My Irish story

Apparently my Brother is spending his Birthday out on the oil rig’s today. I think he gets off in a few days. Also, Ruairi is now talking. (No speech pill for this kiddo! jk jk!) Guess he smartened up and knew he’d get things faster, by talking/asking. He’s such a pleasant little child, I never really met him besides when he came home from the hospital as a newborn, and left Ireland when he was just two weeks old.

It’s absurd that I’ve met my nephews once. My Father has never met his grand kids. My Mom has only met Kelan when he was 8 months old.

I didn’t think everything would turn out like it did. Who knew I’d move away from my parents house, 3,000km away and be totally happy up here in Ontario? I thought I’d be one of  “those” weirdo’s who would stay living with their parents until 45. I mean, I’m a late bloomer — I shocked everyone when I finally moved out of my parents house at age 26. Who knew that my Brother would end up residing in Ireland, for 9 years.

I hope that one day, we can all live together in one city, so I can see my nephews grow up. I can BE the favorite/only FUN aunt, and take them places and let them eat candy for supper and hand them back to their parents all hyped up lol. That’s the kind of babysitter I was, kids obviously loved me.

Instead, I wait patiently for months upon months, only to receive old photos of my nephews. Back in November I received a few “new” photos. But before that, my brother e–mailed my Mom a month or two old photos of the babies. Babies grow fast. I want to be part of their life, and I can’t. Not at this stage of the game.

My Mom gave my brother a camera.  He never used it. My Mom gave him another camera, and he didn’t even bring it back to Ireland the last time he went back. It just makes me angry that he’s not the picture taking type of person, like my Mom and I are. (We went wild when we had a family trip to Ireland in 2005 — we always asked my Brother to stop in the middle of the tiny divided country road to snap photos of the rolling green hills that my brother probably takes for granted as he’s been there for so long.) I wish he kept us in my nephews lives so to speak, with hundreds of photos. I still ‘oggle’ over the photos that he sent me back in November.

It all came on suddenly, this Irish family of mine.

My Brother met a great Irish woman, and brought her to meet my parents and I in Newfoundland, back in 2003–ish. They ended up getting married, and I inherited two step–nephews (who are now 17, and 11 — Great kids really). My parents automatically “adopted” them as grand children I suppose you could say. I was a bit hesitant at first, because I mean — I’ve never met this boys in my life, and now all of a sudden I’m supposed to be your aunt and buy you all kinds of gifts for Birthdays and Christmas?

And so I did.

I didn’t have a problem when I met them. It’s just a shock at first, I guess. I didn’t have to do anything, nor was I forced to. But my lord, I can’t afford to keep sending them presents as now I have SIX people to shop for in Ireland, plus boyfriend, parents, best friends, friends, and other family members. Their birthdays are so spread out that if I did buy a present for said people, I would be mailing gifts monthly.

Christmas is huge for me. I absolutely love love love Christmas. I enjoy giving gifts and seeing people’s reactions, and heading about how much they received the perfect present (lol not necessarily from me). Everything they always wanted. I shop online all year round, so I won’t be broke come Christmas. 2008 I sent over a massive box of treats/gifts for my Irish Family. I told my Brother not to let my sister in law see what she received from me (a nice leather yellow purse. She was eying mine when I went there in 2007), and to divy up the presents in order of what I had for everyone — specifically written out on a piece of paper, which gift is for whom. I’m not sure how it all panned out, but I love getting surprises Christmas morning and I don’t think that was mostly the case for them.

I don’t know. I just feel like I’m venting because I almost feel left out of my Brother’s family since I’m not there constantly watching them all grow up. Whenever I talk to them more, I feel like I miss them more and I want to book flights to give them all great big bear hugs. So, I don’t call — sometimes for months on end, believe it or not.  But I don’t feel like I’m missing out on anything, in my mind because I always get the news from my own Mom. My parents always calls my brother, religiously on Sunday afternoons to chat and get weekly updates. She always tells me that Kelan asks about me and doesn’t want to talk to anyone else but me (awww!!). Which is when I immediately go out and purchase an international calling card, and call them for days in a row until my calling card runs out. Then I stop calling. For months, again. Repeat the vicious cycle.As you can tell from my last few entries, my calling card has run out and now I’m homesick for my little guys. I won’t be buying a calling card again soon because I don’t want to get depressed and upset about not being able to see them. So, instead I hold onto the cute little conversations that I get for a few months. Like this  little blurp of  Kelan’s conversation and mine:

Me: What are you having for supper tonight?
Kelan: McDonalds. (Which was total B.S. by the way lol)
Me: Oh yummy! So Kelan — do you think you want to visit me in Canada?
K: Yup! (He just turned 3. I don’t expect too many sentences out of him.)
—more random jibberish that I don’t understand conversation with my three year old nephew—
K: You coming to my house after suppah?
Me: Aw Kelan, I can’t come visit you after supper. I live in Canada remember? It will take me days to get over to Ireland.
K: You don’t have car? (Aww! How cute is that?)
Me: Oh Kelan, I’d have to get on an airplane and even then it will take me days to get to see you. I wish I could!
K: Vroooooom (lolol w.t.f)
—conversation terminated and turned to random Irishness that I don’t understand. Until I beg for him to put his Daddy/my brother back on the phone—

I want to move them all over to Canada. Tomorrow, please and thanks? Easier said than done. My poor Brother is trying his hardest to support his new, huge family the best he can. They can’t afford a lot of things, a lot of luxuries. I wish things were easier on him, and I wish everything about moving his family to Canada were simpler. But they’re not. Everything takes time, and a ton of stressful energy. I think they’d be happier here.

Happy 32nd Birthday to my Brother :)

(Photos are old as heck. From December 2007!)