Monthly Archives: November 2017

I am Some Last Firsts Mum

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My Baby

Tonight Mammy is hormental.

I’m coming to terms with the fact that even though I keep referring to Princess as The Baby, she is in fact, not a baby any more.

Tonight, I put my last one year old to bed for the last time.

In the morning, she shall be two.

Two.  

A real number.  

No longer counted in months… no more 18 months.  No more “one and a bit”.

Nope.  From tomorrow, she is TWO.

And someone needs to pinch me and explain how the HELL that happened?

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In my head, she’s a Baby.  

But more and more as I look at her, I’m getting reminded that she is in fact a little girl. She’s a toddler.  She’s a kid.  

Not a baby any more.

And while her dress for her 2nd birthday party is for aged 3, it doesn’t matter how big she gets, or how tall she gets, or how old she gets.  She WILL always be MY Baby.  

Maybe I’m emotional because I reckon she’s my last first; my Last first birthday. Last first shoes.  Last first tummy bug.  Last first tooth.  She’ll be our last first day at school.  Last first everything.

Does this make me sad?  NOPE.  But it does make me pay just a little more attention to these little lasts.  I find myself memorising things. Watching a little more closely.  Hugging a little tighter.

And while tonight should not be sad, because of course every year marks a celebration of life and of health… for some reason, I have a wee lump in my throat.  I was teary putting her into her cot.  I found myself watching her and savouring her more today.  Maybe because of that last first.  

How did she get so big?  Where have those 2 years gone?  If I close my eyes, I can still smell her as a new baby snuggled into me.  I can still see her face as it was the second I met her.  In my head, she hasn’t changed a bit.  In reality, she’s thriving. And I thank my lucky stars.

Tonight, as I tuck them in, I have a five-and-a-half-and-three-quarter year old who will be 17 on her next birthday… and a Baby.

From tomorrow, I’ll have a five-and-a-half-and-three-quarter year old who will be 17 on her next birthday… and a TWOublemaker.

Let the fun begin.
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I am Saving the Day Mum

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Mini-Me began to BAWL on the way home this evening.

“What’s the matter Darling?”

“I have vewy bad nooooos Mammy”

“Oh no? What happened?”
(Sobbing…)

“Michael Jackson has DIED!”


(WAAAAAAILS for at least 2 minutes, thankfully so grief-stricken that she doesn’t realise I am in fits of laughter in the front seat. In fairness, with my shoulders dancing as they are, she possibly thinks I am sharing in her devestation.)

What should I say? How do I deal with her grief? When did she begin caring about Michael Jackson?

What does a sensitive, open and emotionally supportive Mammy say to their child in such a situation?

“Cheesy pasta for tea?”

“Oooooh yes please!”

#mammywin #sorted

I am “Searching for a Babysitter?” Mum

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Babysitters.

As the season of Christmas parties and events approaches, so too arises the question of babysitters.

So many people find it difficult to get a sitter, whether for weddings, parties, or even just to go to a class or an appointment. Finding someone who you can trust to mind your most precious possession in the world is difficult, especially if you live away from family.

Recently, I’ve been following conversations online about Babysitting apps and websites that offer parents the chance to find and meet possible babysitters.   My initial reaction was that such a service isn’t for me.  And it isn’t… simply because I don’t need it to be.

I’m so very lucky to have a great support network around me, largely due to the fact that I built my house in the field next to my Mum and Dad… (Dad drew the line at me building in their garden!)  

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However, I know that so many parents aren’t surrounded with eleventy-billion family members and I know that there are plenty Mums and Dads who would gladly use such a service, where it available here in Donegal.

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So, when Babysits.ie got in touch to ask if I’d like to review their new website and service here in Letterkenny, I declined politely.

As I said, it’s not for me…but then I remembered what I’m ALWAYS PREACHING…

“just because it’s not for me, doesn’t mean that it’s not for everyone”.

There are lots of parents who could find themselves a great babysitter through this site.  And so I thought I’d simply share the website for you to look at if it IS something that you might avail of.

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Here is the map of where they provide the service.

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They also have a Facebook community if you’d like to check them out.     Find it here

Parenting is hard.  If something works for you, use it.  If it doesn’t, don’t.

It’s really that simple.

 

 

(This is not an endorsement of or an advert for the site.  It’s simply a service that I have become aware of here in Donegal, that parents may be glad to know about.)

 

I am Silent Puker Mum

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How to sleep with a silent puker… 😐

Who the hell am I kidding? There IS NO sleeping with a silent puker.😥😥

Princess makes no noise.
None.
She can empty the 4 stomachs she seems to have inherited from the Granda’s cows, without making so much as a single sound. 😂 It’s shocking.
Not.
a.
Fricken.
SOUND!

And it means that when she is unwell, (which quite frankly seems to be every fecking FORTNIGHT since we went back to school😠), Mammy here gets to spend the night with small person’s foot shoved up her nostril, or her skull on my nose…

The bed is covered in towels, the basin is set on the bedside locker. Of course, she manages to sleep on the only part of the bed that ISN’T covered by towel and if she pukes, I can damn be sure that she’ll hit the ONE part of the bed that hasn’t been protected! 😂

I end up dozing, sitting upright in the bed, constantly ready to jump for the basin. Every sound she makes, every time she turns, every time her breathing changes or pauses… Crazy frog here is wide awake and ready to pounce.

Everytime she gets a tummy bug, I end up booking a session with a physio within a week because my Mammy Bear reflexes are more concerned with keeping her safe (and keeping the fricken bed clean😂!) than minding my dodgy back.

The Him gets banished to the spare room. Not by me.
Hitler-beag doesn’t like sharing beds with anyone but Mammy. She hisses at him like a deranged Gollum determined not to share her “Precious” with anyone.
Poor lucky Fecker… 😐😂😐

He checked us this morning before he went to work. We looked like a right angle apparently. Her leg was across my jaw. I swear to God, there’s times I think that wee Doll would climb back inside me if she could.

So yes. Poor Baby.
And Poor Mammy. (Seriously. Shape of me!)

Night 1: No sound = No sleep.

She’s snoring now…in her own room. I’ve only checked her 23 times since 7.30pm.
And so begins Night 2: the night of “Mammy needs to but can’t sleep becuase she’s going to leap out of the bed and run to her room everytime she moves in the cot”…

What the feck am I like?
Anyone else got a silent puker?

I am Swapping Bacon for Magic Mum

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🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷
Mammies.

I have had a genius idea.

My Princess LOVES Peppa Pork. She loves that fat little pink Piggy to the point that it is becoming quite the obsession. Peppa, or “Peepa” as she calls her, has been on the Tellybox here for 5 and a half and 3/4 years. Mini-Me could take Peppa or leave her. (Come to think of it, she’s still not bothered about bacon.)

And while I don’t mind her having little things that she seems fond of or excited by, Peppa of the Pork is not one that I am overly keen to encourage.

Why?

She’s just a cartoon character after all isn’t she? Well yes. And as a teddy, or on clothing, or in toys I don’t mind her. As little figurines to play with, or in books to point at, she’s fine. And while to adults, it has been suggested that Peppa looks remarkably like a doodle of a phallic nature, to children, her pinkness is apparently aesthetically pleasing and wonderful.

No. It’s not her love for Peppa that bothers me. I’m glad she’s finally showing an interest in something other than food and licking the fridge… It’s the script of the TV show that I have issues with.

Peppa is a brat. Pure and simple. She is cheeky, spoilt and whiney. Boundaries were never created in that house. She answers back, regularly tells Daddy Pig he is fat and is so cheeky to her friends that there is a full episode dedicated to them betting her she can’t stay quiet so they can get some peace.

I’m surprised the other talking animals bother with her at all. She whines and complains and is quite the Negative Nelly. And at no point does Mammy or Daddy rebuke her or tell her what she’s saying is naughty.

She’s a bossy little rasher. Expectant and entitled and don’t even start me on the way she speaks to Mammy.

I’ll wager that Mammy Pig has a secret stash of pink gin hidden behind that computer of hers.

Yes, I know. She’s just a cartoon character, but when she seems to be on repeat in your ear for nearly 6 years, I think it’s quite acceptable to dislike her. And when your children begin mimicking her, then, she becomes quite the pain in the pork.
But last week, I had a brainwave.

After 2 days of my Princess being confined to the sofa feeling under the weather, and 2 days of my brain being FRIED by Peppa referring to Daddy Pig’s big belly and telling poor Gawj “You’re too little”, I could take no more.

I did the “flick” part of the Netflix and came across the best alternative to Peppa Pig, EVER!

Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom.


The animation is identical to Peppa Pig. The narrator/voice structure is similar enough to Peppa to lure an unsuspecting 2 year old in, and the sound track is not quite as irritating…yet. Enough of a difference for her to raise a suspicious eyebrow, but not dramatic enough for her to refuse to watch it.

But the biggest bonus is that the characters are generally NICE to each other. Yes there are mishaps and magic tricks going wrong etc, and Wise Old Elf and Nanny Plum have some serious issues to get over, but in general, it is entertaining.  In fact, I am not afraid to say that Nanny Plum is a legend.   She speaks the truth Mammies. She is fablis.

And there is no whiny, annoying, bold little bad example in it.
So yes, I have finally lost my marbles. I have just written a full post on how Ben and Holly is better than Peppa Pig.

But hey! That’s where we are in our house these days, and they do say you should write what you know, don’t they? I could have written about In the Night Garden, but I’m not quite that barmy yet and I don’t think there’d be enough wine to inspire that…

Which TV shows are/were on repeat in your house?

First published on Donegal Woman in my Thoroughly Modern Mammy column