Teething problems

GREAT MINDS Ciara Galvin’s accidental sleepwear fashion clash with her two-year-old niece.

Diary of a home bird

Ciara Galvin

I WAS once told that the best gift you can give to a new mother is your time. Basically, if you’re going to visit a new mammy load the dishwasher, tidy up – it’s much more appreciated than a bunch of flowers.

I took this advice on board when visiting my sister and her family recently, though I still brought flowers and I did slip up once or twice with the whole ‘being of some help’ thing.

One day as my sister held her newborn second child, I asked if she wanted me to take over duties while she made lunch, to which she burst into laughter. Though I copped on quickly to the slip up (essentially asking her to look after me as well as the baby) and duly made us something to eat, it seems my folly has been relayed to every mother and baby group from Ranelagh to Raheny at this stage.

I survived my babysitting stint unscathed anyway. Thankfully, I can say the same for my two-year-old Godchild. Considering that about three minutes into looking after her she nearly cycled into a wall, it’s a miracle there were no emergency-room visits on my watch.

We were both showing off at the time, she on her balance bike and I, well I was just trying to make a good impression on the staff at her creché. The doting aunt.

As I walked down the graduated slope out of the creché, I waved at staff while, unbeknownst to me, Saran was bombing it towards a wall, I managed to grab her just in time. Walking out the gate I gave one final awkward wave to staff while I hoped I would get my sister’s first born home in one piece … home being about 300 metres from said creché.

Myself and Saran became good buddies over the five days. I know you might be thinking: What would a twenty-something-year-old journalist have in common with a two year old? Well first off, we dress the same.

My first introduction to mornings with a toddler kicked off at 7.15am. As I came to terms with the ungodly hour, I looked at my niece and then back to myself, realising we were pretty much matching in our pyjamas. Her parents found this hilarious, of course.

Saran then took a shine to the idea of us dressing alike. As we got ready for creche she searched her wardrobe for a ‘Frozen’ dress that would fit me. Thankfully, when I attempted to fit into her Elsa dress she stopped me, knowing her prized dress would be a casualty of my waistline.

The whole experience was an education. Discussions with a toddler can arm anyone with negotiation skills that can be used in the most highly sensitive situations.

I mean what do you say to a child who says ‘I don’t want juice, I want juice’, or ‘I don’t want my legs’? It really does make you think outside the box. In an effort to get my niece to eat her spaghetti bolognese, her parents have called it ‘Santa sauce’. Good old Santa Claus makes the bolognese sauce instead of Dolmio, and therefore teatime works a treat.

What did else I learn from the week? I need to stop shopping in the children’s section of Penneys; never, ever take your eyes off a toddler and always make a new mammy a sandwich.

In her fortnightly Diary of a Home Bird column, Ciara Galvin reveals the trials and tribulations of a twenty-something year old trying to get used to living away from her parents.