Author Archives: Maria Rushe - Blogger and Writer

​I am Survival List Mum

Posted in children, family, Uncategorized by


“Surviving Christmas,” “Christmas Survival Tips for the Working Mum”, “How to Survive Christmas”…

I googled this last night.

Some of the “advice” online is nothing short of HILARIOUS.  I fear most of it may have been written by one of the following:

🎄Mary of the Poppins herself

🎄Someone without kids

🎄A Man… 😂😂😂
Here are some of the best pieces I gleaned, followed by my honest and polite response: Buckle up Bitcheepoos…😙😉
1.  “Be Prepared.”

No shit Sherlock.  As opposed to waking on Christmas Eve and remembering to buy a turkey and gifts? Seriously…
2. “Buy gifts throughout the year and wrap them as you go.”

Now this one I can partially agree with, except S-Mum’s would read “Buy gifts throughout the year, put them somewhere safe and then forget all about them until the week before Christmas, when you have all the gifts bought and then open a box or bag or suitcase and find all the PawPatrol jigsaws you bought in July.  Or even better, find them when you’re putting the decorations away in January!”
3. “Choose a theme for your gifts to add that personal magic”.

Here’s a theme.  Shut the fuck up.  Most of us just about manage to buy for everyone we have to buy for.  And if you’re anything like me, you’ll remember someone on Christmas Day and freak out with guilt and embarrassment and mumble some crap about it not being delivered on time before popping to the loo to order on Amazon with next day delivery. (But if you doooooo want to add a personal touch and be remembered fondly by your loved ones, put glitter🦄 into all of the cards and gifts so that their floors get clattered and you are applauded for spreading the magic of Christmas. Go ahead, I dare you! 😂😂)
4. “Place delicate or expensive ornaments on higher branches.”

Ok this one, I can empathise with.  Especially if you have toddlers or dogs. 🐶But in reality, put delicate or expensive decorations in the ATTIC and leave them there until 2023.
5. “Ice the Christmas Cake 2 weeks before Christmas”

Or in real life, remember on the 23rd that for some reason you need a Christmas cake and either pop to M&Spensive or decide not to bother with cake this year. Either way, it doesn’t really matter does it?
6. “Decorating the home should be a family occasion followed by a family meal.”

Oh really? Should it really? If by “family meal” you mean a bottle of wine after the kids have all gone to bed, then yes…yes this is true. 😅 Decorating the home is, for most, a painful and highly stressful process which generally takes more than one afternoon and involves tears, mess and even declarations of divorcing children and husbands.  If you can get the actua tree up in one go, save yourself the stress and put everything else up by yourself, on your own, without the rest of the family annoying your head.  After bedtime is ideal.😘😉
7. “Keep alcohol locked away.”

Out of the reach of children yes, but keep the key in your frilly fecking apron.
8. “Stock up on essentials:  batteries, bread, milk and cream.”

Why there is no gin or wine on this list, is beyond me.
9. “Go Christmas Shopping without children. Bring a drink and a snack with you.”

Who the hell wrote this?  If you can get someone to mind the minions for an hour, OF COURSE, go Christmas shopping without them. Have a gin and eat chocolate.
10. “Create a cleaning schedule for your home to keep on top of things this Christmas”.

There aren’t enough swear words for this one. A Cleaning Schedule? Who the hell has time to write a cleaning schedule? In the time it would take me to write a cleaning schedule, I would probably have half the cleaning done.  If you can keep floors lego free and counters salmonella free, you’re doing great! You deserve a treat. 💚
There were a few little nuggets in fairness.  Some of the better advice included “Scale down your expectations”, “Invent your own traditions”, and “Give yourself a break.”

Another gem that I completely agree with is “Buy disposable baking trays”: I stock up on aluminium turkey trays every year and everything is cooked in them.  It’s a life saver!


The lists and articles largely did what they always do however; put undue pressure on already busy parents to stress themselves to create a picture perfect Christmas card-esque scene that in reality, is nonsense.

Do what YOU want to do.  Buy what YOU can afford.  Cook what YOU like to eat. If you don’t like mince pies, don’t fricken buy them. If you want to let your kids open all of the presents on Christmas morning, do it!  If you like to wrap all the everything, do so.  If you don’t, DON’T!

It’s that simple.  We don’t need a survival list to survive Christmas, we need to give ourselves a break and enjoy it, because if you take a second to stop and look around you, often in the midst of lost presents and superfluous food shopping, you can see a little bit of magic without having to buy it.
What is your favourite “Survival tip” and why?

I am Some things I never knew Mum

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​Things that no one tells a soon to be Mamma.

Please be aware that this is a NHB  (No holding back) post which may contain TMI for some readers! 😂😂

If you read this and wish you hadn’t, too bad really… But you can’t say you weren’t warned!

The Early Days

1. The first visitors to the hospital will be a blur. I was so out of it on adrenaline and whatever horse tranquilisers they’d given me that my first visitors still talk about how “great” I was… And yet I don’t remember a thing about the first day!

If you have other kids, manipulating the visitors so that your kids and then Grandparents are first in, is a military operation!   Hopefully it will only be your nearest and dearest who come along initially.

Most people are good at knowing that it’s best to wait until Mamma is settled at home before they visit.  There are no rules of course, but in my little rule book, only go to the hospital if it’s one of your closest friends or a close family member.

2. The interruptions:  You’ll just have drifted off to snooze after finally getting your little one to nod off and the door of the ward shall swing open and in comes “The Beeper”.

The Beeper is the little Blood Pressure monitor and fancy trolley the lovely nurses push from ward to ward to make sure you and baby are doing OK.  It looks like Johnny 5 and has a habit of appearing at the most inconvenient times.

Don’t get me wrong.  The nurses have a schedule and have to do their rounds and it’s all in your best interest, but you will learn to loath the Beeper.  But it’s only for a few days and it makes going home to your own bed all the sweeter.

3. Your first toilet trip:  With Mini-Me, I read all the books.  ALL of them! My Darling mother happily answered my questions with brutal honesty.  When I found out I’d be having her by section, my amazing friend told me all about hers in her colourful language.

Having grown up on a farm and having helped out, hands on I might add, with MANY C-Sections on Cows, I felt quite prepared.  I put my faith, my trust and my vulnerable self in the care of the surgeons and all was right with the world.

But NO ONE prepared me for the first toilet trip…when you go for your first pee, apparently it’s normal to feel like you’re being sliced open again without anaesthetic this time!  I swear to God, I thought I was going to die right there on the loo.  It was not pretty.  The pain almost made me puke.

And as if that wasn’t terrifying enough, the first poo is fecking horrendous!  I have it on good authority that it is the same for Mummies who deliver vaginally.  Again, I thought my entire insides were falling out.

I roared so loudly that The Him actually called for a nurse and she had to come in to convince me that no, I hadn’t just passed my bowel and no,  I wasn’t going to die.  But don’t tell anyone.  How undignified and ridiculous right?

4. The Boobs:  Now, for me, this was a big deal.  And I mean Big in every sense of the word.  As a woman of the Fried egg club, to wake up on day three with two bald heads in my bra, was quite the trauma.  I swear to God I looked like Jordan.  I’ve always wondered if I’d like to have boobs… No.  No I wouldn’t .  Thank you.  No. Give me my fried eggs any day.

5. The journey home:  My memory of this one still makes me laugh.  The walk from the ward to the car with your lovely car seat is one of the most surreal experiences of your life.  I hadn’t stepped more than 6 foot to the bathroom in 4 days.

Suddenly I had to waddle my way down corridors, into lifts (oooooh that bump takes on a whole new level of weirdness after a section!), through a lobby (carrying balloons to boot!) and out into the car. It was like running 20feet and then thinking you’re ready for a marathon the next day.

Daddy is grinning like a Cheshire cat while you shall be torn between scolding him for swinging the seat too much when he walks, and holding your ladybits in because they feel like they are about to fall the hell out of you with every step!

Getting into the car is a challenge and then there’s the drive home.  I dare say The Him didn’t go above 40mph the whole way out to the house, because of the precious cargo and of course because of my delicate state.  We both give out about Dooters on the road, but Oh my did he dooter out the road that day!

6. The tears:  Oh tears.  You unpredictable little feckers… They come in waves.  You have NO control over them.  They’ll arrive at the worst times.  And you’ll possibly laugh at the same time because you will have no idea why the hell you’re crying!  But let them flow.  It’s completely normal! I’m still crying over anything and my Baby is 1!

7. The Visitors: While you’ll want nothing more than to see people and introduce your new bundle to your loved ones, bear in mind that your first day or two at home will be exhausting, emotional and terrifying.  If I had been able to pay the midwives to come home with me, I would have.  I remember getting to the house with The Him and the Car seat and being soooooo frightened.  There was no buzzer.  There were no nurses down the hall.  It was just us.  But we were fine.

8. Newborns are actually much more interesting than you ever thought they were.  But here’s the key.  YOUR newborn is interesting. To YOU and your partner .  Don’t be offended if your visitors only start at the baby for a few minutes.  Yes of course they’re interested and of course they’ll think your baby is gorgeous, but while you can watch this little person doing NOTHING for hours on end, to others, it is exactly that…a little person doing nothing!

They don’t see the miraculous progression from yesterday, or that the baby is holding your focus for a few moments longer… or that her grip seems more purposeful.  So don’t get offended that your friends seem to politely stare at the baby for only a few minutes, declaring his cuteness or that she has your eyes, before moving promptly on to some other topic of conversation.  It’s normal.

And be honest, you’ve probably done it yourself many times. Because other people’s babies are not that interesting are they?

9. Lasagne can make you cry:  The gifts and parcels and flowers will come and be hugely appreciated. But the most welcomed and remembered offering to the home of the newborn…is food!  And the best kind of food is something that can be portioned, reheated, frozen or even eaten cold from the casserole dish.  Think curry. Think chilli. Think lasagne.  You never realised how good lasagne tastes.  It’ll make you so happy that may cry tears of joy.

10. You suddenly won’t care who washes your knickers:  Maybe this was just me.  Before I had Mini-Me, the thought of someone else doing my washing would have driven me mad with shame.  Not because there’s anything wrong with my smalls, No!  But I could never have even entertained the thought of my Mum or Mother-in-Law washing them.  And then I got over that VERY quickly. Because the first time I realised that the washing machine was going without me having started it, my initial panic was so overwhelmed by total gratitude that I even surprised myself.  Now, I still don’t like the idea of someone washing my knickers, but for the first few weeks after birth, you really shouldn’t give a damn.

So now you’re home. And you could probably add 10 more things to this list.  Add away Supermums.

I am Study for your Mum degree Mum! 😅

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​Grab a cuppa Bitchrepooooos.

  It’s a long one tonight!
My journey through the jungle of Mammyhood so far has many things. I am always learning and yet it feels like I never learn! 😅 Regardless of how you become a Mamma: pregnancy, IVF, adoption, fostering, marriage… if you are responsible for loving a child, you’re a Mammy.  And it’s quite a job.  A career.  A vocation even! 
Let’s face it.  If I want to embark on any career, I generally need to spend 3-5 years being educated to qualify me properly to attempt it.  Being a Mammy (and indeed a Daddy!) doesn’t require a degree, and yet it is the most challenging career in the world.

As parents, we become educated in life and often hilariously terrifying ways of the world that no university could ever teach…
but if they did…
IF there was a degree in parenting, here is what I imagine it would look like:
“Bachelor of the art of Perfect Parenting”

Semester 1

Module 101 – Pregnancy and Parenting: A beginner’s guide

Module 102 – Preparing for your new arrival – Required equipment

Module 103 – Food preparation for the healthy family
Semester 2

Module 201 – Techniques for sleep and Behaviour

Module 202 – Planning your child’s play and Sensory Scenarios

Module 203 – First aid for Mummies
Optional Modules 

😐Relationships; maintaining healthy romantic and familial relationships

😐Positivity, Mindfullness and Sleep Deprivation – How to deal with it.

😐Reliabilty of resources available.

😐Language and Speech Development.
And at the end, you would be a QUALIFIED parent.  You would have folders of notes, and a brain bursting with facts and figures, and lesson plans and medical references.
You’d be sorted. 😉
But as a Real Mammy, who knows that most of the above is utter crap, and that these headings only SCRATCH the surface of parenting, let ME suggest what a parenting degree outline should look like!
“Bachelorette of Thoroughly Modern Mammyness.”
Semester 1
Module 101 – Pregnancy and Parenting: A beginner’s guide – Life as you know it, ends here.  You only think you know what pain, fear and exhaustion are now.  Pregnancy is like a “One size” bra.  It fits some women better than others. Mine fit like a 4 man tent.  You may glow, or you may puke.  It’s great fun.  But at the end of it, there’s a wonderful thing.  And there’s  also the Love. I won’t even try to prepare you for that. I can’t. 💗💙💗💙💗💙💗
Module 102 – Change everything – The house, the layout of your rooms, the car.  Everything.  And enjoy your magazine perfect showhouse with your fancy candles and FengShui… That shit ends once your minion is able to move about on your once-but-never-again-clean rug.  All ornaments and valuables should be put up on a high shelf, or locked away for approximately 15 years.  Actually, just sell them.  You’re going to need the cash for the Stuff. 👇
Module 103 – All the Stuff.  Get your list of Baby Essentials.  Got it? Now, rip it up.  You do not need 250 steriswabs, or 5 pairs of scratch mittens.  The only thing on those lists that isn’t exaggerated, is the quantity of industrial sized sanitary nappies, sorry, towels.  Buy ALL of those bad boys.  And then buy extra.

 And as for the list of furniture, equipment and travel accessories?  Get your basics.  Car seat, cot, baby bath, changing mat.  Depending on YOUR own house and YOUR own situation, you’ll know what you need as you need it.  Do not buy all the everything!  Trust me, you’ll end up with a house that looks like a Baby shop has puked on it and, in approximately 8 months time, as you put the only-used-once-stuff in the attic, you’ll wonder why the hell you bought it in the first place. 

 Oh! And those lovely nursing chairs that we all want for our idealistic moments of feeding baby in the nursery?  They are the most glorified clothes storage devices in the world.  Your baby will more than likely be in your room for the first 6 years…sorry months… anyway, and when you ARE doing night feeds, you’re more than likely going to want to do them in the heat of your bed,  rather than in an empty room.  Yes, they’re lovely and I’m sure someone will disagree here, but that’s how I see them… A clothes horse.
Semester 2
Module 201 – Techniques for Sleep and Behaviour  –  Pray, wing it and go with your gut.  You can’t control your baby’s sleep.  You can’t control your baby’s behaviour.  You can only go with what you get on a daily basis and trust me, often, as cliched as it is, it IS just a phase.  And if you do find yourself genuinely struggling with either of these issue, ask for help.  There are brilliant (and actually qualified with real degrees) professionals in our community and there are SO MANY brilliant resources that Mums and Dads can access easily.  Google Parent Hub. Parent Hub, Donegal

You’ll be amazed at what they offer. Or talk to your PHN or GP.  
Module 202 – Planning your child’s play 

 Buy toys.  Watch child play with boxes, lunchboxes, remote controls and ANYTHING they shouldn’t have that could pose danger to them.  Shake head at the amount of educational crap in the toy corner and get out the saucepans and wooden spoons.  Oh and get down on your knees and play! 😅
Module 203 – First aid for Mummies – Have a meltdown everytime they cut themselves, bump their head, break a sweat, have a strange poo or get a temperature.  Slowly learn to recognise your own baby’s physical reactions and signs.  Google symptoms, freak out…ask on a Mammy forum…freak out… 

But seriously, we’re mums.  Unless you ARE a Doctor, if you’re concerned about Baby, GO TO A DOCTOR!  And follow your gut.  While it may be sick with worry, Mamma’s gut is always right.
Optional Modules 

Relationships – learning how NOT to murder your partner at 3am

Sex – You will want to think about it again some day… 😈😉😈

Alcohol – It shall be frowned upon, but some days, even the most Sanctimonious of Sanctimommies thinks about gin at 11am.  They just won’t admit it.

Swearing control – Any parent who has never sworn behind the back of their child, or at least mouthed a profanity when they hear “Mammy” for the 387th time that day, is either sedated or a liar…

Disney lyrics – because you will need to know them.
And so there you go. I hereby declare the Bachelorette of the Thoroughly Modern Mammyness open for application.

No previous experience or qualifications required. 

It’s a tight course, but the end result is something that no amount of paper or letters after your name can measure.  But if you really want to show off your qualifications, just start signing off like this…
  S-Mum (Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum…)
Suggestions for extra optional modules on a postcard please. 😙😙😙

How do you measure up? 😂😂😂

​I am Slippy Feet Mum

Posted in children, parenting, Uncategorized by

Well it’s officially Christmas.  


Jack Frost arrived this morning, the mischievous little fecker, and forced me to have to nearly break in to my own car.  He also forced half of Donegal to reduce their speed, which of course is never a bad thing, unless you reduce it from 100 to approximately 54km/hr on the very LARGE, STRAIGHT and very SALTED road into Letterkenny and hold up all of the rush hour traffic.  
In that case, you’re simply a twatsickle.   
But I digress.
I love Jack-of-the-frost, I do.  

I love the chilled air.  I love seeing breath clouds. I love the glitter. 
I loved seeing the clouds sitting ON the Swilly this morning.  I particularly loved Mini-Me’s expression when she saw this sight and exclaimed “Mammy! The Cwouds are touching the waaaater!”

Cutiepie. 
I was very organised this morning…completely prepared for the frozen car and slippery steps and extra time needed to get down off S-Mumble Hill.  
I’d love to say it’s because I’m Supermum and that it was my maternal instinct that told me, through osmosis obviously, that it would be a frozen morning, or indeed that, like Yeats, somone as infamous as Homer…ormin my case Jack Frost… “came whispering to my mind” warning me to jump out of bed and be a Winter Wondermum…
But in reality it was a text from The Him at 5.45am which read “ROADS SHITE GORGEOUS. BLACK ICE. DON’T BE RUNNING LATE. I LOVE YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK…XXXXXX”  (No you CAN’T prove that I’ve edited this or exaggerated the content of the text, so there! That’s what Him typed…honest like.)😂
And so I wrapped Princess up like  the fat little spanx-wearing Christmas pudding that she is, got Mini-Me into her new fingered gloves – (that’s another post ALTOGETHER! 😠😠) – and carried them both down the very slippery steps to the car, which I’d EVEN managed to have running for 5 minutes so I wasn’t putting the kids in a fridge.

I am a LION…HEAR ME ROAR! 🦁
Sorted.
I dropped Princess off and headed to drop Mini-Me to the bus. (at 54km remember?)
I was so proud of myself and already planning the accomplished and smug text to The Him when I reached school saying that I was early and that of course I loved him more etc., 😈😅and then as I drove into the carpark, I realised something.
I realised that I had CARRIED Mini-Me out of the house and set her safely into the car.
And then it dawned on me that I, or Himself, have probably ALWAYS carried her in and out of places if it was icy.

And so now, I was dropping her off to get OUT of the car, where she’d  have to WALK BY HERSELF TO the bus, which someone ELSE was driving,

And THEN she’d have to get OFF the fecking bus in a slippery playground and make her wasy to the door ACROSS the playground…
ALL.

BY.

HERSELF.
And my Blood chilled as if Jack-of-the-frost himself had kissed my chapped lips…
I stopped the car and actually had to take a few deep breaths.

How ridiculous am I? 
“This is NOT A BIG DEAL you Silly Woman!” said Mammy’s inside voice.

“Cop yourself on Woman” laughed Mrs Anxiety.

“But what if she falls?” answered Super-bubblewrap Mum.
My gut was telling me to ring work to announce that I had an emergency and that I’d be half an hour late so I could drive her ther myself.

Of course I COULDN’T let someone else drive a bus with my Precious (if sometimes terrifying) Minion on it… 

THAT would be NUTS would it not?
You’ll be glad to know that Common Sense slapped me across the face, because obviously, Mammy being MENTAL and CARRYING HER to the door of the school would be MUCH more embarrassing and have life long repercussions compared to her slipping on the ice and bumping onto the ground.
So I reminded her that said ground was REALLY SLIPPY and that the school yard would be EXTRA slippy and that she’d have to take small steps and walk slowly.  I made sure the gloves were still on so that at least if she DID fall,  it wouldn’t be too sore on her wee hands.  And then I walked beside her to the door and quite literally let her find her feet.
And she did.

She slipped a few times, and then like a little Bambi, found her balance before looking up at me and announcing “I’m just like Elsa Mammy.”


I nearly pushed her across a puddle just to see if she’d land like Elsa too, but I though better of it.
Here I was stressing the feck out about HER and she’s off being a Disney fucking princess in her own head.

STORY OF MY LIFE! 💗😂💗😂💗

(She sooooo gets that fromThe Him obviously.)
Hope you all had a Marvellous Monday xxxxx

I am She’s One Mum

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​It’s here.  
Princess will turn one tomorrow.  

One.

12 whole months…

365 days…

1 funfilled amazing year has passed since her chubby little self bounced into our world.  Well, I say “bounced”… she didn’t bounce, but I did as the amazing surgeons tugged and pulled and lifted her out my sunroof! 😂 
But arrive she did. And as with the arrival of any little one, our lives have been changed utterly.
I’m a bit gobsmacked at how quickly the year has gone. 

I’m sitting looking at her wee party shoes 👇👇👇and I’m really not sure how I feel if I’m honest.


 It’s like I’ve blinked and she’s suddenly transformed from a chubby cheeked helpless new baby into a standing-alone, scoffy-laughing, Rambo-Hulk whose smile lights up the room and who has “Mischief” written all over her.
When Mini-Me turned one, we felt a huge sense of achievement.  We’d made it to ONE! We were fecking awesome! We were no longer NEW parents… We rocked!
With Princess, it’s more like a sense of Survival. 😂😂Because, we’ve done it! We’ve survived a year of being parents to TWO rascals! And although it’s wonderfully fun, it isn’t always easy.
Even now, as I’m preparing for her wee party tomorrow, I’m very aware of how much I’ve overcome as a new Mammy of 2 in the past year: from figuring out how to manoeuvre carseats up stairs while holding a toddler’s hand, to negotiations with said toddler when Baby required attention than she did, from figuring out two bedtimes in one routine, to managing to give both of them all my love and time… 
And it hasn’t been easy.

In the words of one of my colleagues, I try very hard to keep it all “between the ditches”.  Sometimes, I feel like I’m steering 14 cars at the one time. 😣
And yet, despite sharing MANY of my #mammyfails and #feckitupFridays on here, people still think I have my shit together.
I don’t.

Not one bit! 
I’m not Supermum.

I’m far from it.
I’m so far FROM it sometimes that I wonder how the hell I’m even going to make it to bedtime without banging my head off the wall.
I’m so far from it that even today, after the lovely job of buying Princess a pretty dress for tomorrow, I stood outside the shop on the phone to my husband telling him that I was “shitty mum”. 

 Why? 

Because both Me AND Mini-Me went off to school this morning upset and in tears. 

Because we’re both bad-tempered volatile little women, and Mammy needs to cop herself on and chose her battles.

Because I’m a human. I’m flawed and I’m sometimes fecking useless.
So there.
Yes, tomorrow we’ll have a lovely party to celebrate the first birthday of my precious little Fudgeybum. And we’ll enjoy every second of it.
The photos will hopefully capture the joyful celebration, but while some bloggers like to, or need to, pretend that their lives are perfect ALL the fecking time, I’m more than happy to admit that behind the smiles and photographs, some days are hard and some days are downright shite.
And EVERY Mammy needs to be able to say that out loud WITHOUT feeling weak for saying it…
To admit that it’s not all ok all the time.
To have another Mammy tell us “I do that too.” or “You should have been in MY house this morning!” (Words of another colleague who met my snivelling self in the carpark this morning. They’re a wonderful bunch my workmates.💙💗💙)
To admit that sometimes, the only shit we have together is the one floating in the unflushed toilet in your dirty bathroom… and that’s OK, because it WILL get flushed…eventually…briefly! 😅
But when the days are wonderful and when life is good enough to give us celebrations and blessings, put on your glittery shoes and enjoy them.
And take pictures and videos.

And try to be IN some of them too! 😎😉
Now, I need to scrape the blu-tack out of the dress Mini-Me wants to wear tomorrow and mop the floors so none of the other children catch Mad Cow disease off them.  And then, I’m going to have a bath, because I haven’t heated up today.  I’ve been freezing since 8am!

(Might have something to do with the fact that I got everyone else out the door warm and dressed this morning, but forgot my own coat!)
MammaBears eh? Who’d have us? 

Happy Friday Ladybelles.

😙😙😙😙