Author Archives: Maria Rushe - Blogger and Writer

I am Some New Year’s Resolutions Mum

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​My lazy self has decided that ACTUALLY, I probably should make a few New Year’s resolutions after all.  I’m feeling a bit left out on Social Media today as everyone posts their resolves and memes about the new year and blank canvasses and new beginnings.

ANd then I remembered writing some resolutions at the end of 2016, and I found the post.

Turns out, they are EXACTLY the same as what I want to write today.  Does this mean that I didn’t achieve my goals in 2017?  NO.  I kept everyone alove and well and kept my general sh*t between the ditches, didn’t I?  No.  It simply reminds me that parenting is a constant process and that being the perfect parent is elusive.

And so I begin 2018 with similar thoughts.

1. I must stop scolding Mini-Me. It doesn’t feckin work anyway. I’m wasting my energy.

2. I will be calm and zenned at all times… (mostly after 8pm when the Minions are snoring and I have a glass of something soothing in my hand.)

3. I will learn a new language.  Something foreign and exotic and sexy…Yeah. Actually, No.  My arse.  I have enough bother getting coherent sentences to come out of my mouth in English, and now that I’m having to say the sound “BUH” instead of fucking “BEEE” for the letter b, I’m already technically learning one anyway.  My brain would combust with any more pressure. (Seriously, how the hell are the kids going to spell their namesnin the future! “Muh-iiiih-naaaa-iiiii-muuuuu-eeeeee”  That shit bothers me.)

4. I will get rid of the 18.4 stone I’ve eaten and supped over Christmas…(starting next Monday.  There’s 6 more days until the New Year technically begins.) #operationskinnyarse

5. I will never raise my voice to my child.  (I shall lean in and whisper. It’s much more effective. Bookface taught me that one. It’s good isn’t it.)

6. I shall have a clean house at all times.  (At least once a year, for at least 3 days.The rest of the time? Yeah right! If I can keep them all generally alive, fed and clothed in public, I say I’m winning.)

7. I shall never blackmail or bribe my children. That would be terrible. Such techniques are only employed by bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch mamma…( Maybe I should change this to I will try to stop being a bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch Mamma? Might be a better starting point than giving up blackmail. Can’t go cold turkey like…)

8. I shall travel more and make more time for me.   (I shall take the long way home once a week, AND I’ll listen to the RADIO instead of the fecking FROZEN soundtrack when I’m in the car on my own.  Now THAT is Mam-ME time guys! )

9. I shall stop having imaginary arguments with people while I am in the shower or the car.  It’s not healthy, especially when you turn around, mid-rant covered in lather and Mini-Me is standing staring at you and asks “Who are you talking to Mammy?” or interrupts your rant with “LANGUAGE!” in that condescending, disapproving tone of hers from the back seat, causing you to almost crash the frickin car with fright.  Maybe this is just me? Anyone else?

10. I shall stop drinking grapejuice … gin is not as calorific apparently. And Slimline tonic is basically just water isn’t it?

11. I shall stop swearing.

12. I shall stop lying and accept myself as the deluded, delusional talker of general shite that I am.

I could keep going. But in reality, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing next year.  I might be doing stuff wrong, but I’m also doing stuff right and that’s all that matters.

What are your resolutions for 2018?

 

Wishing you a magical Christmas (1)

Happy New Year!

I am Say Hello to 2017 Mum

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​2016 was as well behaved as a threenager and as predictable as toddler’s tantrum, but BOY was it feckin FABLIS!
This time last year, I had NO IDEA that the blog would become a daily one, or that so many people would interact.  I never dreamed that it would be so well received or that it’d EVER end up nominated for a national award.  I never imagined the friendships it would bring me… 💖💖💖
Secrets of S-Mum gives me enjoyment and keeps me sane … well, just a little sane.  It’s offered me some savage opportunities this year and as I enter 2017, I’m excited and determined to keep writing. I LOVE that even the shittiest days can make another S-Mum smile. We’re all as batshit-crazy-biscuits as each other! And we Supermums really DO have the power.

  We’re amazing.

 We’re Fablis.  

We’re glitter-farting unicorns. 🦄🦄🦄


I have big plans for my wee blog and as we start a new chapter, I want to thank those Supermums who follow me and comment and share and like and message me.  Your support and reaction not only makes me happy, it makes me want to keep writing.  
So thank you, from the bottom of my glass, for the love and laughs.

And bring on 2017 Bitcheepooooos.
Let’s see where this poonami wave brings us, will we?
But for now, my Minions are asleep after watching last year’s London countdown (she wanted to see where Uncle Binam lives!😅😅), the PJs are on and The Him and I are supping on bubbles.


Have a lovely evening, whatever you’re at Ladybelles.
See you on the other side.
Much love,💋💋💋
The S-Mum and The Him

😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

I am Sending her on her way Mum

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​Mammy guilt.

I’ve decided that that Sanctimonious Bitch can waddle on her way.
Mammy Guilt
That horrible guilt that Mammies feel. It hits us in two ways:

1. Sometimes it creeps up slowly, beginning as a niggle, but then grows into a giant “butterfly in your tummy”.  (Actually, no.  It’s not a butterfly. It’s more comparable to a drunk, out of control, giant Pigeon that crashes against your insides asnit tries to escape your tummy.)

2. Sometimes it hits you like an articulated lorry, out of the blue.
Either way, it hits. 
 Sometimes over seemingly insignificant things, you know? Like, “They’re having pizza and waffles for tea again.” or “I haven’t bathed him in a week” or “Jam sandwiches for the second day because I forgot to go to the shop.”  We know we’re not following the “Perfect Mammy rule book” and we can guess how our Sanctimammy friend would react if she saw our crimes.

 Bring on the Mammy guilt.
Other times, it’s over bigger things or events. You know that wedding you’re going to? Where you’re going to stay overnight? That you’re reeeeeeally looking forward to? But as it draws nearer, you seriously consider making excuses to the Bride because you just don’t know how you’re going to leave your Minion for 24 hours. Or that nightbout with the girls? Or leaving them in Childcare while you go to work…or not being able to invite the whole class to his party because the money just isn’t there…or telling her “5 minutes Mammy’s working”…
  Oh bring on the Mammy guilt. 
It’s endless. It’s indiscriminate. It pops up in the weirdest places and it can be suffocating. Because it makes us feel wrong, uncertain…useless even.
 How often have you wished the baby monitor to quieten down, only to feel an urge to go in and snuggle her after 20 minutes? How often have you looked at the clock at 5pm and willed it to be bedtime, and then felt like crap because she crawls up for a snuggle? How often have you been given the chance of an extra hour in bed, only to feel like your gut is going to self-combust when you hear your baby crying? You know that she’s safe with Daddy or Granny or whoever is with her, but your Mammy guilt forces you to drag you ass downstairs to check.
That’s the Mammy guilt.


This morning, the Him let me lie in. After a while, I heard the bath running.  He was bathing the girls… my first reaction was “I’d better get up.”  I sat up. My head was automatically filled with thoughts like “Where are her clothes?” “How will he manage both?” “Does he have everything set up?” ” I’d better get up.”  I felt GUILTY that I was snuggled up in bed while Daddy was bathing the girls. 
And then I copped myself the feck on and lay back down!  

Because you see, that’s where we Mammies are going wrong.  We’re allowing the Mammy guilt to be a bad thing. We’re allowing it to make us feel like we must be doing something wrong if we’re feeling guilty.

But we’re not doing anything wrong. It took all of my strength to not interfere… to let him decide what they would wear…to batter the guilt down and stop worrying about something so silly!
If anything, the fact that we’re worrying about being a good Mammy, means that we ARE good Mammies.   Is that “guilt” not simply what keeps us on the right track?
My New Year’s resolution for 2017 is simple.
  I’m taking the Mammy Guilt and I am kicking it out the door.  Instead, I’m going to call it my MammyCheck.

  Because that feeling is not guilt.
 It is panic. It is fear.  It is worry. It’s our mind’s way of making us Check and Double check our decisions.

 If we’re feeling it, we’re being good Mammies already.  
It will a lot of effort and it will take a lot of time, but if we decide to take our Mammy Guilt and turn it into a positive thing, it’s worth a try right?
So if you’re in the throes of making your New Year’s resolutions for tomorrow, add one in.

Refuse to feel the Mammy guilt. Take it as a sign that you’re already fablis. 


Xxxx 😚😚😚😚😚

I am Stupid Christmas Cards Mum

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​Oh it’s time for Grapes…
Tonight, S-Mum did something really stupid…

Like, REEEEEEALLY fecking stupid!
“Would you like to write your Christmas Cards Mini-Me Dearest?”
I bought the cute little packet of cards weeks ago, thinking it would be so cute to let her write the cute little cards and give them to her cute little frineds.  And the first few cards were indeed cute.
After No. 4, she got bored.
By No.6, her writing had gone from “impressive” to “WTF?” 
By No.9., she’d decided she no longer needed the word “from”.
No.10 required 3 attempts because she feel out with the letter K and defaced each card in utter frustration.
Trying to write her teacher’s full name caused utter MELTDOWN at No.11 as it wouldn’t fit on the card width and so she now has the last 3 letters vertically down the side… (My eyes are bleeding… but there was more chance of Santa leaving Mammy a Chanel Handbag than there was starting THAT again!)
We eventually made it to No. 20something and she is now away to bed, only DELIGHTED with herself. 😅The cards are packed in her bag, ready for her to forget to give out tomorrow…
Mammy learned a few things also.😈

These are:
1. I don’t know how to spell some names.

2. Some Mums may be offended at how I think their Minion’s name is actually written.

3. I know we have forgotten at least 6 names, given that there are not the same number of cards as kids in her class, but I am not psychic, nor do I remember names anyway, so I don’t really know how to get around that one.

4. The handwriting genius that I smugly THOUGHT I had here, is NOT ACTUALLY a Handwriting Genius.  In fact, as I opened some of the cards from her classmates this past week, my inner Soccer Mom was beginning to bubble and boil in a fucked up combination of jealousy and annoyance… “Why is her writing so neat? This one looks like one of my 5th years wrote it? Wtf is wrong with my Mini-Me?” Her lovely, and I thought accomplished, scrawl that I’ve proudly shown to Grannies and Aunties and anyone else who stands in front of me, in some cases looks like the signature of a shitfaced orangutan beside the BEAUTIFUL script of Miss Annabelle* or Master Simon*…(obviously I’m changing the names here!😂)

5. I need to work on her handwriting.

6. I should really get a list of the class names from somewhere.

7. Some children have better handwriting than my daughter.

8. But I bet their Mums spent 3 weeks drafting and redrafting their cards with them.

9. Or maybe, the mums actually WROTE the cards, just making them look a bit messy ajd childlike to pass them off as the handwriting of their minion to make other Mums like me freak the fuck out.

10. It’s time for wine. 🍷🍷


How was your Chooseday?

Did you choose red or white? 😚😚😚

I am Some rules I’d make Mum 😅

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​If I were Queen of the whole world (as opposed ro my own little corner), there are a few things I would change about Christmas…
1. Christmas on a weekend is a bit shit.  Why? Because for so many, it will come and go just like an ordinary bank holiday weekend.  Christmas needs to be on a Wednesday or some other such midweekday so that both the before and after working weeks are ridiculously short allowing everyone to get excited and bouncy and Christmassy from the Sunday before because it’s only a 2 day week and then it’s holiday time!

Because it’s a Sunday, we’re all trudging along this week asking “Are we there yet?” Most people will finish work on Friday evening and suddenly fricken Christmas Eve will be upon us faster than a baby’s poonami hits a clean nappy.
2. Only good drivers should be allowed on the road from the 21st until the 24th.  Because Christmas Eve this year is suddenly “Saturdayed”, the last minute panic (and for some, ALL their shopping) will have to be done on Saturday.  This would not be a huge problem if everyone knew how to DRIVE.  The town will inevitably stand still with non-moving cars and the special Dumbasses who the Grinch or some other Gremlin sends down from Dumbass Land, and who ONLY come out to drive on Christmas Eve and who test the patience of EVERYONE else by not using INDICATORS or knowing what a fucking YELLOW BOX is.  They are not even real people.  I think they’re like Matrix people who we can all SEE blocking the roundabout or taking 2 hours to reverse their corsa into two spaces, but they’re not ACTUALLY real… they can’t be.  That level of Dumbass doesn’t exist does it?


3. The shops should all close at 3pm on Christmas Eve.  Why? So that the creturs working in them get to GO HOME to their families of course! Be nice to retailers Ladybelles.  You might be stressed, but they’re still working. When I am queen, the whole world shall shut down early and Christmas shall be forced to begin at a decent hour.
4. Anyone who parks in a disabled spot or a parent spot without good reason or genuine need, should be zapped by a glitterfying lazer and beamed to a 1980s Tellybox set like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where they shall have to stay until Boxing Day.  Better still, their CAR shoould be zapped away from them as they lock it so they can see just how fucking difficult it is to suddenly have an unnecessarily long distance to navigate a wheelchair or crutches or 3 screaming kids and 10 bags, just because they think they’re more special than the rest of the world.  Pricks. (Note…this applies all year round. 🤐)
5. Children and Hims should not be allowed to get sick before or during Christmas.  It’s hugely unfair on the Mamma Bears who are already trying to fit ALL THE EVERYTHING into their lunchbreaks and do the full grocery shopping in 8 minutes flat enroute to the school gate.  It is highly inconvenient and terribly upsetting when your minions suddenly feel poop at this time.  Of course it could always be worse… especially if your Him decides to do his annual Nutcracker rendition and act out the part of the useless and slightly tragic wooden soldier who needs something fucking magical to instill life and joy into his bones again.  Of course I’m not referring to my own Him here.  😇He is a Braveheartesque soldier at all times😲😲 and never succumbs to manflu or calls for his Mammy when his Her tells him to “man the fuck up.”
6. Cars will have a secret “other” boot.  This will stop the drama of “How the feck will I get the stuff that isn’t really there and can never be seen by little eyes into the house before they decide to open the boot to throw their schoolbags in?” Such a debachle!
7. All Mammies will be allowed to drink tea or grapes or gin as early as they like from the 20th.  Sorry…the 19th 😂😂 until at LEAST January 3rd.  This shall be law.

Oh and everyone shall smile always, and wear big hats (which will ALL be made XL to fit humongously craniumed wenches like S-Mum) and we shall all be lovely to each other and sparkle like glittery unicorns because tis the fricken season and all that.
How was your day?

Are we there yet? 🎄🎅🦄🎄🍷🎅🎄🦄🍷🎅🎄❄⛄🎄🎅🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷