Category Archives: blog

I am Soooo Mammarella Mum 😂

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​Cinderella.  

You all know her.
The dolly who is a COMPLETE skivvy to everyone in her house and who gets a chance to go to the ball,  but has NO hope of going because of her fecking  To-do list and the constant pile of laundrey and sewing and cleaning and crap that grows and grows and grows, until her Fairy Godmother appears and BibbityBobbetyBoos her ass all the way to the ball.
Cinderella.
Well. Let me introduce you to the modern age Cinderella… 

MAMMARELLA.
The modern generation of Queens who sometimes get a chance to go to a fancy ball, but who wonder HOW THE HELL it’s going to happen because of the same reasons as Cinderella…being general skivvies, having to organise EVERYONE else in the house beforehand, and fecking  to-do lists that would knock poor Cinders off her glass slippers. 
On Monday, knowing that we had a super busy week ahead, but happy that it was going to end at a wonderfully glamorous affair, I took a breath and it was all systems go! 
THIS Mammarella however,  ain’t got no Fairy Godmother and so rather than being magically BibbityBobbetyBood from a pumpkin to a Princess, I had to cram a combination of grooming appointments and general maintenance, like you know, showering etc…into my already STUPID schedule.  
Do it I did,  with the help of my own fairies, and I EVEN managed to get my arse mahogonised in a spray booth.  
On Friday morning at 6am, I WAS Cindafuckinrella. 😂

 My To-do list was RIDICULOUS, because as well as making myself appear at the ball looking ALIVE, never mind FABLIS, I ALSO had to sort the minions, make a bed for the Granny, go to my JOB, fit in two meetings cook dinner for everyone else, write out baby routines, and keep everyone alive, pack bags and get to the hairdresser by 5pm….
The day was a whirlwind.

But we got there.

I put lines through that To-do list like an ugly sister on rollerblades.
And when I FINALLY got to the hairdresser, she used magic potions and lotions and turned me from sweaty, dishevelled, skivvy into a slightly #glammymammy. 
I got to the hotel, after being stuck in the most hilarious traffic ever, with ten minutes to spare, titsickle-taped myself into the dress and I was finally ready to go be a Princess.  
And The Him??
How did HE transform himself from a gym-gear wearing servantboy into a Handsome Prince?
He left work, took a shower, stuck on a tux that someone HANDED to him in a bag, and Bibbity Bobbity Boo! Turns into James Fecking Bond… 😲😲😂

But then he won and after all, he WAS the reason I got to pretend to be a Princess for a night wasn’t he?
Actually, Princess my arse… this Mamma Bear was a Queen for the evening. 

😂😂😂
So yes, Mammarellas.

Cinderella doesn’t have a CLUE! 😂😂😂
Wait until she has 2 minions and a Him to get out the door! 😙

​Sudocrem and last-minute-Mother-of-the-feckin-year mum

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When Mini-Me started school, 2 months ago, I was determined to be Mother of the year.

No missed buses.

No forgotten lunches.

No homework at 8am.

No forgetting to wash school cardigan and having to lie that it’s in Daddy’s car…

No last minute projects. 😲
I would be Super Organised, Super slick, SuperMum…
2 LONG MONTHS LATER, my shit has ALL gone to shit.😂
Today, at her first PTM,  I hear the word “shoebox” being mentioned over the intercom…

And I had an awful realisation, right in front of the lovely teacher…
“She’ll have her shoebox in in the morning” I stammered…

Yeah Missy.  She sees right through you!
Shit shit shit shit shit…
Actually, if I’m honest, the growing pile of multicoloured Christmas shoeboxes taking over our own secretary’s office at work, has been subtly shouting at my subconscious all week that I must check something.  I have vague recollections of a brochure being taken from the school bag, like, yesterday (cough…no it wasn’t 3 weeks ago.  How very dare you..)
I get home and find the brochure. 

Final date 11th November. 😣😣
Fuck.
I COULD just leave it, and donate somsthing and not feel bad, but then Mini-Me will be in school knowing that Mammy is a toolbox.

😣

(And considering that she is already of this opinion, accusing me DAILY of losing an invitation from a classmate last month that APPARENTLY was in her bag but disappeared, even though I’m CERTAIN that the only invitation I took put of her bag was for her Cousin’s party, which I dumped because I already KNEW when the party was and it was OBVIOUS that she’d simply taken it to school like she does EVERYTHING… And it’s obviously just a COINCIDENCE that they have the same first names and she PROBABLY wasn’t ACTUALLY invited to the friend’s party so therefore didn’t miss anything because Mammy is a Toolbox really…) 😣😣😣
I digress.
Anyhooo. 
No. I can’t just leave it.  That would be terrible.
 So, I get my arse to work finding new or unused lovely things to put in, send The Him a text warning him NOT TO COME HOME without kiddie toothpaste and toothbrush and a pack of socks for aged 6.

Oh! 

And Christmas wrapping paper!
So it’s done. 😆

We doood it!


It was fine and we got to have very lovely conversations about how lucky she is ajd how it’s kind to share etc…

And I do love the concept of the project.  In fact, next year, I’m going to start the second the brochure arrives and we’re going to do LOADS of shoeboxes and I will be Supermum again… for 5 minutes.

My biggest difficulty tonight was getting the fecking sellotape off the roll with my lovely Cindafuckinrella nails that I got done yesterday for tomorrow’s ball…

Aren’t they lovely?

Note to self…

Lovely acrylic extension nails may look lovely, but changing shitty nappies and applying sudocrem suddenly becomes quite the adventure… 👇👇👇👇

I am She’s on the phone Mum

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​”I’m just on da phone Mammy”

“OK Darling.”
I carried on cooking dinner, laughing to myself as she chittered and chattered away on the phone.  She rang her old preschool teacher and had a very convincing one way conversation that went like this…
“Hi Macewa. S’me.  Hi. Yeah. Scuse me Macewa, it’s me here.  I need to speak to Danyel. No not my sister Danyel, ypir kid Danyel.  Yeah..yeah.. no…no.”  Pausing at the proper times and everything.
It was about 100 on the adorascale.
Then, a few minutes later, she announced,

“Scuse me Mammy. I’m just talking to Gwanny Mum, can you pweeeeease be quiet?”

“Ok pet.  You chat to Granny.”
I battered on in the kitchen.  She was sitting on the window sill on the other side of the room having another conversation with Granny apparently.
“You see we took down the Halloween Decorations cos it’s Christmas and now we have to get ready for Santa and I didn’t get to see da fireworks but I did go Twickatweeting and can I come to your house for a sweepover later? Oh Ok Gwanny.  See ya! Byebyebyebyebyebye”
“You finished talking to Granny?” 

“Yup!” And off she went on her next imaginary adventure.
“Wee dote” thinks S-Mum to herself, wondering where on Earth she EVER got the Byebyebyebyebyebye. 😂
Fast forward a few hours.

“Gwanny” calls.
We chat about the funeral she’d been at.  We talk about Princess’s nasty cold.  We talk about going wallpaper shopping on Friday.  She says she’ll call for a cuppa later. 

Pretty normal.
And then she asks “Did Mini-Me hang up properly that time?”
Sorry WHAT NOW?😲😲😲
“What you mean Mum?”

“After she called me earlier? Did she hang up afterwards?”
Hole…eeeeeeee shit.  😲😲😲
The little rascal had apparently called Gwanny after all, and had a full conversation with her. 

When Granny asked her if Mummy knew that she was on the phone, her answer was “I’m just talking to Gwanny Mum, can you pweeeeease be quiet?”

And of course, Gwanny heard me answer “Ok darling. You chat to Granny” so obviously assumed that I’d dialed her number for her to have a wee chat.
Oh how Mummy laughed.  

And Oh how Granny laughed.

And THEN, Mummy started to replay the conversation and the PANIC of “JEEEEESUS what were we saying?” set in! Thankfully, all poor Gwanny heard was my bad singing as I cooked.
But I’ll tell ya.

The phone shall be locked from now on, or at least when she’s “playing” with it, we’ll be checking if she’s ACTUALLY playing.
Couldn’t watch her! 😂😂😂

I am Secrets of S-Mum 

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​Want to know the Secrets of S-Mum?

Well.

The secret is…

that THERE IS NO SECRET!
There IS NO MAGIC PILL that turns you into Mary of the Poppins.

Most days, I’m so FAR from being a perfect parent that I fear that even my kids have their Crap more together than I do.
Like EVERYTHING, there is no quick fix. There is no magic spell.
There is no manual.  

(Well OK… there are parenting guides and books obviously, but when “What to Expect when you’re Expecting” omitted the line “You’re going to push a water melon through your ladybits and realise that you’ll have NO idea WTF you’re doing EVER AGAIN”, it lost credibility in my eyes.) 
But there is ONE TRICK…
Knowing to ask for help and knowing where to find the CORRECT information from the RIGHT people is key.
There ARE a huge amount of resources and services and businesses right here in Donegal that are available to us S-Mums and Dads, and we often don’t even know where to look for them.
So while I can’t give you the Secret to being an S-Mum, I CAN put so many Information services, Businesses and Experts into the BIGGEST hotel in town, that the walls are throbbing like a wee heartbeat in the doppler yoke!
I am bringing almost 50, (YES 50!) Qualified Professionals, Experts and Services to Bump & Beyond.  

We have EVERYTHING covered: from fashion to fitness, pregnancy to potty training, Sensory Play to SLEEP…
We have a FULL line up of ENTERTAINMENT from LOCAL TALENT, EXPERT SPEAKERS, INTERVIEWS with the Professionals and FASHION SHOWS! 
You’ll be able to SHOP from dozens of AMAZING Pregnancy and Baby Business, with NEW LOCAL MOMPRENEURS launching on the day.

Our Princesses and Superheros are returning (with a VERY special performance by a certain Princess…) and there’ll be a Kids’ Corner and Facepainting.
We’ll also have Baby Yoga Demonstrations and the “Paparazzi” will be there snapping your little Halloween Ghouls and Goblins as they haunt the hall.
The most renowned Midwife in town, Geraldine Hanley, shall be there to answer your questions and Fitness Expert Emmet Rushe from Rushe Fitness will be addressing post pregnancy fitness.
Parent Hub, Parent Stop, Citizens’ Advice and The Women’s Centre (to name but a handful!) will be there to guide you through the vast range of services available to parents locally…
The first 50 Mummies to arrive will receive a FABLIS Goodie Bag and the exhibitors are running amazing offers on the day.
AND I am giving you the BEST gift ever… An opportunity to listen to and speak to the HUGELY ACCLAIMED and sought after Sleep and Behaviour Therapist Mrs DENISE GILLESPIE!
And seriously Ladybelles, this is only a fraction of what is planned for the day.  Keep an eye on Bump & Beyond for more details this week.
So, No.

I don’t have the answers.  I don’t have all the information. I don’t have any magic tricks or capsules…but I CAN put as many people WHO DO under one roof.
I AM simply a Mammy who struggles in the same way that EVERY other parent struggles, (I just happen to like a challenge and to be quite OK at organising small and subtle and quiet events.)
So please do come along next Sunday.
Hit the Likey button if you see this and feel free to invite anyone who might be interested in the comments section below.


I’m looking forward to seeing you all Ladybelles.

Lots of love xx

I am She’s way too clever Mum

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​”Mammy is my tongue black?”
Somewhere along the last few days, someone has imparted this gem of information to my Minion.

And while this crap might have worked on US as kids, the minions have evolved. 

They are FAR beyond old wives’ tales or legends. 
Gone are the days of believing EVERYTHING you’re told, and being too terrified that there might be a LITTLE bit of truth in it, to even ATTEMPT whatever crime you’d been told would turn your tongue black, or freeze your face or make your nose fall off.
No.

Nowadays, children are WAAAAAY too clever.

Or maybe the word I’m looking for is “manipulative”?
Mini-Me was rambling about her day in the back of the car.

I had listened for the first 6 minutes and then successfully responded appropriately enough in the correct pauses for her to think I was listening for another 5.
Then she announced “and we went to the match with Michael Murphy and I won you know?”

(Obviously it was the excitement of her tone and my FABLIS Mammying skills that brought my attention back to where it should have been… NOTHING to do with the mention of Thor. 😂)
“Did you REEEEEALLY?” I asked laughing.

“Yup! And then we got back on the bus and came to school so you could collect me. I’m not lying Mammy honest.”

“Mmmmmmhmmmmmmmmmm!”

” Sewiously Mammy! Look! Is my tongue black?”
We were stopped at a traffic light by now, so I turned around to see her sticking her tongue out as far as she could.
“Why are you asking that?”

“Ith my tongue bwach Mammy?” ( tongue still out!)

“No. It’s not black Darling.”

“See!” (Smug little toot.) “My tongue isn’t bwack so I AAAAM telling the twoof.”
I continue driving, and she continues rambling about playing football wif Michael-of-the-Murphy.
And I laugh to myself.
Because, while I remember being TERRIFIED that my tongue would ACTUALLY turn black, or that an apple tree would ACTUALLY grow in my tummy if I swallowed the pips, MINI-ME is able to TWIST the old fable to use as substantiation and verification of her “Twoofs”.
I may give up now Lads.

She’s not even 5 and she’s two steps ahead of me.

And I may look forward to her graduation from Law school, because I have a feeling she is going to make a damn fine legal type.
So what were the stories (threats) you were afraid of as a kiddy?