Possibly the smiliest baby in the world...ever

I couldn't resist sharing this with you all....everybody meet my happy wee man Orán x

The Radar is back on....

Sorry folks for being so bold regarding my blogging lately but as I'm sure you'll understand I've been in a differnt world lately...one that spins in time with the next feed and when its due, endless nappy changes, baby bathing and talking in a strange squeaky voice to your newborn who must have also figured that you're on a different planet because you're talking funny!!

Anyway...baby Orán is now nine weeks old and quite frankly a joy to behold! He's absolutely gorgeous (even if I do say so myself) and has given our home and our lives new meaning again after quite a troubled period! Thankfully we're beginning to settle into more of a routine and a full night's sleep now seems within grasp as opposed to being a distant memory! And with the return of normality my writing has also began again!

Today I'm off to get photographs taken by my good friend and super duper photographer Jim Hamill (www.jimhamillphotography.com) did ye like the way I just slipped that in there Jim?? And as usual I'm running around like a headless chicken trying to find something suitable to wear, which is an impossible feat at the moment seein' as my belly has taken on a life of its own and enjoys morphing into a wibbly wobbly jelly at a moment's notice! I've also just got my hair newly reddened again (much to the disappointment of my other half who is mourning his blonde bombshell and making comments about how much more fun blondes have!) but as I explained to him last night after returning from the hairdresser's if I had gone blonde the hair would probably now be pink and having an author looking like a desk troll would not be what my publisher's had in mind for press shots!

Hair and make-up aside I'm really looking forward to my afternoon in the studio as it signals the release of the papreback version of Anyone for Me? and a whole lot of fun with it! I have library evenings coming up in my local area, interviews set up and am also looking forward to visiting my local Tesco Ireland in Monaghan to see it when it will be Book of the Week the week commencing 2nd May...woohoo!! Every Little Helps and all that!

Over and out for now! Photos to follow!

Forget Superman....Superwoman's in charge!

Praise me people!!!! Tell me how amazing I am and generally fall at my feet - no, I haven't won any awards or come up with a cure for a deadly disease but I have accomplished something else that I'd say most would have thought impossible!

Drum roll please!!!.....On Tuesday of this week (same day as I do my Novena to St. Martha which may have helped) I managed to write 5,000 words whilst keeping the mad four year old entertained and in between feeds and nappy changes involving the newly christened (photos to appear later) six week old!

Having said that though, my children were very co-operative...you'd think they knew their wee mammy had a big old deadline hanging over her head...thanks kids!

Feck Superman....he doesn't know what he's at in comparison....I, however, am the princess of multi-tasking and today, the queen of self-praise because I think I deserve it.

Now back to work!! Just need to figure out how I performed that neat trick which involved kicking my own arse into action whilst giving myself a stern motivational chat (in the absence of having my agent living in the cupboard....Emma aren't I great?!)

Go to sleep now Orán there's a good boy ;)

And we have LIFT off...

Sorry for not getting back to you sooner folks but I am literally up to my neck in nappies and powdered milk and seem to have a little bundle permanently attached to my shoulder which makes balancing the laptop rather hard work!

I promised you, however, that I would devote an entire blog to my birthing escapades...so here goes!

It was the 7th February and a bright and sunny Monday morning and I was lying in my bed in ward 1 East in Craigavon Area hospital (with my legs clamped shut) waiting for the consultant to come and tell me whether or not I was going to be induced that day. I was scared out of my wits as the baby wasn't due for another four weeks and would rather have been told that I was going home if truth be known. But this was not to be the case! The consultant pulled the curtains, said a few words and before I knew it rubber gloves were adorned, the necessary procedures were taken (I'll spare the graphic details but I'm sure y'all get the gist!) and before I knew it I was being told to stay put for an hour and keep an eye on my pains.

I have to stress at this point that having given birth three times previous to this I knew that I wouldn't be long in labour...my babies don't hang about...four hours was the longest! So, when the consultant said that she'd let nature take its course and leave me to the following morning if nothing happened Philip and I both killed ourselves laughing.

As predicted an hour and a half later the pains were coming thick and fast and Philip had been dispatched to Mothercare to source premature baby clothes as I knew I wouldn't have anything small enough to fit a baby that was estimated to be in or around five pounds. (On that note I must say that I was very impressed with what he brought back too...see men can occasionally get things right when under pressure!)

I was having a ball at that stage (a birthing ball that is, ha) and puffing on my tank of gas and air like a camel would suck leaves off a bush...class stuff girls when you haven't had a drink in nine months (gives you the opportunity to become inebriated, talk shite and be forgiven for being stupid all in one go minus the pesky hangover!)

At precisely four o'clock the lovely nurse who had been with me throughout the day suggested I took a bath and Philip agreed that this might be a good idea so the two of them they got me sorted in between much moaning and stopping to suck at the gas tank as I was very sore. I had just about got into the bath when I started to panic as I could feel the baby coming so between nearly hauling Philip in on top of me, squealing like a banshee on speed and slopping five gallon of water over the floor in my attempts to get out quickly we must have been the quare sight when the midwife came in to see what the kerfuffle was.

"I need to push."

"But you were only five centimetres an hour ago."

"Well I'm not five *$@#ing centimetres any more because this baby's coming now."

I think the nurse was still thinking that I was being a bit of drama queen when I eventually dive bombed back on to my bed (fastest heavily pregnant about-to-give-birth woman on two legs ever, me) so that she could examine me.

When she shouted for someone to get a birthing kit and instructed my stricken looking hubby to unplug the bed and run for the lift I knew the writing was on the wall...I would have been smug and said 'told you so' only I was gasping by that stage as unfortunately the gas and air had been left behind!

Why, when you're in a hurry, do lifts decide to play up. It was probably only a thirty second delay but to me (and to Philip who was turning the air blue and swearing like a trojan at that stage it felt like forever.) We were only in the lift two seconds when Master Orán started to make an appearance and I will remember forever the look on the man's face who was standing waiting for the lift at the other end as I emerged screaming blue murder (if he hadn't had children at that stage I'd say he'd have probably been quite happy to forego the idea or maybe adopt one such was the horrified look he gave us.)

I made it into the delivery suite in time to completely deliver my little man, who roared lustfully (most beautiful sound in the world to a new mammy.)

I did have to laugh, though, as the nurse cradled him and told him in dulcet tones that 'it was okay' and that she knew he was shocked to be there so soon.

Eh s'cuse me...he was shocked????? I was feckin' shocked and as for Philip I think it'll probably be a long time before he gets into a lift again without hearing the words 'pant Fionnuala pant" reverberating in his head!

But all's well that ends well and my wee baby man ended up weighing 5lbs 8ozs and being absolutely perfect despite all his mammy's fretting and worrying!

But I'd say when he's older he'll feel a strange attraction to Aerosmith songs...particularly one very aptly entitled Love in an Elevator...or should that be Born in an Elevator perhaps?!

Mini-Mammy

I just have to share this with you all as I think it so natural and so beautiful! I took this photo on the spur of the moment and think it captures the scene beautifully...my fourteen year old daughter Úna (who has now been dubbed mini-mammy in our house for obvious reasons) staring adoringly at her baby brother as he sleeps!

This is what life is all about folks...making the precious times count!

Introducing Orán Philip McAllister

This is my gorgeous baby son Orán who was born four weeks early on 7th February and who is the reason why his mother's blog hasn't been updated in approximately five weeks! His arrival was a shock but a very pleasant one at that! I hadn't been feeling well and was admitted to hospital on 3rd February as I had reduced foetal movement due to fluctuating blood sugars in relation to my diabetes. I thought that I was simply being taken in for overnight observation and never thought in a million years that I wouldn't be seeing the light of day again until my wee man was in my arms! Usually hospital stays are a drag that have everybody sympathising with you on your misfortune at being laid up but if truth be told I have to admit that I had a whale of a time! It was just what the doctor ordered (literally)...a well deserved rest away from the stresses and strains of the outside world and an opportunity to completely chillax!! It also turned out to be a great place to meet new friends...stand up and take a bow Carla Scullion, Catherine MCrory and Jayne Murray who along with myself were the occupants of Bay 3 on Ward 1 East Craigavon Area Hospital (or rather Bumps r Us as I nicknamed us)....there's bound to be a book in there somewhere with the main theme being the bonds created between expectant mothers when all are thrown together pre-bump!

Anyway....to get to the important bit...my little man arrived four weeks prematurely after the decision was taken to induce me (details of the birth will follow in another blog...believe me...they deserve a blog all of their own and when you read it you'll fully appreciate why...are you suitably intrigued yet??) We have named him Orán Philip and he was 5lbs 8ozs when he was born and is a little darling!! Mammy's little star and Daddy's boy and the rest of the family are dying about him...which is exactly as it should be!!

Welcome to the world little boy...you are only three weeks old but already we would be lost without you!! xxxxxxxxx

Friends....

There is a well known saying in life that states that 'a friend in need is a friend indeed'....unfortunately, however, not everyone agrees and if someone's in trouble or feeling down and lonely they'd rather deal with their own feelings of discomfort than try to offer any support therefore how lucky am I to have the best bunch of mates in the world...ever...who literally rally around me in times of need!

Times have been tough lately between ill health, problems of a personal nature and life in general just being crap (I could use a variety of stronger words believe me but I'll refrain cos I'm a writer and supposed to have a repetoire of 'proper' words.) Of course stupid cars that don't work, laptops that nosedive off seats all by themselves (according to the mad four year old)resulting in broken screens and spiralling out of control blood sugars don't help! However I'm lucky...my friends, like my man and my wonderful children are my rocks and I'm so very very lucky to have them!

I was having a particularly tough day on Friday and was basically telling my friend Carrie-Ann (who is a little gem) how down I was feeling and next thing by magic a little quote appeared on my Facebook page from her which really touched me and was so appropriate....

And here it is...my new motto in life from now on...

There comes a time in life, when you walk away from all the drama and people who create it. You surround yourself with people who make you laugh, forget the bad, and focus on the good. So, love the people who treat you right and Pray for the ones who don't. Life is too short to be anything but happy. Falling down is part of LIFE...Getting back up is LIVING

Carrie Ann, Rachel, Claire A, Joanna, Nells, Kat, Edel and the rest of the posse thanks for always being there and for having spectacularly bendy ears when I need you....you are superstars and I love you all to bits and once I produce this babby we are definitely going to have a night out....FACT!!!

Happy Birthday Colm...

I am officially in shock folks...I am the mother of a sixteen year old!!! Of course I am the world's youngest mammy as I had him when I was four and am not a day over 21...ahem! Oh well alright then spoil sports...I actually had him when I was eighteen and had my place secured in Napier University, Edinburgh for a degree in Newspaper Journalism after sitting my A-levels....at the time the thought of having a baby and missing out on the opportunity to continue my studies and live life on the wild side like all my friends filled me with fear but I have to say that sixteen years on I wouldn't swap my big fella (who is now taller than me) for the world! I love him more than life itself and in many ways he did me a big favour by deciding to turn up when he did!

I am not for a moment advocating teenage pregnancy (before you all jump on me from a great height for being a bad and irresponsible influence) but Colm's arrival meant that my life went in a completely different direction than it may have done if my original plan had come to fruition! For a start I doubt if I would have had my gorgeous daughter Una, I also doubt that I would have ever met Philip, who is the absolute love of my life (stop telling me not to be soppy...my hormones are firing on all cylinders...I'm allowed!) which means that I wouldn't have my precious Aine or my current bump nor would I have had the opportunity to meet and bond with his children and to boot I may have actually succeeded in my chosen career path and been a newspaper journalist as opposed to an author and wouldn't be sitting writing this blog now....whew...isn't my son a brilliant lad altogether for arriving when he did!!

I am a great believer in things happening for a reason and life being mapped out for you and am very thankful to the man in the sky for giving me my wonderful firstborn son as he means the world to me...of course he has his moments where I could cheerfully knock him out for not tidying his room, constantly fighting with his sister (who he loves really...they can't fool me), not knowing where the dishwasher is and being under the mistaken belief that his clothes are magic and therefore capable of making their own way to the laundry basket...but what can I say...he is a teenage boy and I'd probably die of shock and want to take his temperature to diagnose illness were he suddenly to turn into a clean freak who was willing to wear ordinary clothes minus a designer logo...sorry didn't I mention the penchant for anything with a label on it...if it ain't Henley's, Haywire or Crosshatch these days we do not want to know...no George or Cherokee or Peacocks will do anymore...noooo sirreee God forbid a top might cost less than 20 quid!!!

Happy birthday to my big man who has brought such joy and comfort to me over the years and who is the apple of his Granda's eye (well, growing up with an only girl it's only natural that he would be delighted with a wee man who would become his shadow over the years!)


Love you son xxx

A Fond Farewell to a National Treasure

We've all heard of female celebrities, Cheryl Cole, Holly Willoughby and the likes, who through hard work, endearing personalities and a good relationship with the public have earned themselves the coveted title of 'National Treasure' but in my humble opinion Ireland has just lost one of its finest treasures which is a fitting description for this lady as her father has constantly referred to her as 'a little gem' since her tragic and untimely death on Monday.

I didn't know Michaela Harte very well but our paths had crossed in the past as we had attended several local weddings together (where she was subjected to a particularly rowdy swing by Philip during a ceili dance where the guests danced the Walls of Limerick), I had seen her at football matches (most notably in Croke Park at the Semi-Final between Armagh and Tyrone in 2005 where Tyrone thrashed their opponents and went on to beat Kerry and bring Sam home) and my partner had met her at a parent teacher meeting for one of his children who attends St. Patrick's Academy in Dungannon where Michaela taught both Religion and Irish. On all these occasions we both decided that she was a very down to earth, nice, modest girl. I don't know what we were expecting but as the daughter of one of Ireland's leading football managers who was becoming a celebrity in her own right as a former Ulster Rose of Tralee and personality I suppose you could be forgiven for thinking that such a girl might have a few tickets on herself but this was refreshingly not the case.

I, like the rest of the country, was submerged into shock, dismay and intense sadness when I heard the news of Michaela's sudden and unexplained death on Monday whilst on her honeymoon and was plunged even deeper into despair yesterday when it became apparent that foul play had taken place and she was strangled in her hotel room. It beggars belief that something like this could happen in the first place to anyone but for it to happen to someone known to us all is even more devestating and hard to deal with. News this morning indicates that arrests have been made and we can only hope and pray that the perpetrators of such a senseless crime are brought to justice.

I think, certainly here in Tyrone and also in GAA footballing circles, Michaela was probably best known for her close and mutually adoring relationship with her father Mickey Harte (pictured above with Michaela and her brother celebrating a Tyrone victory) as well as her passion for the game and cameraderie with the players. Public reaction regionally, nationally and internationally to her untimely demise has been intense as although we knew she was a popular and well liked young woman I don't think she realised quite how many people she touched during her short life. We all know how hard it is for teachers to gain the respect and admiration of their students but you only have to look at the online book of condolences and the number of appraising comments from her former St. Patrick's Academy pupils to see that she certainly made a big impression and was much loved.

I watched the six o'clock Northern Ireland news yesterday from behind a tear stained cushion as I listened to her heartbroken father talk about how much he loved his special wee girl and saw the pain etched across the faces of her brothers as they held him up and supported him. As an only daughter who shares a close relationship with her father the impact of such a tragedy and in such horrific circumstances doesn't bear thinking about and we can only hope that the thoughts and prayers of the nation will bring them some comfort at this terrible terrible time.

We must also spare a thought for her new husband, John McAreavey, who must be in a living hell at this moment...miles from home in a foreign country where he doesn't know anybody trying to deal with the shock of losing the girl who only became his wife ten days before she was murdered. I am sure that they had spent their time talking about good times to come and planning their future together which makes Michaela's death all the more distressing.

Events like these certainly put life in perspective. Who are we to complain about having troubles when the Harte and McAreavey families are suffering through the hardship of losing a much loved daughter and daughter in law in the prime of her life in such horrendously sad and difficult circumstances.

As someone with a strong faith and great belief in angels I can only comfort myself with the notion that Michaela certainly earned her wings in this life and is now above us all trying to help her family, friends, colleagues and students deal with their grief.

Rest in Peace Michaela, wee gem.

God...but I hate pricks

Well folks,

As you have probably guessed my life hasn't become any easier but I can assure you that a) I haven't started using recreational drugs in an effort to make myself feel better b) I haven't begun a quest to start saving drug users from injecting themselves as a distraction and c) I'm not sticking a needle in myself as an equivalent to pinching my arm to check if everything happening at the moment is real.......nope it's actually much simpler than all that...last week after several bouts of tests I've been diagnosed with gestational diabetes which is something that can develop in pregnancy but that hopefully will leave afterwards.

What this condition means is that my body is unable to process the sugar in my blood therefore through controlling my diet and possibly going on insulin I should be able to combat this situation. However, it does increase the size of the baby as it is getting a brilliant supply of sugar from me and means that I will probably end up giving birth in February as opposed to March when it was planned! Oh yes...and given the fact that I am five foot nothing and have a tiny pelvis I'd appreciate it if said babby didn't grow too much bigger as I'd like to deliver it naturally if at all possible! You've all seen the film 'Look Who's Talking' with Kirsty Alley and John Travolta...well here's a wee quote from Kirsty to John when he's being flippant about her giving birth..."why don't you try squeezing a watermelon out of an opening the size of an orange and see how you feel"...at which point he suggests he better start ringing his mother more often....ahem!

I have to get my blood checked every week at the hospital I'm due to give birth in and have changed consultants now as well as having to see diabetic specialists, dieticians and a diabetic nurse....great craic...oh and lest I forget to mention the really fun bit I have to check my blood eight times a day before and after eating with a finger pricker whilst recording all the results.

I HATE NEEDLES!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I've never been fond of giving blood or having injections but having given birth to three children already it's something I've had to begrudgingly get used to (whilst pulling the arm out of the chair I'm sitting on or alternatively Philip...whoever happens to be closest) therefore we are not impressed with this latest development even though everybody else seems to think that it's highly amusing that I have to stamp my foot, have a stern conversation with myself (out loud) and breathe deeply in the manner of a WBA wrestler in order to psyche myself up for the procedure!

The running joke between Philip and myself has become "but it's only a wee prick darling." Which is then my cue to say "but darling you know as well as I do that I only like big pricks."

But anyway for all my moaning and complaining I do realise that it is necessary, and for the sake of my precious wee cargo I will do anything in order to keep it healthy and well and ensure that it comes into the world having had the best start possible, so I shall bear the brunt of all the tests, extra trips to the hospital and the radical diet that means I'm bereft of my chocolate fix (cue large sniff in order to ward off bout of hormonal chocolate deprived crying.)

My only consolation is that at least this annoying prick serves a useful purpose and is helping me and my little baby as I can assure you that there are other pricks in this world (of the human variety) who seem to live off hurting and aggravating people...but that would be a whole other blog entirely and one which might see me transgress from being a romantic comedy writer to one who writes books of a pychologically disturbing nature that could give Stephen King a run for his money in the horror stakes!!

But don't worry I have no intention of doing any such thing as through every trial and tribulation I will endeavour to remain positive, count my blessings for the good things in life and keep you all laughing.....right...time for another pre-lunch jab I think...oh the joys!