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10th July 2017
05:55pm BST
The Irish Mammy is a curious creature. One that we love and admire, but not one that we necessarily want to become.
They say that all children turn into their parents eventually, but sometimes this happens earlier than expected.
Maybe one day you realise that the children outside are making far too much noise, or you wonder how the young ones could be warm enough in those skirts.
Or maybe you simply call teenagers "young ones".
Whatever it is, if you recognise any of these signs, then you're turning into an Irish Mammy.
There's nothing a cup of tea and a good night's sleep won't fix.
Snapchat? You've just about gotten the hang of WhatsApp.
Ariel, you are 16, you are a child. Sit down.
I'm talking pyjamas two sizes too big, tracksuit bottoms that don't give you a camel toe and shoes that don't leave you hobbling around the next day.
And what's more, you start to enjoy it.
And everything they do is cute, bless them.
Gone are the use of first names, and everyone is referred to as love, pet, sweetie, chicken.
Handbags? Shoes? A new dress? Why would you need them when you can buy another ten candles for the same price?
And you wait for the day when you can peacefully buy jeans with no holes in them.
You can't face the thought of the queues, the cold and the noise.
You don't even want to think about how many teabags you go through a week.
Your work desk is full of plasters, pens, vitamins and you never ever, under any circumstance, leave the house without the appropriate outerwear.
The minute you offer criticism on how things are done today, that's when you know you've hit peak Mammy.
Good weather means good drying and that is a gift in itself.
Ah, but you have to love them/us all the same.
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