You is My Baby

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You is three.
You is clever.
You is strong.
You is beautiful.
You is brave.
You is kind.
You is sensitive.
You is stubborn.
You is headstrong.
You is frightening.
You is craycray.
You is scary.
You is manipulative.
You is powerful.
You is exhausting.
You is expensive.
You is strong … strangely strong.
You is hilarious.
You is cute.
You is a monster…


But you is OUR monster.

You is Me and your Daddy combined and we have no one to blame but ourselves. 😂😂

We is exasperated and we is proud and we is always behind you and your glittery wee wellies.

Go Baby, go.
You’ve got a world to change.

 

So Not Trendy Mammy

Notions.

This Mammy is full of them.

Oooooooh lookit! Look at the pretty floaty girly dress which would look lovely with heels or flat sandals,

Look at the patterns and colours and floatiness of the gazillion samey dresses in all the shops.

Mammy could pull that off.
Mammy could look as smashing as the Holly of the Willybooby in these dresses.
Mammy could begin to wear patterns even though Mammy knows full well that patterns swallow her up and make her look like a 1970s curtain has puked on her.

Mammy will look boho and chic and funkiful and cool.
Mammy may even try to match it with the white runners that everyone is looking so fablis in all over the instaworld…

And then Mammy TRIES ON one of the summer floaty stunners, and promptly turns into Nora Fuckin Batty.

“That’s GORGEOUS on you!” goos the 11 year old shop, impossibly beautiful assistant, through her perfectly puffed up lips. “You could try it with white runners? They are so in right now!”

(Yeah… they were in when thirty years ago too Lovey, and even then I knew how impractical white runners were. They wouldn’t last a day on me… And I’m pretty sure that if I added them to this get-up, I’d look like my 8 year old self, dressed in handmedowns from my older cousin which hung on me like curtains again too!)

Mammy looks at her unfortunate self in the mirrors, sees her Great Great Great Grandmother staring back at her.
She’s laughing.

Mammy smiles politely at the shopchild.

“Naw, it’s not really me. Thanks anyway!”

“Really? I think it looks AMAZING on you!”

(Of course you do.)

“I look like Nora Batty.”

“Heeehehehee! I have no idea who that is!”

Of course you don’t… FML

Mammy gets back into her tracksuit, with her NOT white runners, and run-walks out of the shop, wondering if Last of the Summer Wine is on Netflix and if that dress would look better with curlers in my hair.

White ones obviously.

Notions I tell you.

*that dress is beautiful Obviously. On her!

She’s Hard Work She Is…

Cripes alive Sis, She’s hard work today.

I know. She’s not herself.

Maybe she’s hungry. When did we last feed her?

Mmmm. We’ll get her a snack?
Yeah.

She slept all night last night too. She shouldn’t be tired.
Ah I dunno.

Maybe she’s got a wee temperature. It’s not like her to this cranky.

A wee drop of the magical pink elixer of life might do no harm…

Maybe it’s us. Are we doing something wrong?

It’s not us.
It’s just her.

It’s just a phase she’s going through. It’ll pass…

Chripes she’s hard work today though isn’t she?
Yup…

Wouldn’t change her for the world though, would we?

Well…
😂😂😂
😂

Stop Asking Questions Mammy

“Did you have a nice day at school?” yeah
“Any news for me?”  No
“What did you learn today?” Nuthin
“Did you learn anything new today?” Nope.  
“How are your friends?” Grand…
Bad Mammy, asking Lazy-Mammy questions. 
Don’t you know there are lists of Perfect Parenting question hacks, and higher-order clever-Mammy questions, that we can ask in order to engage our minions on the journey home or when they get in?
Yeah, whatever Jacinta. 
Trust me, even if I were to ask “Can you tell me one new thing you learned today?” I’d still get “Nuthin”.
Or
“Tell me one thing you found out at school today?”  “Nuthin”
Or
“Did Teacher tell you anything interesting today?”  “Nope!”
Or
“Is there anything exciting that you’d like to share with me today?”  “Yeah… silence”.    
Ok, maybe she wouldn’t SAY this, but I’ll bet she’s thinking it. If she could articulate properly, she’d probably tell me she wants a big fat cup of shut the feck up Mammy… 
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She MIGHT say “I’ve just spent the whole day answering questions and concentrating and listening and translating in my head. I’ve been Good-Me since 8.30am. I’m now in the car, safe and back with you.  I want to NOT think.  I want to sleep.  I want to watch TV.  I want to cry.  I want to throw a tantrum so that I can eventually spill that I had a fight with my BFF or that I got hit by a ball again… But right now, I need to adjust.  I need to go from being my public-at-school little self, to my actual self.  Much like you take off your makeup and stick your hair in a bun and throw on your PJ bottoms and one of Daddy’s teeshirts to switch off from YOUR job-job, I need to transition too. So, a mummy Dearest,  if you’d keep your prattling, repetative questions to yourself until my brain has a chance to catch up, we MIGHT have a chat then.”
The wobbler one?  
I try.
I try I do. 
I waste my time there too.
“Did you have a good day?”… Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo
“What did you do today?” … “Paw Patrol”
“Did you miss Mammy?”…  “Pawpatrol”
“What do you want for dinner?”… “I don’t WANT dinner. I haved dinner alweady!”
“Did you do anything nice today?”… “No!”
She thinks    “Mammy’s home.  I am sooooo done keeping my little shit together.  I must now scream and huff and growl and eyebrow-furrow and stomp, and howl “Paw Patrol” enough times to make Mammy either turn ON Paw Patrol or huggle me and squeeze me and…oh look, my big sister is huffing  and staring out the window.  I shall do that too.  Oh look, my big sister is crying.  Not sure what she is crying about, but hey, it looks like it might feel good and possibly punish Mammy a little, so I shall CRY TOO.  Why am I crying?  Feck knows, but hey!
Mammy is sighing and muttering letters under her breath. Me not know letters.  
Mammy should stop annoying me and Big Sis wif silly questions on our way home.
Does her not know by now, that we will both keep ALL of our stories and excitingful information until 5 minutes after bedtime?
…Or until 3.15am, when I shall stick a finger up her nose to wake her to tell her dat Johnny bumped hims head on hims croissant. 
Sssssssh Mammy…”
#fml