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I woke up this morning to the great thaw after Storm Emma – and I was sad.

I was sad to see the green grass and black road -sad to think we needed to put on real clothes and venture back out into the world.

Then realised This Irish Girl will be 8 in just over six months time.  EIGHT.

I mean obviously- I’ve known it all along, but as I watched the snow melt away the passing of time hit me like a ton of bricks.

I guess the constant family time of the past four days have made me realise time is slipping away. When are we ever going to get time like this past weekend again? Quite possibly never again in their childhood.

Thanks to Storm Emma we – like most families in Ireland were given an impromptu 3-4 days of complete togetherness.

I feel so incredibly lucky that we had it. That we were one of the lucky families who could be together and with no one needing to go to work.

We were pretty much house bound for four days. Not only were we thrust  together but it was unexpected and last minute so I didn’t have time to plan or orgnaise any ‘projects’ or ‘jobs’ for us to do around the house.  It was just four days of pure laziness and togetherness.

Our days were filled with snowball fights, winter walks, cake, snowmen, hot chocolate, frozen fingers and movies by the fire.

Sure it was annoying at times.

More than once I wanted to be able to sit on the couch without anyone touching me! Then there was the whole layering up and taking off as we ventured in and out multiple times per day! But despite all that it was a uniquely special time.

At some point with cabin fever setting in I made a conscious decision to shout less and laugh more with the kids.

Even when the snow melted today and we ventured off our road, I found myself longing to get home for one more lazy afternoon of board games and movies.

I’m not one of those people who was wishing for the snow to melt.

I was happy living in our bubble of togetherness.  It was like Christmas only less commercial and way less stress.Fours days without school, work, activities and everything else on our to-do list.  There was no running out doing jobs – there was barely even house work.

Now that togetherness is coming to an end and we are facing into reality tomorrow. I don’t think I realised it but maybe we needed these four days.

Maybe I needed them.

I’ve been so caught up in everything lately.

It seems to be hitting me again how fast these precious years are flying by.

So thank you Storm Emma for forcing us me to press pause. Thank you for reminding me of the strength I gain from togetherness and laughter.

If you could swing by again next year I won’t object.

I’ve never fully grasped the loss that some experience when an icon passes.

Prince, Michael Jackson, Whitney Houston, Amy Winehouse – they are all legends without doubt, and I appreciate and enjoy their music. I’ve just never quite sensed loss on a personal level when an artist passes.

Until now.

When I heard the sad unexpected news of Dolores O’Riordan’s passing my word seemed to shift a little. I was instantly transported back to the 90’s – flooded with memories and nostalgia.

The Cranberries were the first concert I somehow convinced my parents to allow my 16 year old self to go to. I’ve seen them in every city I ever lived in. Belting out every word and hanging around stage doors after.

High school, college, grad school….. even as young expecting mother I’ve loved every moment of watching the Cranberries perform live.

I was a fan from the very beginning.

 Zombie made the conflict in Northern Ireland something tangible for my generation of American teens. No longer was it only something our parents followed on the evening news – it was real when we heard it over the radio waves.

War Child and Sarajevo further opened my eyes to what was happening in the world.

There isn’t a single Cranberries song that doesn’t resonate and evoke memories.

I found strength and triumphed over bad relationships listening to Daffoidl’s Lament.

Dreams quickly became an anthem of my ambition to one day live in Ireland. It was played on our wedding day and continues to be my favourite song.

In 2010 I embraced motherhood listening to You & Me and Animal Instinct.

Tomorrow reminds me to embrace this life while I can because tomorrow can be too late.

It is music that anchors us to memories and to the people we share those memories with.

In knowing there will be no more new music to help create such special memories – therein lies my strong sense of loss.

For all the memories, and all you’ve gotten me through, thank you.

Rest in Peace Dolores.

A while back Lottie Dolls very kindly sent ThisIrishGirl and ThisIrishBoy two dolls.  If you haven’t heard about Lottie Dolls by now you should totally check them out online.  Lottie is an Irish company that values the true innocence of childhood.  They recognise that in today’s world kids need a chance to be kids more than ever and for as long as they can.  Kids need to be allowed the safety and freedom to be themselves and explore their wildest dreams.

Lottie dolls and accessories often come from inspiration from real life kids!  And they are built like real life kids with the proportions of a 9 year old (take that Barbie!)! There is no makeup or high heels or other accessories that aren’t for kids.  Lottie dolls are kid dolls for kids!

What’s not to love about an Irish business with great values right?!?

‘yeah yeah that’s all great but what did the kids think?!?!?’

ThisIrishGirl:

Lottie’s new digs

ThisIrishGirl received the School Days Lottie.  I have to be honest and saythis was an easy sell.  She’s into dolls and I wasn’t surprised Lottie fit right in (move over Barbie!).

Lottie is a great size for the doll house she bought second hand and has been upcycling with ThisIrishDad.

I was totally into the leadership cards that came with Lottie. These cards featured leadership tips made for girls.  While I loved the cards I can’t say if ThisIrishGirl really cared about them…because they got lost fairly quikly…along with Lottie’s glasses.  The glasses were hit nonetheless since ThisIrishGirl wears them too.

There are plenty of outfits, accessories, and more Lottie dolls and I suspect some of them may feature on a certain list soon! (we hope Santa has connections inside Lottie)

ThisIrishBoy

ThisIrishBoy received Kite Flyer Finn and it couldn’t have come at a more perfect time. For weeks previous he had been in search of a ‘human’ for his play with dinosaurs and superheroes.  We had been to the toy store in search of the perfect human but none of the action figures fit the bill.

Enter Finn – a boy doll that stands on his own and looks 100% like a ‘human’ boy.

Finn is the perfect boy to act out all of ThisIrishBoy’s wildest imaginative scenarios. ThisIrishGirl has been playing imaginatively with dolls for well over a year now, but it wasn’t until Finn arrived that we began to see the true scope of ThisIrishBoy’s imagination.

Lottie has since introduced another boy doll, Junior Reporter Sammi.  I hope they continue to expand this range and allow Irish boys to experience imaginative play beyond action figures and super heroes.

Overall both kids are enjoying their dolls and the conscientious parent in me is 100% behind the vision that all children should be allowed to be themselves.

Disclaimer  The kids received two Lottie dolls in exchange of a review. No fees were paid for this review.  All opinions are genuine and my own.  

This post is part 3 of 3 in the series of My Story.

October 2010 Mom and Dad came over to meet ThisIrishGirl after her arrival that September.  They stayed for almost a month.  What we didn’t realise then (but possibly subconsciously suspected) was that Mom was starting to get sick.  That visit she was rattled with back pain and couldn’t walk far.  We were lucky to have three more years to make memories with her.

Between feeds and extended bouts of crying from a newborn suffering with silent reflux  I got to chat with Mom and Dad about any stories of Ireland they could possibly remember- all the stories I wished I had asked my grandparents.

Before Mom and Dad left Cork we went for one last family meal in the city with ThisIrishDad’s family.  We ended up parking that day along Pope’s Quay at the bottom of Shandon Street.

What none of us knew then was that we were metres away from where my mother’s grandfather had last lived before immigrating to America.

To this day I have a deep  regret that Mom didn’t get to wander Shandon Street knowing her grandfather had roamed those very footpaths.  Mom never saw where he lived.

The 1901 Irish Census shows Daniel Looney and his siblings lived at 54 Shandon Street.

1901 Census – 54 Shandon Street

The Looney siblings lived with their Uncle John and Aunt Julia after their parents Denis and Catherine Looney had passed away.  John Looney is listed as a shopkeeper.  In the 1911 census John Looney and his family resided in House 17 in Fair Hill.

Daniel Looney immigrated to America in 1905.

He boarded the Oceanic from Queenstown (Cobh, Co Cork) and sailed across the Atlantic to his sister (Margaret) Maggie who had gone before him.   If you visit the Titanic Experience today in Cobh you walk in the footsteps of those immigrants.

Original pier Daniel Looney would have walked to board the Oceanic

Daniel became a taxi driver for his brother’s company in NYC.  He married Marie O’Brien who died giving birth to my grandmother, Millie.  Daniel and Millie shared an apartment in Washington Heights, Manhattan with Daniel’s sister Maggie and her husband Con Leahy.

Maggie was the mother figure in my grandmother’s life and my own mother was named after her.

Grandpa Daniel Looney passed away in 1969.  Mom always said she remembers her Grandpa as a proud Irish American who loved his country.

There was little talk of why he left Cork and the family that remains there. Many questions remain for me.

But here I am in 2017 living in Cork.

When I began my story in Part 1 I set out to justify how an American can run a blog titled ThisIrishFamily.

And while I don’t need to justify a thing, it turns out I am actually Corkonian – a few generations removed – returned home and raising This Irish Family.

Read more:

My Story Pt. 1

My Story Pt. 2

This post is part 2 of 3 in the series of My Story.

Here’s a fact about me…I am an Olympic junkie and love the everything about the games. Remember the London Olympics in 2012?! Ireland had Katie Taylor that year and with the games so close I was hooked more than ever.

Sitting at home watching the 2012 Olympics there was an RTE commentator discussing the overall total of Olympic medals Ireland had ever received.  I couldn’t resist bragging to ThisIrishDad that Mom’s great uncle, Con won at least one of those Olympic medals.

He doubted me and so began my search to prove it.

Through the power of Google I had answers within minutes. Not only did Con Leahy in fact win olympic medals, he had his own Wikipedia page! Con had won silver and gold olympic medals in the 1906 olympics which are unfortunately not recognized by the IOC.

photo credit: Wikipedia

Con was both an impressive athlete, and a true Irishman.

He protested the listing of Irish athletes as members of team Great Britain during the 1906 Olympics.  During a medal ceremony, Con supported an Irish teammate who climbed the flag pole to take down the British Flag and replace it with the Irish one flag.

Sadly,  in 2012 I discovered that I had missed the 2006 commemoration ceremony of a monument to Con in Limerick.

While I relished in the bragging rights of an Olympian in the family to ThisIrishDad, the truth is, Con Leahy was only mom’s great uncle through marriage.

But finding information on Con proved to be the first breadcrumbs to finding my own Corkonian roots.

Read more: 

My Story Pt. 1   

My Story Pt. 3

This post is part 1 of 3 in the series of My Story.

Anyone who has been following along (or actually read the about page) knows by now that I am American.  Born and raised in Upstate NY with short college stints in Pennsylvania and the Washington, DC Metro area.  I moved to Cork in late 2014.

Now I’m sure there are plenty of nay sayers who are thinking how can an American write a blog called This Irish Family.  You’re welcome to think what you want, but if you want to know my story here goes….

Growing up in America everyone is some sort of ‘American.’  It’s the melting pot of our history of  a nation built on immigrants.  (Ironic isn’t it given today’s American political climate?)

Anyway, I grew up one of the lucky ones who is Irish American AND Italian American.  If you’ve ever been to Syracuse, NY you know the city’s history if steeped in Irish and Italian American culture.

In case you’re really curious I am  pretty much 50/50 with a little Welch and maybe some Scottish mixed in.   Just your average Irish-Italian American – not uncommon in Upstate NY.

Mom & Dad bringing their Irish and Italian heritages together for us.

As a kid I wasn’t too sure where the Irish ended and the Italian began. For the most part though being Irish-Italian meant never eating store bought tomato sauce and attending family dinners every Sunday.

Unfortunately for me all my grandparents had passed away before I outgrew my indignant/not-giving-a-shit teenage years and grew into my twenties where part of ‘finding myself’ raised a curiosity into discovering my roots.

Of course this interest in my roots became more about my obsession with moving to Ireland and less about doing any real research into my actual family tree.  I knew the most basic facts – my mother’s Irish family came through Ellis Island and stayed in Manhattan and Dad’s came through Canada somehow landing in Upstate NY.

So fast forward to Halloween 2004 which after a LENGTHY immigration process involving work Visas etc I landed in Cork and began to realise how much Irish culture had been passed down to me in America

• Grandma and Mom always put butter AND jam on toast…much to the dismay of a lot of my friends.
• I remember being given 7-Up at any sign of a stomach ache.
• Guests (particularly my friends) couldn’t leave the house without Mom feeding them.
• We prayed to St. Anthony…..
• …..and lit candles in church

And over the past 13 years more and more things from my past made since to me after moving to Cork.

Little did I know in 2004 coming to Cork was actually coming home.

Read more:

My Story Pt. 2