LITMIR.BIZ

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      It was great to see you. You look amazing! And you are NOT fat! Little Katie was a girl of few words but I am already besotted with her. I almost felt like stealing her and bringing her back over to Boston.

      In fact that’s a lie. I really felt like staying in Dublin. I almost didn’t get back on that flight. I love it here in Boston and I love studying medicine. But it’s not home. Dublin is. Being back with you felt so right. I miss my best friend.

      I’ve met some great guys here, but I didn’t grow up with any of them playing cops and robbers in my back garden. I don’t feel like they are real friends. I haven’t kicked them in the shins, stayed up all night on Santa watch with them, hung from trees pretending to be monkeys, played hotel or laughed my heart out as their stomachs were pumped. It’s kind of hard to beat those sorts of experiences.

      However, I can see that I have already been replaced in your affections. Little Katie is your whole world now. And it’s easy to see why. I even loved her when she threw up on my (new and very expensive) suit. That must mean something. It’s weird to see how much she looks like you. She has your twinkling blue eyes (I sense trouble ahead!) and jet-black hair and a little button nose. Though her bum is slightly smaller than her mother’s. Just joking!

      I no that you are incredibly busy at the moment but if you ever need a break from it all, you’re welcome to come over here and relax. Let me no when you want to come – the invitation is always open. I realise things are tricky for you financially so we could help out with the cost of the flights. Mum and Dad would love you to come over too. They’ve got photos of you and Katie from the christening all around the house already.

      There’s also somebody I would like you to meet when you come over. She’s in my class in college. Her name is Sally Gruber and she’s from Boston. You would both get along.

      College is a lot tougher than I thought it would be. There’s just so much studying to do; so much reading. I barely have a social life. I’ve got four years here in Harvard altogether, then I’ve to do about five to seven years in a general surgical residency so I’m estimating that I’ll be fully qualified in my specialised field (whatever that will be) by the time I’m one hundred years old.

      So that’s all I do here. I wake up at 5 a.m. and study. Go to college, come home and study. Every day. Not much more to report really. It’s great that Sally and I are in class together. She takes away from the feeling of dread I get every morning at having to face another day of study, study, study. It’s tough, but then I don’t need to tell you that. I bet it’s a hell of a lot easier than what you’re doing right now. Anyway, I’m going to sleep now, I’m shattered. Sweet dreams to you and baby Katie.

      Note to self:

      Do not bounce Katie on knee after feeding.

      Do not breast-feed beside football pitch.

      Do not inhale when changing nappy. In fact, allow Mum and Dad or even random strangers to change nappy as often as possible if they so wish.

      Do not push buggy by old school for Miss Big Nose Smelly Breath Casey to see.

      Do not laugh when Katie falls on her bum after attempting to walk.

      Do not try to have conversation with old friends from school with whole lives ahead of them, as this will result in huge frustration.

      Stop crying when Katie cries.

       Bonjour Stephanie!

      How’s my beautiful sister doing? Sitting in a café drinking a café au lait, wearing a beret and a stripy top while stinking of garlic, no doubt! Oh, who says stereotypes are dead and gone?

      Thanks for the present you sent Katie. Your goddaughter says she misses you very much, and she sends lots of drool and sloppy kisses your way. I think I could make those words out of the screaming and wailing bellowing out of her tiny little mouth, anyway. Honestly, I don’t know where all the noise comes from. She is the tiniest and most fragile little thing I have ever seen, so that sometimes I’m afraid to hold her, but then she opens her mouth and all hell breaks loose. The doctor says she’s colicky. All I know is that she doesn’t stop screaming.

      It’s amazing how something so small can be so smelly and so noisy. I think she should go into the Guinness Book of Records for being the smelliest, noisiest, smallest thing ever. What a proud mother I would be.

      I’m so knackered, Stephanie. I feel like a complete zombie. I can barely read the words I’m writing (apologies for mashed banana on bottom of page, by the way – small breakfast-time accident). Katie just cries and cries and cries through the night. I have a constant headache. All I do is wander around the house like a robot, picking up teddy bears and toys that I trip over. It’s hard to bring Katie anywhere because she just screams wherever we are; I’m afraid people think I’m kidnapping her or being a terrible mother. I still look like a balloon. All I wear are the most unflattering tracksuits. My bum is huge. My stomach is covered in stretch marks; there’s all this flab that just won’t seem to go away, no matter how much I shout at it, and I’ve had to throw all my belly tops out. My hair is dry and feels like straw. My tits are HUGE. I don’t look like me. I don’t feel like me. I feel like I’m about 20 years older. I haven’t been out since the christening. I can’t remember the last time I had a drink. I can’t remember the last time a member of the opposite sex even looked my way (except the people who glare at me angrily in cafés when Katie starts to scream). I can’t remember the last time I even cared about a member of the opposite sex not staring at me. I think I am the world’s worst mother. I think that when Katie looks at me she knows that I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.

      She’s almost walking now, which means I’m running around saying, ‘NO! KATIE, NO! Katie, do not touch that! NO! Katie, Mummy says NO!’ I don’t think Katie cares about what Mummy thinks. I think Katie is a girl who sees something she wants and she goes for it. I dread the teenage years! But time moves so fast that she’ll be grown up and moving out before I know it. Maybe then I’ll have some rest. But then again that’s what Mum and Dad thought.

      Poor Mum and Dad, Steph. I feel so bad. They have been so fantastic. I owe them so much and I don’t just mean money. Although, there’s another depressing situation. I get benefits and all, and I’m paying them as much as I possibly can each week for our keep but it never feels like enough and you know the situation, Steph – things were always tight for us as it was. I don’t know how I’m ever going to move out and work and look after Katie. Dad and me are going to some clinic during the week to talk to some guy about putting me on a list so I can get a place of my own. Mum keeps saying that I can stay with her and Dad, but I know Dad’s just trying to help me get some sense of independence.

      Mum has been fabulous. Katie loves her. Katie listens to her. When Mum says ‘NO, KATIE!’ Katie knows to stop. When I say it, Katie laughs and keeps going. When will I ever feel like a proper mum?

      Alex has met someone over in Boston, she’s the same age as me and has enough brains to be studying medicine at Harvard. But is she really happy I ask myself? Anyway, I have to go. Katie is wailing for me.

      Write soon.

      Love,

      Rosie

      To Rosie

      I’m glad all is well with Katie; the photos you sent of her on her third birthday are beautiful. I framed them and they’re on our mantelpiece in the house. Mum and Dad were delighted to see you when they visited Dublin last month. They can’t stop talking about you and Katie. We’re all so proud of you at having created such a perfect child.

      Hope you had a happy 22nd birthday. Sorry I couldn’t make it home to celebrate with you, but things have been crazy at college. Because it’s my final year here there’s just been so much work to do. I’m dreading the exams. If I fail I don’t no what I’ll do. Sally was asking after you. Although you’ve never met, she feels like she nos you from me talking about our old times so much.

      From Alex

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