Lollipops, people!

Our Irish adventure came to a close on Oct. 31. We may have had an 8 hour and 45 minute plane ride home against 225 mph headwinds, travelled across six time zones and were facing our second daylight savings time change in a week, but I was not about to let my boy miss Halloween!

Last year, he made his Halloween debut as a frog, a hand-me-down from my sis. This year, I continued the tradition of taking whatever costume my family thew my way and dolled the boy up as a scarecrow.

I may have sat on this particular costume a year too long, however, since it was designed for "infants" 25 lbs and less. Ever the mother of thrift and invention, I dug out some colorful pants from his drawer, pretended his shirt collar didn't look just a little too snug on his 30 lb frame and plopped the hat on his head. Viola! A super cute scarecrow.


While I was applying his nose and freckles, he asked "mama, nose too?" Just like that, we became mama and baby scarecrow. I forgot how fun playing dress up can be.

The wee non-scary scarecrow had only slept one hour in the past fifteen, but you couldn't tell from his enthusiastic shouts of "lollipops, people!" as we dished out 1,000 pieces of candy to the hungry masses.

The monsters, angels and "just a dead bride" first frightened, but then thrilled our fearless lollipop sucker. He was of course, in an enviable position underneath a furry blanket on his mama's lap. And, right next to more candy than he'd ever seen.

After his sugar high, Jamie collapsed into a well-deserved slumber. But, not before showing that while scarecrows may not be too brainy, they sure can bust a move.

Eire: One man's perspective!

As you know we all headed back to the old sod. As I've recently being telling anyone that will listen, I've been gone about half my life now. This trip was particularly exciting for me as I was bringing my sprogs back to the homeland. The blood and emotions started to flow when we got off the plane. Let's just say I had a touch of nostalgia going on. You can't blame me!

However, as time passed on, I realized Jamie could have been on the moon or in Tipperary, for all he knew. It was a bit like when I went in the chunnel to Paris for the first time and it went pitch black. For some reason I thought I was entering the Sea World Aquarium. If you could have only saw my face and the disgust. Priceless. For some reason I thought I was going to see the below. Muppet!

And as for newbie, well let's face it, (s)he's living in tight quarters right now with little views. While (s)he did not get the views, she did get the taste and sounds of the mother land, much like her/his mother did back in the 70's! If you did not catch it below. Sheila was in her mothers tummy outside a church on St. Stephens Green in 1975. That Church is where our gracious hosts, my sister Liza and her hubby also go married in the 80's. In 1975 I had just turned three and the wife to be was a yank in Dublin, in her Mams tummy, probably just 10 miles away. Crazy. I'm sure I was looking all smooth in my 70's rig out...sideburns and all.

Well Jamie was not in the country 12 hours when he stopped in for his first sip of the cream, on the other side of the pond! He was guilty of such pleasures on this side a while back. Now I probably would not have chosen the pub Thomas Read but newbie and Mommy needed a break and who am I to get in the way. This was a proud moment for Papa and the view of Dublin Castle lit up by the lights at night was not bad either. Jamie was a little hesitant at first, but he got it down him. In hindsight, I probably should have got him a pint instead of a half.


The Zoo was our Day Two trip which was cool because there was a huge expansion (double in size) since my last visit there. It really is a beautiful place just to walk. Let's just say I was happy!





Besides the views, Sheila shared a little insight into my personality. She said "Hey look, just replace "animal" with "Patrick!" Sadly, I could only laugh and agree.

We just like to be clear on such matters. There can be no misunderstanding.

Looking back at the pictures, birds where a theme in Dublin.

The Zoo

St. Stephen's Green

The Canal Talent all around Dublin...did I mention the weather was mild? (Editor's note from Sheila: I had to give Patrick some creative license with his blog post...maybe too much ;)

Jamie was a big fan of the birds, he got up close and personal. Unfortunately for him, it was not the last bird above but the birds in St. Stephen's green that got him. As we fed the swans, pigeons etc. in the green, out of the corner of my eye I saw what appeared to be something dropping out of the sky and by Jamie's head. I quickly turned my head to see that luckily he had avoided such disaster.

Well we proceeded on our merry way down Grafton street and about 20 mins later I noticed Jamie had crap (literally) all over his face. At this point I'm rubbing it saying "what is this?" Well the pigeon got him on this jacket and while the wee lad was turning his head left and right to the sights and sounds of Dublin, he was also getting the smells and touch under his chin! My niece Ava Lee found this hilarious, as did we all, especially when he started to freak out and go "birdie poo poo, birdie poo poo, birdie poo poo" When he relized what happend to him, he could not help but laugh himself.

No trip is complete without some Dublin bay prawns. These things are fluffy and melt in your mouth. Really good just plain with some salt and butter or some garlic butter with shallots. So anyway, we headed out to Howth (first picture above) to get some whitening fish for Rio and some Dublin Bay prawns and mussels for P. What a feast. Here is a sample of some of the goodies at Wrights at the harbor.

Molly Malone (Dublin's unofficial anthem and ambassador) would have been proud. Speaking of which, I find it amusing how Sheila is always apalled by the endowment of Ms. Malone, but if Sheila did a little research, she might understand why the tribute is the way it is. There is more to the story than meets the eye! See and read for yourself.



On our way back from Howth, we stopped off at the Stand Beach. Now there was a few things I had not seen before. It was all about perspective for me that day. I was trying to give everyone the sights and views of Dublin but my memory and the weather were not complying. On this particular day, Sheila and Eva Lee decided to stay in the car and admire the views from there.

While they saw...



and this...

I saw...

and...

Sometimes when the weather is not working out for you, you just need to use a little imagination! It's all about perspective people.

Well the primary purpose for this trip was to bid farewell to our "Italian stallion" to marriage and Georgina. Who knew Karlo would eventually fall. Anyway, a good woman has tamed him and trained him...he's now more of an ass than a stallion! Georgiana, is kind enough to put him to pasture and not send him to the glue factory. Just remember Karl, "yes dear...yes dear," learn to love it.

The following day in the morning we went to Mondello Park and Jamie loved the motor bikes. Then Daddy went drinking for the rest of the afternoon/evening for the post wedding party. The venue was beautiful and we had some craic.

After burying the dead we headed back to Dublin.



Has anyone seen She (Kill-a-shee....)?

The rest of the trip we visited our friends and family on both sides. We covered Howth Head in the north of Dublin bay to Bray Head on the south of Dublin bay and everything in between. Our shoes and guts got a good work out. It was great to catch up with everyone.

Outside the doors of Dublin on Fitzwilliam St.

In the shadow of the Art Museum...

Oh look! Is that the Lord Mayor of Dublin sitting on the steps of the Mansion House? Local celeb! Shemo wouldn't put the camera away. I was so embarrassed given himself and all.

On the way home I watched Angels and Demons on the plane. Would rent that one again.

Slainte

Out for the day by Dublin's Bay

The beauty of Ireland is unquestionable. Rain often daily - if only for a moment or two - gives the Emerald Isle her bright green sheen. And when the drizzle dries up, it is replaced by shafts of sunlight slicing through rainbow colored clouds.

Dublin Bay offers a unique perspective of Ireland's rugged rocky shoreline, rolling mountains and lush landscape. Last Tuesday, Patrick, Eva Lee, Jamie and me hit the road to explore the bay and get a taste the salt air in Howth.

Situated on the north end of the bay, Howth is a small seaside town, famous for three things: fish, fish and fish. Patrick, eager to give us an eye-popping view of the ocean and surrounding bay, drove us up into the hills to two viewing points. The first had no view, except, oddly, of recycling bins and trails that led to nowhere. The second offered panoramic views, which were marred only by the dismal weather, low clouds and blanket of hair covering my face due to the 100 mph winds. God loves a trier. ;)

The famous Wrights of Howth fulfilled our fishy dreams, however. The small shop was brimming with scales of every color. Even a non-fish eater like me had to appreciate the variety and freshness of fish. Patrick and Jamie were in heaven. P was already dreaming up dinner while J struck up a lovely conversation with a lobster.

After a tantrum - at the playground no less - that resulted in two out of three buttons getting kicked off my only jacket (thank you, son) we braved the wind to admire the sea view from the pier. Jamie was soothed by the sounds of the accordion player. He showed his appreciation by dropping a few coins into his hat.

The Dublin Bay tour continued on Wednesday when we visited my aunt Eileen and uncle Jimmy at the south end of the bay in Bray. Lovers of adventure, we ditched the car and zipped along the coastline in the DART, Dublin's commuter train.

During our journey, Patrick quizzed me on the pronunciation of town names and pointed out the abodes of the rich and famous nestled in the hills of Dalkey (Bono, I know you were there in spirit).

Eileen and Jimmy treated us to a delicious lunch of Irish stew followed by my favorite HB vanilla ice cream with sugar wafers. My inner child lept for joy (an interesting play on words, considering my present condition ;).

After Jamie took Jimmy's motorbike for a spin (well, he sat on it), we visited Dublin's only Catholic church that is open for prayer 24/7. Eileen lit a candle for newbie and Jamie sang happy birthday (the candles...).

We strolled along Bray's seaside promenade, visited the swans and admired the view across the bay to Howth. Our seaside adventure had come full circle.

Granny knows best

When was the last time you had a conversation with a woman who has graced the earth for 94 youthful years? I had the pleasure last week when Patrick's "granny" Molly visited with us for a few days.

Don't let her age fool you. Molly's mind is sharp as a tack and her tongue can be even sharper. One of her favorite sayings is "throwing an elbow", meaning get away from me.

Coincidentally, Jamie actually displays his wish to be left along by throwing elbows. They were fast friends.

Molly, a true diva, does not travel alone. She was joined by P's aunt Annette: a woman with a heart of gold and Rio's (P's mom) partner in crime.

Patrick's bro Derek and his wife Bridget joined the party last Monday night and Sadie, P's dad's sister, rounded out our motley crew who enjoyed a drink or two.

And, "that one" was there too. Jamie knows and loves our niece Eva Lee, but often forgot her name and would simply point at and say "that one." It was sweet, if not a little ego-busting.

Unfortunately, however, our gracious hostess and host were missing from the family reunion.

While we were staying at P's sister Liza's lovely Georgian row home (complete with a newly red front door) she and her hubbie were basking under the Spanish sun. At least we now know where we stand. ;)

After the night winded down last Monday, Molly shared with me that the world is full of too many "Imeantos." Molly, I'll do my best to not add to the list of unfulfilled promises and dreams. And, I'll force your grandson Patrick to do the same. He owes you for addicting him to bread. :)

It's a Naas day for a white wedding

I attended my first Irish wedding in utero. Eight months pregnant, my mom, with doctor's note in hand, I'm sure, flew to Ireland with my dad and four sibs to witness her brother Michael John's nuptials to my aunt Jackie. Want proof?

Your wish is my command. From the photo above, you can see that my mom hid her pregnancies even better than yours truly. (She's the one in emerald green with the barely noticeable bump...)

Jamie's first Irish wedding -with his pregnant mama - took place on 10/24 in Castleknock. Before 170 friends and family, P's childhood chum Karl traded "I do's" with his lovely bride Georgina (such an underused name!). Patrick stifled his tears, but I knew they were there.

The vows were followed by a reception at Killishee House in Naas (Nace). Less than an hour outside of Dublin, the boarding school turned hotel was a maze of huge reception rooms, guest suites and picturesque landscaped grounds.

Our boy Jamie, running purely on party adrenaline, made the rounds at the cocktail reception: flirting with the ladies and giving the guys "knuckles."

I then foolishly tried to walk the hotel halls to get the little guy to sleep. When I stopped to check on his sleep status, he perkily said "mama, more walking?" Silly mama. Tricks are for kids. ;)

The speeches did succeed where I failed, however, allowing us to childlessly chat our way through the delish meat and potato meal.

By 10 pm, we were both pooped and headed back to the room, but P kept the party going for us. At 2 am, he too called it a night, and was labeled a party pooper by those who were still going strong at 6:30 am. God love them.

Gale-force winds and rain set the scene for the majority of the wedding weekend. What better weather, then, to visit the ghosts of Patrick's racing past? Mondello. The site of P's neck-breaking crash and many a happy childhood memory. It was a must on the P. No's trek down memory lane.

Luckily, more than an empty race track awaited us at Mondello. A motorbike race was on, and P and J were all in. Even the drizzle whipping in our faces couldn't remove the smiles from the boys' lips.

The rainy conditions did, however, lead to two crashes in less than 15 minutes. And, unfortunately, an abrupt end to our trip down memory lane.

P was still able to give us a first-hand tour of the garages and track. Something money can't buy. That and Jamie's subsequent "motorcycles! zooooom!" Oh, and Patrick surviving - and thriving after - that crash way back when. :)

During our two-day stay at Killishee, P and I took many walks with Jamie: Up the stairs...and down again. Down the hall. Through the "farting" door (J still loves that one). To the bar and out to the ivy-encapsulated patio where people "check the weather" (and bring along their cigarettes to do so ;).

But, the best walk by far was our exploration of the hotel's manicured garden on Monday morning.

Jamie had been staring at the fountain for days and couldn't wait to chuck rocks into it. I basked in the 60-degree weather and forgotten feeling of sunshine on my skin.

Patrick? We managed to disentangle him from brunch with the bride and groom long enough to see the nun's cemetery and -strangely - an 1980s Dublin commuter train on blocks.

Sadly, we had to bid Killishee - and it's farting door - adieu and head back to "town" where P's family eagerly awaited our arrival. More on that next post.

(You think you're tired of reading? I stopped paying attention to what I was typing an hour ago. ;)

Take me down to Dublin town

Shrinking 10 brogue-filled days into a few blog posts is almost more of a challenge than my jet-lagged, pregnant mind can take. So, to simplify the task at hand, my holiday posts will focus on major themes. The first? Dublin.

I visited Dublin at least once during each of my six (or so) childhood family trips to Ireland. In addition to our fast food adventures, my cousin Tony took me to his school via double-decker bus. I don't remember our day of learning, but I do vividly recall bumping along the Dublin streets in our two-storey chariot. Another, much later, memory involves my brother Sean, the Guinness Brewery and a half pint of the good stuff itself.

While I have a few sacred Dublin memories, Patrick has half a lifetime's worth. If I could ever get him to put fingers to keyboard, he could tell you of his youthful exploits in his own words. Alas, you're stuck with my shoddy second-hand storytelling.

St. Stephen's Green: This charming city park is a quiet respite from bustling Grafton Street. As a teenager, Patrick crossed the green to catch the bus. If you have to get somewhere, it's not too shabby of a landscape to trek through. Jamie loved the ducks, seabirds and swans who happily gobble bread bits all day. The gracefully drooping trees' changing leaves, bubbling fountains and stone bridges kept me coming back for more.

The canal: Dublin has two canals that converge at some point and go somewhere. My aunt's hubbie Jimmy gave me all the details, but all I can remember is the canal's tranquil, if a little dingy, beauty.

Each day, we walked to "an lar" (the city center) from Patrick's sister's house. Given a choice, I always picked the canal to guide us in. Once, years ago, Patrick took the same route, and arrived home with a few bruises to show for it. I think the lads he ran into were just jealous of his rugged good looks. :)

Grafton Street: Whether you want to shop, eat, or have a drink, Grafton Street - and its winding brick side streets - has what you're looking for. On Tuesday, we stopped at Cafe En Seine, where I had my "hen night" six years ago. Jamie liked the place so much, he toppled head first off of a lounge chair. After ensuring all of his body parts were intact, I was able to leave the bar in only semi "bad mommy" shame. (Patrick was collecting our drinks at the bar at the time of the incident...of course :)

Trinity College: Trinity College was (and is) the training ground for many famous Irishmen and women. The buildings around the quad drip with history. Not to mention the Book of Kells, which I had the pleasure viewing for the second time on this trip. Due to his father's soft heart, Jamie is now the proud owner of a Trinity rugby ball.

Castleknock: This Dublin neighborhood boasts famous occupants the likes of Colin Farrell and my very own P. No.

As the heart of P's teenage life, visiting Castleknock is a must on all of our Dublin trips. This time, however, I had the pleasure of entering the village via the "Strawberry Beds." Leave it to the Irish to so eloquently name a road. The best part about this journey was Patrick recounting his daring driving and youthful exploits. And, he claims he was the responsible one in the group... :)

This is the biggest (name landmark here) in Europe!

My youthful memories of Dublin are filled with the smell of diesel and burning coal, shopping for knit sweaters, staring in shock at Molly Malone's scandalously bared bosom and fast food. Sure, there was always the traditional Irish fry, but my cousins were very proud of their little piece of America on the corner and were thrilled to be able to give me a taste of "my country's" food.

On Friday, our double-decker bus roared past one said fine-dining establishment - Burger King's of O'Connell street. I'm sure they still serve the same so-called American burgers and shakes that taste nothing like home to me. :)

Jamie loved the tree-top view from the top of the bus so much that he feel asleep. Ah well, I enjoyed the view and the memories for him. Our bus line ended at Phoenix Park, which, I'm told, is the largest park in Europe. My source, however, was P, so...I'm sure he's right.

The park is home to the President's mansion, the deer-filled land that Pope John Paul II visited in the 70s, and our destination: the Dublin Zoo. Patrick, Jamie, me and our niece Eva Lee entered 42 euro poorer, but it was all for the good of the animals. The zoo is quite beautiful, with winding walkways through natural habitats. I'm told this, too, is the largest zoo in Europe, but that could also be another Irishism. ;)

Still mainly on Chicago time, we dined that evening at 9 at Tribecca in Raneleigh and winded down the evening at midnight. A screaming Jamie, however, did not see why the party had to end. A true Nolan (Sheridan's never behave so).

I'm currently in search of new memories, so we're off to Howth this afternoon. More to come on the wedding, Patrick reliving ghosts of his racing past and our participation in the Dublin marathon.

What's the craic?

Failte from Dublin! The majority of our journey to Patrick's homeland was delightfully uneventful. The Aer Lingus staff were kind enough to secure four seats for us, which we quickly sprawled out on. The spacious accommodation and video-backed seats were not enough to entrance Jamie, but the attached remotes did the trick.

I stole the show upon landing, however, when the baby decided it didn't care for breakfast 30,000 feet up. I haven't been "that girl" on the plane in more than 14 years...and it's not a title I hope to regrain on the trip home. :)

Upon arrival in Dublin, we were met by my bro-in-law John and nephew not-so-little-anymore Patrick. The trip to their home in Rathmines was filled with glorious sights for the wee man. Not the green pastures you'd expect, but a crane-filled skyline and diggers lining the roadways.

After a visit with the rest of the fam and a nap in the morning, we ventured out into the city streets. Grafton Street, Christchurch and Jamie's first pub in Ireland: Thomas Read's, were our highlights.

I'm already running late for the wedding, as per usual. More to come shortly! Cheers.

Trick or treat?

Our neighborhood is the Halloween mecca of the "you're still in Chicago, but can smell the suburbs" North side of the city. Last year, the greedy ghosts and goblins clambered off the El and up our steps to fill their gobs (Irish slang for that gaping hole most call a mouth) with 300 wrapped sweets.

This year, Patrick upped the ante with 1,000 pieces...any leftovers of which I will be happy to place into my own hungry gob. But the children - and adults pretending to be trick-or-treating for their children - aren't just drawn by the candy-filled tree-lined streets of our cozy 'hood. To ensure our normally already scary-looking house is not overlooked, we dress up the old lady in her Halloween finery.

Pre-Jamie, putting out the faux grave markers and plastic cat in a pumpkin was pure kitch. Post-Jamie, it's daily conversation fodder. "Hall-ween", "Pump-kin!" and "Dada's flashing lights" are common homecoming phrases.

And who doesn't love a toddler who says "Boo!" instead of "boo hoo hoo?"

Contemplation point

A few short years ago, a brisk walk along the lakefront was the farthest thing from my mind on a Sunday morning. Unless there was a promise of brunch, including a mimosa, that is.


These days, though, there's nothing I like better than a sunny fall day, kicking around a soccer ball (football?)on Lake Michigan's park-lined shore. While my hand-eye (or hand-foot) coordination has not improved dramatically since the age of 6, I am willing to to give it the old college try for the little guy. And, in his world, anyone who can run and kick the ball is welcome to play.

Yes, the Bears lost today. Luckily, their loss does not take away from the cuteness of Jamie's jacket, or the fact that I scored a shopping touchdown when I snagged this blue and orange beauty for less than the cost of one of Cutler's cleats.

Dada, more beer?

Last week, I added a new feature to the blog highlighting Jamie's latest tricks.

October 5, 2009: Patrick asks Jamie for a beer. Jamie dutifully walks down the hall, opens the fridge, grabs a Miller Lite and delivers it to his beaming papa.

It's only been a week and a half since Jamie picked up his first round for his papa, but he's already got the knack of it. Now, each time Patrick walks into the kitchen, the wee man helpfully questions, "Dada, more beer?" and begins pulling at the fridge door to get his pops a cold one.

Two sayings come to mind in regard to Jamie's new beer-fetching responsibilities: 1) Be careful what you wish for. 2) Out of the mouths of babes.

See the littlest bartender in action below!

From Goldilocks to the little Dutch Boy

"Awww...what an active little...person."
"That's a boy?"

These well-meaning statements were uttered by two separate Jewel employees within minutes of each other. While it certainly wasn't the first time strangers have been confused by my long-haired boy's gender, it was a rapid-fire confirmation of what I knew in my heart: A haircut was in order.

Waiting as long as possible to trim his golden locks is just another in a growing list of Jamie's delayed firsts. 1) Coming into the world 11 days past his due date. 2) Getting his first bath at 4 weeks (He was so little; I was scared!) 3) Growing hair in the first place.

On Sunday evening, practical Patrick took matters into his own hands, literally. After assuring a nervous me that cutting a child's hair is not rocket science, he calmly sprayed and clipped Jamie's curls away.

What was left behind was no longer the baby face I knew and loved, but a chubby cheeked toddler. Tears were unavoidable for this sentimental pregnant sap of a mama.

How do you rate Jamie's little Dutch boy haircut? For my part, I'm slowly getting used to his new 'do, and already have plans for the $20 bucks we saved by enlisting the hairstyling talents of Frederico Fernando. :)

"Zoo" lander

You haven't lived until you've had a close encounter with a farm animal.

In my formative years, I had the pleasure of being nearly crushed by a heifer in the Irish countryside. Note to self: Do not try to pet the newborn calves while the mama cows are within stampeding distance.

In another Irish incident a flock (brood ??) of chickens flew at my face a-la "The birds." Lesson learned: Don't wear candy necklaces in front of hens; unless, of course, you want your eyes pecked out.

Jamie has yet to have his first Irish farm experience. But, going to the Lincoln Park Zoo's "Farm in the Park" seems to fill his moo, baaa, and neigh needs. We rode to the zoo down the lake shore bike bath "Chips-style" (Patrick insists on being Paunch).

The fall foliage provided a scenic backdrop for our chilly chat with the animals.

Jamie, a zoo pro, led us in a game of "catch me if you can" through the nature-inspired sculptures. We caught the tail-end (ha, ha) of the seal show, followed by a tour of the farm. We drove the tractor, we buzzed by the bees, we communed with the cows. It was manure-filled magic.

After the ride home, with his drool-splatted sleeping cheeks pressed firmly into Patrick's back, Jamie became a formal member of the P. No. band. Patrick on guitar, Jamie on keyboard, vocals and play dough.

I'll worry when the groupies start showing up at the door. ;)

Belly time: 27 wks

Each day, it grows bigger and bigger. No, not Patrick's confidence with his new-found guitar-playing hobby (we're only on day 2 with that). The belly.

Somewhere between 20 and 27 weeks, this kid decided to max out its pad. No longer content with an efficiency studio, B2 now has a fully pimped pad, complete with an infinity pool and outdoor kitchen.

My wardrobe shrinks by the day and my comfy house pants are getting more and more difficult to shed for "normal" clothes. I even bought pregnancy boots. Haven't heard of them? Maybe I'll start a trend!

If newbie continues to grow at this rate, Jamie will be too busy heeding his marooned mama's beck and call to attend to Patrick's requests for adult beverages. ;)