I am Sad Mum

Everytime I start writing tonight, I find myself lost for words…
It seems inappropriate to make jokes and poke fun at my little world today. ย It seems wrong to joke about anything tonight.

I can’t even bear to imagine what the families affected by last night’s massacre are dealing with today.
I can’t imagine what the emergency services and hospital staff have been dealing with.
I wanted to hug each and every one of my students today. ย In every image I see of missing and lost children this evening, I see their smiles, their poses, their innocence. ย And the fact that such terror can happen so close to home, is a terrifying reminder of just how quickly life can change for any of us.
Until this morning, I didn’t know who Arianna Grande was. Tonight, I feel so much sympathy and sadness for her. I really do. Such sadness.
Today, my minions were their usual delightful, devilish, rascalish, sibling-battering, screaming selves.

But they are here.

They are well.

They are mines.

And all the little things that I give out about, and complain about and scold about every other day, I breathed in deep today.
They’re tucked up in bed now, safe and blissfully oblivious to the evil cowardice that resides in our communities.

I’ve held them a little closer. I’ve kissed them an extra time. I’ve cuddled them a little tighter…

I’m sure we all have?
And, like every parent here, watching the devestation across the water, I’ve cried for our neighbours in Manchester.
I send my love, as futile as that may be, to everyone.

#manchester

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I am Stop Being Mean Mum

Do you know what is going on in another Mammy’s mind?

No?

Well then.

Try this.
Shut the fuck up. ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ก
I am getting so sick and tired of keyboard warriors.  

Actually. Let’s not call them warriors.  “Warriors” carries connotations of strength and bravery and valiance and greater good.

Let’s rename them Keyboard cowards.
Because if you comment negatively on ANYBODY or their decisions, or their mistakes, or their ANYTHING… you are not a warrior.

You are a bitch.

And you are a coward.
This morning, a local platform highlighted a Mammy who left her baby in a running car outside a shop.

Now.  We all know that this is dangerous and many may have been shocked or disgusted.  

And that is fine. 
Shock and disapproval, anger even, are understandable reactions to something like this. We’re all very good at disapproving something that we would NEVER do ourselves, aren’t we?
 Should the “witness” or “onlooker” even have raised the issue in the media? Should someone’s mistake or decision be reported upon? Should it even be the topic of our conversation?
 Well YES, actually.
  Events like this DO need to be discussed, because we DO need to raise awareness of the frequency of such events.  We do need to highlight just how easily a car can be stolen, or indeed go on fire, or how easily a baby can choke… We DO need to sometimes remind people of the DANGERS or possible CONSEQUENCES of their actions.  We SHOULD be able to promote awareness and have conversation about things that need to stop; Not strapping kids in is a common one. It does my head in. ๐Ÿ˜ ๐Ÿ˜ 
But, we DON’T need to attack or judge.
Shake your head.  Tut.  Disapprove… These are NORMAL reactions.
But, if your reaction causes you to ATTACK and SLATE the morals, ethics, parenting and CHARACTER of the person, you are no longer raising awareness.  
You are bitching. 

You are attacking. 

You are out of fecking order.
And if it isn’t something that you would say DIRECTLY to the face of the person in question, DON’T TYPE IT.
I’m not defending her. 

But I’m not judging her either, because I don’t know her. I don’t know her circumstances. I don’t have any authority on parenting.  I’m a disaster myself most of the time. ๐Ÿ˜…
If anything, I hope that if she HAS read the comments, that MAYBE she’ll think about the possible dangers of what she did…and I hope she’s OK. 
Because Sweet Jeebus on a stick, people can be nasty.
Don’t be a Sanctimammy.

Don’t be a Keyboard Coward.
And don’t bitch about someone you don’t know.
Shnot nice. ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜ฃ

โ€‹Sudocrem and last-minute-Mother-of-the-feckin-year mum

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. ๐Ÿ˜ฒ
I would be Super Organised, Super slick, SuperMum…
2 LONG MONTHS LATER, my shit has ALL gone to shit.๐Ÿ˜‚
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. ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜ฃ
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.

๐Ÿ˜ฃ

(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…) ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜ฃ๐Ÿ˜ฃ
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. ๐Ÿ˜†

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… ๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘‡๐Ÿ‘‡

I am Say Hello to Floor Mum

โ€‹Let me introduce you to my friend Floor.
“Miss Bedroom Floor” to give her full title.
Mummy misses Miss Floor. ๐Ÿ˜ญ

We have a complicated relationship.

We often go for months without seeing each other.

We can spend weeks apart, not talking, not asking how the other is doing, seemingly not caring aboit each other.
When Floor and Mummy fall out, it’s usually over clothes and shoes.

We have the same taste see.๐Ÿค

Floor also has a lot to deal with.  

Mummy neglects her. 

I do.

Since the kids came along, Mummy just doesn’t have the same time to spend with her.  You could say she has been abandoned, dropped on, forgotten by Mummy.

I walk all over her really.

There is a layer of cobweb on our relationship, and it’s horrible.๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ญ๐Ÿ˜ญ
And of course, there are the OTHER Floors… Floor MUST be jealous as Mummy keeps the other floors generally tidy.

 SOMETIMES, (believe or or not), Mummy even MOPS the Other Floors.

I know. 

I’m awful.๐Ÿ˜ฒ

So I really can’t blame Floor for hiding from Mummy and ignoring me sometimes.
But like any TRUE FRIENDSHIP, when distance grows between us, we both feel sad.

Mummy misses Floor terribly.

When she is sad and isolated and upset, and the distance between us is great, Mummy could cry.  

It’s all such a MESS. I feel like the whole house is falling down around me.  I can’t get over her.  I can’t get past missing her. I feel like my head is going to fucking EXPLODE.
This morning, my broken and disintegrating relationship with my friend Floor, became too much for me to deal with.

At approximately 7.45am, Mummy freaked out on The Him. ๐Ÿ‘ค
I couldn’t DEAL with the absence of Floor any longer. 
“I can’t deal with this situation any more. It’s driving me insane. I just can’t get the time need to find Floor!” were just a few of the things I ranted and rambled while trying to find the trousers Floor had hidden from me.

STRESS CENTRAL.
I went to work, promising myself that this evening, I WOULD make time for my Friend Floor.  I WOULD fix this mess. I WOULD make her remember that she is loved and valued.
I would.
As I collected Princess from The Him after work, I was still determined to make amends with Floor.

As HIM drove off, he called “Try to get that Floor sorted this evening will you?”
He was waved off with less than 5 fingers and many obscenities, expletives and petnames muttered after him.

He will pay for that.
And then we came home and I opened the bedroom door to find THIS…

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NOT ONLY had The Him tidied up the room, he had rearranged the wardrobes to GIVE ME MORE SPACE!

I. Shit. You. Not.
I almost FELL on the floor in shock (and joy!)

I think I fell a little bit in lurve with Him all over again too.๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’™๐Ÿ’™
Joking aside, I can’t find the words to express how much this simple, unexpected action meant to me today. It isn’t even the tidying that has floored me…(boom)… it’s the fact that he noticed how much it was stressing me out.

In a house where I sometimes feel like no one even HEARS ME most of the time, just to have something be noticed is amazing.
Tonight? If he bought flowers, diamonds, chocolates… none of that could compete with the utter joy of seeing Floor again.
The Him gets a tough time on here, so I must give credit where it’s due.

He is my Superhero. 

My S-Him.

AND I’m NOT even going to REARRANGE the rearranged wardrobes!
(I’ll do that tomorrow!) ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜๐Ÿ˜˜

โ€‹I am “Small Sausages, Big Smiles” Mum

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Now I know that most LAYDEEEEEEEZ might not associate the words “Small Sausages” with “Big Smiles”…(yes…I said it. You thought it ya dirty hallions!) but today, I do! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚
Because today, something as silly and simple as Small Sausages did indeed make me smile. ๐Ÿ˜†๐Ÿ˜†
After school/work, we were having some quality mother/daughter time where I was teaching my girls VERRRRRRY important life skills in an edumacational and sensory-stimulating  environment.

 (Yes.  We were in Penneys… life skills I tell you.)
With Mini-Me COMPLETELY knackered after school and Princess CHEWING on ANYTHING or ANYONE who got close enough to her,  I was slightly stressed. 
 I carried Princess AND the shopping bags around, while pushing the feckin pram. Mini-Me was complaining about EVERYTHING, providing a CONSTANT soundtrack in protest to my obvious cruelty and I was up to my tits with “the looks” from innocent bystanders in the Shopping Centre who had to endure our NOISE.
THEN, I almost had a complete MENTAL FREAK OUT on a shop owner who tried to tell me they “Don’t do refunds on ANYTHING” when I tried to return a dress that was store-damaged. 
Little Miss Continuous Soundtrack takes the volume it up a notch just to make sure that MY slightly raised volume doesn’t surpass hers, Princess’s new tooth is causing her to be the crankiest cretur ever and she’s now joined in the song of protest in support of her sister and I’m pretty sure that the shop owner is beginning to realise that she is about to bare the brunt of an epic S-Mum bolloking. (Or possibly, my two little shebitcheepoos are genuinely terrifying her?)
Shop Policy bent just this once.  

Really?

Oh thank you.  Shall I grovel in thanks because you’ve, you know…adhered to the fecking LAW that allows  me to return faulty goods? 

Eh no.

Seriously…  ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ฒ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ฒ๐Ÿ˜ก๐Ÿ˜ฒ
I’d had enough! Enough of the noise and the protests and the CRYING and the NONSENSE Dumbass “Shop Policy” and the snotters and my face being chewed and the … you get the picture.

It was time to leave. ๐Ÿ˜ฃ
I was either going to cry, or get arrested. 

Being arrested would possibly have resulted in some Me-time in a small quiet space… at that particular moment, it wasn’t the WORST thing that could have happened! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚
We headed for the car and THEN the worst thing DID happen.

I remembered I had to go to the butchers. ๐Ÿ˜ฅ
And that was where the Lovely man with the Small Sausages saved the feckin day! ๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚
I’m ordering chicken and mince.
Mini-Me has stopped crying but is still talking at the top of her voice about ANYTHING.
“MAMMY LOOK AT ALL THE SAUSAGES,”

“We’re getting chicken pet.”

“MAMMY I JUST WUUUUUUB SAUSAGES”.

“No sausages today. Mammy’s buying chicken.”

“OH MAMMY LOOOOOOK! LOOK AT THE BABY SAUSAGES! Aren’t they SOOOOOOO CUTE?” ๐Ÿ˜ฃ

(Butcher is laughing.)

“Hewooooo Witto SAUSAGES.  AW they’re sooooo cute Mammy…”
And then ANGEL MAN, who is finishing putting my order into the bag, did the NICEST THING EVER.
He lifted a dozen of the cute sausages into a bag, tied it and handed it to her as a present.๐ŸŒŸ๐ŸŒŸ๐ŸŒŸ
Small Sausages, Big Smiles…

For both of us.  
I had the HAPPIEST little lady skip along side me to the car, where Princess FINALLY took a nap and my blood pressure reduced rapidly.
So there you go.

The smallest act of kindness to a dishevelled SuperMum really does have a huge impact.
Never underestimate the power of kindness.
And Thank you๐Ÿ’™ to the lovely Butcher๐Ÿ‘ค if he ever reads this. 
Sometimes, even Small sausages can make a Mamma smile! ๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜…๐Ÿ˜‰๐Ÿ˜…

#littlethings #mummyblogger #kindness #stressedoutmamma #thepowerofsausages

I am Simple act of Kindness Mum

Yesterday, I ran into a lovely young Mammy whose little Princess was born on the same day as my Mini-Me.

We’ve known each other for many years, because once upon a time, I had the pleasure of being her English teacher. (I’m not sure if she would describe her time in my classroom as a pleasure, but that’s my take on it anyway!) ๐Ÿ˜‚
Our two girls are due to start school together in September and will be in the same class.๐Ÿ‘ญ

Her daughter, (let’s call her Pretty Curls), is just beautiful; gentle and sweet. โค

We stopped to speak and as usual when there are kids included in the situation, it was more a direction ro the girls to “Say hello” to each other, rather than a conversation between the grown-ups.๐Ÿ˜‚๐Ÿ˜‚

Mini-Me was having a bad day. She has sore ears, was running a slight temperature and was still in the throes of being completely traumatised after going to her ballet class for a whole 3 minutes before deciding she NEEDED to go home. (That’s another blog…) ๐Ÿ˜ก

Mini-Me and Pretty Curls were eyeing each other up.ย  Mini-Me spotted a packet of Disney Princess rings in the hands of Pretty Curls and began that incessant “But why does SHE have?/I WANT RINGS” whining that brought the conversation to a close.ย  I said goodbye and ushered her off to the next aisle, praying she’d calm down. ๐Ÿ˜ข
(She didn’t. She slipped and fell and began to bawl. It was one of those genuine cries that overrides the whining to make Mammy realise that ACTUALLY, she’s NOT being a brat, she feels shitty and is upset at everything and simply needs to be snuggled on the sofa with a big glug or Calpol.)

So we went to pay for the shopping.
The other Mammy and Pretty Curls were at the next checkout.
And then the most beautiful, wonderful thing happened.

Pretty Curls came around to Mini-Me and put out her hand, saying “Here. You can have this.”
In her little hand was one of the rings.๐Ÿ‘ญ๐Ÿ’

Mini-Me was delighted and cheered up instantly.
Mammy was gobsmacked. ๐Ÿ˜ฎ
ย  It was the sweetest thing I’ve seen in a long time.
There were hugs and smiles and statements like “You can be my best fwend!”

Such a simple, thoughtful gesture of kindness from a 4 year old stopped me in my tracks.
It was adorable to watch.๐Ÿ˜‡
It was humbling.
It was the perfect example of how one, seemingly small, act of kindness can change someone’s whole day.๐Ÿ˜„
It wasnt small.ย  It was HUGE. It made Mini-Meย  forget her sore ears (until we got home at least!) And it made her happy.
It also made me realise that I need to learn from this Mammy’s lovely example.
She’s taught her little girl to be kind and to be nice.๐Ÿ‘

Pretty Curls was able to share her brand new toys with a little girl she doesn’t even know.ย  She’ll go a long way in life; just like her Mammy.

They’re both fabulous and I couldn’t be more impressed. โคโค

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