I am Shame-on-Body-Shamers Mum

​PART 1…
Yes.  I’m saying it.  

Stop Body Shaming bumps.😑
Body Shaming happens to all women, of all ages, of all shapes and sizes, all the time…EVEN, believe it or not, during Pregnancy. 😲
Yes, Pregnancy…
You know that time when you are eating for two and are supposed to GLOW like a fricken Christmas Tree and your body is a temple of growth and nurture, for all to admire and be in awe of?

When you’re also a hormonal wreck, paranoid, vulnerable and particularly susceptible to tears? 😒😒

When you’re growing a PERSON inside of you; sometimes more than one, πŸ˜₯and you are officially exempt from giving a continental crap about your shape for the next year and more?
 Yes. Even then.
Body shaming the Bump DOES happen.

It’s not usually intentional, but it happens.
I have a confession to make.
During my last pregnancy… (and I mean last in both senses of that word!)…I did something mean. 😈
I got so fecking SICK of people freaking out when they saw the size of my bump, that one day I decided to have a little fun with it.
I was HUMONGOUS.  (And no, I am NOT exaggerating.  Ask ANY of my family or friends and they will smile a dim smile and nod in agreement.)And just to prove how big my perfect bump was, the photograph below was taken when I was 36 weeks.  And I wasn’t quite as big as I would be at 39! πŸ˜‚πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡

With Mini-Me, I showed at 10 weeks.

With Princess, I got to 7 weeks before I got fed up trying to hide my bump.

I have always been quite slim so in fairness, trying to hide a bump was never going to be easy, but even loose tops didn’t cover my little (or not so little) secret.  

We never really got the chance to keep it to ourselves until after the 12 week scan, but hey!
So you can imagine how big I was by 30 weeks.  I looked bigger than most expectant Mammas look at full term.  I remember walking into a shop one day at 31 weeks and the look of panic on the shop assistant’s face when she clocked the BUMP was hilarious.  She approached me and flew through the usual chitchat to get straight to her point.
  “When are you due love?”

I couldn’t help myself my Pretties.  It was out before I even thought about it.
“Ten days ago”, I answered, shaking my head and rubbing my big belly, “I’m hoping a walk around the shops will help get me started.” (added puffs for effect…pause as if whincing in pain…)

“Here let me help you!”  I swear to God, she ran around that shop filling  my wee basket so quickly, I really couldn’t keep up with her.

“All the best now Lovey, I hope all goes well!” she cooed after me as I left.  I’m pretty sure she needed a strong drink after that.  and yes, I shouldn’t have lied, but I was fed up.
For almost 10 months, you become the property of the world.  (and yes, it is 10 months…9 my arse.)
EVERYONE has an opinion.
“You’re so HUGE!”  (Really?  I hadn’t noticed.  Is that why my pelvis is dragging on the ground when I walk?)😐
“I was never as big as you!”  (Piss off.) 😐
“Aw poor Maria.  You must be scundered…”  (No Deary.  I’m just pregnant.)😐
“Well Tracy SAID you were huge but I didn’t think you were THIS HUGE!”  (Yup.  For this one, I had to kick my sister under the table to stop her from DESTROYING the unintentionally offensive woman.)πŸ˜…
“Is it heavy?”   (In fairness, this question was from a lovely friend who has bever been pregnant so it was a genuine question and I gave her a genuine answer…”Yes.  I feel like I’m carrying an articulated fecking LORRY on my ladybits.”)
“I suppose you can barely move with that bump?”  (No.  I’m just back from Irish Dancing.  I’m high kicking Higher than ever before!)πŸ˜‚
“Aaaaaaah you’re not THAT big!”  OK, OK.  Who am I kidding?  I NEVER heard this one! πŸ˜…πŸ˜‚
“You must be nearly due?”  (No I’m only 28/30/32/34 weeks…cue shock/horror/sympathy/panic on their face.)
And these are only the few I remember.
And so maybe now, you understand why I played the trick.
Do I feel guilty? No, but I felt really fricken frustrated a few weeks later when I didn’t have the balls to go in with my even BIGGER Bump and I really wanted a certain cheese the lady stocked. πŸ˜†πŸ˜†
But seriously, Stop it.  We all need to stop it. (And of course I include myself in this.  We ALL do it don’t we?)

In fairness, we don’t even realise we’re doing it.

The things we say to a pregnant lady are usually not intending ANY offence AT ALL.  Of course not.
But if you’re going to say anything, try not to comment on the bump.  
Tell her she looks glowing, even if you think she looks knackered.

 Tell her she’s gorgeous, even if she looks like the articulated lorry she feels like she’s carrying.

Tell her it suits her.  She might just need to hear that, but don’t comment on the size of the bump, regardless whether it’s big or small.
The Mammy who hears “You’re so neat”, might have spent the whole night up counting baby’s kicks, or panicking that her bump is too small compared to others. 😣

The Mammy who hears “You’re huge!” doesn’t need to be reminded.  Trust me, she already knows. She remembered once she opened her eyes this morning and tried, like an upturned turtle, to get out of the bed to pee. πŸ˜…
So keep it positive and keep it off the bump.

 And yes I know that many people don’t mind and maybe even enjoy the attention the bump brings, but unless you’re telling them their bump is gorgeous, just Ssssssh!
And then…THEN comes the Post Baby body Shaming but that’s another post altogether. I’ll save that for Moody-Mum Monday.
Goodnight you #GlammyMammies.
You’re beautiful and your bump is perfect.  That is all you need to hear. 

S-Mum  xxx

I am Sugar Crash Mum

​Saturdays.
Sweet, wonderful, fun-filled Saturdays.
Remember when Saturdays consisted of no alarm clock, coffee dates, shopping for shoes (not in Clarks) and spending HOURS getting ready to go out and being grnerally feckin FABLIS? 
Remember that?
Now, Saturdays are USUALLY spent fitting EVERYTHING into one day… housework, washing, movies, shopping (for fricken food), baths… and every Mamma’s FAVOURITE…
…THE BIRTHDAY PARTY.

Don’t you LOVE birthday parties?

I do actually.
I love the excuse to nibble on plates of sweeties and crisps and “pabalova” and Haribos.

I love cake.

I love having a chance to chat to other parents.

I love that the party is NOT IN MY HOUSE!

I love to see other kids acting up on their poor grown-up people. (Not because I’m a bitch…no…It just makes me feel a little bit more normal. πŸ˜‰)

I love that Mini-Me is so COMPLETELY SHATTERED by bedtime that she sleeps like a diesel dry truck. 
But like ALL S-Mums, there is ONE thing about Birthday parties that I do not like.
Two words.

SUGAR CRASH. 😒😒😒
How to recognise Sugar Crash (SC) in your Minion:
1. Firstly, don’t be fooled into thinking that SC will only happen AFTER you leave the Birthday party.  It may present its ugly little head at ANY time during the event.  If you recognise the symptoms in your child, act immediately.

GET OUT! GET OUT AS FAST AS YOU POSSIBLY CAN!
2. Flushed face…indicating fever (or just general knackeredness when getting off bouncy castle/trampoline.)
3. Sugar froth at the mouth… the little shit has eaten so much funfood that their ability to hide the evidence diminishes rapidly.
4. The glare.  When you mention going home and their eyes narrow… RUN.
5.  Excessive, loud, manic laughter… “Aw leave them…they’re having fun aren’t they!?”

 NOOOOOOOOO.  Christ NO! THIS is the WARNING SIGN.

  THIS kind of crazy convulsion ALWAYS ends in tears.  OTF NOW!
6. Your sweet, beautiful angel turns into an absolute Hell Hallion, whose only mission in life suddenly becomes the need to DESTROY EVERYTHING around her…most importantly, your sanity.
7. A Defiant and definitive declaration of protest at bedtime that they are NOT tired, despite the fact that their eyes are upside down and they look like Gollum after 34 whiskies. 
8.  Screams, whining, tears, exhaustion. ( Be warned…THIS one is highly contagious. You may find yourself displaying these signs in sympathy with your little darling.)
9. Sudden refusal to do ANYTHING they are asked to do.  And don’t even DARE to need to go anywhere else or do anything else AFTER the party… (Trust me there isn’t enough wine in the world to help you get over the trauma of a trip to Dunnes with a child suffering from SC.)
There are many more, but I’m sorry… I’m done. πŸ˜₯πŸ˜₯πŸ˜₯
My little Beauties are finally in bed and I need to stop typing and starting supping the Happy Mummy juice.
When I’m rich and famous, I promise that the Mammies at our parties will each receive a party bag at the end too…

Inside, shall be a Double Decker and a cute little bottle of WINE. 🍷🍷
And at today’s party (which for the record, as usual, was AMAZING), one Mammy was leaving to head to party number 3 with 4 kids…
To THAT SuperMum, I say Cheers and well done and May the odds be ever in your favour..
Is it Shiraz or sauvignon Saturday in your house?

Goodnight Lovely Ladybelles 😘😘😘

I am Still watching RTE Junior Mum!

​Well.

How was your Friday Ladybelles?
Mine was pretty uneventful and rather enjoyable really.  

We spent the afternoon with my lovely sister and her babies on Walton Mountain.  It was noisy.  GOOD GOD it was noisy, but oh the fun.

They head off again tomorrow and then we shall miss all the noise immensely and be very sad, so today’s noise was precious and wonderful.
I have two cream-crackered little girls tucked up in bed now after all the noise and cousin fun.  
Have you ever been so glad of the quiet when you return to the living room after their bedtime, that you just sit there, staring at the TV…before realising after 10 minutes that you’re watching the “Holy Jesus Thank God it’s over…Right Minions, it’s bedtime!” RTE Junior Screen!?πŸ˜‚


Well that’s what I’ve just done.

Then, this popped up on my timeline and it was OBVIOUSLY a SIGN wasn’t it?


Afterall, it IS Friday. πŸ’™πŸ’—
It’d be rude not to!

I don’t have prosecco but non-fizzy grapes will have to suffice.
(And I do have to celebrate as it’s now less than a week until the #LWIBloggies2016 awards, AND

I’ve just found out that a very dear friend is in the Bumpy Way and so I now need to toast her and her inability to drink grape juice for the next few months. More for me! πŸ·πŸ˜‰)
So it’s time to turn the Tellybox over to something else, (Yup. The remote is on the other sofa!), and pop open a wee bottle. 😈

Obviously, Mini-Me and Princess shall sleep until at least 9.30am…

Yeah.
My arse!

But you can’t blame a girl for hoping can you?
Cheers Bitcheepoos!🍷

Have a Fablis Friday night and thanks to everyone who is reading and liking and sharing. It means a lot and makes me smile. 😘😘😘

​I am “Small Sausages, Big Smiles” Mum

.

Now I know that most LAYDEEEEEEEZ might not associate the words “Small Sausages” with “Big Smiles”…(yes…I said it. You thought it ya dirty hallions!) but today, I do! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
Because today, something as silly and simple as Small Sausages did indeed make me smile. πŸ˜†πŸ˜†
After school/work, we were having some quality mother/daughter time where I was teaching my girls VERRRRRRY important life skills in an edumacational and sensory-stimulating  environment.

 (Yes.  We were in Penneys… life skills I tell you.)
With Mini-Me COMPLETELY knackered after school and Princess CHEWING on ANYTHING or ANYONE who got close enough to her,  I was slightly stressed. 
 I carried Princess AND the shopping bags around, while pushing the feckin pram. Mini-Me was complaining about EVERYTHING, providing a CONSTANT soundtrack in protest to my obvious cruelty and I was up to my tits with “the looks” from innocent bystanders in the Shopping Centre who had to endure our NOISE.
THEN, I almost had a complete MENTAL FREAK OUT on a shop owner who tried to tell me they “Don’t do refunds on ANYTHING” when I tried to return a dress that was store-damaged. 
Little Miss Continuous Soundtrack takes the volume it up a notch just to make sure that MY slightly raised volume doesn’t surpass hers, Princess’s new tooth is causing her to be the crankiest cretur ever and she’s now joined in the song of protest in support of her sister and I’m pretty sure that the shop owner is beginning to realise that she is about to bare the brunt of an epic S-Mum bolloking. (Or possibly, my two little shebitcheepoos are genuinely terrifying her?)
Shop Policy bent just this once.  

Really?

Oh thank you.  Shall I grovel in thanks because you’ve, you know…adhered to the fecking LAW that allows  me to return faulty goods? 

Eh no.

Seriously…  πŸ˜‘😲😑😲😑😲
I’d had enough! Enough of the noise and the protests and the CRYING and the NONSENSE Dumbass “Shop Policy” and the snotters and my face being chewed and the … you get the picture.

It was time to leave. 😣
I was either going to cry, or get arrested. 

Being arrested would possibly have resulted in some Me-time in a small quiet space… at that particular moment, it wasn’t the WORST thing that could have happened! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
We headed for the car and THEN the worst thing DID happen.

I remembered I had to go to the butchers. πŸ˜₯
And that was where the Lovely man with the Small Sausages saved the feckin day! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
I’m ordering chicken and mince.
Mini-Me has stopped crying but is still talking at the top of her voice about ANYTHING.
“MAMMY LOOK AT ALL THE SAUSAGES,”

“We’re getting chicken pet.”

“MAMMY I JUST WUUUUUUB SAUSAGES”.

“No sausages today. Mammy’s buying chicken.”

“OH MAMMY LOOOOOOK! LOOK AT THE BABY SAUSAGES! Aren’t they SOOOOOOO CUTE?” 😣

(Butcher is laughing.)

“Hewooooo Witto SAUSAGES.  AW they’re sooooo cute Mammy…”
And then ANGEL MAN, who is finishing putting my order into the bag, did the NICEST THING EVER.
He lifted a dozen of the cute sausages into a bag, tied it and handed it to her as a present.🌟🌟🌟
Small Sausages, Big Smiles…

For both of us.  
I had the HAPPIEST little lady skip along side me to the car, where Princess FINALLY took a nap and my blood pressure reduced rapidly.
So there you go.

The smallest act of kindness to a dishevelled SuperMum really does have a huge impact.
Never underestimate the power of kindness.
And Thank youπŸ’™ to the lovely ButcherπŸ‘€ if he ever reads this. 
Sometimes, even Small sausages can make a Mamma smile! πŸ˜‰πŸ˜…πŸ˜‰πŸ˜…

#littlethings #mummyblogger #kindness #stressedoutmamma #thepowerofsausages