I am a 32 year old Irish woman living with my husband and new baby daughter in a Dublin satellite town in Ireland, commuting by train to the capital to work three days a week. Up until recently, using the word ‘woman’ to describe myself makes me laugh. I think this generation is unique to all that have gone before in so far as we have taken a lot longer to grow up. Children of the seventies, eighties and nineties have remained children a lot longer than their former counterparts, persisting at breaking their parent’s hearts with immaturity, complacency and bad decisions right into their thirties and forties! The proverbial boot up the arse, I’m sure, could do a lot of us a lot of good!
Unlike many of my peers in Dublin, who are still living in their childhood bedrooms, I moved out of home to Dublin at 18 to study, although I admit, I am still firmly tied to the apron strings and very glad of it! I spent many years rocking it out in Dublin’s dives and halfway houses with kindred spirits, coasting from cafe work to shop floors and writing essays in between. I met my husband during these goodtimes and we had a lot of fun. I have many happy memories of this time, many stories that make me laugh out loud when I recall them and my parents gasp in horror when I recount them.
Recently though, my husband and I have had the privilege of growing up quite quickly with the birth of our beautiful baby daughter. Even though you carry the child for nine months (actually ten, everybody lied!) it isn’t until they actually arrive that these new unprecedented feelings of responsibility (amongst many others!) emerge. Rather abruptly you realise that you are no longer the centre of your own universe and you no longer wish to be. This little person is now the be all and end all of everything you do.
So now my husband and I continue to have a lot of fun, it’s just a little different these days! That’s not to say we still can’t rock it with the best of them. Sure if we couldn’t, what would be the point?