New Irish Mammy


I’m Michelle, wife to Manchild, mother to Princess Firstborn (two and a half) and her Duracell bunny of a baby brother, The Bruiser (one year). I’m 38. I’m also a freelance journalist and health writer. And I’m The Nimmy.
The New Irish Mammy aka The Nimmy bears very little resemblance to the stereotypical (and let me stress stereotypical here) traditional domineering Irish Mammy who ruined her sons beyond redemption and felt no woman they brought home was ever good enough for them.
The stereotypical Irish Mammy cut the crusts off her son’s bread, took the top off his hard-boiled egg and cut the fat off his meat. She even made her daughters get up from the table to stir the sugar into their brother’s tea cups (or so my aunts tell me).
As a typical New Irish Mammy, I barely have time to stir my own tea, never mind anybody elses’ and besides, nobody apart from builders and people in shock take sugar in their tea these days. It’s artificial sweeteners or nothing.
Like many nimmy’s, I’m a working mother. I work three to four days a week from home writing freelance features and health stories, mainly for The Irish Times, while the children are looked after by a childminder in her home nearby. So some days, I view life from the perspective of a stressed-out working nimmy and others from the perspective of a half crazed stay-at-home mum.