I am she had an Invisible Section Mum 

So Cheryl and some Liam juck had a baby boy.
 Isn’t that lovely news? Isn’t it wonderful that a couple have delivered a beautiful, healthy wee man into the world and that everyone is safe and well?

Isn’t this a heartwarming snap of a Daddy and his new little world having a snuggle? 

And isn’t Mammy beautiful, especially when she’s glammed up?
And isn’t it a fecking disugusting world we live in, when one of our country’s leading news platforms ran with the news today that Cheryl had an “invisible C-Section”.
Oh spare me.
It’s not enough for people to know that she’s had a baby, is it? 

For some reason, some gutter-slithering excuse for a journalist somewhere (you can nearly guess the source of the article can’t you?) decided that the story about THIS particular new Mammy and her new baby needed to be vajazzled up for us mere mortals.
Let’s say it as it is.
She’s famous.

She’s controversial.

She’s older.

He’s younger.

She’s divorced…twice.

He’s whatever…

Love her or loath her, she always has had, and always will have, everything scrutinised by the media, every single day.

And now, her little family are going to live a life that (wardrobe aside), none of us would ever want to swap.
Wouldn’t it be nice if all of the headlines simply told us that “It’s a boy and everything is OK”? 
Rather than the verbal diahorrea that “the Mother, ten years older than the Daddy, has had a boy, having booked out the whole Kensington wing of some fancy-arsed  surgery in London, (suggesting that the other labouring Mammies probably had to posh push on the street outside Harrods) and that she OPTED for an invisible section with the world’s greatest surgeon.”
What the Fuck is an Invisible section anyway?

Did they suck the baby out through her bellybutton? 

Did she fart the babby out?

Do they transport the baby via feckin Osmosis through her pores, before reforming it in a TV screen alà Cheryl & the Chocolate Factory?

Did they tweet the baby out her arse?

#instababy might have a whole new meaning here Ladybelles…

No. It means she had a section and will apparently be scar free.
Because that’s probably the ONLY concern she had going in to have her baby? 

And she obviously opted for an elective section as she is too posh to push like her bestie VB and all the other section Mammies.

 God forbid, there may have been a medical reason for it. 

Heaven forbid, she might have had no choice in the matter.
Not to mention that she was probably every bit as fecking terrified as EVERY other 1st time (and 2nd and 3rd and 7th) time Mammy on EARTH.

 And don’t let us consider that regardless of what magic Dr Glitterballs works with his 23crt golden knife and surgical thread made of unicorn farts and fairy wings, she still had a fucking OPERATION which will have hurt. 

A lot.

 And no matter how gorgeous or “invisible” her scar is, it will still need to heal.
Because she is human.

And she is a Mammy now.

And her world will be upside down for the rest of her life.

And she’s most likely feeling and looking like any other bedraggled and knackered new Mammy looks after a week of being new parents.

And everyone should just say “aaaaaah!” and wish them well.
And the media need to fuck off with their utter shite headlines and go find some real news. You know? Like how Donegal and Cavan are apparently fecking off with the UK in the Brexit move? 😂😂
Is it any wonder Waterford Whispers is so popular? It’s more intelligent reading than the fecking “real news” sites.


I am S is for Special – World Downs Syndrome Day

It’s World Downs Syndrome Day. ❤❤


It’s a day to celebrate the extra chromosome that makes some people just a little bit more special.
One of the first images I saw on Facebook today was of my good friend Lee Gooch and his handsome little man Noah.  

And oh! How it melted my heart.

Not simply because of the angelic and perfect little face of the wee man, but because of the smile on Daddy’s face.

  This 👇👇 my friends is the smile of true pride, of true joy…of true and utter love. 💙💙

And it melts my heart, not only because of the joy it brings, but also because of the memories it provokes in me.
Lee and his family are blessed. 

I know this, because my family too were blessed.

A child with Downs Syndrome isn’t just their extra chromosome.

A child with Downs, is special.
Special in every sense of the word.
My own aunty Carmel was special. 
She was beautiful, mischievous and intelligent. She held more love in the tip of her finger than ANYONE I have ever known. She was witty, bold and an absolute rascal, loving nothing more than to get the craic going with whoever was visiting. She loved to dress up, adored The Rose of Tralee and loved to dance.  Every single person who walked through the door of my Grandparents’ home, fell head over heels in love with her. She was the most head-strong, determined and fearless Ladybelle I’ve ever met.  She kept our family on our toes. 

And she taught me many lessons.

The main one being that we are all different and that different is good. 
I remember being in the shopping Centre with her and my other Aunty when I was about 5. Other kids were staring at Carmel. It was the first time I realised that she was different because I suddenly became aware of other people’s reactions to her. Her reaction to one teenage boy who stopped to look at her? She stuck out her tongue at him, laughed her hearty laugh and waved at him mischievously as we pushed her past.😂😂
 There and then, I was proud of her. Even at that young age, she taught me that you must NEVER let anyone bring you down, that you must be YOU, and that there IS no other You to be.
She was perfect.

She was the strongest woman I ever had the pleasure of knowing.

She was more brave and more caring and more wonderful than I could ever put into words and I miss her every day.
She was indeed my Special Aunty, but for so many more reasons than her Downs Syndrome.

Special doesn’t even start to describe her or the love that she gave or more importantly, the love that she demanded.


Pure and true…

Like the love on Lee’s face in that photograph and every day.
 A family who have been blessed with an extra chromosome, know a love that is beyond words.
So there. 

I never thought I’d write about my precious Aunty Carmel, but today, I decided it was time. I miss her every day and she lives on in our hearts and in our memories. Knowing and loving her is responsible for so much of who I am today.
And I send my love and respect to every single family who are fighting every day for the rights of Downs Syndrome children, and who are helping to make people realise that the “S” in DS should not stand for “Syndrome”…

It stands for “Strong”.

It stands for “Smile”.

and it stands for Special.
#worlddownsyndromeday #smile #love #special 
(Lee has given me permission to post this pic. Thanks Lovely. And kisses to Noah.)
Follow me on Facebook @the.s.mum and instagram @the.s.mum 

I am Stay Smiling at You Mum

To my Darling Mini-Me

You stopped me in my tracks this morning. I walked past your bedroom door. You were standing in front of your mirror, brushing your hair, with your little sister watching you silently. You had no idea that you were being watched. You were beautiful. Suddenly, you looked so different; so grown up. The little smile on your face as you gently combed melted me.  You were smiling because you were happy;  Happy with what you saw.  Content with your reflection.  Beautiful and perfect and blissfully content with how you look.

You caught me watching and stopped, mid-stroke.

“Am I gawjus Mammy?” you asked before continuing to brush.

“You really are Darling” I answered, but you were already back at it, not really caring what I said.  Because you already knew that you are.

And indeed you are.

You’re beautiful.

For you, Dear Daughter, I have many hopes.  One of my main hopes is that you get to smile that little smile while looking at your reflection for as long as possible.  Because there will come a day, when you will look at yourself just a little bit differently.  You will compare yourself to your friends. You will look at the images online and in print and wonder why you don’t look like they do.  You will suddenly find yourself criticising your reflection, rather than enjoying it.

And it breaks my heart.

If you’re anything like your Mammy (and we both know you are!), you will deal with wonky teeth, you will be tortured by bad skin well into your adult years, and you will probably wait impatiently for the boobs that everyone else seems to have!  I can save you a lot of trouble right now my Darling.  You’ll probably still be waiting as you approach 40, but by then, you’ll be glad that they never arrived!

Life is cruel and society can be one savagely bitchy playground.  If I can give you one thing, it will be the ability to be comfortable in your own skin.  You may wish your teeth were straighter or that your skin was blotch free or that your nose was smaller, but you will know that you are you, and that it is these little features that make you stand out, that make you individual, that make you perfect.

And I do my best.  Yes, I have days where I feel yucky, but I have finally reached the point of contentment where I care only what one person thinks about how I look:  and that person is ME.

Me, Myself and I.

You might not realise this, but I purposely take off my makeup after work in the kitchen so that you can see that it’s OK to not wear any.  When you ask me why I am putting on mascara, I try to answer that “I sometimes like to wear it”.  I’ll play dress up and makeup with you because I want you to know that it is something that women enjoy.  But I’ll also let you see me going into town without even brushing my hair, because I want you to get into the habit of not giving a crap if people don’t like what you’re wearing or how you look.

I’ll let you wear tights that do NOT match your dress if you want to, because in no time at all, society will be dictating what you wear anyway. And you will not see me standing on scales.  You will see me train but you’ll not hear my swearing under my breath at the exercises! Any issues you are going to get about your beautiful self, I do hope that they do not come from me.

I will do anything for you both, you know that.  I care for you.  I feed you. I look after you.  And I promise that I will also help you to always think you are gawjus.  I will tell you you’re beautiful, even though some parenting “experts” tut at young girls being told they’re pretty.  Nonsense.

I will always tell you you’re beautiful, because there’ll be enough bitches who revel in making you feel that you aren’t.

So you keep smiling that perfect little smile my Gawjus girl, because there is nothing more beautiful than a smile.

And there is no one more beautiful to me, than YOU.

All my love,