I am So-Chuffed MumΒ 

The absolute coolest thing happened to S-Mum this evening.

I have been smiling since and the Him is ready to throw me out a window because I haven’t shut up since I came home.
I popped to Marksy Spendies to buy a bottle of bubbles🍾 (so me and the Him can toast the fact that 12 years ago today, we were young, free and single enough to get rat arsed and bump into each other by accident πŸ˜‚at a party in a garage and start living happily ever after. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜šπŸ’–…not that I need an excuse to buy Bubbles, but still.)


I popped to Marksy Spendies to buy a bottle of bubbles


I got ASKED FOR I.D!!!!!!! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
I was looking a bit skanky tbh. I was going for my usual no makeup/mummybun/windswept and interesting look. I do it fablisly. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

I was going through my purse to see if I had enough change for the parcark and I heard the voice. 

“Do you have ID on you please?” 

I checked my phone then glanced up to see whay he hadn’t asked for money.

I was met by an expectant look and a slight fear…

“Sorry! Are you asking me for ID? OH MY GOOOOOOD THANK YOU SOOOOOO MUCH!” I gushed.
I swear to God, I felt like I’d won the fricken Rose of Tralee! Music started to play adn people began to clap and cheer and I was about to begin my acceptance speech, wiping a shocked and oh so humble imaginary tear from my eye. πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰

The buck at the other till started laughing.

My best friend John (yes I established his name afterwards because he can’t JUST be the boyo at the till in Marksy Spendies when he’s been part of such a momentous moment in my life now can he?), John realised that perhaps I am a little bit more than 25 and began to blush furiously.

He blushed.

I continued to gush. πŸ˜‚
“Can you ask me again please? I wasn’t quite ready for that!” I begged.

John didn’t quite know what to say so he just laughed.

At this stage, his two colleagues at the other tills were also laughing and looking at me quite piteously.  They were probably thinking “CRAZY LADY!”

“You’ll understand some day!” I grinned at the 19 year old girl who was looking at me as if I had grown three tits on my forehead.
I didn’t care that they thought me odd.

At that moment, despite my utter skankiness, I looked young and wrinkle free enough to be asked for I-fricken-D!
“You’ve just made my night.  Thank you!” I slabbered as I left the checkout and left them all shaking their heads in bufuddlement.
And I smiled all the way to the car and all the way home.

And I’m still smiling.

Because yes, I am THAT BLOODY SAD!

(Which is ironic, because actually, it all made me so happy!) 🌞🌞🌞
Now, the Him is getting Mini-Me (aka The Hulk) to bed and I’m about to be a culinary genius while supping on the bubbles.🍾🍾
I do hope your Saturdays are utterly fablis my Pretties. πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–

(Just call me Benjamin Button!) πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
I am So-Chuffed Mum 😚😚

I am Sooooo glad it’s bedtime MumΒ 

Sweet Jesus and the wee donkey, there are some bedtimes that are SOOOOOOO much more adored and precious than others.
Today was long.
Really, fricken, long. πŸ˜‚
I’m tired. I’m cranky. I’m starving. 

I’m so glad that it’s bedtime that I could cry with joy.
And that was without a hangover.

I’ve spent the evening congratulating myself and thanking myself (twice out loud) for being so fantastically well behaved last night.  

Because I don’t think I would have survived today if I’d partied too hard last night. πŸΎπŸŽŠπŸŽ‰πŸ˜”
Princess started to crawl on Tuesday. This is Friday.

  Today’s trick has been to constantly pull herself up to STANDING, (YES STANDING,) at the window sill, sofa, chair, side of cot…whatever… 
But she can’t get down again, so has spent most of the day standing screaming at me to hurry the feck up and help her back on to her pudgy arse before she lands on her head.
Shes 8 months, still toothless, crawling for 3 whole days…and now she can stand.

I’m not quite ready for this shit.

Not today anyway.

Remember when you could leave them on the mat and pop for a pee for 30 seconds knowing that they wouldn’t have moved? 

Yup.  THOSE good old days are GONE. 😑😑
Also today, Mini-Me told me to “Relax yourself now Mummy. I want to hear the radio please.”

I shit you not. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
So, now it’s bedtime.

They’ve both gone to sleep without much protest thank Goodness.
I’ve just text the Him to VERY POLITELY request that he MIGHT consider driving past and popping into a certain Indian restaurant on his way home and that I would reward him with polite and intelligent conversation if some of their fine cuisine just happened to end up in his batmobile for me.
I didn’t threaten violence.

I didn’t suggest that the furbaby’s kennel is very comfortable.

I even said please. πŸ˜‡
On another note, THIS πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡ amazingful picture by my genius Mini-Me has been on my fridge for weeks. It’s Rapunzel’s tower.  

Only today did I suddenly realise that it might be misconstrued by a dirtier mind to look like something else.

But I bet none of you Lovelies saw anything phallic? 

Of course not.

Because you’re all nice and ladylike. πŸ˜‚πŸ’–

After surviving today, I’m going to have another one of my 5 a day 🍷and relax with some grapes.

Did I mention that I love Bedtimes?
Here’s to a fablis and safe bank holiday weekend my Pretties.


I am Superexcited Mum

​Oooooooh the excitement! 🌞🌞🌞
@secretsofsmum has been “LONG-LISTED” for the LITTLEWOODS IRELAND BLOG AWARDS 2016. πŸ˜†πŸ˜†
I’ve never been long-listed for ANYTHING before.


I am also pretty sure it means that I must quaff prosecco tonight to celebrate the longingofthelisting.🍾
Seriously, if I read the terms and conditions, compulsory supping of the bubbles is in there somewhere. πŸŽ‰πŸŽŠ
Thank you all for the follows and likes and comments and please continue to share and tag if you’re enjoying my S-Mumblings.
Now, I’m off to be a fecking Longlisted Supermum and “Mary Poppins”

 these two to their respective beds so that the quaffing of the longlistedness bubbles can commence.

Much love guys and dolls 


#SMum #Mammyblogger #Mummy #MiniMeAndPrincess #SecretsOfSMum #littlewoodsirelandblogawards 

I am Suspicious Mum…Β 

​S-Mum is suspicious.
It seems that my perfectly dysfunctional little family unit survived quite well in my absence this weekend.  I came home to clean children and a tidy house.  I was impressed. πŸ˜…
Even more suspicious is the fact that Mini-Me has been BEAUTIFULLY behaved today. 🌞🌞🌞

Like all day.

I didn’t have to scold or shout once.

And when I spoke, she actually listened…mostly. 
Seriously.  Something is not right.
Usually I automatically say things between 4 and 6 times in one breath, with the volume increasing each time. 

“Get off the baby…get off the baby…Get off the baby…Get off the baby…GET OFF THE FECKIN BABEEEEEEEEEEEY,” can happen up to 14 times a day.
Other lines I LOVE to repeat OVER & OVER ARE:

Put on your shoes please. 

Where are your socks?

Eat your dinner.

Get off the baby. (It happens a lot.)

Wash your hands please.

Where are your pjs?

Will you put down that feckin phone? (At the Him, not the girls obviously. Although I’d be as well saying it to Princess…or the Dog in fact. 😑😑😑😑)
I say these lines about 578 times each day and most of the time, I end up SCREAMING them before anyone even HEARS me.
But no.

  Today, Mini-Me was great.  She was quite fablis and now, she’s IN BED… NOT hiding outside the living door underneath the clothes-rack! 

She’s IN BED.

My beautiful little angelic cherub is on her way to dreamland where hopefully she’ll dream of our AMAZING peaceful and non-screamingful day and her subconscious, or fairies or something, will teach her that THIS is how life SHOULD BE. 

Then, she’ll awaken from her slumber (after 8am) and continue on her streak of utter Fabulosity and perfection.

And I shall NEVER scream again.

And I will NEVER be cross again.


And we shall all live happily ever after… until the Him comes home and looks at his phone instead of at me… πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
But tonight, I shall relish the VERRRRRRRRRY unusual feeling of a FULL DAY OF MUMMY WINS and rest my voice, because in reality, I’ll probably need it tomorrow!
What’s your “FAVOURITE” line that you LOVE to use?  You know? 

Over and over and over and over and over….🍷

I am Sobbing at the Soaps Mum


After a disaster of a morning/afternoon/early evening…OK. I’ll start again.

After a pretty epic Feck-it-up Friday, things began to settle after I visited Him and his Jim.  For one sweaty hour,  I was Laura Croft, (without the boobs obviously) and I ROCKED.  

(I no longer fall over when trying to lunge. THAT, my friends, is progress!

Yay me and screw you tummy-muscles-like-a-bingo-wing. I’m gonna find youuuuuu!  πŸ˜‚)
Anybuts. πŸ˜ƒ

Mini-Me ate her dinner in 9 minutes tonight. 

It was “home made bread covered with ripe unblemished organic tomatoes and cheese from a Virgin cow, accompanied by new season potatoes gently coated in free range dust and gluten free oil from the rain forest”. 


I fed her Pizza and waffles.

Because I’m on Feck-it-up Friday so I may as well continue through with the theme.
After an unusually calm bedtime, with my two little munchkins snoring, I needed food.

I RESISTED the temptation to ring the Him and tell him to come home ONLY if he was carrying a biryani or he’d be bludgeoned to death with a Peppa pig car.
I also decided I’d be good and NOT have a Friday night tipple, because I am energised and clean and organic and fabulous.
And then…
Then, I caught the last 10 minutes of Corrie and watched THE most moving and amazingly awful death of Kylie Platt.
(Shut up.  Yes.  I may teach film studies for a living, but at the minute, Tree Fu Tom is the intellectual highpoint of my day.)
So Corrie was impressive and horrible and terrible and by the time the Him came in, I was BAWLING.

His panic was quickly replaced by hysterical laughter when I eventually slabbered “Kylie …just …a….died and it’s. ..so ooh. ..sad!” 😭😭😭

His reply included a LOT of expletives and the line “The last time I came home to this you were pregnant.”


Terror. 😈
And now he’s panicking that I’m up the dudu again and I’m probably going to have to do a test to bring his stress levels down from 90. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
(I’m not! Calm the cacks.)
So with the trauma of the most realistic portrayal of last breath I’ve seen since Marley & Me, the horrific sadness of her last message to her kids,  not to mention David Platt’s heart wrenching “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”, I did what everyone else who was there did.
I poured a very large Gin with a tiny dash of tonic.
And my nerves are just about settling so I MAY need another one.

Or three.

You know… for Kylie?

May she Rest in Soapland Heaven.  πŸ˜‡πŸ˜‡
Happy Fecked-it-up Friday Ladybelles.
Feel free to tell me how you Fecked-it-up today. Or rub it in how your day was fablus.


Cheers Bitcheepoooos!

S-Mum x   πŸ˜™πŸ˜™