One of the best things about being Irish is having an Irish mammy. With this lady on your side, you can conquer the world – but you’ll never get too big for your boots.
She’s an Irish institution, known the length and breadth of the country. From Brenda Fricker in My Left Foot to Brendan O’Carroll’s Agnes Brown and Colm O’Regan’s Ann Devine, we have no shortage of Irish mammy tropes. But let’s face it, there’s a good reason for that: everyone in Ireland knows the Irish mammy.
The Irish mammy is unique among mothers. Keeping a rowdy brood of Irish children in line is no easy task but she does it with great dignity – and the odd smack of a wooden spoon. She may be slightly intimidating, but she makes up for that with her legendary hospitality and great sense of humour.
A few key qualities define the Irish mammy. First off, she tells it as it is. She won’t pretend your new haircut suits you and she’ll tell you exactly what she thinks of your new love interest. She’ll even tell your new love interest exactly what she thinks. But we forgive these indiscretions because we know they’re driven by a fierce love of her children.
She has a wealth of expressions at her disposal to make you laugh, comfort you or bring you down to earth with a bang depending on the circumstance. If you have an Irish mammy, you’ll be familiar with gems like what’s for you won’t pass you by, what did your last slave die of and of course, I’ll give you something to cry about. Tell us your favourite Irish mammy phrases in the comments below.
The Irish mammy is nobody’s fool; don’t even try to pull the wool over her eyes. She sees everything – and the things she doesn’t see, she makes up. In short, she’ll ask you a question, answer it for you and then call you a liar. And she’s certainly no walkover; if you cross her, she’ll threaten to beat you black and blue. She doesn’t really mean it though, she’s just trying to put the fear of god in you. It’ll probably do you good.
But underneath her piercing gaze and no-nonsense attitude lurks a tender, loving side which she shows by fussing excessively at every opportunity. The cries of “you’ll catch your death in that,” the flat 7up when you’re sick, the cups of tea and chats that get you through every crisis, the white lies that cushion you from life’s hard knocks (hands up who was told the ice cream van plays the music when there’s no ice cream left).
Even when you no longer live under her roof, the fussing continues unabated. You’ll return from visits to her house with obscure foods that have been buried in her freezer since 1982, underwear that she ‘just picked up in Penneys’ and strangely random items that you never realised you needed – until you did .
Her obsession with the neighbours is another legendary trait. They are the barometer against which she constantly measures her own brood. There can hardly be a single Irish person whose childhood wasn’t regularly punctuated by the phrase what will the neighbours think. It’s a question that reverberates across the land.
But even the neighbours aren’t immune to the Irish mammy’s infamous disapproval. No matter how often she paints them as paragons of virtue, she will tear them down again with a muttered “who do they think they are” at the first sign of notions. You might not be able to tell with all the tutting and giving out, but she’ll be secretly delighted to have something to gossip about over her much-loved cuppa.
Will ye have a cup of tea? Ah you will
Ah yes, the cup of tea. Another staple of the Irish mammy. She drinks buckets of it and will practically pour it down your throat when you visit. Don’t even try to politely decline, refusals only make her more insistent. She’ll ply you with enough food for a small army – sandwiches, cakes, biscuits, maybe even somebody’s dinner. Many’s the time an Irish child has arrived home wall-falling with the hunger to be told so-and-so ate their dinner (sure, I had to give him something, love. I’ll do you some chips).
But nobody’s perfect and even the Irish mammy has her transgressions. Worst among these is the elevation of her son to godlike status. He can do no wrong and doesn’t have to lift a finger when she’s around. Thankfully, this one is changing with the times. About time, too.
Yes, the modern Irish mammy is changing. No longer entirely devoted to her family, she’s busy pursuing her own dreams and has become an excellent delegator. But she still knows where your phone charger / favourite socks / sports bag are because… well, because she’s an Irish mammy, of course. And she’s no longer the helpless technophobe sending blank texts; she’s all over social media and she’s mad for netflix.
The cliché of the much-loved, straight-talking, over-worked and under-appreciated Irish mammy is well worn – but it’s not completely worn out yet. Modern Irish mothers seem happy to carry on the mantle. In a 2017 survey carried out by One-4-All, 78% of respondents said their mother is a typical Irish Mammy and 80% said that they would describe themselves as one too. Now, where’s my wooden spoon….
