MUSINGS New kid on the block

New kid on the block


Diary of a homebird
Ciara Galvin

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been known as the baby of the house. The youngest of five and, by my own admission, spoiled. At Christmas I had always benefitted from a windfall of presents from the older siblings, with a few wise-crack presents over the years raising some eyebrows. Lets just say a 12-pack of toilet paper ornately wrapped did little to stir the excitement of a teenage Ciara.
Another year, the same sibling kindly thought Supermac’s vouchers would be ideal. Now I love a curry chip as much as the next person, but I’m not going to lie, I was happier after receiving my real present when the jokes were over.
Last Christmas my ‘baby of the house’ status was no more. My niece Saoirse had expertly taken the title and was conducting her duties with great finesse. In fairness my ‘goo goo ga ga’ broken sentences became less endearing as time went on and as ‘the roomies’ realised it was down to more than a sip of sherry rather than innate cuteness.
At 25 you’d think I’d have gotten over not being spoiled anymore, but what can I say, a girl likes her comforts.
Having breakfast last week brought home just how far down the pecking order I now stand. At the table enjoying my yoghurt across from my adorable niece who was being treated to Michelin-standard meal by her doting mother, the male roomie came in.
He boomed ‘Hello little pet!’, and I watched heart-melting smiles being exchanged between my little niece and her ‘grandad roomie’. I knew my only choice was to admit defeat and bow out gracefully. Dryly, I said, “Hello Dad. Oh, you were talking to Saoirse.”
The relationship between adoring aunty and the little bundle of joy sometimes becomes blurred. She’s only ten months old, but it can be hard to know whose minding who. The other night, while helping to get ‘Little Miss Giggles’ ready for dreamy dreamy nighty snoozy snoozy, I went for the pulling-funny-faces and making-strange-noises approach. I felt it was doing the trick too, until my brother (her father) commented, “Good girl Saoirse, you’re doing a brilliant job at occupying Auntie Ciara.”
If I thought my thunder was stolen with one bambino, I expect I won’t get close to a look in come Christmas 2013, with the pitter patter of even more little feet promised.
A little wary of how I might take the news of another niece or nephew, sis and her partner nearly resorted to giving me a book on ‘the birds and the bees’ as a hint.
After they plucked up the courage to tell me, I let them know that if they redecorate my room in their house while their doing the nursery, no bad feelings would arise.
Oh okay, okay. I admit it. I’m actually looking forward to minding my new niece or nephew. I’ll pull funny faces, and the baby will feel a great sense of achievement. With all the favours I owe to the older sis, I have a feeling that for me, the festive season this year will be filled with bottles and night-time feeds. And I don’t mean Bulmers and my much-loved curry chips after the nightclub.

In her fortnightly Diary of a Home Bird column, Ciara Galvin reveals the trials and tribulations of a twenty-something year old still living with her parents.