I am Shiny Window Mum

Today, I cleaned the glass on the doors in my kitchen.

I have been looking at the fingerprints and handprints and food smudges and what-the-feck-else-I-do-not-know-smudges since the LAST time I washed them. 😣😣

“The last time I washed them” is a bit vague. It varies depending on who I am talking to: If I know you well, I won’t even excuse them, because you won’t even notice them, but you know yourself, there will always be those people who arrive or pop in or visit, to whom you feel compelled to lie about your cleaning.

“Would you BELIEVE I only washed those windows LAST weekend? Can’t keep them clean with these two rascals… hardeehardeehar”, you quaffle with extra hugh pitch in your voice, while you ignore the Him’s raised eyebrows because he knows that they POSSIBLY haven’t been WIPED in 3 months, never mind cleaned! 😂😂

It’s like confessions…”Bless me Mrs for I have sinned. It’s been 3 months since my last confession.” (Cue fires in hell sizzling in excitement that you’ve just LIED to the Priest, IN CONFESSION. 😂)

So yes, today.

I DID clean the fecking glass AND THEN, I left my two minions eating their frozen frubes in front of Upsy Crazy and Macka Facka and scooted to my bedroom to leave a basket of clothes on the floor (where they shall rest and mature for up to 3 weeks…it’s the only way you know?) 😄😄

Approximately 36 seconds later, I returned to this little shitster👇👇, caught white handed clattering the fecking glass with the end of her Frube… I’m going to go ahead and think positively that she OBVIOUSLY saw me cleaning them earlier and so was imitating her Mary-of-the-poppins-esque Mammy Bear.

This theory has been further verified by the fact that she had ALREADY “cleaned” the Tellybox too… So here we are now, with the glass having not been cleaned in months, and now suddenly cleaned 3 times in one fecking day!

Wee monster this doll… 😇😇

How was your day? 😂😂

I am “Say What Mummy Pig?” Mum

Now. You all know how much I love/hate Peppa Pork.

Most days, it doesn’t even register with my brain that it’s on, apart from when Princess screams “Paaapaaaaa!” at the top of her voice at the Tellybox. As much as I despise the nasal whining of Peppa as she bitches about everything her life throws at her, bosses George around, ignores Mammy and humiliates her Daddy for being fat, this squeal of delight from my youngest also indicates to ME that I have 3 minutes to pee, or shower, or breathe.

See? Love/hate. 😂

Usually their little Piggy voices wash over my head. I pay little attention to the spoilt little piggy and her mono-wordallic brother or her poor, underappreciated Mammy Pig (who quite frankly HAS to be mixing her happy pills with gin and valium under the stairs in order to maintain such a chirpy disposition amidst this level of feckin stupidity), but today, TODAY, Mammy Pig said something SO utterly RIDICULOUS and SO obviously STUPID, that my ears had to prick up.

😐 “Naughty Daddy” quipped Mummy Pork. “Look at how dirty your car is!”

Right. Back up there Bacon-arse.

Let’s rewind a second here…😡

In what world, on what planet, in which TIME ZONE, would the Mammy have to chastise the DADDY for having a messy car? Because in the REAL world, the parent who has the children 90% of the time, has the car which is messy. EVERYONE knows that.

Actually, the second the car seat goes into the family car, it transforms magically into a bin on wheels. The floor becomes invisible under mountains of crap, never to be seen again until your youngest is approximately 11 years old. Things get sticky. Things become unsettlingly dirty. Things begin to grow on upholstery…No matter how OCD you are about tidy and clean, any chance you have of keeping a tidy car, go out the window at the same time as your “Eminem” CD or “Book of Mormon” Soundtrack.

Even when you attempt to organise the back seat, you know with wee boxes and containers, all you are REALLY doing, is adding MORE CRAP to the mess; adding MORE STUFF for them to chuck around when you’re driving… So considering that Daddy Pig said that he’d take the family on a car run for “a treat”, thereby suggesting that he is in the car ALL BY HIMSELF 99% of the fecking time, FORGIVE ME for wondering why the fook his car would be messy!?

Because in MY experience, it’s Mammy Pig’s car that is disgusting and dirty and messy, while Daddy’s still looks like it did the day he drove it out of Daddy Dog’s garage and the little Piggies aren’t ALLOWED to eat in Daddy Pig’s car, because they’re never IN IT long enough to BREAK Daddy’s soul or drive him to screaming “Just EAT IT THEN!”

So well done Peppa Pork writers. So much for providing realistic and relevant subject matter in your multicoloured portrayal of the life of piggies. See if it had been Daddy opening Mammy Pig’s car and shouting “WTF is going on with your car woman? It’s fecking MINGING!” I’d probably have sat down with them to watch it.

Fecking Peppa.

Bacon for dinner anyone? 😂

I am Say Hi to “Nobody” Mum

Mammy has decided to add a new member to our family.

If my minions can have imaginary friends, and The Him can have Him’s Jim, then Mammy can have one too.

My imaginary friend is fecking FABLIS.

I call my imaginary friend “Nobody”. 😂

“Nobody” is perfect.

“Nobody” notices all the EVERYTHING I do around the house.

“Nobody” notices that the laundry is done, that the floor has been mopped, that the toilets have been cleaned.

“Nobody” is grateful when they find clothes folded and in the wardrobe. Nobody” is grateful when they find food in the fridge or dinner on the cooker.

“Nobody” says Thank You each time they notice how much cleaning I have done.

“Nobody” is helpful.

“Nobody” knows how to put dirty clothes in the wash basket. “Nobody” can work the fecking washing machine…

“Nobody” helps Mammy to cook and plan meals and get healthy food into the minions.

“Nobody” sometimes even offers to go do the grocery shopping.

“Nobody” sees when Mammy hasn’t showered in 2 days and offers to mind the minions long enough for her to put too much argon oil in her hair.

“Nobody” does their share WITHOUT being asked.

But most importantly, “Nobody” listens to Mammy. “Nobody” does what I ask the FIRST time she asks. Mammy NEVER has to shout at “Nobody”, because “Nobody” actually HEARS Mammy’s voice BEFORE she raises it.

“Nobody” is fab.

“Nobody” makes Mammy feel great about herself.

“Nobody” makes Mammy feel appreciated and special.

“Nobody” really understands Mammy. “Nobody” looks at Mammy wondering wtf she is shouting about.

“Nobody” makes Mammy happy, but “Nobody” is only a figment of Mammy’s imagination… a shadow.

Mammy knows that “Nobody” is not an actual person, but somedays, Mammy chooses to imagine that “Nobody” is VERY real, (and Mammy prefers to imagine that “Nobody” looks like a cross between Thor, Wolverine and Gaston, just for fun! Sigh…)

But while “Nobody” might be perfect, they can never give Mammy a hug, or a smile, or a slobbery kiss, like my 3 Somebodies can. 💜💖💖

And a “Somebody” is always better than a “Nobody” in real life, aren’t they?

Anyway, who wants to live with someone who does all of these things ☝☝that “Nobody” does anyway?

Sure Mammy would have nothing to grumble and feel self-righteous and under-appreciated about then, would she?

So who would YOUR “Nobody” look like and what would “Nobody” do? 😂😘

I am She loves her dodees Mum

S-Mum is a TUBE.

Little Miss Princess has a habit. She requires 3, yes THREE, dodees every night to go to bed; One in her mouth, and one in each fudgy little paw.

Mini-Me was the same. I think it’s cute that they have this little quirk in common. Yeah, yeah, she shouldn’t have a dodee at 20 months.

Yeah yeah, 3 dodees seems excessive.

Yeah yeah, your kid never takes a dodee… good for you.

But this little habit has allowed this Mamma and Pappa to have 12 hours sleep for 18 of the past 20 months so as long as she looks for the dodees, she shall get them. I’ll get them off her when she’s ready and I am able to deal with 3 or 4 nights of Demonic screaming, but I won’t stress too much about it to be honest. Have you ever seen a 17 year old with a dodee? (In public 😂)

But recently, with the rather impressive development of her new friend Temper, 👶Princess has been participating in new behaviour, which quite frankly has a) become a royal pain in the arse and b) caused more than a few 5am mornings in the past few weeks. 😡😡

You see, her new friend Temper, sometimes convinces her to throw her 3 dodees OUT through the bars of the cot, which then leads to dramatic sobs until one of us, (yes, ME), stumbles into the room to return the little feckers to her from the floor.

At 5.30am this morning, I was back in bed, listening to her scream and refusing point blank to go back into the room and I thought, for the 371st time that I must find and invest in one of the little teddies/taggies that my very clever sister-in-law has for her babies. You tie the dodees onto it and baby always has access to them at night time.

So today, I was in town TWICE, forgetting BOTH times to go looking for one of these little yoks which will CERTAINLY solve our problem. I was putting her down to bed tonight, cursing myself for forgetting and vowing in my head to hunt for one tomorrow. As I was leaving her room, I spotted this 👇👇👇 little taggy yok that has been in her nursey… SINCE MY BABY SHOWER… But which I’ve never ACTUALLY looked at properly.

Since my FECKING Baby shower!?

Seriously… Possibly bought by same clever sister-in-law. 😂 And LOOKIT! The little ends of it unravel to allow you to TIE THE FECKING DODEES ONTO THEM!

This has been under my nose THE WHOLE TIME. And I didn’t even know.😡😡😡 So yes, S-Mum is a tube, but tonight I am a smug and happy tube who will HOPEFULLY NOT have to drag my sorry arse out of bed to pick up the dodees tonight…or at least until Temper decides to tell her to feck the full taggy out over the cot sides instead. 😂😂😂 How was your day? 😍😘

I am Start Taking the Compliments Mum

“Your daughter is beautiful.”   Aw she is, isn’t she? Thank you.

“I love her coat.”  I know, isn’t it gorgeous?

“Your son is so funny.”   Yeah, he cracks me up.

“You look gorgeous.”  Aye right, I haven’t even brushed my hair.

I love your top”   Penney’s best.

Those are nice jeans.”  Oh I’ve had these old things for years.

Is that a Hilfiger shirt?”  It was on sale!

Notice anything?

We don’t know how to take a compliment.  Nothing new there.  We all knowthat the Irish don’t take compliments well. We are suspicious of them. We don’t like them.  For some reason, they make us feel very uncomfortable.

But when someone compliments our kids, we are more than happy to agree with them. If someone points out something positive about your little minion, chances are that you will be delighted that they’ve noticed and you will nod in agreement, as proud as punch.

However, if the same person tells you with their next breath that your hair is lovely, you will most likely find yourself disagreeing and parting your hair to show them just how badly your roots need redone.

So what the hell is wrong with us?

If I tell Mini-Me that she looks beautiful or that her hair is pretty, she smiles at me and says “Thanks Mum” or “I know!”  (shock horror!)  She takes the compliment.  She doesn’t NEED it to feel better or to affirm her or any other such nonsense.  She takes it, because at 5 years old, she doesn’t find it strangethat someone would praise her or compliment her.  It is not unusual to her that someone might point out something positive.  She is not suspicious of compliments.  She doesn’t need to be.

So when does that stop?  When will she suddenly begin to apologise for her positive features?  When will she become flushed with embarrassment because someone comments on how well she dances?  What will happen to make her suddenly feel that she should disagree with someone who tells her she is clever, or pretty, or talented or funny?  Will she simply wake up some morning, feeling the need to apologise for being good at something, or for being nice?

Now, of course I know that we must teach them to be humble also.  No one likes a boaster.  But why the hell should we teach them that they should apologise for being good at something?  Why should we teach them to disagree with someone who is genuinely being nice to them?  

When did humility become humiliation?

Because somewhere along the way, we’ve confused the two.   

If someone admires your hair today, reply by saying “I know! It’s sitting nice today isn’t it?”  I dare you.  And watch their reaction. It’s pretty likely that they’ll flinch in surprise.  If someone admires your top, try “Thanks, I like it too.” (Would you have bought it if you didn’t?) If someone points out something that you are good at, thank them and tell them “Yeah, I try hard.”  

If they walk away from you thinking you’re big headed or conceited, then who has the problem?  If they meant the compliment, they won’t mind that you agree with them.  

Does it not make sense that if we were to let our kids see us accepting compliments more comfortably, maybe we’d be helping them?  Our kids learn by watching us, our behaviours, our responses. Someday soon, when Mini-Me hears me answering “Oh God, this old thing?” or “Aw my skin’s a mess” or “God now, I sound dreadful!”, then she’s going to store it in her bank of “Acceptable grown up things to say” isn’t she?  

And therein begins that humiliation.

We all do it.

I do it.  I did it yesterday when a friend praised me.  I automatically told him he was full of nonsense.  Why? If he hadn’t thought I was good, he wouldn’t have bothered to tell me I was, so why did I disagree with him?  

Because we are trained, somewhere along the line, to apologise for ourselves.  Because acknowledging our own strengths and positive characteristics is seen as terribly obnoxious and wrong.  Because one day, without even realising it, we learned that to accept a compliment was wrong.  

We’re hardwired to think the worst about ourselves; to worry about what others think.  Being a parent brings a new level of this.  We are constantly comparing ourselves, berating ourselves, apologising for our decisions, for our behaviour, for our children’s behaviour.  But the sooner we can rewire ourselves to look more closely for our own positives, the more chance we have of teaching our children that it’s OK to say “thank you” when someone compliments us.

Plenty of people will thrive on bringing them down, on highlighting their weaknesses and flaws.  We need to teach them to recognise those people. And we need to teach them that if someone feels the need to comment on them in a negative way, then it’s that person who has the problem, and not them. 

So accept the compliment.  Let your children hear you accepting it.  Let them see that it’s OK to be proud of yourself sometimes and that you don’t need to ever apologise for being good, or kind, or talented or clever.  

And give someone a compliment today too.  You never know whose day you’ve just made.

By the way, you have a lovely smile.