Category Archives: children

I am Some Last Firsts Mum

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My Baby

Tonight Mammy is hormental.

I’m coming to terms with the fact that even though I keep referring to Princess as The Baby, she is in fact, not a baby any more.

Tonight, I put my last one year old to bed for the last time.

In the morning, she shall be two.

Two.  

A real number.  

No longer counted in months… no more 18 months.  No more “one and a bit”.

Nope.  From tomorrow, she is TWO.

And someone needs to pinch me and explain how the HELL that happened?

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In my head, she’s a Baby.  

But more and more as I look at her, I’m getting reminded that she is in fact a little girl. She’s a toddler.  She’s a kid.  

Not a baby any more.

And while her dress for her 2nd birthday party is for aged 3, it doesn’t matter how big she gets, or how tall she gets, or how old she gets.  She WILL always be MY Baby.  

Maybe I’m emotional because I reckon she’s my last first; my Last first birthday. Last first shoes.  Last first tummy bug.  Last first tooth.  She’ll be our last first day at school.  Last first everything.

Does this make me sad?  NOPE.  But it does make me pay just a little more attention to these little lasts.  I find myself memorising things. Watching a little more closely.  Hugging a little tighter.

And while tonight should not be sad, because of course every year marks a celebration of life and of health… for some reason, I have a wee lump in my throat.  I was teary putting her into her cot.  I found myself watching her and savouring her more today.  Maybe because of that last first.  

How did she get so big?  Where have those 2 years gone?  If I close my eyes, I can still smell her as a new baby snuggled into me.  I can still see her face as it was the second I met her.  In my head, she hasn’t changed a bit.  In reality, she’s thriving. And I thank my lucky stars.

Tonight, as I tuck them in, I have a five-and-a-half-and-three-quarter year old who will be 17 on her next birthday… and a Baby.

From tomorrow, I’ll have a five-and-a-half-and-three-quarter year old who will be 17 on her next birthday… and a TWOublemaker.

Let the fun begin.
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I am Swapping Bacon for Magic Mum

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🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷
Mammies.

I have had a genius idea.

My Princess LOVES Peppa Pork. She loves that fat little pink Piggy to the point that it is becoming quite the obsession. Peppa, or “Peepa” as she calls her, has been on the Tellybox here for 5 and a half and 3/4 years. Mini-Me could take Peppa or leave her. (Come to think of it, she’s still not bothered about bacon.)

And while I don’t mind her having little things that she seems fond of or excited by, Peppa of the Pork is not one that I am overly keen to encourage.

Why?

She’s just a cartoon character after all isn’t she? Well yes. And as a teddy, or on clothing, or in toys I don’t mind her. As little figurines to play with, or in books to point at, she’s fine. And while to adults, it has been suggested that Peppa looks remarkably like a doodle of a phallic nature, to children, her pinkness is apparently aesthetically pleasing and wonderful.

No. It’s not her love for Peppa that bothers me. I’m glad she’s finally showing an interest in something other than food and licking the fridge… It’s the script of the TV show that I have issues with.

Peppa is a brat. Pure and simple. She is cheeky, spoilt and whiney. Boundaries were never created in that house. She answers back, regularly tells Daddy Pig he is fat and is so cheeky to her friends that there is a full episode dedicated to them betting her she can’t stay quiet so they can get some peace.

I’m surprised the other talking animals bother with her at all. She whines and complains and is quite the Negative Nelly. And at no point does Mammy or Daddy rebuke her or tell her what she’s saying is naughty.

She’s a bossy little rasher. Expectant and entitled and don’t even start me on the way she speaks to Mammy.

I’ll wager that Mammy Pig has a secret stash of pink gin hidden behind that computer of hers.

Yes, I know. She’s just a cartoon character, but when she seems to be on repeat in your ear for nearly 6 years, I think it’s quite acceptable to dislike her. And when your children begin mimicking her, then, she becomes quite the pain in the pork.
But last week, I had a brainwave.

After 2 days of my Princess being confined to the sofa feeling under the weather, and 2 days of my brain being FRIED by Peppa referring to Daddy Pig’s big belly and telling poor Gawj “You’re too little”, I could take no more.

I did the “flick” part of the Netflix and came across the best alternative to Peppa Pig, EVER!

Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom.


The animation is identical to Peppa Pig. The narrator/voice structure is similar enough to Peppa to lure an unsuspecting 2 year old in, and the sound track is not quite as irritating…yet. Enough of a difference for her to raise a suspicious eyebrow, but not dramatic enough for her to refuse to watch it.

But the biggest bonus is that the characters are generally NICE to each other. Yes there are mishaps and magic tricks going wrong etc, and Wise Old Elf and Nanny Plum have some serious issues to get over, but in general, it is entertaining.  In fact, I am not afraid to say that Nanny Plum is a legend.   She speaks the truth Mammies. She is fablis.

And there is no whiny, annoying, bold little bad example in it.
So yes, I have finally lost my marbles. I have just written a full post on how Ben and Holly is better than Peppa Pig.

But hey! That’s where we are in our house these days, and they do say you should write what you know, don’t they? I could have written about In the Night Garden, but I’m not quite that barmy yet and I don’t think there’d be enough wine to inspire that…

Which TV shows are/were on repeat in your house?

First published on Donegal Woman in my Thoroughly Modern Mammy column

I am Sixth Sense Mum

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“Mammy. Tell him to STOP!”

“Tell who to stop what?”

“He’s staring at meeeee. Tell him to stop”.

These are not words you want to hear from your 5 and a half and three quarter year old at 7am when there is no one else in the kitchen.

In the 3 seconds it takes me to walk from the utility room, my imagination has delivered me to Destination WCS (Worse case scenrio). I have images of all of my kitchen cupboards having been flung open like in The 6th Sense.  Holy Christ, I think, She’s seeing Dead people…   There is no one else in the room so I know that there is no one to BE staring at her! I take the ten steps to the kitchen, already planning the conversation I’m going to have to have with the priest when I call him to come do an exorcism.

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“Stop iiiiiit!” she screams.

“Mammy’s here Darling. Who’s staring at you?”

“That cow.”

“What cow?” (WT-actual-F?)

She’s now pointing her little finger accusingly out the window at the cows in the field.

 “Him!  He’s STARING at meeeee. Tell him to stop staring at me.  I can’t eat my Pancakes when he’s watching me.”

The unsuspecting bovine is indeed looking in the window, happily chewing its cud, probably wondering why the little human is screaming at him.

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It moos, probably telling its own Mammy cow “Mammy. Tell her to STOP! She’s staring at me and I can’t eat my regurgitated food wif her watching meeeee!”

Mini-Me is now banging on the window at the cow.

“Maybe you’re scaring the poor cow? Eat your pancakes and stop your nonsense” I laugh, glad I don’t actually have to ring the priest after all.

I’ll save the exorcism for another time, not that I can ever see any poltergeist brave enough or stupid enough to take her on!

How was your day?

I am She’s Comiiiiiiiing Mammy Mum!

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Mini-Me and Princess are completely ignoring each other, or as I likes to call it, “independent play where Mammy gets 3 minutes of peace”…

Mini-Me is building blocks in the hall.
Princess is tucking George in under a tea towel, saying “shush Jawj. Go shleep! Naaaaght” over and over again.
All is right with the world, and then…

“Mammy look what I built!”

“Well done you! That’s really tall”
(Princess stops mid sentence. Jawj is suddenly forgotten.)

“Will you send Daddy a picture?”
“Of course I wi…”
Mammy reaches for camera, knowing that I now have 0.34 seconds to snap the tower before the wobbler wrecks the tower, her sister’s head and the general peace that Mammy was enjoying. 😥

“QUICK MAMMY, She’s COMIIIIIIIIING!”😣😣
“Princess Nooooooooooooo!”

How can something so small move so fast? She’s just teleported herself 18 feet before I could even take 2 steps. 😂

“YOU do it!” I scream, and Mini-Me quickly knocks the tower down HERSELF, before the Terror child can swing her dodee-cow at it.

“Yeeeees! I DID it. Take THAT Princess!” Sings Mini-Me, more aggressively than I would like, as she dances a victory dance. (She gets that from her Daddy… 😈😂)

I should scold her.
But feck it, I’ll give her this one.

😂😂😂😂😂😂😂

I am Sing it girl Mum

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Mini-Me has taken to making up her own songs.

It’s adorable and Mammy is generally quite chuffled that she seems to have a tolerable voice and that she can rhyme off the top of her head.

Musical skills are very importantful in this life you know?

Yesterday’s fabulouscious song went like this:
(Think Buddy in Elf as he sings 🎶”I’m siiiiinging…”)

🎵🎶🎵”I am going to fiiiiiind
my Pwince Chaaaming
And we will get maaaaawied
and then live in Scotland,
coz dat’s what Jesus teaches meeeee
to beeeeee!” 🎵🎶🎶

Erm…😕😕😕

I don’t quite know where to go with this one.
Is that grape o’ clock me hears? 🤣🤣🤣

Happy Friyay Lovelies xxx