It's been an eventful few days. Róisín was born (but un-named) on Thursday the 18th and came home the following Monday. Mother and child were treated wonderfully by the staff at Wexford General Hospital and are both fine. The parents are tired, naturally, and trying not to get on each other's nerves. We have loads of help as friends call around and hopefully we can eke out all this good will for another week or so. Some friends made Róisín a quilt; it's an amazing thing, hand stitched by four adults and three children, including our own Anna. It nearly killed them to keep it a secret, but they managed it.

There was a lot of blubbering when Sally was presented with it. It truly is a lovely thing.

Anna is thrilled with her little sister and Paddy shows flashes of interest. He refuses to call her Róisín, preferring Fifi instead, but we'll (try and) cure him of that. I'm enjoying being at home, and putting off anything other than the care of, and attention to my family. Paddy needs a good bit of maintenance at the moment. He missed his mother a lot while she was in hospital, and she's not really back yet as she spends most of her time with a small child glued to her chest. Since she also had a section and can't move about very easily, she can't get involved in any physical way with much. So Paddy needs a good bit of distraction and entertainment. And when I devote 100% of my attention and time to this, it's fine. The hard part is when you're trying to get anything else done. Then it's more difficult. I hope Sally can cope when I go back to work next week.

One of the more memorable moments (for me, that is) of Sally's stay in hospital was when she sent me a text message asking me to bring cabbage when I visited. I assumed she was hitting the morphine a bit too hard, but I complied nonetheless. It turned out that she wanted to put them on her breasts. I had heard of this treatment for engorged breasts, but thought it an old wives tale. No so, apparently. It did, however, look a bit 'Jolly Green Giantess' like. I have pictures, but I don't think that I could show you them.

Conversations I'm not likely to forget.
While Sally was in hospital, Paddy slept in my bed a couple of nights and one morning...

Paddy: I've got a big willy.
Me: Good for you.
Paddy: Let me see your willy. *looks under duvet* I don't want to look at your willy any more. It's disgusting.
Me: !
Paddy: When are you going to shave it?
Me: Er...
Paddy: I'm going to have a beard.
Me: *gratefully grabbing change of subject* Yes. Yes, you are.

This, I discovered, is not a conversation you should relate to someone who has just had a caesarian section.