Category Archives: parenting

I am Screen Time Dinner Mum

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“Tut tut. Look at those parents using their phones to distract their child. Tut tut.
Lazy young parents of today. Not able to handle their kiddies in public. Whatever happened to conversation at dinner? Tut tut. In my day… yadda yadda fucking yadda.”

Now. Mammy did not HEAR the actual shpeel of verbal diahorrea that was ACTUALLY coming out of the older couple’s tight-set mouths, but the looks and disapproving glances at our table (and the table beside us might I add) when The Him stuck an episode of “Ben & Bolly” on his phone were more than enough to tell us what they were thinking.😡

Now. I am not one who condones screentime at the table, either at home or in public. And actually, our 6 year old does NOT get to look at a screen when we’re eating. Not a hope… but the twoublemaker? Absofeckinglutely. 😂

The couple Saw a snippet of our day. They saw the 9 minutes where Mammy’s lovely dinner had gone cold as she’d spent her time ensuring that Princess did not launch her plate at Mini-Me’s head or SPILL the glasses of milk all over our dinner.

They DIDN’T see the 2 hours of the girls playing at their Doll’s house and in their bedrooms this morning.

They DIDN’T see the 3 hours of fresh air and exercise in Glenveagh.

They DIDN’T see the 45 minutes of colouring in and general chatter as we waited to order and eat.

What they SAW was the “We need to distract the minion for a few minutes to allow Mammy to finish her food and Daddy to order a coffee trick” that most parents turn to as a last fecking resort when their Knackered child has reached their quota of sitting and behaving like a good little girl.

I’m sure they meant no harm. I’m sure they’re lovely. I’m sure they would never have allowed it. Whatever.

Did it bother me? Eh…no! 😂 But I’m pretty sure it might have bothered another Mammy. This Bad Mammy Wagon seriously considered letting her watch another 3 episodes so I could order another glass of grapes. 😂 I didn’t. Cos see, that WOULD MAYBE have been cause for the tutters to tut.

I finished my Yummy dinner. We drank our coffee and we turned off the EBSD. (ElectronicBabysittingdevice)

Then we drove our fed, watered and quite relaxed wee family home.

And we didn’t give a tut what the tutters thunked. They didn’t see the full movie you see. They only saw the blooper reel. So really, their review doesn’t matter, does it?

Now.
A glass of grapes on a Sunday night? How very dare I!? Yay!

Happy Bank Holiday Sunday Bitcheepoos.

Any fun for me?
Mammy x

I am Screw-top Lid Mum

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Is there anything more frustrating than jars?

You know jars?

With Screw top lids?
“Oh, S-Mum, you are being ridonkulous and melodramaria now.  HOW can you be frustrated by a jam jar, you silly woman?” I hear you scoff.
And usually, I would agree, but tonight, if YOU had witnessed the EPIC meltdown offered by my Princess because S-Mum here couldn’t get a FECKING JAR OPEN, you would not be scoffing.  You would be popping to the shop to buy me grapes.

And chocolate.

jam
“You want toast Princess of mine?”

“Mmmmhmmmm” she nods.

“Mammy get you toast now.”

“Mmmmmhmmmmmm” she says, wobbling her fat little arse to the fridge, where she stands grunting at it and at me until I open it.

“Will we get out the butter, my cherished cherub?”

“Mmmmmhmmmmmmm” she nods, reacing for the jar of jam from the fridge door.

“You want jam on your toast?”

“BAAAAAAAAM!” she squeals, dancing her happy nappy dance…

“Mammy get you jam surely pet.”
Except she won’t.

NO,

Because this Jam jar has not yet been opened and it seems that its lid has been welded to the jar by trolls, using their extra special concrete mix, which is completely unmoving regardless of how much you twist, or turn, or grunt or swear.
Mammy was certain of ONE thing after a few minutes.
Mammy was NOT getting the lid of the blasted jar. 😭😭
Nope.
Now, let it be known, that I am a stubborn sort of Ladybelle.  I am not beyond smashing a jar (or bottle) with a hammer to get at the contents, but considering that Princess was SCREAMING “BAAAAAAAAAAAM” at me, whilst swinging off my legs, and considering that smashing things would NOT be best parenting practise, I opted to control my temper and distract her.
I was unsuccessful.

She screamed for approximately 13 minutes, before instantly calming herself down when she heard the opening notes of In the Shite Garden and toddling over to chat to Macka Feckin Packa, leaving Mammy a sweaty, traumatised mess in the kitchen.
Did I threaten to hurt the Jam Jar?  Did I promise to smash the fecker off the back step after she’d gone to bed?

Of course not.  That would be mental…
It is sitting on the counter awaiting The Him and his Manliful Muscles to come home.  He’ll pick it up, twist it like a milk bottle and tut at me for being such a girl.

OR.

He too shall struggle with the fecking thing and I will regain a molecule of my sanity, laughing at him.
Fecking BAAAAM…

It HAS to be Grape o’clock already no?

How was your day?

I am She was wearing the Blue Jumper Mum

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Mini-Me’s powers of description and interrogation are wonderful. There are departments of Intelligence all over the world who could do with hiring her.

Daddy was driving yesterday as we passed a local school.   

Mini-Me announces:

“My friend Nancy goes to that school.”

“Very good Darling.”

“She doesn’t go to my school but we’re still best fwends.”

“I wonder if they were in Daddy’s gym the day the school visited.”

“WHAT?”

“Some of the boys and girls from that school came to visit Daddy’s gym last month. I wonder was your friend there.”

“Are you JOKIN?”

“No. I’m not joking.”

“You mean to tell me that my BEST fwend Nancy came to see your gym and she NEVER told me?”

“Well I don’t know.  Maybe she wasn’t there.”

red hair

“Was there a girl there with Red hair?”

“There were lots of girls there.”

“But was there a girl with red hair?”

“Maybe…”

“With reddy Blonde hair?”

“Ehm.  I’m not sure.”

“Well it’s more blonde. Was there a girl there with blonde hair?”

“There might have been pet. I don’t…”

“It’s long and wavy and blonde… with red. It’s kind of red but a wee bit blonde.”

“Daddy didn’t notice.  There were lots and lots of girls and boys there.”

“But was there a girl there with red hair and GLASSES?”

“I…”

“Glasses Daddy.  You HAVE to have seen the glasses?”

“Daddy didn’t look…”

“They are blue…or mabye green glasses.”

Erm…

“And they might have Cinderella on the side.  Did you see a girl with reddy blonde hair and bluey-green Cinderella glasses in your gym Daddy?”

(Daddy’s eyes are beginning to glaze over…)

“I’m not sure.”

“You HAVE to KNOW Daddy?  She was probably wearing a blue jumper.”

Daddy is now speechless.  Mammy decides to help…

“Come on now Ted, she was wearing the blue jumper like”.

It’s probably a good job he was driving…

 

I am Some Mother’s Day Feels Mum

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From Mammy on Mother’s Day

 

“How do I love thee? Let me count the ways…

I love you each second of every daymammy

And even when sometimes I grumble and scold

I hope that you know that even if you’re being bold,

I trust you, I get you, I love you so much

I’ve loved you since the minute I first felt your touch,

(Whether at birth or first meeting, It matters not how

I became your Mammy, I’m your Mammy now.)

My total existence revolves around you;

Your growth and your wellness, everything that you do.

I’m thinking about you, awake and asleep

And even if I’m not with you, please know that I keep

you so close in my heart and always on my mind.shoes

You’re my reason for living, the reason I find

to get up on the mornings where there’s been no sleeping

to keep smiling and going, when I just feel like weeping.

But always, no matter how much I may struggle

The world can be fixed with just one little “cuggle”.

When I look at you sleeping, so pure and calm,

I love you with everything that I am.

I’ll push you, protect you and help you to grow,

I’ll make sure you know all the things you should know.

I’ll keep you as safe as I possibly can

I’ll make sure you know just how proud that I am

To be raising a child who’s so brilliant and clever

and to be your wee Mammy, forever and ever.

So how do I love you, let me count the ways.

Every day Darling, not just on Mother’s Day.”

 

To Mammy on Mother’s Day

How to I love thee, well count I cannot,

But I don’t need my numbers to tell you a lot.

mygirlsI love you for reasons that do not need words,

For the fact that you’re mine since I came to this world.

Because you love me every day and each night,

When I’m being my best, or I’m giving you frights

I know that you sometimes are worried and scared

But you don’t let me see that, You’re too busy being there

When I need you for playtime or stories or songs,

When I call in the night, and you carry me long,

long into the hours where we should be asleep,

runjulia

When I hide from the monsters or cry or hurt deep.

When I eat all my dindins or throw it you

When I giggle and cry, when you’re covered in poo.

It really doesn’t matter what I do or I say,

You are my Mammy and I’ll simply love you always.

 

 

Much love to all the Mammies of any Babbies, all over the world.

The S-Mum xxxx

 

I am STOP that Wobbler Mum!

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There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good,
She was very very good.
And when she was bad…
She threw strops in the shops because Bad Mammy refused to buy her “SVEEEEEEETIES” despite her digging her heels in and having to be dragged out of the shop with Mammy’s not-carrying-shopping-including-eggs hand, past all of the disapproving Sanctimammies who are tutting at the display of Maternal mayhem (TUTTERS!), but who would have been tutting also had Mammy given in and bought the feckin “Sveeties” because THEN Mammy would have been one of THOSE weak Mammies who gives in to every mental whim of her Pintsized Dictator and who is obviously to blame for the whole downfall of the millenial generation, rather than being the strong willed feckin ROCK that Mammy IS by training her minions that sometimes they DON’T GET FECKIN SVEEEEEETIES just because they’re in a shop.

Then when she’s reached the car and is trying to balance tantrum throwing harlot with groceries and eggs, while also ensuring that other child doesn’t get knocked over, the little girl with the fecking curl breaks free and makes a RUN for it….IN the carpark. (Thankfully against the wall of the shop), but nonetheless, fast enough for Mammy to have to fuck the eggs and groceries onto the ground and RUN as fast as her stupid heels would let her… to catch the minibitch who had suddenly developed speed designed only people with the name Bolt to run on circular tracks.

Thankfully Mammy acquired said Mini before she made it into a more dangerous part of the carpark, but not before Mammy had lost her carkeys, which were thankfully returned promptly by the lovely son of a lovely Supermammy who had watched the whole sorry affair started by the Little Girl with the Fecking Curl, without tutting or commenting (because she is nice rather than a tutter) and so Mammy finally got her Princess strapped safely, (if a little more tightly than usual) into the car seat safely and in one piece…

..which is more than can be said for the feckin eggs.

#SweetChristonabikeIneedavalium #Whendidthelittleshitgetsofast
#feckingcarparks
#cutelittlemonster