Category Archives: children

Posted in blog, children, family, parenting, teacher, toddlers, Uncategorized, wrong answer by

It is Feck-it-up FriYay and Mammy has done a wonderful job of fecking ALL of it up today. 😂

Mammy has been asked some very difficult questions today.

In the car, enroute to the paint shop… (because Mammy has realised she is going back to her OTHER full time job in 3 weeks and so doing all of the jobs I have put off for the past 2 years must obviously begin! 😂)

“Mammy, When are you going to die?”
Mammy chokes… “Not for a very long time I hope!”

“Are you going to die before me?”
(Christ alive I do hope so!) Erm, yes Baby, because I’m older, but not for a verrrrrrry long time.

“But who will look after me when you die?”
You’ll be all grown up by then pet. Now let’s talk about something else. What will we have for tea?

“Are Rhinocerouses dinosaurs in real life?”
Erm… No, sure the dinosaurs are all extinct and rhinocerouses are still alive…
“Nocerouses do NOT STINK Mammy. Dat is NOT very nice.”

“Where is Heaven?”
(Feck it.) “Do you not think rhinocerouses stink then?”
“Mammy! Answer me. WHERE is Heaven?”
(Fuckitty fuck fuck fuck…)
“Erm… Some people say it’s above the clouds. Some people say it’s all around us. I’m not really sure…”

“Can I bring my stuff wif me when I go?”
“To Granny’s? Of course!” (Phew!)
“No Silly, to HEAVEN!” (I can feel her rolling her eyes in the backseat.😅)

“So do you just go to sleep and wake up in heaven then?”
Sometimes… Baby these are very hard questions to answer and you really don’t need to be thinking about thisstuff today. Now, what will we have for tea tonight?”
DISTRACT, DISTRACT, DISTRACT… 😂😂

“Mammy?”
(Oh God get me to the paint shop…)

“How do giraffes lie down?”

Alleluia!
I can’t answer THIS obviously. (Is it even a valid question?) But I CAN revert to my favourite answer “I don’t know, but we can look it up when we get home OK?”

And at least if we DID look it up, there’d probably BE an ACTUAL answer! Unlike the other questions.

Who said we should tell our kids the truth?
WTF do you do when you don’t KNOW the answers?

And even if I DID google them, there’s a pretty good chance I still couldn’t give her answers. 😂😂

So yup. Add a “Friday-Fablis-Freezer-dinner” to my USELESS attempts at answering her questions and you’ll see that it wass INDEED a successful Feck-it-up Friday.

Therefore, Mammy feels that it is utterly acceptable and justifiable to pour some grapes… 🍷🍷🍷

How did you Feck-it-up today? 😚😚

Oh and YES I googled it…

http://www.express.co.uk/news/nature/784457/April-the-giraffe-how-do-giraffes-sleep-standing-up-lying-down

I am Such a GENIUS Mum 😘

Posted in blog, children, family, parenting, swear words, tantrums, Uncategorized by

Mammy is a genius.

A feckin genius I tell you.

As Mini-Me’s ability to COMPLETELY ignore me becomes increasingly professional, I find myself sometimes wondering HOW the FECK to get her to do even the most simple daily tasks?

My orders, my requests and any other hint of a suggestion of her doing something that might please me, seem to float around her head, never quite making contact with her ears. Usually, it’s only when I SHOUT or SCREAM that she eventually acknowledges that my voice HAS in fact been sending massive soundwaves in her direction.

She’s just chosen NOT to surf them. 😂

And even when she finally acknowledges that I’ve asked her to do something, she still finds 162 ways to procrastinate or forget or simply not be able to do it.

“Put on your Pjs please Darling.”

“Put on your Pjs please Darling.”

“Put on your Pjs please Darling.”

“Put on your Pjs please Darling.”

“Put on your Pjs please Darling.”

“Mini-Me I am not going to ask you again…”

“Whaaaaaaaaat?!” (Add eye roll or exasperated sigh for effect.)

“I’ve asked you to Put on your Pjs. Get them on right now.”

“But where ARE they?” (Still watching Tellybox/making jigsaw/rolling on the floor etc…)

“Wherever you left them. Now go put them on!”😡

“But…” insert random WTF-inducing excuse/problem/comment here.

“PUT ON YOUR PJS NOOOOOOOOOOW!” Screaming BansheeMammy appears.

“Okay! Okay!” Stomps down hall, muttering something about “no need to shout”. (Little twatsickle.)

Mammy sighs in deluded, false victory, before being interrupted by “MAMMEEEEEEE. I can’t FIND them!” or some other shite like that, then stomps down hall, muttering and swearing to find her standing right in FRONT of the fucking Pajamas, which are the ONLY thing lying on the floor, but which are seemingly fucking INVISIBLE to my daughter.

Cue scolding, fighting, retaliation, defiance, huffing, puffing, threatening, snarling, crying and Mammy eventually putting the fecking things ON HER. (It’s that or throw them AT HER. Bad Mammy. No! Terrible thoughts Mammy.)

Different night, same old shite. Until tonight. Tonight, Mammy is a genius. The requesting, finding and putting ON of the fecking PJs took a whole 1 MINUTE AND 37 SECONDS.

I SHIT YOU NOT.

Why?

Because as I was about to ask her for the first time to “Put on your Pjs please Darling”, I opened the cupboard and spotted this👇👇👇 and I had a brainwave.

“Oooooh look what Mammy found! I know, let’s have a race!” (Singsongy voice, think Mary-of-the-poppins.) “I’m going to time you to see how quickly you can put on ypu Pjs. Will we see what number we can get?”

“Yay! I LOVE races!”

“On your marks, get set…GO!” And I swear to God, she slid sideways back into the kitchen, fully dressed in her fricken PJs, a whole minute and a half later…

“Did I beat it?” (Not sure what she’s beating, but when it stops me wanting to beat my head off a brick wall, I’ll roll with it! 😂😂)

“Of course you did, you are AMAZING!” And it was.

Amazing.

And I am a genius.

And I will try it again tomorrow night, but she’ll probably have copped on to me by then.

Ah well, I’ll enjoy it while it lasts. 😂😂😂 How was your day? 😘😘😘

I am Scary Clippers Mum 

Posted in children, parenting, Uncategorized by

Feck-it-up Friday seems an appropriate day for this smumble!  😘
Being pregnant is scary.  You worry about everything; the pregnancy, the birth, how you’ll be as a Mammy. You think about the things that are frightening you already, even before Baby arrives; feeding, burping, sickness, temperatures, exhaustion, “doing the right thing” etc etc.
But one of the worst experiences of being a Mammy is one that you would never even consider during pregnancy.  The true horror of this particular terror only enters your mind when you are faced with it for the first time.
I am of course referring to the “Cutting of the nails”.

The first time you realise that your minion’s nails might need trimmed, is a milestone. You remain calm. You pull out the little cute scissor and clipper set that came in a baby shower gift.  It’s no big deal.
And then, you hold the little clipper, hovering over their little soft nails, wondering wtf to do…
It’s possibly one of the worst fears you’ll ever experience.  What if she moves? What if your hand shakes? What if you cut him?

And yet, like every challenge you’ve faced in the past 10 months, you take a deep breath and go for it.  And most of the time, you are so careful that OF COURSE, you are succesful and the little nails get trimmed.
And the fear might lessen, but it never goes away.
You grow confident.

You get comfortable.

You stop thinking about it… and then it happens.
You nip his or her little finger, just ever so slightly, but enough to make them catch THEIR breath, start suddenly and then scream a cataclysmic howl that rips every shred of your being and soul to smithereens… It crushes you.
You drop the clippers. You instinctively pull the wee hand to your mouth. You kiss the fingers. You clutch the baby so close to you that you feel every molecule of her pain as you try in vain to sooth them.  You sob with them, trying so hard to calm them. You wish you could rewind 2 minutes. You curse yourself for being the worst Mammy in the world. You eventually find the baby settling a little, the screams gently easing to little wobbly lipped sobs.  You are afraid to look at the massacred finger, certain that there HAS to be blood everywhere and that you have scarred her for life.
But when you finally look at the little fingertip, chances are the nip is utterly tiny and simply a little more pink than usual.  Ok, so there might be a little cut, but it will disappear as instantly as it happened.

The FEELING however remains in you.  It never leaves.  It’s guilt.  It’s  regret.  It’s self loathing…
and like all the other milestones, it happens to all of us and it’s perfectly normal.
The first time is the worst.  If you’re lucky, it will not happen again.  But you WILL feel the same emotion again at some point, maybe when you step on her toe for the first time, or catch her finger in the drawer, of scratch her thigh with a ring while changing a poonami, or watch her fall right in front of you, but just out of your reach… the list is endless.
Unless you wrap your minions in bubblewrap, they are destined to get hurt. But when you know that the injury has been your fault, there is NOTHING that can make you feel worse.
(Unless you’re my sister, who recently sat a chair leg on Mini-Me’s toe. Mini-Me screamed for 15 minutes. My poor sister was devastated. I was rocking Mini-Me, soothing her while Granny held a cold cloth on her toe and simultaneously trying to convince the Aunty that it was absolutely fine and that she shouldn’t be upset, when Madam announced through her sobs “I…don’t…need….no….naunty….no….more!”  😂😂 THAT made her feel worse I think! 😅😅)
But I digress.
Yes, beware the Clippers.

But remember, that it’s just another Mammy milestone.
Any stories? Feel free to share. 👇👇👇
😘😘😘😘

I am Slight Bum Boke Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, Uncategorized by

I’ve been a changing nappies since I was 10.   I am well used to super poos, or “The Poonami”, as I often refer to the most savage nappy explosions.

 

But today, just as I was looking at the clock for the 189th time wondering HOW THE FECK it was only 6.14pm, Princess decided to treat me to a new level of Poonami.

 

We were on Skype singing Happy Birthday to my nephew, when I got a whiff of puke.  Of vomit.  Of that distinct and unmissable pong of stale belly bile.  As I hastily hung up on the family in Scotland, (seriously wondering how they hadn’t smelled it), I checked to see if and where the Princess on my knee had puked.  She hadn’t, and so I blamed the hoodie she had insisted on pulling on her to go outside earlier.  

 

And then I realised that the smell of puke was NOT in fact of puke.  It was ACTUALLY of the Poonami in her nappy.  The explosion in the bum bag was so hideous, that I can not simply refer to it as a Poonami.  That would be unfair on the humble Poonami.  NO. What was (just about) being held in by the Bum Bag, was not a Poonami.  It was disgusting.  It was vile.  It was a new level of shite that I have not witnessed or seen before. (And remember please my love of red grapes and hot Indian dishes.)

 

Princess had not simply Pooed.  She had vomited out of her posterier.  She had Butt boked.  She had arse vomited.  Because what I cleaned up, should only ever be projectiled into the porcelain bowl.  It should NEVER exit the bottom of a Baby.

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Has she been unwell?  No.

Has she been off form? No.

Was she OK afterwards.  Hell yes.  She continued the evening as happy as a pig in the proverbial and light as a fecking feather.  She is cutting nasty big teeth, and normally, has a history of savage Poonamis while teething, but she must be cutting an 18ct gold Wisdom tooth tonight, because there was nothing normal about this.

 

I have never before, nor do I ever again, want to experience the Arse Puke.  The vest went into the nappy bag along with the nappy.  Actually, this bad boy required three nappy bags and then a plastic bag, and it didn’t even get to make the usual pit stop in the inside bin.  Oh no.  Once Princess was dipped and dressed, this particular nuclear device was escorted straight outside to the big bin.

Traumatised I tell you …

This morning, I bought a lovely new bottle of a new gin that I have been meaning to try.  “I’ll open that on Friday night” thought I as I slipped it into the trolley between (thank Jebus) the nappies and the lemons.  

 

Friday night my backside.  It tastes wonderful. And oh how good it smells! It has finally removed the smell of the bum boke from my nostrils.

 

How was your day?

I am So I took a week off Mum

Posted in blog, children, family, parenting, Uncategorized, wine by

So, as you’ll have noticed, I took a week off.  I deleted the FB app from my phone and took a long overdue trip with the love of my life, sans kiddies. 

This time last week, I was swinging off a lampost in central Park in 30° sunshine, 👇👇 singing “Singing in the rain” at the top of my voice and not giving a continental who heard me.  I’m going to spend the next 5 days starting sentences with “This time last week…” 😂😂 

We spent 5 glorious days in NYC, just me and The Him. (I’ll post properly about it during the week.)  Suffice to say, it was AMAZEBALLS and we really did have the time of our lives.🍏 But today, while it CERTAINLY was NOT 30°, we were back in our FAVOURITE park in the world with our favourite little people. Central Park doesn’t hold a candle to Glenveagh with our wee buddies. 💗💗

Oh how we missed Mini-Me and Princess, and we are so glad to be home safe and sound to them, but taking a few days to be Mammy and Daddy again, (or rather Maria and Emmet), was invaluable. When you’re busy parents, it’s hard to find yourselves in the mayhem.  Every conversation tends to be about the kids. Every phonecall or text message revolves around them. Each thought you have has something to do with the act of parenting. Your daily interactions are mostly about or for the kids. Your entire focus in day-to-day life, is the kids… 

And so it must be,  but to have had 5 full days and nights of just being US, did our little family unit absolutely no harm at all. 

Sometimes, a Mammy and Daddy need to find each other in the midst of all the madness, may it be simply for a dinner date or a movie night, or a trip away.  Yes, we spent much of our time talking about and missing the girls, but we also had fun together, laughed together, drank beer at 2pm, ate our bodyweight, and enjoyed being tourists in a ridiculously fun place.

  We finished conversations without being interrupted 167 times. We did what WE wanted to do when it suited us, just like we used to. We were spontaneous, not thinking about anything but us, and we remembered all the things we actually like about being The Him and The Her. 💗💙

So while the biggest challenge for me was to STOP referring to him as “Daddy” (and no it is NOT kinky! WTF like? 😂😂), we managed to have the holiday of our lives. 

 In fact the only thing that made us look forward to getting home, was the thought of getting squeezes and snuggles from the two Dollies. Their reactions were priceless when we got back. 
Mini-Me has announced that we are “never going on holidays again, ever!” and Princess seems to have doubled in size and has learned to use “Noooooooo” quite impressively.  They were spoiled rotten by Ganny and Gwanda.  Of course they were! 
I must admit that I did miss the daily craic here with you all,💗 but I think the week off from writing did me the world of good.   

And how is Jim I hear you ask? Poor Jim, was abandoned by The Him for the Her, for the 1st time in 3 years. Poor Jim my arse.  Jim is probably rocking in the corner waiting for Him’s Daddy back at 6am tomorrow.  
But did we miss him? Not one feckin bit! 😂😂😂