I am superstitious-Mum?

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I step out of the shower and look at my toes.  I then apologize, out loud, to my toenails. I think I’ve probably had the same red polish on them for months.  I vaguely remember slapping a layer of “Chick Flick Cherry” on them just before Christmas, when a unexpected offer of a babysitter allowed a last minute dinner date with Husband .  There isn’t much left on them if I’m honest.  It’s more like a thin red line across them, piteously reminding me where the polish used to be!

Whatever way I describe them, they deserve the vocalized apology, which is followed by a resolution to fix them tonight…(and then a giggle as I realize that I am talking to my toenails.)

I’m reminded of the superstitious ideas that were embedded in our minds as children.  “You have to change your underwear/socks.  God forbid you were in an accident! What would the doctors/ambulance crew etc think?”  

This thought genuinely remained as a little voice in the back of my mind every morning until one day, I realized that said hypothetical doctors etc, really wouldn’t give a toss about the state of my knickers if they had to meet me.

Some of us are superstitious about everything.  We don’t walk under ladders.  We avoid black cats.  Some of us even have lucky knickers or socks!  We NEVER put new shoes on the table! (This one bothers me…how the heck are we supposed to gaze lovingly at them?!)

We don’t step on the cracks. We bless ourselves if we pass an ambulance, even if we’re not religious.  Just in case. We wave at bloody magpies, just in case…And Heaven help us if we find a bird inside the house!

Even if we’re not superstitious, we can often find our actions being subconsciously determined by old wives’ tales.

I’m not superstitious. I think that they are harmless as long as we don’t let them take over our thinking. I remember the terror on a friend’s face when I mentioned that I’d gone to a wake when I was pregnant. At the same time, I loved the endless predictions of whether it was a boy or a girl, based on the position of bump, or my wedding ring tied on a string!  It was harmless fun.

But really, what are superstitions? Is there any truth in them, or are they born from people simply trying to make sense of something unfathomable?

Is it not just coincidence that a mirror fell and smashed two days before something bad happened?

Will buying a partner a watch, really mean that your time together is short? Did they come from people trying to explain the inexplicable?

Or did they come from parents trying to get their children to do something?  “If you don’t eat your carrots, you’ll go blind”. “If the wind changes, your face will get stuck like that.” Do we pass on these harmless notions to our kiddies without even realizing we do it?

I know I’m not in charge and that life is going to throw what it wants at me.  I’m armed with optimism and hope that it’ll all work out.  I hope that I’ll teach Mini-me what my Daddy taught me…”99% of the things you worry about, never happen.”

So today, on Friday the 13th, be as superstitious as you like.  Or don’t.  It really doesn’t matter. Tonight, I will put the Boss to bed, make dinner, pour a well deserved glass of vino and fix my poor, unloved toenails.

Not because I’m worried that I’ll have a horrible accident and that Dr. McDreamy will judge me on my chipped polish, but because they really are a mess! And I might even put on my lucky knickers! 🙂

Superstitious-Mum xxx images

Supermum?

To be someone’s Mum is a gift.  From early childhood, little girls happily play at being mum to younger siblings, or indeed to dolls, or pets.

Me, I’m the proud and doting mum of a 3 year old Drama Queen, and I am happy to admit, that I am STILL playing!  No handbook arrived with the little sweetheart.  I don’t have a degree in parenting.  I don’t have a bloody clue really!

I make it up every day.  I make decisions that I know make my own Mum cringe.  I’m sure that at times, my dear Granny shakes her perfectly blow-dried head in horror at my parenting techniques.

In fact, sometimes, I swear that I’m having an outer body experience when I deal with the child.

The Boss, as she has taken to calling her pretty self, stands in front of me; arms crossed, pout perfected, audience’s attention caught and voice ready and poised to hit those terrifying high notes…while I chuckle like a crazy lady as I watch myself try to remain in control;  Deep breaths, calm expression, remind myself that I am the adult here.

“Listen Darling.  We need to leave the toy back on the shelf for another wee child. “

I’m winning.

“Good girl.  Now, come on and we’ll go get a Babychino and then we’ll go home and watch Minions…”  (Yes, blackmail.  Get over it.  It works…sometimes.)

I have her… I just need to get her to take my hand and then we’ll skip happily out of the shop, leaving behind the assembled audience in a cloud of applause, appreciation and awe at how well that mammy handled that…

“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!  I NEEEEEEEEEEEED TEDDY!!!!” Cue autotap tears and stratospheric screaming… Oh! and don’t forget the kicks and snake-like movements as I try to lift her gracefully into my arms.

I manage to wrench her under one arm, pick up the bags and move out of the shop.  The audience shake heads and probably judge.  At this moment in time, I want my Mammy!

We reach the bench outside.  I put screaming child down and hunker down to have a positive parenting style talk with her. Her beautiful blue eyes are glistening with tears and her cheeks give the word “Rosy” a new level of meaning.

“Now Madam, listen to me.  Don’t EVER…”

Her attention has been distracted by the huge cluster of helium balloons behind me.

“PEPPAAAAAAA PIG!!!  Mammy wuk!  It’s Peppa Pig bawoooooon!  I NEEEEEEEEED IT”

Tears gone.  Smile on. Adorable wee face up close into mine.  “Pweeeeease Mammy. I wub it!”

“Next day we’re out, I’ll buy you a balloon okay?”

“Okay Mammy!”

And as we skip off towards the car, I look at the messy little head on her, and I know that for all my “playing”, I’m not doing a bad job really.

I am blessed.  I am exhausted.  I am happy.  I would kill for a glass of Merlot.  I am 100% in love with Mini-me. I’m trying my best.

I am Super Mum. 🙂

 

Three years later and I’m still thinking about Merlot, but I have 2 little ladies and a whole lot less shits to give!

M