly happens with us ordinary folk, we forgot who started us on the road to wealth, 'the foreigners' and we began to resent them and blame them for taking our jobs. Us resentful Irish during this wealthy time forgot our good manners and good raising and judged people and resented people. We stopped helping our neighbors.
When the crash hit in 2007, we all had a lot of egg on our faces. But I will say one thing about the Irish, when we are wrong, we admit it and we see the damage of our wrongs and we realize that life's value is not all about the money, it's about living life with the other human beings on our planet.
We began to have sympathy again at people's losses. Especially when we realized people were taking their own life in shame. That is so sad. If only they knew there is no shame in having no money.
So what did we all do with no money? We stopped eating out in fancy restuarants' and we all embraced ourselves in Sports. All sorts of sports. Us Irish have always loved our Gaelic football and hurling, a fab game and indeed soccer. But all of a sudden we had these once wealthy Rugby guys teaching our kids Rugby. We had extra Mams and Dads coaching the soccer kids and the GAA kids. And cycling began to become a very popular past time.
Ah yes, as I saw the local Centra packed with early morning sports Mam's and Dad's filling their coffee cups and water bottles, relishing their breakfasts rolls and heading off in comrade-ship this morning, I thought this is what it's all about. The yellow jacket guys were lining the Ratoath road to Ashbourne in plenty of time for the arrival of 3000 cyclists coming our way this morning.
Of course it's Sunday morning and I'm sorry Father Gerry, I know us Catholics should be in mass this morning, but don't you worry your head off, God is happily sitting in our kitchens witnessing the normal goings on of our families! Supporting us as we take our children off to their sports of passion. I can see him nodding happily as I find all the missing items of my roaring kids (and husband) this morning.
Gone is the traditional Sunday roast that my children only get in Granny's on a rare Sunday visit now, replaced by packed picnics. Because the mammies aren't staying home to cook any more. They want to see their kids in action too!
Sure isn't this what's all about?
Jean xxx
Friday 11 September 2015
Monday 7 September 2015
Our kids with learning difficulties in Ireland
As a mother of 26 years now, I am astonished how many families are effected by children with learning difficulties. The most common one or the one we are more familiar with being Dyslexia. I also have the ongoing experience of sourcing information and assessments and help for my children throughout the years. I have three children, Anthony aged 26, Sarah, 20 and Yasmin 11 and both the girls have a severe Dyslexia while Anthony was border line. As he had a maths skill, the education system wasn't too worried about his literacy skills. Everybody in the education system loves a guy who can do maths!
From babies, you can tell the if your child is going to be a fast learner or a slow learner. Anthony walked by one year, talked clearly at 2 and a half years and could manage tasks by himself at a young age with just his parents observing close by.
Sarah was a baby for a long time, in fact, I remember my family saying I babied her too much, but that wasn't my recollection. She was a cute baby, a lovable toddler and of course I adored her, but Sarah didn't walk till 19 months and her speech was quite poor when she started school at age 4 years and 1 month, (the poor pet). She didn't seem to hear me nor her lovely teacher Miss Cummins from St Mary Help of Christians in Dublin and on the advise of her teacher, I had Sarah assessed by an education psychologist. Sarah didn't have a hearing problem but the assessment found that Sarah had a poor maturity and she also went on to being diagnosed with Dyslexia.
Sixteen years ago, I didn't know what poor maturity meant in educational terms, so Sarah continued on her social struggle in school coupled with her learning difficulty. Today I know that putting a child into the school system when they have the mind of a toddler can be detrimental to their personal growth. Although educationally, I got all the help I needed for Sarah and she came on really well with her education, I saw her social struggles throughout the school system and through the added challenges of puberty we eventually needed to go to a child psychiatrist. Not dismissing my own difficulties with depression effecting the family, I have also learned that forcing a child to perform in an environment that she is emotionally not able for leads them to have low self esteem and insecure problems, leading to mild or moderate depression.
When Yasmin came along, she was very similar to Sarah in not walking till 20 months, with the same speech difficulty, but this time around on Yasmin's early assessment at age 5, it was pointed out to me clearly that Yasmin had no comprehension of tasks or commands. This time I knew what this meant and that Yasmin was not ready for the school environment so I kept her in montessori school till age 6. I felt guilty for sending my other two kids to school at such an early age.
I'm much more in tune with Yasmin's learning difficulties, maybe because I was pointed in the right direction from Louise McDonagh head of the speech and language department in Dunboyne, to get the right assessments. Yasmin went on to be diagnosed with lots of difficulties Dr Sinead Hearty in Drogheda confirmed Emir Crowley's diagnosis of Dyspraxia (muscular difficulty). When the doctor casually flung the words 'Delayed mental development' over Yasmin's five year old head. Yasmin may not have known what that meant, but I did and I was scared for Yasmin. She went on to be diagnosed with Dyslexia (literacy difficulty) Dyscalculia (numbers difficulty) Severe comprehension disorder (didn't understand expression of language) Sensory difficulties (Everything hurt her, severe motion difficulty) and ADHD behaviour (impulsive and hyper active, can't sit still). But I took the bull by the horns and went on the slow thorough road of educating Yasmin. And it goes without saying that I am so proud of her work ethic as she tries so hard.
Yasmin is now 11 years of age and has started 4th class. Her class mates would be a year and half younger than her and Yasmin's ability level would be that of an eight year old.
Each new term takes Yasmin a bit of adjusting into. The new level of work is hard for her. And although Yasmin has permanent resource for 30 minutes each day, if the schools resources are stretched, our school system will discard the children who seem to be managing.
Being a parent of a beautiful child with learning difficulties had me awake this morning at 5am. As Yasmin received 2 hours of homework last night that should have been tackled by the resource room. Instead, the teacher is now sending it home to the parent, hoping that the parent can take the place of resource. I certainly don't mind helping my daughter with home work or in fact being her teacher at home, I enjoy being able to help, but Yasmin is still struggling with the same difficulties that got her resource in the first place and needs that professional help outside the home. It's all very well for me now, with just one child at home that I can dedicate my time to and I'm lucky enough to be a stay at home mum, but what about all the other parents with other young children and jobs too? I can only just imagine their struggles and stress levels each day as they try to get their child with learning difficulties to school. Because even if you know nothing about learning difficulties, if your child is struggling to go to school each morning, there's a reason. They either find learning difficult, social integration difficult or they are being bullied. Listen to your child's body language.
Jean xxx
From babies, you can tell the if your child is going to be a fast learner or a slow learner. Anthony walked by one year, talked clearly at 2 and a half years and could manage tasks by himself at a young age with just his parents observing close by.
Sarah was a baby for a long time, in fact, I remember my family saying I babied her too much, but that wasn't my recollection. She was a cute baby, a lovable toddler and of course I adored her, but Sarah didn't walk till 19 months and her speech was quite poor when she started school at age 4 years and 1 month, (the poor pet). She didn't seem to hear me nor her lovely teacher Miss Cummins from St Mary Help of Christians in Dublin and on the advise of her teacher, I had Sarah assessed by an education psychologist. Sarah didn't have a hearing problem but the assessment found that Sarah had a poor maturity and she also went on to being diagnosed with Dyslexia.
Sixteen years ago, I didn't know what poor maturity meant in educational terms, so Sarah continued on her social struggle in school coupled with her learning difficulty. Today I know that putting a child into the school system when they have the mind of a toddler can be detrimental to their personal growth. Although educationally, I got all the help I needed for Sarah and she came on really well with her education, I saw her social struggles throughout the school system and through the added challenges of puberty we eventually needed to go to a child psychiatrist. Not dismissing my own difficulties with depression effecting the family, I have also learned that forcing a child to perform in an environment that she is emotionally not able for leads them to have low self esteem and insecure problems, leading to mild or moderate depression.
When Yasmin came along, she was very similar to Sarah in not walking till 20 months, with the same speech difficulty, but this time around on Yasmin's early assessment at age 5, it was pointed out to me clearly that Yasmin had no comprehension of tasks or commands. This time I knew what this meant and that Yasmin was not ready for the school environment so I kept her in montessori school till age 6. I felt guilty for sending my other two kids to school at such an early age.
I'm much more in tune with Yasmin's learning difficulties, maybe because I was pointed in the right direction from Louise McDonagh head of the speech and language department in Dunboyne, to get the right assessments. Yasmin went on to be diagnosed with lots of difficulties Dr Sinead Hearty in Drogheda confirmed Emir Crowley's diagnosis of Dyspraxia (muscular difficulty). When the doctor casually flung the words 'Delayed mental development' over Yasmin's five year old head. Yasmin may not have known what that meant, but I did and I was scared for Yasmin. She went on to be diagnosed with Dyslexia (literacy difficulty) Dyscalculia (numbers difficulty) Severe comprehension disorder (didn't understand expression of language) Sensory difficulties (Everything hurt her, severe motion difficulty) and ADHD behaviour (impulsive and hyper active, can't sit still). But I took the bull by the horns and went on the slow thorough road of educating Yasmin. And it goes without saying that I am so proud of her work ethic as she tries so hard.
Yasmin is now 11 years of age and has started 4th class. Her class mates would be a year and half younger than her and Yasmin's ability level would be that of an eight year old.
Each new term takes Yasmin a bit of adjusting into. The new level of work is hard for her. And although Yasmin has permanent resource for 30 minutes each day, if the schools resources are stretched, our school system will discard the children who seem to be managing.
Being a parent of a beautiful child with learning difficulties had me awake this morning at 5am. As Yasmin received 2 hours of homework last night that should have been tackled by the resource room. Instead, the teacher is now sending it home to the parent, hoping that the parent can take the place of resource. I certainly don't mind helping my daughter with home work or in fact being her teacher at home, I enjoy being able to help, but Yasmin is still struggling with the same difficulties that got her resource in the first place and needs that professional help outside the home. It's all very well for me now, with just one child at home that I can dedicate my time to and I'm lucky enough to be a stay at home mum, but what about all the other parents with other young children and jobs too? I can only just imagine their struggles and stress levels each day as they try to get their child with learning difficulties to school. Because even if you know nothing about learning difficulties, if your child is struggling to go to school each morning, there's a reason. They either find learning difficult, social integration difficult or they are being bullied. Listen to your child's body language.
Jean xxx
Thursday 3 September 2015
The Family!
Ok , so we're not Italian, but we're very close. We get along just grand with The Pope and all the other Italians and they get along grand with us. We are the same type of proud people.
We are communicators. We like to talk. We talk a lot about our families.
This is my family.....
Anthony the first grandchild, the awaited first boy, has character, kindness and love in his bones,
Padraig is second and adorably cute, lovable and full of smiles,
Ryan comes in third full of macho delight,
Sarah arrives flighty and floaty at fourth,
Rebecca swims fifth as a beautiful swan,
Shauna's adorably smiley in sixth,
Pierce blends in all angles in seventh place,
Alex slides in well at eight full of grace,
Sean is a lad prancing ninth in full steam,
Finn in tenth place is a boyo with a dream,
Grace in at eleventh is a beauty without doubt,
Yasmin's an angel coming in at a dozen,
Elle at thirteenth, a smiler, a cousin.
And last of granny's children is Isabella at fourteen,
While their mother's and granny sit around the kitchen table full of chat and slagging.
This my family, I am proud to share,
We gather for any excuse, happy or scare,
They keep me busy,
They keep me broke,
But what else would I be doing?
Jean xx
We are communicators. We like to talk. We talk a lot about our families.
This is my family.....
Anthony the first grandchild, the awaited first boy, has character, kindness and love in his bones,
Padraig is second and adorably cute, lovable and full of smiles,
Ryan comes in third full of macho delight,
Sarah arrives flighty and floaty at fourth,
Rebecca swims fifth as a beautiful swan,
Shauna's adorably smiley in sixth,
Pierce blends in all angles in seventh place,
Alex slides in well at eight full of grace,
Sean is a lad prancing ninth in full steam,
Finn in tenth place is a boyo with a dream,
Grace in at eleventh is a beauty without doubt,
Yasmin's an angel coming in at a dozen,
Elle at thirteenth, a smiler, a cousin.
And last of granny's children is Isabella at fourteen,
While their mother's and granny sit around the kitchen table full of chat and slagging.
This my family, I am proud to share,
We gather for any excuse, happy or scare,
They keep me busy,
They keep me broke,
But what else would I be doing?
Jean xx
Doing Life in the Prison cell of your mind
You know when convicted criminals go into prison and it's called 'Life?
Have you ever really thought about what that word really means and the implications of the word Life? Well, Life is a strong word. It contains so much weight. It's the definition of living. Life for criminals means adapting to a new way of living. A life without freedom and a life without the freedom to make their own decisions and choices. Criminals who have killed and maimed will never experience their own desires again, as long as they are serving Life in prison. And they may well deserve this Life sentence for their crimes, but Life in prison is not easy. Contained in a small cell, it's not for the faint hearted and only few will see it through. Ironically, this is the same experience for people on the outside too.
When a baby comes into this world for the first time, she starts a new Life sentence. I say 'sentence' because she also has no choice in where she is born into and she will have to learn to adapt and grow within her chosen family. Thankfully, nearly all of the population cherishes these gifts from God and they aspire to do a great job in helping these little mites fit into our great planet Earth. But like the criminals in prison, a lot of human beings struggle with Life on the outside.
I myself, had struggled with Life for my first 45 years. I suffered with depression. Of course, there were reasons I had depression and yes it developed in my childhood years, so as a young adult, I realized I needed to go to some self help classes. As the years went on, I was unable to unscramble the clouds in my head and live happily in my 'Life sentence'. My behavior became angry and tearful, sad and resentful. And as my struggles with life was worsening, my behavior became erratic and my mind and body began to feel ill. Don't get me wrong, for all of my adult years, I was continuously trying so hard to become normal, to live my life peacefully and happily. I went to many good counsellors and when my last child Yasmin was born eleven years ago, I had to go on antidepressants.
Life of course has many challenges for people and it may seem that some get too much to bear, as in a prison cell.
When my child was diagnosed with lots of difficulties among other stresses that were going on in my life at the time, I felt my Life was too difficult. I felt I was useless and I felt I was a failure. I completely hated myself. I didn't want to leave my children, in fact, I was terrified of leaving and abandoning them at all. And even though I never planned a suicide, I found myself writing two letters. One to my Solicitor stating my wishes for my children and one to my youngest child's God parent also stating my wishes for her God child. I also left a note for my husband and kids in my diary which I printed in my book 'My Beautiful flower'.
I never went through any sequence of suicide in my head. I would never consciously hurt my Mother or any of my family by taking my own life. But I was totally afraid of what my mind was capable of doing because it was in such mental pain.
Then something happened. I noticed how much pain Yasmin was in as I performed normal daily routines like teeth and face washing, as she had severe sensory difficulties. She would scream in agony but trusted me to continue. It was the same in every little thing she did, like learning, playing and social activities. She wanted to be the same as her friends, so she trudged on. I looked at this little five year old coping with physical and brain challenges. She was learning. No matter how painful a task was or no matter how hard it was, she continued on. I realized there and then that she was sent to me for a reason. To show me how it's done. I truly believe that God sent me Yasmin as a gift, to help me.
I then began to help myself. I had to figure myself out and unscramble the clouds in my brain.
I was able to discover how to live in my Life and thankfully, I am still here.
Sadly, there are thousands of people around the world everyday ending their pain of Life. I don't think there's the right qualifications just yet to treat people in this pain. It's missed so easily at the moment in the medical practice. I know myself that I wouldn't go to see the doctor when I was really bad, I didn't want anyone to see me in that state. So, I took someone else's anti depressants to help me for a couple of weeks before I went to the Doctor.
There's still an enormous amount of embarrassment and shame attached to depression. Families are left blaming themselves when their loved one takes their own life. But if you realize that the person is suffering with a type of cancer of the brain, you might realize how serious depression is. Remember, there is also a huge chemical imbalance in the brain that eats away at you, just like a cancer. And doctors may see a patient looking physically well and completely misdiagnose it. People suffering this severe type of depression are just in a state of severe mental pain and they are full of self hatred and shame for their misconceived weakness. If they could live their Life in their prison cell of their mind and cause you no anguish, they would do so for sure.
But a Life sentence of mental pain and torture is worse than any Life behind bars.
Jean xx
Have you ever really thought about what that word really means and the implications of the word Life? Well, Life is a strong word. It contains so much weight. It's the definition of living. Life for criminals means adapting to a new way of living. A life without freedom and a life without the freedom to make their own decisions and choices. Criminals who have killed and maimed will never experience their own desires again, as long as they are serving Life in prison. And they may well deserve this Life sentence for their crimes, but Life in prison is not easy. Contained in a small cell, it's not for the faint hearted and only few will see it through. Ironically, this is the same experience for people on the outside too.
When a baby comes into this world for the first time, she starts a new Life sentence. I say 'sentence' because she also has no choice in where she is born into and she will have to learn to adapt and grow within her chosen family. Thankfully, nearly all of the population cherishes these gifts from God and they aspire to do a great job in helping these little mites fit into our great planet Earth. But like the criminals in prison, a lot of human beings struggle with Life on the outside.
I myself, had struggled with Life for my first 45 years. I suffered with depression. Of course, there were reasons I had depression and yes it developed in my childhood years, so as a young adult, I realized I needed to go to some self help classes. As the years went on, I was unable to unscramble the clouds in my head and live happily in my 'Life sentence'. My behavior became angry and tearful, sad and resentful. And as my struggles with life was worsening, my behavior became erratic and my mind and body began to feel ill. Don't get me wrong, for all of my adult years, I was continuously trying so hard to become normal, to live my life peacefully and happily. I went to many good counsellors and when my last child Yasmin was born eleven years ago, I had to go on antidepressants.
Life of course has many challenges for people and it may seem that some get too much to bear, as in a prison cell.
When my child was diagnosed with lots of difficulties among other stresses that were going on in my life at the time, I felt my Life was too difficult. I felt I was useless and I felt I was a failure. I completely hated myself. I didn't want to leave my children, in fact, I was terrified of leaving and abandoning them at all. And even though I never planned a suicide, I found myself writing two letters. One to my Solicitor stating my wishes for my children and one to my youngest child's God parent also stating my wishes for her God child. I also left a note for my husband and kids in my diary which I printed in my book 'My Beautiful flower'.
I never went through any sequence of suicide in my head. I would never consciously hurt my Mother or any of my family by taking my own life. But I was totally afraid of what my mind was capable of doing because it was in such mental pain.
Then something happened. I noticed how much pain Yasmin was in as I performed normal daily routines like teeth and face washing, as she had severe sensory difficulties. She would scream in agony but trusted me to continue. It was the same in every little thing she did, like learning, playing and social activities. She wanted to be the same as her friends, so she trudged on. I looked at this little five year old coping with physical and brain challenges. She was learning. No matter how painful a task was or no matter how hard it was, she continued on. I realized there and then that she was sent to me for a reason. To show me how it's done. I truly believe that God sent me Yasmin as a gift, to help me.
I then began to help myself. I had to figure myself out and unscramble the clouds in my brain.
I was able to discover how to live in my Life and thankfully, I am still here.
Sadly, there are thousands of people around the world everyday ending their pain of Life. I don't think there's the right qualifications just yet to treat people in this pain. It's missed so easily at the moment in the medical practice. I know myself that I wouldn't go to see the doctor when I was really bad, I didn't want anyone to see me in that state. So, I took someone else's anti depressants to help me for a couple of weeks before I went to the Doctor.
There's still an enormous amount of embarrassment and shame attached to depression. Families are left blaming themselves when their loved one takes their own life. But if you realize that the person is suffering with a type of cancer of the brain, you might realize how serious depression is. Remember, there is also a huge chemical imbalance in the brain that eats away at you, just like a cancer. And doctors may see a patient looking physically well and completely misdiagnose it. People suffering this severe type of depression are just in a state of severe mental pain and they are full of self hatred and shame for their misconceived weakness. If they could live their Life in their prison cell of their mind and cause you no anguish, they would do so for sure.
But a Life sentence of mental pain and torture is worse than any Life behind bars.
Jean xx
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