Cache directory "/home7/mammalov/public_html/wp-content/plugins/ttftitles/cache" is not writable.I’m Telling My Kids They’re Irish
“Hey dad, guess what? I’m Irish because my eyes are blue.”
Well, he heard part of what I said.
I’ve spent the last 39 years being told I MUST be Irish what with the freckles, fair skin, blue eyes and formerly dark brown hair, but I could never be sure.
A friend recently shared a story about having a 40th birthday party thrown for him a few years in advance because he had told his partner that he was older than he was when they first started dating–years earlier.
The gravestone on my husband’s grandfather’s grave is engraved with a birth year in conflict with his birth certificate (My father-in-law decided that if that was the date he wanted people to think he was born it was what would go on the gravestone. I love that.)
Short of purchasing one of those DNA tests or meeting my biological parents, I will never know if I am really Irish.
This year I’ve made the decision that from this point forward I’m going to own it. I started with my youngest as evidenced above (okay so he thinks anyone with blue eyes is Irish now, but we’ll iron that out later). I’m just telling them they’re Irish on my side.
Hey, if people can claim new names (I’m looking at you Bono) or new birth dates, I most certainly may claim an ethnic origin.
I mean it’s not like I’m telling people I’m Hawaiian or anything.
So in honor of my first St. Patrick’s Day as a true Irishwoman, I hope the road rises to meet you and the wind doesn’t mess up your hair (I probably need to work on my Irish sayings if this is going to stick).
Image above via Cygnus921.