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. Β 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. Β In every image I see of missing and lost children this evening, I see their smiles, their poses, their innocence. Β 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 Smile for the dentist Mum

“Mammy. MAMMY. Da dentist came to school today.”
“Oh how lovely. Very good darling.”
“I gotted a noo toofbwush and EVERYFING,”
“Excellent!”
“And da dentist says we have to bwush our teef TWICE a day. After Breakfast and JUST before bed so we have fresh mouvs going to sleep…”
(Mmmmmmhmmmmm. Just what Mammy’s been saying for years.)

“Yes Sweetie. That is right!”
“We has to bwush our teef after EVERY time we eat you know. Sh-very important.”
“No sweetheart, you don’t brush them EVERY time you eat” (And considering that you, like your Mammy, have your arse sticking out of the fridge every 5 minutes, we’d have to hang your toothbrush on a necklace and stick a tube of toothpaste up your sleeve.)
“NO MAMMY. DA DENTIST SAID EVERY single TIME. And she is de BOSS of teef.”

Pulling into Granny’s, I have a feeling I’m going to want to hurt this dentist by bedtime.
Granny has a cuppa poured, digestive in her hand…

“Noooooooooo GWANNY STOOOOOOOOP!”
Granny drops the biscuit and almost scalds herself with the tea, such is the ferocity of Mini-Me’s scream. πŸ˜‚

“What is it?” gasps poor Granny.
“No BISCUITS. Biscuits are BAAAAD for your teef!”
I swear to God Ladies. There aren’t enough words to describe that panicked, innocent wee face; the fear and terror that Granny was about to eat a digestive was genuine.. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
Enter Granda.

Poor, unsuspecting Granda!

“Ooooh pour me a cuppa” he says, reaching for a biscuit…
“GRANDA NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” She scares the proverbial out of him too! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

“What what what what?”
Biscuits will make your teef fall out. You can NEVER EAT BISCUITS AGAIN.”
Now it’s Granda’s face that is priceless. πŸ˜€

And so you can imagine how the rest of the evening went…
She has brushed her teeth 5 times since 4pm.πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
And she refused to do a pee before bed, because apparently da dentist says “Brush your teeth and go STRAIGHT to bed, Mammy, so I don’t have time for a pee. Sowwy.” 😭😭😭
I’m quite unsure about how long this little fad will last…

Possibly until the first time she’s offered some chocolate! πŸ˜‰πŸ˜‰
Why is it that it takes a complete stranger to get them to believe the stuff WE’VE been telling them everyday since they were born?
I wonder if we sent the school a list of things we need the minions to start doing, would they arrange a series of visitors? You know, like someone who likes to eat vegetables? Or someone who likes to go straight to sleep? Ooooooh, or a waitress? Or a cleaner? Or a laundry Lady?
What profession or job would you ask them to send in?
Let me know.

Oh! Β Mind you don’t choke on your biscuit there!
AAAAAAAAAAAND smile! πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†πŸ˜†
πŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺπŸͺ

I am “Shat-out Wheetabix” Mum

Mammy loves the Babywipes.

 

Every Mammy loves the Babywipes, don’t they? 
We should thank the Inventor of the Babywipes.
Apparently, the first Babywipe was invented in the 1950s and first produced by a company called Nice-Pak… Almost 70 years later, I’m sure that if the inventor of the Babywipes is still alive, he or she is rolling themselves in Babywipes every evening, breathing in the sweet, musky smell of their own genius.
So to them, (or to their ghost who is possibly reading this blog over someone’s shoulderπŸ˜‰), Thank you for the Babywipes. 
 Thank you from every Mammy in the world. 
 When Babywipes were born,πŸ˜‚ Mammies everywhere sighed in relief and danced a little pee-inducing dance with utter joy and thrill that FINALLY, there was a handy, disposable, multi-use Mammy tool.
 Indeed I am sure the the inventor of the Babywipe rubbed his or her happy hands together in glee when they realised that the Babywipes were going to become so sought after, so cherished and so NECESSARY in the lives of parents EVERYWHERE.  Not only EVERYWHERE in the world, but EVERYWHERE in every parent’s world…the changing station, the baby bag, the handbag, the car, the office drawers…
Poo poo, Bum bum, Ching ching. πŸ˜‚
But let me tell you ONE thing that the Babywipe inventors, and indeed the modern-day Babywipe producer omitted, and CONTINUE to omit, from their research and development.  The one thing they UNDERESTIMATED…
Wheetabix.
Yes.  Another classic staple in every home.  How the fecking Babywipe makers HAVE NOT yet figured out HOW to remove digested Wheetabix from the peachy bottom of a wriggling Poopmonster is beyond me.  Have they not got edumacated sciency people formulating and developing the Babywipes in big sanitised laboratories somewhere near “Area Fiftybum”?
Do they not do fire tests and delta force style strength tests  or use sandblasting to ensure that these mammy weapons are teflar-ly durable?
Are there not product testers who tick off the list of “Things the Babywipe can dissolve and remove”, like:

 

🌈pee pee βœ”

🌈 baby spit βœ”

🌈 yoghurt  βœ”

🌈 mashed potato βœ”

🌈 makeup βœ”

🌈 ordinary, run of the mill Poonamis βœ”

🌈digested blueberries…well…

🌈 shat out wheetabix… NOOOOOOOOOOO.
How is Shat out Wheetabix NOT the TOP of the list?
Have the product testers NEVER cleaned the nether-regions of a wobbler who has eaten an average of 2 of the cardboardy biscuits a day?
I wonder if the sciency people would like a “Test bummy” to try to figure out how to fix the babywipes so that they CLEAN AND REMOVE the shards of poo, as opposed to pushing them around the soggy bottom, like little grains of sand that love to simply ROLL over the skin, clinging it like feckin mini-leeches to shiny, smooth glass…
I can offer the services of a Poopmonster.
Do you think if we Mammies offered to help them to develop their technology further, could we call the research “The Big Bum Theory”?
It’s Grapejuice o’clock Bitcheepoos.
Have a good one. 😘😘😘😘

I am “She told the truf” Mum

I don’t “hate” many things, but I can not STAND liars.
I’ve been bitten by enough serial liars in my life to know that liars are septic and that my girlies will:

1. Know that it is bad to lie (eventually!…like by the time they’re 12?)

2.  Know that liars ALWAYS get caught out (eventually!) πŸ˜‰

3. Be able to spot a serial liar at 100 paces. 

But riddle me this Bitcheepooooos.
How and when are we supposed to teach them that lying is wrong, when we so regularly ask it of them? 
Weekend.

Public facilities.

Me: “Oh God there’s no toilet roll. God these toilets are pretty rotten. They could do with a rub.” (Pulls tissues from bag)

Her: 

Me: “We’ll tell the nice man outside that there’s no toilet paper in these toilets.”

Her: 

“Ok. Pull up your shorts now and we’ll wash our hands.”

Her: ” Is it time for icecream yet?”
Step outside to find Daddy in carpark.  Meet nice steward/staff member.
Me: “Hi. There’s no toilet roll in any of the ladies toilets…”

Her: “Them toilets are JUST ROTTEN!”

Me: (squeezing her hand and hissing Sssssssh!) 

Him: (not hearing her) “No bother love. I’ll get that sorted…”

Her: (louder) Scuse me Muster.  Them toilets needs a good wub. They’re honkin…”
Him? No idea. I actually dragged her sanctimonious little bum across the carpark as quickly as I could go, calling “Thanks a million” cheerily over my shoulder.
And of course, I scolded her for speaking to the man and started on my “You don’t speak to adults like that” tirade.
And she of course, looked up at me with her big blue innocent eyes and said “But sure I was telling the truf Mammy. Look my tongue isn’t black or nuffin?” πŸ˜‘πŸ˜‘
Case closed.

She was right. πŸ˜‚

So yes, riddle me this…

How the hell do we expect them to learn how to tell the truth, but only when it doesn’t involve being rude?
It’s not easy is it?
But I’m sure that by the time she is old enough to “know better”, she’ll be able to tell the difference in the little white lies which have only positive effects on people, and the big fat septic ones.
And the toilets WERE pretty rotten in fairness! 😭😭
How was your Monday? 😘😘😘

I am She goes, He Goes Mum

Β  “OH DU TOILETTE…”

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The Throne…

Becoming a Mum brings with it many wonderful and exciting changes for parents. The “books” will tell you how new babies will test even the strongest relationship. Β They do not tell you that one of the biggest bones of contention between parents is the process of the poo.
Let me explain…

(Read alΓ‘ David of the Attenborough on a wildlife show…)
The female of the species becomes quickly skilled at excretion. After childbirth, despite possible Β complications and difficulties with the bladder, she will quickly evolve into a bladder controlling machine. Caring for her young is always a priority. Even with a full bladder, the female can retain control under duress and highly stressful conditions, often balancing her offspring on her abdominal area. She is strong however, and will wait for the perfect moment to pounce on the elusive porcelain. Β When the opportunity presents itself, the Mama will swiftly and skillfully do what she needs to do.
The female can relieve a full bladder in 8.5 seconds and it has been said that faecal excretion can take only 5 seconds. (Evidence of this has not yet been acquired as the female is so skilled and speedy that scientific equipment is not fast enough to measure the act.) Β The female performs the essential and necessary act of excretion faster than any other species, and often with up to 4 of her young hovering around, or indeed ON, her. Β Cleanliness is swift and onehanded in many cases. Other species have yet to evolve at the speed of the human Mammy.

The male of the species is entirely different.
The male is special. He makes quite the production of the animal act of excretion. The bathroom must be empty of all young. The atmosphere should be peaceful and relaxed in order for the full joy and relaxation of the event. Full concentration is required. Β Men have evolved to require the help of a handheld device for the excretion process. Tablets are acceptable but the clever male prefers the mobile phone, as it can be sneaked into the room, past the female, more easily. Β The male may require anything up to 45 minutes for the process.
It is very difficult and he ensures that the importance of and difficulty of his excretion is heard by his female if she dares to question the length of time he has been in his throne room. “I’m IN THE F$#€** Toilet” may he roared in a manly way, by the manly man, during his manly process, if he perceives disapproval or tutting from the female outside the door. Β The delicate procedure is prolonged and made easier for the male by perusal of Bookface or Instagranny for the duration. This device aids in the relaxation required for the faeces to remove itself from the manly male posterier.

Sometimes, for reasons as yet unknown to scientists, the male will remain on the porcelain seat for much time after the act of relieving himself. It has been suggested that this is an avoidance of the reality of the children who are not allowed to bother him while in the special pooping room. This is not yet proven, but breakthroughs are expected in the near future as female scientists are working on remote controls to switch off the prolonging devices. Other exciting developments are self flushing timed toilets, although there are fears that such a device might be mistaken for self cleaning.)
The male reappears into the homestead calm and relaxed, thoroughly relieved and oblivious to how long he has been in the bathroom. The bathroom and the rest of the world have different time rules when the male excretes… what he feels to be 5 minutes, is often 37 minutes by the female’s observant and obsessive count…

The male excretion ends with a ceremonial greeting by the female which can be high-pitched and erratic.

This process remains as such until the female completely loses her mind and screams so much that the children become afraid to interrupt her, or they finally reach the age where watching Mammy poo is no longer interesting or exciting…

The Male checks his phone and wonders what all the fuss is about.
#takeashitalready #soblessed #peeinprivate