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.


I am She flipped the Bird Mum

Sweet Jebus and Baby Japonica of the Netherregions, I may actually vomit from laughing tonight.
The photograph below might seem terrible and offensive.  The photograph I SHOULD post with this post, WOULD be terrible and offensive, because it SHOULD have my beautiful 5 year old in it instead of me. 😣

Let me explain…
Mini-Me is a picker.  She LOVES to pick things, but she especially loves to pick her fecking nails. 
Now, this is a habit that is becoming a problem. She has the nails so picked down that they are barely even nails anymore; more like extended cuticles.  I am at my wit’s end.
I’ve tried everything.  I’ve explained. I’ve scolded. I’ve tried to talk to her. I’ve shouted. I’ve bought fidget spinners. I’ve tried to teach her how to click her fingers and on the advice of a kiddy O.T., shown her lots of alternative things to do with her fingers. I’ve tried everything.  Blutac works, but only until it gets stuck in the carpet, or her hair, or until Princess tries ro eat it. 😂
So I’m now trying what EVERY Mamma resorts to in the end.
 Blackmail.
I’ve told her that if she can get a white nail back on her 10 fingers, I’ll take her to my beautician to get her a glittery polish.  
She’s trying soooooooooo hard.  Soooooooo hard in fact, that tonight when I mentioned that her nails were still very sore looking and that I can’t wait to see them qhen they get longer, she ran across the room at me, eyes bulging in her head, shouting with excitement  “But LOOOOKIT Mammy! I DOOOOOOO have one white nail on DIS HAND, LOOK!”
And it was clear to see that on her MIDDLE finger, there is a tiny slither of white appearing.
I almost died.
Trying so hard not to buckle laughing in front of her, I managed to praise her and tell her it looks so much stronger and that it’ll soon be time to go to get them polished.
She skipped off to show Princess (yup. Finger up into her wee face!) shouting behind her “I can’t WAIT to show Granny my nail tomorrow!” (Granny, you’ve been warned…😂😂)
So IF we meet you out and about over the weekend and my Darling Mini-Me “flips you the bird” or whatever you’d like to call it, please know that it is VEWY innocent and not at ALL because she sees it at home. I may swear like a sailer, but I would NEVER do this in front of her, (well, not to her FACE anyway!😂😂)   
So I hope you understand why I chose to stage the pic? As much of a Feck-it-up as I may sometimes be as a Mammy, I’m NOT quite THAT bad. 

Not yet anyway! 
Now, decisions.
Red or white? Glass or bottle?
How was your day? 

😂😂😂😂

I am Summer Pop-up Mum

Mammy is very pleased with her wee self.
Mammy is OFFICIALLY the “bestest wee Mammy in this whole house”. 😅 (True story like.)
Mammy is VERY aware that it is not a Birthday, or Christmas, or indeed ANY important occasion which warrents the bestowment of large gifts on her minions, but Mammy is also aware that, as much as The Perfect Parent Manual (written by S. Anctimammy), would disapprove of popping a pop-up pressie for no particular reason, Mammy doesn’t give a continental flibbertygibbet.  
Because tonight, Mammy rocks.
This ladybug pop-up tent and tunnel is WICKED.  It literally POPS UP in 3 seconds AND, best part, it folds up again into a tiny little bag the size of a steering wheel. (Although that has yet to be proven…😂😂)

The two Dollies spent 2 whole hours playing in this today, and their wee eyes popped just as much as the tent did when they saw it.  They’ve set up a camp inside it and are in pop-up Heaven.
It cost  £14.99 in that new Superstore in Derry… Range, it’s called.  It should be called HEAVEN!
It.

Is.

Immense.

(Do NOT go in there unless you have at least 3 hours to spare! It’s unreal.)
So yes, Mammy is very pleased with her wee self, because Mammy is INDEED the “bestest wee Mammy in this whole house”, and for tonight at least, Mini-Me doesn’t miss her teacher! 

(HAH! Take that!… yes, I’m sad.😥😂)
 So if this ladybug survives my two Hellraisers even for the month of July, and if I can use it as a fun distraction to grab a pee (all by myself! 😅) or get to the bottom of a cuppa, then it was worth EVERY penny.

#mammywin

I am Scary Clippers Mum 

Feck-it-up Friday seems an appropriate day for this smumble!  😘
Being pregnant is scary.  You worry about everything; the pregnancy, the birth, how you’ll be as a Mammy. You think about the things that are frightening you already, even before Baby arrives; feeding, burping, sickness, temperatures, exhaustion, “doing the right thing” etc etc.
But one of the worst experiences of being a Mammy is one that you would never even consider during pregnancy.  The true horror of this particular terror only enters your mind when you are faced with it for the first time.
I am of course referring to the “Cutting of the nails”.

The first time you realise that your minion’s nails might need trimmed, is a milestone. You remain calm. You pull out the little cute scissor and clipper set that came in a baby shower gift.  It’s no big deal.
And then, you hold the little clipper, hovering over their little soft nails, wondering wtf to do…
It’s possibly one of the worst fears you’ll ever experience.  What if she moves? What if your hand shakes? What if you cut him?

And yet, like every challenge you’ve faced in the past 10 months, you take a deep breath and go for it.  And most of the time, you are so careful that OF COURSE, you are succesful and the little nails get trimmed.
And the fear might lessen, but it never goes away.
You grow confident.

You get comfortable.

You stop thinking about it… and then it happens.
You nip his or her little finger, just ever so slightly, but enough to make them catch THEIR breath, start suddenly and then scream a cataclysmic howl that rips every shred of your being and soul to smithereens… It crushes you.
You drop the clippers. You instinctively pull the wee hand to your mouth. You kiss the fingers. You clutch the baby so close to you that you feel every molecule of her pain as you try in vain to sooth them.  You sob with them, trying so hard to calm them. You wish you could rewind 2 minutes. You curse yourself for being the worst Mammy in the world. You eventually find the baby settling a little, the screams gently easing to little wobbly lipped sobs.  You are afraid to look at the massacred finger, certain that there HAS to be blood everywhere and that you have scarred her for life.
But when you finally look at the little fingertip, chances are the nip is utterly tiny and simply a little more pink than usual.  Ok, so there might be a little cut, but it will disappear as instantly as it happened.

The FEELING however remains in you.  It never leaves.  It’s guilt.  It’s  regret.  It’s self loathing…
and like all the other milestones, it happens to all of us and it’s perfectly normal.
The first time is the worst.  If you’re lucky, it will not happen again.  But you WILL feel the same emotion again at some point, maybe when you step on her toe for the first time, or catch her finger in the drawer, of scratch her thigh with a ring while changing a poonami, or watch her fall right in front of you, but just out of your reach… the list is endless.
Unless you wrap your minions in bubblewrap, they are destined to get hurt. But when you know that the injury has been your fault, there is NOTHING that can make you feel worse.
(Unless you’re my sister, who recently sat a chair leg on Mini-Me’s toe. Mini-Me screamed for 15 minutes. My poor sister was devastated. I was rocking Mini-Me, soothing her while Granny held a cold cloth on her toe and simultaneously trying to convince the Aunty that it was absolutely fine and that she shouldn’t be upset, when Madam announced through her sobs “I…don’t…need….no….naunty….no….more!”  😂😂 THAT made her feel worse I think! 😅😅)
But I digress.
Yes, beware the Clippers.

But remember, that it’s just another Mammy milestone.
Any stories? Feel free to share. 👇👇👇
😘😘😘😘

I am Snapping Instagranny Mum

Don’t you just love Instagranny?
The instanty instantaneous instanial portrayals of fabulosity and perfection. The filters.  The hashtags. The generally innocent fun…
The absolute instabullshit that it is. 😂
Now, don’t get me wrong.  I do enjoy the Instagranny. I like posting funky and funny snaps of my day and I HAVE been known to post pictures where I happily look like a spotty, wrinkly badger’s arse, my house is akin to a Game of Thrones Battlefield and other such real life crap #nofilter.
But of course, I also like to post pretties. I don’t usually filter if I’m honest, but whatever, who cares right?
Well, we should care.

Because we need to understand that what we are seeing on Instagranny is usually a load of fabricated instashite.  I can create a veil of instaperfection to hide anything.

I did it today.

If you look at my profile, you’ll see smiles, cuteness, playtime and fresh aired fun.

And yes, all of these things did happen today.

We actually had quite a nice chilled out kind of day.

But here are some of the things that happened today that I didn’t insta:
I woke up with a splitting sinus headache and really thought I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.

Of course, I HAD to get out of bed! 😂

By 9am I had shouted at Mini-Me 4 times. She had ignored me 13.

We stayed in our PJs until 2pm.

I mopped the floors and 34 minutes later, had to get the hoover out again. I swore a bit.

Princess cried for no apparent reason for a full hour, then poonamied.

No one ate their dinner.

Princess got her hand stung by a nettle.😭

My skin looks like pizza.

I need a shower.

I feel a tad emotional as it’s a special person’s anniversary today. 💙💙

I said “Get off the dog” and “get off your sister” 369 times, sometimes in the same breath. 😂

Mini-Me cried hysterically when I made the mistake of mentioning that the flowers she picked were alive… (more on that another night.)

Then, Just before bed,  when I thought we’d FINALLY made it to “calm time”, Princess pulled a plate of cold uneaten pasta all over herself and my (newly feckin mopped) floor and Mini-Me decided to faceplant the tiles in the hall and scream for 15 minutes.  (She’s fine thank God, but I can still hear the bang of her hitting the floor.)😭
But the BEST one? 🤐🤐
As I was putting the toothpaste on her toothbrush, Princess walked up behind me and…
BIT ME ON THE ASS.
Yup, she ACTUALLY BIT ME.

On my ass.

I thought she was giving me one of her “leghugs”, but nooooooo.  She sank her little teeth right into my upper thigh. And holy Christ, she has some jaw strength.

I am bruised.

(I shall desist from snapping that!😂)

Now, if I had had the wherewithall, time or energy to instagranny all of THAT ☝☝☝ ,

1. I’d actually be a shit mum because it would have taken hours

2. My account probably would have been shut down for public health and child protection breaches

3. No one would think I was instaperfect and that would be instaterrible 😂😂😂 #sarcasm
So there.
A wee reminder that what we are looking at on our instafeeds and of course, EVERYWHERE else, is NOT ALWAYS REAL.
We don’t tend to share the shite parts, or indeed the NORMAL parts of our day.  Today, feeling as grumpy and fooked off as I am, I consciously posted only the lovelies. They make me smile. They might make you smile. (My girls ARE adorable yes, I shall give them that.)
But if nothing else, the image below is only a SNAP of the full day.  A normal day. A typical day. A not very exciting, but satisfactory day nonetheless.
Ok, I don’t get bit on the ass every day, but I do have instaperfectly insta-IMperfect days.
How was your day?

#nofilter #knowwhatsreal
(PS… Black and white works wonders on badger’s arse syndrome! 😂😂😘)