Julie Jay: I run away from decisions the way a footballer runs away from monogamy

Toy kitchen in room

Julie Jay

COMEDIAN

I have always had a terrible fear of commitment, and I run from decision-making the way a Premier League player runs away from monogamy. 

A very good friend of mine repeatedly reminds me that ‘you make a decision, and you live by that’, with a cool and collected approach that terrifies me. As a chronic overthinker having to make a choice and stick to it is my Room 101 nightmare scenario.

This week, the message comes to say there are only two places left for our local naíonra next year, and would we like to put Ted’s name down? I am suddenly quaking in my boots at having to decide something for myself and my family.

A little-known fact about me is that the play Hamlet was loosely based on my struggle with procrastination, and so I dither for a few days about whether or not to put Ted down for the place in question. 

The naíonra is located in the community hall in Brandon, a stone’s throw from our house, and by far the most sensible option for our little man. Yet still, I oscillate (and not just because I do most of my thinking on a seesaw).

Darling Husband and I have no idea where we will be in the coming months, let alone years. I am conscious that life is what happens when you are busy making plans, and as much as it is a somewhat hack mantra to live by, the older I get, the truer it seems.

Three years ago, virtually to the day, Fred and I descended upon West Kerry fully convinced we would take three months to finish writing our mutual shows before starting our individual tours come the spring. 

A pandemic, a podcast and a baby later, and here we are, putting Ted’s name down for naíonras. Obviously, we started with the baby — you only get one shot at a podcast.

The day after I hit ‘send’ on the email that puts Ted’s name down for the class starting in 2023, I meet the lady who runs the naíonra, who is only delighted to have us on board.

“Fuair sé an áit deireanach,” she tells me, and I breathe a sigh of relief, safe in the knowledge that we have bagged the last spot. 

Even the thought of whizzing past the building every day, knowing that my tardiness had cost me and my carbon footprint greatly, is simply too much even to consider.

I’ll be honest when I say I’m still not fully sure what a naíonra is. I would like to think it is a place where Lego abounds and lessons consist of little more than gentle reminders not to explore our nostrils, but I am fairly in the dark. 

For all I know, they could be producing artwork to be sold at high profits for a private company on Etsy, but regardless it seems like the right place to go if the other kids are anything to go by.

No sooner have we decided where Ted will be next year than the questions come about schools. 

I am keenly aware that being a parent is to be on the receiving end of questions, questions, and more questions. 

‘How is he sleeping?’ ‘Is he a good eater?’ ‘Has the potty-training begun?’— and that’s just coming from the man cleaning my chimney. 

The litany of well-meaning interrogations doesn’t stop there when you are woken up by your two-year-old asking why you can’t turn off the sun (because only our Lord and Saviour Oprah Winfrey have that power, obviously).

After-school kids attend the naíonra too, and because they also use our local playground, I know quite a few at this point and grill them for details.

They seem pleased with the dinnéar on offer and the array of toys to busy themselves with.

“I need more information on the meals,” I tell them, and am happy with what my miniature espionage agents report back (bacon and cabbage on Tuesday, sausage rolls and chips on a Thursday).

Of course, we are way off after-school because, though I’m a parenting novice, I understand that to go to after-school, you must first go to school. 

Still, knowledge is power, so I am reassured that the menu is getting a thumbs-up. Admittedly this meal plan might be subject to change before Ted rocks up in a few years but the attendees have been instructed to report back accordingly. Forget the McKennas’ Guide, these smallies are the most reliable reviewers in town.

This week was monumental for me in that I made a decision (gulp) and I just might stick to my decision (double gulp). 

Now can anyone explain to me what a naíonra is?