As a mother whose child has recently celebrated her Holy Communion, you can take advantage of my wisdom. Here’s some advice to parents gearing up for their own child’s special day: steer clear of Instagram for a while. If you do, you see, you’ll unwittingly become ensnared in the dark, ugly recesses of the comparison trap.
We are smack bang in the middle of Communion and Confirmation season, and children attending Catholic schools (more than 90% currently) are gearing up to receiving the holy sacraments. Very honestly, that part is kind of unimportant (for the parents anyway). The adults are far more preoccupied with the frills and frippery of these occasions than the actual religious meaning, if the showcasing on social media is anything to go by. And my advice to you: Stay away from the dreaded social media!
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Pic: Shutterstock
From balloon walls to intricate tiered cakes, and from designer dresses to catered spreads that could outshine the fanciest Dublin deli, from an abundance of bubbly (presumably for the adults), to the merchandise – oh, the merchandise – it appears that ‘Happy First Communion’ can be emblazoned on nearly any inanimate object imaginable.
Lisa Brady with her daughters. Pic: Supplied
The sheer blatant monetisation of a such a significant event in a child’s life, which has become the complete opposite of a religious ceremony is, of course, not lost on me, nor on you, no doubt. I must confess, I still felt a serious case of mum guilt. Jesus wept, I myself had fallen into the wicked Instagram trap, my frantic scrolling the night before our daughter Lana-Rose’s Communion had confirmed my very worst fears: I hadn’t done enough.
As the dreaded pang hit the pit of my stomach, a feeling of inadequacy swept over me: what I had prepared for our daughter’s big day hadn’t even come close. And as I watched a reel of freshly Holy Communion-ed children happily eating fish and chips from pastel cones while their parents sipped exquisite beverages on their perfectly manicured lawn, that feeling deepened to utter panic.
And it had all started so well. A few months before, I had been so organised, buying the dresses and hair accessories for my girls in Monsoon. I had been so delighted with the reasonable price. My own outfit was also sorted early on: a dress that I absolutely adored, and had not yet found the right occasion for.
Like any other parent, I had been feeling apprehensive about organising the celebrations. It had been the first big event since my ex-husband and I had separated, and it was an occasion where both families would be present. Given the circumstances, I didn’t feel a house party was the most appropriate idea so we had opted for a meal in one of Lana-Rose’s favourite restaurants.
Lisa Brady’s daughter on her communion day. Pic: Supplied
I also had organised hair appointments for the girls and me that morning. And swept away with preparations, I had asked Lana-Rose did she want to go get her nails done with me a couple of days before – princess manicures, as they are now called, apparently, are now, rightly or wrongly, a part of the preparations. However – or maybe, thankfully – she refused.
‘No Mum, I don’t like polish on my nails,’ It wasn’t in keeping with what social media had been telling me, so truth be told I was a bit surprised, if not somewhat disappointed with her decision. But of course I accepted it.
And that is exactly where my planning ended. Everything else, or so I thought, would just fall into place. My thinking was that as long as Lana-Rose was surrounded by love (and got a bit of pocket money, into the bargain), sure it would all be grand. Wasn’t that what it was all about? Wasn’t it? God?
But then: the doom scrolling. I made the mistake of spending countless hours scrutinising the lavish celebrations my peers had decided to put on, and I have to admit, my laissez-faire approach to communion-ing dissolved into the thinnest of airs.
Suddenly I felt that I hadn’t done as much as I should have. In fact, I felt that I had failed. I hadn’t even managed to find Lana-Rose a white cardigan – apparently they were nowhere to be found on the whole island of Ireland. This, in turn, lead to a panicked online buying spree of not one but three ivory ones, none of which, of course, were quite right.
Lisa Brady’s daughter on her communion day. Pic: Supplied
For reasons only known to myself, and thousands of other panicked parents across Ireland, my child would now not receive a cuddly teddy bear with ‘Happy First Communion’ emblazoned upon its chest. Nor would there be a personalised, commemorative charm bracelet upon her slender wrist. I had, of course, completely ignored to order a balloon bouquet, although fair play to my mother, who managed to procure some white balloons the morning of. The fact that the letters ‘IHS’ were printed on them (I had to google its meaning) was not important – we would just turn them around.
My daughter had been neglected in other ways, too. She wouldn’t have a bouncy castle in the shape of a three-humped dragon. The stashes of euros would elude her, as I hadn’t planned to throw her an absolutely humungous party with hundreds of guests. The personalised cake with edible chalice had not been ordered, so the local shop’s finest had to do.
Lisa Brady on her daughter’s communion day. Pic: Supplied
I suddenly started thinking how friends had told me about their endeavours for their child’s communion day. Stories of extravagance, last minute purchases, and how no expense had been spared took hold in my mind.
Words tumbling over each other suddenly rang in my ear. ‘We got the house painted’. ‘The gardener was here and we love our new shrubs…’ ‘I ordered a cake from XXX and she did a divine job!’ ‘Ah you’d easily spend €5,000,’ said one. Another mentioned that someone’s communion dress had cost €1,500. Crikey!
A survey conducted by Ulster Bank in 2019 estimated that the average cost of a child’s Holy Communion celebrations was close to €1,000. That figure must be even more these days, considering the rising cost of living and our new-found love to live and let live, and celebrate when we can post-Covid. Apparently these days, much to every parent’ dismay, the ‘going rate’ for a gift ‘in the card’ is €50. Imagine how many children are in the class, or in your circle of friends. €500 won’t go very far…
Lisa Brady’s daughter on her communion day. Pic: Supplied
When all that’s said and done, I am delighted to tell you that Lana-Rose’s Communion day went off without a hitch. The main thing was that it was all about her, and not about the glitz and the glam. Lana-Rose had been nervous about the church part of the ceremony and she was a lot more relaxed afterwards.
The meal was divine and my little girl was so happy about our not-very-communion-y gift of a Smyths voucher and Squishmallow toy. And I must confess, she also did get those wads of cash.
I was so proud when Lana-Rose handmade a gorgeous thank-you card afterwards, thanking us for the ‘best day ever’ and it almost made me cry. Turns out the ‘Big Fancy Communion’ is really just for adults – all our kids want is time with us, and it’s the little things that count, not the big ones.
I wish someone had told me that before!
How are you preparing for the Communion or Confirmation Day? Have your say over on our discussion boards.