I am So Not a Halloween Mum

Today’s Thoroughly Modern Mammy for Donegal Woman
๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ

You know the BEST thing about Halloween?

Once, itโ€™s over, it is FINALLY Christmas. Iโ€™m not a fan. For this little Mammy, Halloween is simply a pot hole which we have to drive through to get to Santa Season.๐ŸŽ…

The Him however, LOVES it.๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽƒ

He loves it so much that he insists on making a huge fuss about it with the girls. It seems that both of the minions, especially the Older one, have inherited Daddyโ€™s love of the season of orange and creepy crap. In fact, Himself and the two of them went AT the destruction/decorating of the house with such gusto yesterday evening, that I went outside to clean the windows.

Yes, you read right. I voluntarily left my cosy living room and went out into the cold to wash the windows. When I returned, it looked like Scooby Doo and Shaggy had puked the contents of the Mystery Machine all over the room.

I thought I was being clever last week getting the painters to come in. โ€œNo bluetack on the walls Daddy. Itโ€™s just been paintedโ€ I announced as I flounced out the door with my bucket and chamois, smug that my genius plan had reduced the possibility for decorations on every surface!๐ŸŽƒ

How futile that was. He simply found somewhere else to hang everything and has completely destroyed my kitchen unitsโ€ฆ

There are witches and ghouls and spiderwebs and spiders (she forgets that last week she was afraid of them!) and there are little green and orange lights EVERYWHERE.

The (clean thank you) windows have jelly skeletons and witches on them and random lamps shout or cackle at me as I walk past. They may end up in the Swilly.

But most annoying and upsetting of all, is his need to make all of my pictures and photo frames uneven on the walls. It apparently adds to the effect.๐Ÿ˜ฅ

All it REALLY adds to is my desire to scream and punch someone in the nose.

But Herself loves it. And they had great fun all evening putting everything up. I feel that the fact that she is doing something that Mammy dislikes and tuts at, is adding to her love for it. Until November 1st, itโ€™s Mini-Me and Daddy 1, Mammy and Santa 0.

I refuse to admit that theyโ€™ve done a good job and that actually the place looks kind of cool. Iโ€™ll grumble about having to dress up. Iโ€™ll scold about the photographs hanging sideways on the walls. Iโ€™ll curse everytime I have to stretch up to lift the pumpkin lights so I can close the cupboard door.

But Iโ€™ll do all of this, not because I ACTUALLY hate the holiday, but because it adds to the enjoyment and mischief that The Him and Mini-Me get out of their mutual taunting of Silly Mammy.

Will I get into the spirit of it? Of course I will, (and gin is a spirit so technically, he canโ€™t argue!)๐Ÿ˜‚ Iโ€™ll dress up. Iโ€™ll dress the girls up. Weโ€™ll go to town and meet friends for Trick or Treating. We might even venture into the fireworks this year.

Iโ€™ll show her how to make a witchโ€™s costume out of a bin bag and tinfoil, before letting her dress in the unoriginal and manufactured costume I bought her.

Iโ€™ll do the bobbing for apples with them, before wondering why the hell I thought this would be a good idea.

Iโ€™ll talk about baking an apple pie, before buying one for handiness.

Iโ€™ll paint her face every morning this weekend, before scolding that the facepaint must be made of concrete and complaining that it wonโ€™t come off.

Iโ€™ll pretend to be a witch and get so into character that I scare the bejaysus out of Princess.

And Iโ€™ll pretend to hate the whole season, because I know how special it is for Daddy and Mini-Me to have a love of something together that doesnโ€™t include Mammy. Even better if it gives them an excuse to form an alliance and rebel against her eh?

Because these are the memories we are making in our home and every year, they become more and more natural and fun.

And then on Tuesday night, at midnight, POOF! Glitter and Christmas and Jingles EVERYWHERE! And The Him can buckle up, because he only THINKS he knows how to decorate a house!

He ainโ€™t seen nuthinโ€™ yet!๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐ŸŽ…๐ŸŽ…๐Ÿ˜›๐Ÿ˜›

What are your favourite Halloween traditions?๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽƒ๐ŸŽƒ

I am Stop the Clocks Mum

It’s that weekend that all parents really wish they’d appreciated more B.C.

Remember when this weekend ACTUALLY meant an extra hour in the leaba?
Remember? No?

Well me neither, but this year, I have a PLAN. ๐Ÿ˜†๐Ÿค—

I have cracked it.
I am a Superclever Mum.

Here it is…

Last night, I let the girls stay up 10 minutes later than usual. (7.20pm)
Tonight, I let them stay up 15 minutes later again. (7.35pm)
Tomorrow night, they shall be made, sorry allowed, to stay up until 8pm.
So by Saturday night, going to bed at 8.10pm will feel normal and they should both sleep until 8am, or the new 7am!

In my head, this is genius.
It is fool proof.
I am feckin awesome.
Bow down Bitches.

(In REALITY, they are bigger crankyarses than usual and will most likely STILL be awake at 6am on Saturday morning and the ONLY extra hour MammyTwat here shall ACTUALLY have, is an extra hour of Peppa Feckin Pig on Sunday morning…

But hey! Can’t hurt to try can it? ๐Ÿ˜‚

(The only other feasible option is that Saturday night might be a great night for them to go for a sleepover somewhere… anywhere! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚ )

How do you deal with the clocks changing Ladies?
PS. Happy Thirstay. ๐Ÿ˜™๐Ÿ˜™

I am Sad for our Children Mum

Dear Justice System…

Today, once again, but maybe in the most spectacular way yet, you have shown yourselves up and let your country down in one swift movement.

Today, parents all over our little land, weep at the absolute sham of a sentence handed down to a paedophile; to a man who groomed and abused a child; To a man who was so caught up in his own power and self worth that he felt himself justified to destroy the life of a child for his own sick gratification.

Actually, I should not use the word “man”. No. This excuse for a human being is better suited to the term monster. Because that is what he is. He dismissed the most important things in the world; the two things that parents strive to provide for their children; childhood and innocence. He took both of these things from a little girl. She will never get them back and she shall live with the scars and memories of his actions for the rest of his life.

But because he was one of the boys, because he had money and social standing and a solid reputation, because he offered a futile plea of “guilty”, because he has “suffered enough”, a Judge, someone to whom we entrust the justice of the nation and by proxy, the safety of our children, a “Judge“, decided that his punishment for his crime, should be a 2 and a half year detention.
2 and a half years.
30 months.
I’ve had longer indigestion…

This vulnerable child was forced to act in ways that children should NEVER act, and by the admission of the Monster was groomed and assaulted by him. To measure her ordeal AGAINST the bruised reputation of the man who was caught abusing her, would suggest that this monster should spend the rest of his life in prison.

An eye for an eye. A life for a life.
But no.
The only life sentence being served is by her.
He has 2 and a half years in the naughty corner, where no doubt he’ll be quite comfortable and well looked after and offered all sorts of CBT… I wonder will he be safe from the monsters…?

I don’t usually comment on such issues on my blog. I prefer to keep it to the trials and tribulations of parenting, to provide laughs and to provide empathy, but when we realise that we live in a society which protects the predators who pose the most danger to our precious children, I can’t remain silent.

Shame on Him.
Shame on the judge and whoever else helped or influenced the decision to insult the strong and brave young woman who stood up to her abuser.
Shame on our justice system for throwing us all 100 years into the past.

Tonight, we shake our heads in disbelief that in a society as progressive and accepting as Ireland, we are still allowing the “Old boys” to get off with their indiscretions because of who they are and who they know.

As a woman, I despair.
As a Mother, I weep.

As an Irish citizen, I hang my head in shame that we have let our children down.

Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone…

it’s with poor Humphries in the jail.

I am Small Cucumber Mum

Dids’t thou know..

Mini cucumbers look very twee and sophistimacated and posh when Mammy is at the till In Aldi-everything.

The checkout lady, Jacinta, attempts to make Mammy cry by throwing the food at her faster than any toddler throwing a tantrum. “Calm yourself Jacinta!”… Mammy does not cry however. (Mammy has every Aldi-everything employees arch nemesis… Trolley Bags. Take THAT Jacinta! ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ) Jacinta throws the beans a little bit harder than necessary…probably in a strop because she hasn’t broken THIS mini-cucumber buying, obviously very healthy and wholesomey Mammy.

No! Instead of crying, Mammy snaughles at her healthy and adventurous self for finding such cute little one-a-day.

Not only are they green and therefore healthy and wholesome and pretentiously fablis… they’re WHIIIIIIIILE handy for making Mammy’s gin and tonic. ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿ˜‚

How clever is Mammy?

Cheers Ladybelles!

I am So, Is Different Always Wrong Mum?

On Wednesday, I wrote a blog post on how an imaginary spider and a pair of knickers caused a post apocalyptic meltdown in my house before 7am. I went to work in tears, spent the day in an absolute state and only settled when Mini-Me was tucked up after a very calm and snuggly bedtime. Most of the stress came from the fact that although yes, SHE had started it, I knew in my heart and soul that the biggest reason for the stand-off…was me.

I wasn’t going to post, but as my readers know, I’m not one for pretending this parenting lark is easy. I’m not Mary of the Poppins. Nor am I Nanny Mc Phee. In fact, most days, the S is S-Mum stands for ANYTHING EXCEPT Super. But post it I did and I’m glad I did.

It never ceases to amaze me how supportive and kind other Mammies can be. (And Daddies actually.) Within an hour of posting it, a dozen Mums and 3 Dads had commented their empathy and another dozen had private messaged me to say that they too had crappy days; that they had also been dealing with similar bahaviour in their homes.

One Mammy, whose kids are now adults, messaged me to tell me that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself and that every mum goes through bad mornings and bad days. Her message made me cry. I went to bed feeling particularly crappy and emotionally exhausted, but Thursday was another day and thankfully, a LOT better.

For every reader who empathised with my strggle, I’m sure that there were a few who tutted their sanctimammious tuts at my post; at my honesty and at my admission that I’d fooked up that morning. That’s par for the course as a blogger. If my #mammyfailure made them feel smug and self righteous. Good. But the readers I care to impress are the ones who think “Thank God it’s not just me.”

Last night, a very followed and applauded Mum blogger in the UK and her equally popular Blogger Husband, posted on Instagram a photograph of themselves out on a date night.

The post initially seemed quite run of the mill, but as you read, it became clear that it was an #ad. The responses to the post were instant. They set the interweb on fire and within a few minutes, had hundreds of comments; most of them negative and disgusted, many of them aggressive and hateful.

Why? Because what initally looked like a typical “Yay! We’re out!” post, was actually an advert for the Babysitting App they had used that evening. “The Uber of babysitters” is how it is described. It’s an app that provides qualified babysitters, all of whom are apparently first-aid and childcare trained and have had thorough background checks done on them.

It’s quite popular in cities, where many parents find themselves without the “Village” required to raise a child. Indeed many of the comments were from people saying that they must check them out. But within minutes, the abuse of the couple began. Lots of people simply stated their suspicion of the app, or the fact that they personally wouldn’t want to leave their children with a stranger. Some went so far as to point out the fact that if the children awoke, they’d be faced with a stanger, (my first thought too.)

But others took it quite personally and went so far as to reprimand and scold them for their “irresponsibilty”, “Disgusting content” and “poor parenting”. Some criticised them for leaving their children with a stranger for an Ad opportunity. Basically, they and their parenting got annihilated by the hundreds of Sanctimammies who felt it their duty to share their disapproval.

Now, while I personally wouldn’t use such a service, I don’t feel the need to tell these people that I have a different view. I am however, also lucky enough to live near family and to have wonderful friends who are part enough of our girls’ lives to mind them if we need them to. But do you know what? Not everyone is so lucky. Not everyone has a support system on their doorsteps. Not everyone has a buddy who can pop over for an hour. And as usual, not everyone parents the same as me, or as you.

And we are so quick to judge. It made me sad to read. I can only imagine how dreadful this couple must have felt if they read some of these comments. While I find it a strange concept to leave your kids with a stranger, I only find it strange because I don’t need to do it. It’s obviously something that there is a demand for. Why would it even exist as a business otherwise?

There is a conception that if you put details of your life online, then you deserve any criticism that comes to you. Well actually, this is nonsense. No one deserves the level of abuse that this couple received last night. Of course, people have the right to say what they want and to criticise and to disagree, but when this turns into disapproving abuse and aggressive attacks, then no. People do NOT have the right to do that.

If you don’t like what someone writes, or what they share or what they say, unfollow, delete or ignore.

There’s no excuse for hateful comments and there’s no need for them. We should be lifting each other up, not putting each other down.

As parents, we beat ourselves up enough don’t we? I know I do. And someone else sticking the boot in is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

So without bashing any other parents, what’s your take on a Babysitting app? It’s an interesting one isn’t it?

(First published on Donegal Woman on Thoroughly Modern Mammy

http://www.donegalwoman.ie/2017/10/22/is-different-wrong/ )

I am Sing it girl Mum

Mini-Me has taken to making up her own songs.

It’s adorable and Mammy is generally quite chuffled that she seems to have a tolerable voice and that she can rhyme off the top of her head.

Musical skills are very importantful in this life you know?

Yesterday’s fabulouscious song went like this:
(Think Buddy in Elf as he sings ๐ŸŽถ”I’m siiiiinging…”)

๐ŸŽต๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽต”I am going to fiiiiiind
my Pwince Chaaaming
And we will get maaaaawied
and then live in Scotland,
coz dat’s what Jesus teaches meeeee
to beeeeee!” ๐ŸŽต๐ŸŽถ๐ŸŽถ

Erm…๐Ÿ˜•๐Ÿ˜•๐Ÿ˜•

I don’t quite know where to go with this one.
Is that grape o’ clock me hears? ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ๐Ÿคฃ

Happy Friyay Lovelies xxx

I am Spiders and Knickers Mum

Mammy has had a fuckitty fuck-up of a day.

It all began this morning at 6.45am, when Mammyโ€™s coffee was interrupted by a meltdown over an imaginary spider and a pair of knickers.

โ€œGo get your pants and socks pleaseโ€ seems like a simple enough request, doesnโ€™t it?

Apparently not.

spiderweb

I don’t see a fricken spider…

Apparently,ย โ€œGo get your pants and socks pleaseโ€ is the code phrase for โ€œGo and imagine a spider that you canโ€™t possibly see on the dark wall without lights on, have an almighty shitbrick attack, refuse to move, scream like a wilder-beast whose nether-regions have been caught in a metal trap until the only way Mammy can get you to shut up long enough to listen is for Mammy to scream even LOUDER than you, to the point that we are both roaring the house down, ending ultimately in a tearstained stand-off.”

ย You see Darling, although yes,ย  it would be much easier for Mammy to go into the imaginary spider infested room and get the knickers and socks for you, this would also require Mammy giving in to your Primadona dramatics and losing the last string of authority Mammy has as well as the last string of sanity she just about has. No. As much as you dig those little heels in, Mammy HAS to wait for you to calm the feck down and eventually back down enough to at least look into the room (which Mammy has lit up with the amazingly clever light switch) to see that the mahoosive imagined spider is gone so you can run in dramatically and get your knickers and socks, otherwise Mammy will never get you to follow a single, simple instruction… EVER again…amen.

goats

Head to head…

Of course, Mammy should have just sucked it up and given in. Mammy knows that. It would have been much easier on everyone and most likely would have saved everyone from the Hellhole that our home had descended into by 7am. ย It might have saved us both from the tears and sobs and snots and general feelings of utter shittiness that lingered over us (me anyway) until approximately 4pm. ย Had Mammy not been such a stubborn, bad tempered, thran wench, and had you not been soooo like your Mammy, (you poor cretur), we might have had a peaceful and relaxed and tear-free morning.

sadmum

#mammyguilt

But no, we went full on “apocalypse now” and neither of us won. You went to school, ย probably knackered and emotional… Mammy walked in the staff-room door and fell to bits when a colleague asked how she was. You might have forgotten all about it by the time you got onto the bus…ย  Iโ€™m still feeling like social services are going to arrive on the doorstep this evening while Iโ€™m feeding you whatever the feck is in the freezer, because quite frankly, I donโ€™t have the emotional energy to think about cooking.

But for now, Mammy will have to pull up her big girl knickers and try her very best to make sure that this evening is the absolute opposite of the morning.ย  The Mammy guilt is real and Mammy needs the hugs just as much, if not more, than you do. And never worry about what’s for dinner. If weโ€™re stuck, thereโ€™s apparently a huge spider in your room. ย Maybe we could eat him.โ€

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Like Mammy, like Mini…