I am Singing Happy Blogday to Me Mum!

Oh my BOOBNESS!
It’s my Blog’s birthday. It’s my Blogday! The S-Mum is THREE years old today. How the hell did that happen?
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When I started this, I was desperate to stay anonymous, terrified of what people would think and didn’t really know if I’d do it for long. It was a hobby. A way of finally doing that thing I’d been procrastinating about for so long; writing!
Well how things have changed eh?
I now have TWO little dictators at my ankles and they keep me on my toes every day. They are my inspiration and my world. And as much as some days I want to hide in the washing machine with a bottle of gin, I adore them both to the moon and back.
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Mad as a bag of brambles I tell you!

What other people think about me and my style of parenting (“style!” Makes it sound quite fablis doesn’t it…”Sham” might be more appropriate!)… doesn’t matter a damn to me. My Bullshit Barometer is so broken that even if I looked hard, I don’t think I could physically find two shits to give if people don’t like what I write.
I am no longer anonymous. That didn’t last long! I’m loud and proud and happy to write about being a Mammy. I love that so many other Mammies (and Daddies) get a encouragement or enjoyment or a laugh at least from my words. I adore the messages I get from Mums who say “You’ve read my mind”. And I love all of the opportunities this blog has presented to me.
I’ve made many new friends over the past 3 years, both in the Blogworld and in real life. I’ve laughed. I’ve cried. I’ve sworn. I’ve ranted. I’ve loved. I’ve lost and I’ve lived. And somehow, I’ve managed to keep finding time to write. And amazingly, you’ve kept finding time to read and interact.
Thank you.
Thank you for reading and commenting and laughing along with me. Thank you for supporting when things haven’t been fablis. Thank you for helping me, one Mammy to another.
I will keep writing. In fact, by the end of this year, I intend to have some of these smumblings printed on actual paper. In actual type. In a real book. I’m working on it. And now that I’ve said it, I have to right?
You are my Mammy Squad and you are Supermums.
Shall we have a virtual “Cheers” tonight Ladybelles? 9pm on the sofa? Who’s joining me?
Love and Thanks,
The Blogday Girl xxx
Here is the very first piece I wrote, this day three years ago. It didn’t make me cringe quite as much as I thought if would if I’m honest.
“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. 🙂”
 
 

I am Searching for the Missing Building Mum

Waking up in Limavady this morning, Daddy announces “Today family, we shall to the Giant’s Causeway go!  And on the way, Daddy shall impart impressive knowledge of myth and legend that will excite you and awe you and suitably remind Mammy of the fountain of knowledge that I am.”

And of course Mammy was impressed, but Mammy also wondered how the hell Daddy can remember stories and mythologies about Giants who pretend to be Babies from 35 years ago, and yet he can’t remember that the bin goes out on a Thursday night…like EVERY Thursday night.  But Mammy does not say such.  No Mammy has had an idea.

“I shall drive Husband of Mine. I know the area better than you do.”

“OK Wife.” agrees Daddy, “Then I shall be the imparter of knowledge and wonder upon our children while you drive.”

Mammy is delighted.  Because Mammy shall now be able to take a small detour.  Mammy shall swing by her old University where she shall point out her old stomping ground to her children and Husband, who shall be suitably impressed.  The girls shall Ooooh and Aaaaaah at Mammy’s trip down memory lane and Daddy shall imagine how hot Mammy must have been as a hip and cool student (Big HAHAHA here!) and Mammy shall be dramatically nostalgic and quietly reminiscent, as she tells her minions about how wonderful life was at UUC.  She shall smile to herself as she recalls the memories that shall never be told… well not until the girls are approximately 28 years old and Mammy has had too much gin.

And so off we went.

“I’m just going to swing into my old college for a quick look” quips Mammy as she turns left instead of right.

And yet now, Mammy wonders why she did.  Because Mammy got an awful shock.

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Mammy was not prepared for the fact that things have changed so dramatically.  Sure it has to be only 5 or 6 years since I was here? And yet in that short time, some Tossbot has taken it upon themselves to CHANGE the whole campus.  And I’m not just talking new signs and buildings.  I’m talking MOVING entire buildings.

Firstly.  The gate was blocked with those ticket bollards.  Apparently students can now afford carparking?  WTF?

Secondly.  Yes indeed there were LOADS of new buildings and fancy constructions.  There are even windmills on the campus.  This, I could deal with.

We drove past the old halls, which seemed to have shrunk slightly.  “Oh look, there are the front steps and there is the computer lab. It had internet you know? 24hour…” Daddy is looking at me as if I’m a lunatic.  The girls are less than impressed.

“There’s the diamond and there’s the theatre Oh and that was where I used to get the bus  home and OOOOH LOOOKIT, there’s the big walkway.  This takes us to Mammy’s favourite part of the campus. It was where the Student Union was.”  (Where Mammy was a student rep, where she was opinionated and indignant in meetings and handed our flyers on Student rights and STDs along with free condoms and where we thought we were changing the world as we drank our cheap pints and loved life…)

“Yes, it leads to the South Building, where… where… ”

“Where what?”

“Where the fuck IS IT?”

“What are you talking about woman?”

“The South Building.  It’s GONE?!”

“Maybe we’re in the wrong place?” Daddy is now certain that Mammy perhaps shouldn’t be in charge of a moving vehicle, which she has stopped at the end of the walkway, which goes to NOWHERE!

“What the FUCK? I went here for FIVE years.  I walked down there EVERY day.  It had the library and the bar and lecture halls and the Union offices.  WHERE THE HELL IS IT?”

“What did you lose Mammy?” asks Mini-Me.

“Mammy lost a building Darling.” answers Turbotwat.

“I did not… I can’t… WHERE THE HELL?”

“I’m sure they didn’t demolish a full part of the uni Darling. Look there are trees and everything.”

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Indeed there are trees…

I want to kill him, but I can NOT argue with the trees.  Not just little baby trees.  No.  Full sized feckers that I could climb if I weren’t in such shock.

“It was here.I’m telling you!”

“Of course it was pet. Do you want me to drive?” He’s enjoying this way too much.

“No.  I don’t.”  Because I know where I’m going.  I’m going to drive around this campus until I find a site map to prove that I am NOT mad.

And I do.

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See this big blank Space?  My LIFE happened here!

And just as I thought, the building is now a field.

I take a snap and send it to two of my old college buddies with “WTF is South Building?”

Within Minutes, I have messages back from them both, providing me with suitably shocked and aghast responses to share with Turbotwat to prove that I am (as usual) right.

In fact one of them goes so far as to send me an ariel shot of the college from when we were there, just to shut him up!

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When Google proves you’re not losing your mind. Cheers Neil!

“When were you last here?” asks The Him, who is only teasing me in fairness. (but who for a split second had me doubting my own mind!)

“Not long enough ago for thon tree to have grown…”

“What year did you leave?”

“Erm… 2003”

“Darling 2003 was 15 years ago…”

What.

The.

Actual?

I didn’t speak.  I drove straight to Portstewart to find my old flat.  And there it was. The pub next door is now a Christian Church and there is a Shopping Centre at the gate, but all I wanted to know was if the door of Number 6 was still yellow.

For some reason, this was important.

And thankfully, Yellow it remains.

A bit like myself who thinks that things stay the same as you remember them.

It’ll probably be another 15 years before I return. And then I shall find that tree and I shall climb the fecker, if not to remind myself that I still can, to embarrass the hell out of whichever daughter I am dropping off!

And so off to the Causeway we went, where Mammy pondered life and how similar she is to Fionn MacCumhall… because we both act like giant Babies sometimes and we’re both as old as the rocks.

Shared on #BloggerclubUK

Mudpie Fridays

I am Such a Silly Notion Mum 

Ooooooh it’s Friyay.

Today Mammy took a notion.
Mammy is going to surprise the girlies by bringing them to meet Daddy for a surprise dinner date and we’ll have a lovely family evening with our two well behaved darlings, who Shall eat their Yummy dindins. Then we shall have the joy of watching them eating Pink icecream, the adorable little munchkins, before going home for a relaxing bedtime where Daddy would put them to bed while Mammy pours a glass of grapes and puts her Tired feet up for a good old Corrie wedding…
Yeah.

Mammy is a deluded Twatsickle who often falls victim to her very own Disney Princess notions. 😂

But never fear.

Mammy has her very own Mini whose main purpose in life (today anyway) seems to be to knock Silly Mammy off her Disnified perch.
We did meet Daddy.

 From the second we sat down, Mini-me was a wagon. A proper little shitsickle. She made Princess look like an angel. That IS Quite the achievement! I won’t go into too much detail but when I tell you that ignoring the waitress, refusing to order, asking for a cocktail, bursting into tears because Mammy ordered for her, sliding onto the floor, scribbling on the menu were only a FEW of her party tricks, you can imagine the rest. 
Mammy and Daddy spent the date sending each other apologetic “what we’re we thinking” looks and starting conversations they both knew would not be finished before they started. 
Mammy wished she could go back to correcting exams and considered that she should have just gone home to cook the freezer contents. Daddy wondered why he had ever thought that leaving work early was a good idea… I’m guessing that only for fear of Divorce, he would have happily gone back to his BFF Jim.
They did go home: After NO dessert. They did get the girls to bed: After NO story and plenty of the special strops reserved only for the first Friday night after school holidays… 
Mammy did pour grapes. 

And just like Mammy’s fairytale picture of her evening DIDN’T happen, neither did the Corrie Wedding.  
But See there’s where Mammy is going wrong… sometimes life is Corrie, not Disney. 

At least with Corrie, you expect disaster! 

Here’s to all you Mammies who got a reality check from your little Notionwreckers today.
And here’s to Poor Sinead… she’s better off. It’s only have ended in no icecream and wine.

😂🍷😘

How was your Friday?

I am Still That Friday Feeling Mum

Mammy has “That Friday Feeling”.

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Once upon a time, “That Friday Feeling” meant going straight to a licensed establishment with one’s co-workers for a bevvy or beverages. Or it meant finishing work with an air of excitement at the prospect of going home, spending a few hours primping and preening oneself to perfection, trying on 46 different outfits, popping open a bottle of something exciting at 6pm and stepping into high-heels, before going into town with whoever for dinner, or drinks and a boogie.

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It meant not only the excitement of getting out, but also the joy of KNOWING that you could lie on in your bed until whatever time you wished on Saturday morning, before deciding to be very “grown up and sensible” by staying in on Saturday night.

Or you know, getting ready and going out ALL over again!

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Oh, how things have changed.

Now while Mammy does get the odd night out, it is usually prepared for by a spray of dry shampoo, grabbing a top that doesn’t need ironed and a 5 minute slap on of the muck-up; sometimes after the girls have gone to bed, or sometimes my speciality…the one legged Babby-swing, where Princess swings on my leg as I try to apply mascara.

But while I am not going out tonight, Mammy still has “That Friday Feeling”‘; you know the excitement, the relief and the joy? It might be slightly different to what it used to be, but it’s still here… just like me really.

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Me, right now!

Now, “that Friday Feeling” means much more:

  • It means no homework for Mini-Me.
  • It means excitement at the prospect of not having to make lunches for the morning.
  • It means firing the contents of the Freezer into the oven and not feeling one bit bad about it. Call it “Freezer Friday”. They love it!
  • It means no work for 2 and a half days!
  • It means not watching the clock to make sure the girls get to bed before 7.30pm (and some nights, watching the clock to MAKE SURE they are in bed by 7.30pm!)
  • It means a mental switch off from school, where I can allow myself to NOT worry about the notes I need to do, or the copies that need marked.
  • It means knowing that when they are in bed, that I can sit on my arse on the sofa and watch whatever I want, without that feeling of “I should be doing…”
  • It means being able to spend time writing, or reading, or simply scrolling the interweb to watch what other Mammies are doing with their Friday feeling.
  • It means putting on our PJs once we all get home and not feeling one bit bad about it!
  • It means being able to say “yes” if Mini-Me asks to watch a movie at 6pm.
  • It means being able to pour a glass of wine without feeling dreadfully uncouth and Scummy Mummyish for drinking on a school night.
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  • It means pouring a second glass if I so wish.
  • It means not having to plan out what everyone is wearing before bed.
  • It means not setting an alarm clock…
  • It means a generally happier, more relaxed Mammy, because there is a certain celebration and achievement in the fact that I have made it through the week with all of my Minions and myself mostly in one piece.
  • It’s a joy that is difficult to describe, but Friday evening is absolutely my favourite time of the week. And while it might be different now, it’s just as exciting and it’s much more wonderful as when I was young and free.
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Now, I’m old(er) and not so free, but I’m a better me and I’m exactly where I want to be. So bring on the fluffy socks and grapejuice Ladybelles.

It’s Friday and It’s Fablis.

Have a good one.