I am Social Media Mum

I like social media.
I like how it allows me to stay in touch with people.
I like how it helps me to connect with old friends.
I love how it allows my family members who are scattered like glitter across the planet, to see what’s happening at home.
I love how it lets me see my niece’s little face and how she knows who I am even though they live abroad.
I love how one comment or image can spark conversations that are both heated and entertaining; sometimes even intelligent!
I like to see photographs of the people I like, smiling and happy.
I enjoy it and I get it I suppose.

As a Mummy, it provides some escapism. When the kids are asleep or you find yourself with 5 minutes to sit with a cuppa, there’s something nice about hitting the little blue F  and seeing what’s happening in the real world.

You know? That place where exciting things happen? Where Peppa Pig isn’t in charge and where people live wonderful lives?

Where everyone has terrifyingly precise, painted eyebrows and sparkly white teeth and where people look naturally happy, all of the time?

You get to look into the lives of your “friends”: see their exciting nights out, admire their fabulous clothes, wonder where they get the time or money to visit that salon again.

We see happy families, smiling for the selfie.
We see who’s at the gym, who’s out for dinner and who’s heading away on holiday.


And while there is no harm in this really,  the key is to know that what you’re looking at is not reality.
It’s virtual.
It’s fabricated.
It’s lies.

No one’s life is perfect all of the time.  We know that, but let’s face it…who is going to voluntarily put a shitty photograph of themselves up for the world to see?

The natural selfies are probably one of 23 shots.

There are magical filters that apparently beautify! (Note to self…find out more about these.)

The reality is that regardless of how careful you are, if you look through your list of friends, you’ll possibly come across at least 2 people about whom you have to ask yourself “who is this?”

And while it keeps us connected, a huge issue for many new mums, is the isolation caused by social media.

Yes, we can see what’s happening and stay up to date with our friends.  We post photographs and status updates about our children and about our lives, to let our friends and families see how cute they are and how entertaining life is with kids.

But when this means that our friends feel that they don’t need to visit, or meet for coffee, or pick up the phone, then… we have a problem.

When seeing everyone else having fun, makes you feel boring and frumpy in your busy, unglamorous world of feeds and nappy changes, then…we have a problem.

When you know the story before someone tells you it, then…we have a problem.

When someone you haven’t spoken to in 2 years only realises that you’re no longer friends when you finally unfriend them on social media, then…we have a problem.

When every conversation  you have includes the line “Yeah, I saw that,” then…we have a problem.

And it’s our own fault.  We see it all on social media so we no longer feel the same need to ring someone up to ask how they’re doing.
After all, we know they’ve been to dinner this week, had the dog to the beach and that the baby has been puking.
We read it on Facebook.

We no longer consider a coffee date important as we know what’s going on with them.
We read it on Facebook.

But of course, Facebook doesn’t give you the same satisfaction that you get from good conversation over a cuppa.
Facebook doesn’t give you a hug before you go back to the whirlwind of your life.
Facebook might help you feel connected to the world outside your home, but only for a second, and only until it doesn’t.

Last week, I met a good friend for dinner.

She’s not on Facebook.


It was refreshing. She was interested in my stories, in how I was, in how the girls were doing… she hasn’t seen it on Facebook. I was delighted to hear about what she’s been up to since Christmas. It was real conversation and it was lovely. We actually had so much to catch up on.  There were no lies about how perfect life is.  It’s difficult to lie to someone’s face.

We were able to talk about the difficulties we have with our respective Mini-Mes. We laughed at things we remembered from our nights out BC. Stories were interesting because they hadn’t already been told or seen. It was good, old fashioned catch up and it made me feel fuzzy and loved and ridiculously real again.

So while this isolation I speak of obviously doesn’t just apply to mums, that’s the angle I’m seeing it from.  I’m lucky that I have a wonderful family and some very good friends, but sometimes, just sometimes, being a mummy in the presence of two fabulously fun princesses 24 hours a day, can be a lonely place.

And while social media is fantastic and helps us stay in touch, it isn’t real.

So if you know someone; a mummy or daddy, or friend or cousin, who you have to really think about the last time you actually spoke to them, do you and them a favour.

Pick up the phone and say hi.
Or call to visit and actually hold the baby, while she makes you a coffee.

Rather than sharing sentimental quotations or memories on our friends’ pages, we really need to try to make more of our reality… not our virtual reality.

So there you go.
Social media is fabulous.  I get it.  I enjoy it.
But sometimes, it just isn’t enough.
And that’s the truth.

I am Social Media Mum.

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I am Stuff-that-is-frozen Mum

Today, I did the grocery shopping.
Or as we say here in Donegal, “I got a few messages“.

I had a full 30 minutes in the supermarket, without the babies.
It was thoroughly enjoyable.

It was quiet.

It was, dare I say, relaxing.

Like a holiday in fact.

If I had been allowed to sit in aisle 7 with a glass poured from one of the many bottles of wine that lined it, I may even have been able to get that “holiday feeling” you only get with daytime tipples in the sun.

Obviously,  I didn’t drink wine in the supermarket.
Instead, I bought the “messages” to keep my wee family fed for another few days.

I bought the meat…(sausages and all, despite all the ranting on the radio today about a certain Friday night talk show host…)

I bought the fruit; lots of it since Mini-Me has decided that she only eats “fwoot” now, not dinner.
I bought the vegetables; fresh and frozen.

And then I went to collect my first born from her ballet class.

We were driving home.
“Can we go to Gwanneee’s house for TEN minutes?”

“Yes, but we can only stay for ten minutes because I have frozen stuff in the bags.”

And then she belts out a scream of excitement so loud that she’s either a) seen Santa Claus or b) seen a unicorn.

I almost crash the car, such is the volume of the scream.


I’m completely confused.  (This morning I’m pretty certain she told me I was “not my fwend.”)

And then I realise that when I say “frozen stuff”, I think this…


And when Mini -Me hears “Frozen Stuff”, she thinks this...


And if you look closely, you’ll see that when I Googled “frozen stuff” to search for images for this blog, Google thinks the same as my 4 year old.

My daughter is obviously a genius.

My daughter and Google are on the same wave length.

My wave length?

I’m still stuck on holidays on aisle 7.

I am Stuff-that-is-frozen Mum❄❄⛄⛄❄❄

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https://m.facebook.com/Secretsofsmum/ ❤❤

I am Soundtrack to her life Mum

Sing like no one is listening…

Mini-Me has a habit.  It’s an adorable habit.
She sings a constant soundtrack to her life.

When she’s playing alone, she accounts her actions in random song, to random tunes.
“I am playing…into the kitchen. ..with the dolly…who is SLEEEEEEEEEPING!”


It’s kind of like Will Ferrell as Buddy in Elf.
I love it.
Recently,  I’ve been impressed by her use of rhyme in these songs. 
“Will you have some tea Mary?  Some tea…with me…very!”

As a lover of musical theatre and Disney, you can just imagine how blissfully proud I am of her tendency to sing along to herself. 
So recently, her temper has taken a leap the whole way to Teenager level.  She could actually teach our 17 year old bloke how to throw a strop.
Imagine Chucky and Emily Rose had a baby…
You now know what I’m dealing with.

Yesterday, about ten minutes after a particularly frightening episode over my mistake of putting ham into her ham sandwich, she began her singing.


I had been watching her, wondering how to deal with my generally sweet child who has found new levels of frustration to deal with, so I listened.

This was the key.  I’d listen to her because obviously she was expressing herself through song, unaware of the fact that she was giving me insight to her mind.  I’d soon figure out what is bothering her and causing the tantrums.
Supermum… feckin genius Woman!
And so.
She sings.

“I wuv my Mammeeee…”
Awwwww. She didn’t 5 minutes ago, but awwwwwww.

“And I wuv my Daddy….”
Bless.  Maybe she misses Daddy.

“Cos he’s a superhero who looks after me…”
Yes, he is. Come to think of it,  it’s almost time for him to come home. Which means I can have a glass of wine…

“And I wuv my baby sisterrrrrrrr
HAH! See.  It’s not jealousy of the baby.  She loves her.  She just sang it straight from her subconscious. I knew it.

“And I am the best big si-i-i-i-ster in the worold…”
Nice key change there Mini-Me.  And yes, you are.

“And the sun is away behind the mountain….cos it’s nearly bedtime…”
How observant my child?


I almost fall off the stool.  I was so engrossed in the performance of her life, that I forgot that I wasn’t actually an audience member.
“Yes Sweetie?”

This was it.  Here was the moment where she’d say something profound and enlightening.  I’d suddenly make sense of EVERYTHING.  Psychology 101 eat your heart out…

“Yes pet?”


So there.
That was me told.
She sings because she likes to sing.
I need to listen because I like to listen.  Or sing along.  Whatever.

A car pulls up outside.
“There’s Daddy.  Ask him Honey.”
(Reaches for corkscrew…)

I am Soundtrack to her life Mum.
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