I am showing what I like Mum

Right Ladybelles.

You know I don’t DO the whole “Wow, look what X have sent me so I can tell you how amazeballs it is” melarky, but when I find or buy something that genuinely makes my Mammying easier, I must show you.

I bought these for Mini-Me starting school last year and then when Princess started childcare. Guys, these stickers are BRILLIANT. They survive dishwashers, washing machines and children in general!

I was so impressed, I bought MYSELF some for going back to school. ๐Ÿ˜My whole classroom shall be labeled! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

I MIGHT actually consider THINKING about going to buy the uniforms etc now that I have these badboys to start sticking onto stuff… on Friday! I’ll do it on Friday! ๐Ÿ˜ฃ

Anyone else use them? Or do you have any other BTS hacks for the Mammies this morning? ๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜

#mynametags #notareview #genuinepraise ๐Ÿ˜‚

http://www.mynametags.com @MyNametags

I am She’s in Charge Mum

It looks like he’s leading her through the woods doesn’t it? ๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘‡

Well. What’s REALLY happening here is that this little Wobbler is leading HIM right up the garden path. Princess has morphed into a Demon.

On Sunday she threw her first FULL BLOWN tantrum. We were out for dinner. She lost the bap. We sat looking at each other like two teenagers, neither of whom had a CLUE what to do or how to react. She was screaming and kicking. I held on tight while Daddy pulled Peppa Feckin Pork up on the phone. #needsmust ๐Ÿ˜ข She stopped screaming once the music started. I swear to God, she was like a deflating balloon and then peace was restored and the other diners stopped glaring at us…

Granda didn’t believe a word of it. Nooooooo. HIS little Princess wouldn’t do that. Not his wee angel…Nope. Granda got his eyes open today however ๐Ÿ˜‚when we went out for tea to celebrate my little sis’s little brown envelope. Once again, DemonDoll threw a strop in the restaurant. Granda declared her a feral tyrant and declared HIMSELF officially retired from all tantrum duties, now that his own youngest is all grown up. I do believe that after 36 years of parenting MAYHEM, it has taken a Curley haired cherub to finally break him. ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

“There was a little girl, who had a little curl”… and when she was bad, she was TERRIFYING! ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING. ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ๐Ÿ˜ˆ

So as innocent as she might look here๐Ÿ‘‡, dandering up a laneway with her Daddy, from behind, you can’t see the glint in her eye that tells him “I own you Daddy. I own you.”

(In fairness, he’s well used to it. Note what he’s carrying in the other hand… because the OTHER Dollyanna insisted on bringing her scooter and lasted approximately 3 minutes. #rascals #daddy)

Still. I wouldn’t change them for the world. How was your day? I do hope all of the brown envelope Mums are having a large grape tonight and that the Minions have fun and safe celebrations ๐Ÿ˜š๐Ÿ˜š๐Ÿ˜š

I am “So it’s Results Day” Mum

Although it is many moons ago, Mammy remembers getting her Leaving Cert Results.

Mammy was certain that the contents of the little brown envelope were going to change her life. Had Mammy’s life REALLY depended on the contents of that little brown envelope, quite frankly, I’d be living an utterly dreadful, mediocre and half-arsed attempt at one. ๐Ÿ˜‚

Because the results printed on my little scrap of yellow paper were quite awful, if I’m very honest. The only mark I remember (or tell anyone about!) was my A1 in Honours English. Go figure. As for the rest of them? I’d say the examiners only passed me so that they wouldn’t have to read my verbal diahorrea again the following year. ๐Ÿ˜‚I’m not exaggerating either.

But the other grades didn’t matter. The A in English was all that mattered to me, both then AND today. Yes, I got into college, but not until I had spent a week back in the brown uniform ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜ฃ convincing myself that I needed to repeat. It wasn’t until the second round offers and a trip to meet (attack๐Ÿ˜›) the Dean of the English Department in Coleraine, that I finally got my place on the degree course. (I might have only been 17, but I was a stroppy one!๐Ÿ˜‚)

English was all I loved. It was all that I wanted to study and, as the little brown envelope told me, it was apparently all that I was good at… All that I was good at THEN. At 17. Turns out, I’m good at a whole load of things. I just didn’t get to take exams in singing, dancing, shopping or eating. The Big LC recognised my ability to understand Shakespeare and write stories off the top of my head, but it didn’t (and couldn’t) know how strong I was at things like organisation, being a friend, laughing or pulling pints. So I was crap at French. Biology for me ended after the section on photosynthesis. But although my math grade was dismal, I challenge you to find ANYONE who can work out a % as quickly as me when I see the word “SALE”. ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

So there. Now, almost 20 years on, I’m a teacher and of COURSE I value the Leaving Cert. I love teaching the course and I try my best to encourage my Babbies to give it their best shot. But I also know that they are teenagers. That they have a LOT going on. That some of them have things going on in their lives that are a WHOLE lot more important that exams. ๐Ÿ˜ข That whole some of them will give it their ALL for 2 years, on the day of the exam, it might just not happen. And sometimes, that at 18, they’re just not quite ready for the ridiculousnpressure of the state exam.

For a whole load of reasons, tomorrow is a huge day for our young adults. But that little brown envelope is only that. An envelope. Despite what it is inflated to be, it is NOT the most important piece of paper in the world. Yes, the letters and numbers inside it will have an immediate effect. Yes, some doors will open and yes, some doors will close, but what is written on the page does not define them.

The Leaving Cert does NOT know our children. It doesn’t see the kindness. It doesn’t measure their ability to change things. It can’t recognise their skills as motivators, or thinkers, or makers, or doers. It does not define them, nor should it. And as parents, yes, some of us might be disappointed tomorrow. But mostly we should be proud, because regardless of what is on that page, they are OUR children and they have done their best and we must remind them that they CAN do whatever they want. Because WE know what they can be.

There are ALWAYS options and sometimes, the path that they are so determined to be the ONLY one for them right now, was never the right one for them…it usually takes a few years for them to realise that however. But they will. ๐Ÿ’•

So tonight, tell them how brilliant they are. And leave them under NO illusion that no matter what words and letters are on that piece of paper tomorrow, that you are and will always be proud of them and that you will help them to get to where they want to go, may it be straight through the college door or in a longer, roundabout way. But all roads lead ahead. And before they know it, they won’t even remember what was printed on the page!

It might be almost 20 years since I opened my little brown envelope and had my heart broken in a million pieces, but trust me, everything happens for a reason. ๐Ÿ˜‡ Tonight, I send love to all of the young people (especially my own Babbies๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜) and to all you exam parents whose minions face the brown envelope tomorrow.

And remember, that little brown envelope does NOT hold the key to their future. They hold that key already.

It’s right inside them.

And no piece of paper can change that. XXX

I am Some Knickertwisting Fiction Mum

Once upon a time, in an imaginary faraway land, (NOWHERE near Mammy’s house), a COMPLETELY fictional little 5 (and a half) year old girl went for a sleepover to her Hypothetical Grannyโ€™s house.

As she was getting dressed the next morning, she showed Granny her new โ€œBig Girlโ€ pants which her very lovely Mammy had bought her, just that week. ๐Ÿ˜ฒ She proceeded to put them on and then turned to grab her jeans, giving Granny quite the eyeful.

โ€œFictional little girl, why have you pulled your pants up between your bumcheeks?โ€ asked a bewildered and bemused hypothetical Granny. โ€œBecause they are my Big Girl Pants and Big girls wear their pants up high like this, the same way Mammy wears dem,โ€ answered the fictional little girl, quite matter-of-factly, as if Granny was the silliest hypothetical Granny in the world.๐Ÿ˜‚

The fictional little girlโ€™s fictional Mammy was slightly mortified by the fictional daughterโ€™s โ€œrevelationsโ€ and only thanked her lucky stars that fictional Granda had been spared the episode, as he was at mass, praying for his good and moral children and their offspring.

*All characters and events are completely fabricated and fictional. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, is utterly coincidental and accidental.

(And No, The fictional Mother DID NOT buy thongs for her fictional Daughter. They were perfectly acceptable and respectable undergarments, quite suitable for a fictional 5 (and a half) year old.) ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

Thoroughly Modern Mammy – I am Say what? Mum

Rational thinking goes out the window the second a pregnancy test indicates a positive result. ย 

Logic goes with it.

They are replaced by panic and worry and fear.

 

From the moment the word โ€œPregnantโ€ appeared on the little screen over 6 years ago, the sensible and calm me has been replaced gradually by what I like to call the โ€œHormentalโ€ Me.

 

And of course, we CAN blame hormones for our newly irrational, illogical and panicked minds… ย But we can also blame ANOTHER factor.

 

People.

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When you are pregnant, people and the things that people say, when mixed with the hormones and genuine fears of pregnancy, create an explosive cocktail of mental mayhem. ย Generally people mean no harm and their comments are 100% innocent, but what they say and what we HEAR are often two very different things.

 

Person Says: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, youโ€™re so neat!โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, thereโ€™s something wrong. ย My baby must be too small. ย What if he isnโ€™t growing properly? When is my next appointment? I wonder is it too late to ring my midwife? I must order a doppler online right now. ย Why am I not bigger? Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

Person Says: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, youโ€™re blooming!โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, thereโ€™s something wrong. Iโ€™m too big. ย I must have extra fluid. Whatโ€™s wrong with me? What if thereโ€™s something wrong with the Baby? Or maybe Iโ€™m just fat. I must look like an upturned turtle. Iโ€™m huge. When is my next appointment? I wonder is it too late to ring my midwife? I must order a doppler online right now. ย Why am I so big? Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

Person Says: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, youโ€™re carrying so low!โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, thereโ€™s something wrong. Iโ€™m too low. ย I must have dropped. ย Iโ€™m too early to be low. Iโ€™m going to go early. Thereโ€™s something wrong with the Baby? When is my next appointment? I wonder if I should ring Maternity…Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

Person Says: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, youโ€™re carrying so high!โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, thereโ€™s something wrong. Iโ€™m too high. I must look like I have three boobs. Why am I so high? Should my bump not be lower? Thereโ€™s something wrong with the Baby? When is my next appointment? I wonder if I should ring Maternity…Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

Person Says: ย โ€œAre you feeling lots of kicks?โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, when did I last feel a kick? I canโ€™t remember. It hasnโ€™t kicked today. Did I feel kicks yesterday? ย How do I know if itโ€™s kicks or just wind?

Thereโ€™s something wrong. When is my next appointment? I wonder if I should ring Maternity…Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

Person Says: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, you look wrecked!โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, sheโ€™s right. ย I look awful. Why am I so tired? Iโ€™m too pale. ย My iron must be low. ย Can I buy an iron level tester online? Thereโ€™s something wrong with the Baby. ย When is my next appointment? I wonder if I should ring Maternity…Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

Person Says: ย โ€œOh my Gosh! You look AMAZING!โ€

Mammy thinks: ย โ€œOh my Gosh, thereโ€™s something wrong. I should be sick. ย Should I not be tired by now? ย Why do I feel so well? Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Oh my God, thereโ€™s something wrong with the Baby? ย I When is my next appointment? I wonder if I should ring Maternity…Whatโ€™s wrong with me? Somethingโ€™s wrongโ€ฆโ€

 

See the pattern?!

 

No matter WHAT people say, on certain days, your rewired Baby Brain will divert immediately to worst case scenario; to fear, to panic. ย And this is completely normal. ย Itโ€™s our brains preparing for the constant alertness of being a Mammy. ย Itโ€™s instinct kicking in and itโ€™s one of the ways we ensure that our little beans are as safe as we can possibly keep them, from the second theyโ€™re conceived. ย 

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If I had called Maternity every time I felt the urge to, Iโ€™d have been on the phone to the poor midwives 24/7. ย Hell, Iโ€™d have moved into the labour ward the day I peed on the stick if it had been an option!

 

People say things to us, meaning no harm whatsoever. ย We canโ€™t help but over-think things. ย Itโ€™s normal to overreact, especially when people make silly, albeit innocent, statements like the crackers above.

 

(But joking aside, ย if you DO have a niggling worry or concern or you just feel like something isnโ€™t right, DO contact your GP or PHN. Follow your gutโ€ฆ or bump. ย You might be irrational and illogical and slightly hormental, but youโ€™re also a Mammy-in-the-making and Mammy knows best.) ย ย 

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