I am Snored Mum

Anyone else feel as if they’ve been hit by a double decker bus?

I was in great form yesterday, full of energy and enthusiasm for the weekend after the madness of week 1. We had a lovely date night last night. (Saw Detroit. Tight watch but superb.) I went to bed rather smug in my ability to be all the everything and keep all of the plates spinning, and then I woke up this morning COMPLETELY knackered and spent the day dealing with an exhausted Mini-Me and teething, shattered Wobbler. (A bag of bitches in a briared hedge we were. πŸ˜›πŸ˜›)
But The Him was well rested. 😠
Why?

I’ll fecking tell you why…

You see at 5.45am, Princess Headtheball began chirping through the monitor for her “Dodee” and her “Mammee”… And where “Mammeeeee” usually knows that she’ll eventually find the dodees herself and go back to sleep, you know, because it’s still the MIDDLE OF THE FECKIN NIGHT, The Him is not quite so clever. Before I was awake enough to STOP the big Gombeen, he was up and in her room, talking in soothing, FOOLISH, NAIVE tones to the Rugmonster that is our youngest manipulator. “Sssssssssh now. You lie down and go back to sleep etc…” πŸ˜…
I could hear her raising her eyebrow at him. I could hear him returning to the bedroom door in a fultile and quite hilarious attempt at leaving her there… and then I could hear the apopleptic SCREAM that signified that she was having NONE of it. It translated into “YOU get back in to this room and you lift my soggy bottom and slabbery head RIGHT NOW Servant Man. And Mammeeee? Bring me to her, Peasant.”πŸ˜‚

Fully awake now, Mammy here was thinking what a silly, foolish man her Him was and how he’d know about it now that he would have to get up at stupid o’clock on a Sunday Morning…

Into the bedroom he carries her. WTF?😠😠
“She’ll go back to sleep beside us” he explains.
Will she indeed?
Will she FECK! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

You see, poor Him was being both foolish and optimistic, but was also POSSIBLY trying to prove a point. Because last weekend when we collected the girls from a sleepover in Granny Dearest’s, Granda Bear informed us that she’d woken at 6am but that she’d slept in beside them until 8.40am…

But The Him forgot that such unusual and magical mysteries ONLY happen in the magical Narnia of the Grandparents’ house. Such occurences are not of the real world. πŸ˜› Parents NEVER get to enjoy that kind of joy. NOPE.

Persistent as he is, he did indeed plonk her in beside me before climbing back into bed. She snuggled into me and for about 38 seconds, I thought she would go back to sleep. But then, she reminded me of her intentions to get OUT OF BED by spending 30 minutes sticking random limbs into my back, sitting on my head and sticking her fingers up my nose, into m mouth and into my ears.

That was it. He was going to have to get up and take her up to the kitchen.

Afterall , it WAS HIS mistake wasn’t it? I was just about to tell him as much when I heard it.

The one sound that can send a tired and hormental Mammy-type over the edge, into insanity and off her fecking head…

Yep.
He SNORED.😒😠😠😠😠😠

HOW I did not take a pillow and SUFFOCATE his slumbering, slabbering, snoring self in that instant, I will never know. (But the next time there are nominations sought for saintly people who go above and beyond for the safety and survival of others, think of me). πŸ˜…

And so Mammy ended up doing her usual “FFS I’ll do it MYSELF” stomping dance and getting up to watch CBeebies with the Fudgemonster. But, because Mini-Me was still asleep, I didn’t get to do it loudly enough for Sleeping Beauty to even hear me. πŸ˜…πŸ˜ 
As usual, NO ONE WAS LISTENING!

Has he learned his lesson? OH indeed he has. Because not only did he have to deal with his very own Bunnyboiler/EmilyRose😈 when he got up, he also had to deal with the Wobbler when she entered the realm of “past her sleep tired” that we parents all dread and fear so much.

Oh! And he has also been reminded 398 times that I am sleeping until 2pm next Sunday…

Yeah. What are the chances of that happening Mammies?πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

How was your day?

I am “Shut that alarm clock up” Mum

Mammy has been stressed since BEFORE she opened her Feckin eyes this morning… Why? Because of The Him.

You see The Him is tired and when The Him is tired he likes to play a game called “Let’s see how many times I can make the alarm clock go off before the love of my life loses the plot and physically kicks me OUT of bed game”.

This morning, he played that game and let’s just say, it did NOT end well. On the THIRD Snooze attempt, Mammy opened one sticky eye and whispered “Pleeeeease get up. You’ll be late.”

On alarm number Four, Mammy opened the other eye and hissed “Do NOT let that fucking thing go OFF again. If you wake the Baby, I will HURT you.” “I’m up. I’m up” says Him, very OBVIOUSLY NOT UP. In fact, the end of his sentence was punctuated by a guttural nearly-snore.

By now, I was stressed. I was glaring through his big dopey head, stressing about the fact that HE was going to be late for HIS work, while HE slipped back into the type of sleep that only a feckin MAN can! πŸ˜‘

So there lay Mammy, WIDE AWAKE at 7am, the ONE morning the Minions slept beyond 6.30am this SUMMER, stressed that The Him was going to be late for work, while Him, the big Gombeen waited for his fecking alarm clock to sing at him for the FIFTH time…and SING it did. 😑 Loudly.

So loudly in fact that it did INDEED awaken the Minions across the hall, BEFORE it woke him. Actually, to be pedantic, it probably wasn’t the alarm clock that woke him… It MIGHT have been Mammy pulling the quilt off, putting her feet to his arse and pushing him OFF the bed, all the while serenading him with affectionate terms of endearment, some of which I’m pretty sure even HE hasn’t heard before! (And he worked on building sites for years, so you can imagine the colour Language of THAT morning wake-up callπŸ˜….)

Anybuts. By 10am, I’d calmed down. A bit.

And now, all is right with the world… We have a babysitter, I’ve stolen sparkly danglies from my Baby sister and we’re heading out for his birthday dinner tonight, so I can’t be too grumpy with him, but it’s safe to say that if an alarm clock goes off EVEN ONCE tomorrow morning, someone WILL get hurt. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ Have a Super Saturday Lovelies.

Anything exciting planned?

I am Stupid o’Clock Mum

​Some of the things Mini-Me said last night between 11.30pm and 3.21am…
β˜†”Hulk is under my bed.” (Note to self…kick The Him if/when I get back to bed. Fecking stupid Avengers movies.
β˜†”I need bainne.” (Milk) (Nope because then you’ll be even more awake ANDneed a pee.)
β˜†”My room needs tidied.”  (Reeeeeeally? At 2am? THAT’s when you acknowledge that this room is a mess?)
β˜†”Look at theshapadiswoom!” followed by an eye-roll and a pretty impressive Tut tut. (And yet you still won’t clean it in the morning, which is nearly FECKIN HERE ALREADY!) 😒😒😒
β˜† “The Sky’s awake, so I’m awake.” (If I ever get my hands on the prick who wrote that shit…it’s NOT SO ADORABLE AT STUPID O’CLOCK.)
β˜† “I need water!” (“Mummy can’t go up to the kitchen when the alarm is on pet.” 

TAKE THAT MINI-ME!!! 

“Der’s water beside your bed Mammy.”  

DAMMIT! 😑😑😑
β˜†”I hear FOR!” (THOR) “He’s outside my window!” (No, he isn’t Sweetheart … as much as Mammy would LOVE to meet Thor and his hammer in the dark… πŸ˜‚ 😈😈😈)
β˜† “I’ve alweady been to sleep TWO TIMES tonight!”  (Seriously…her logic and debating skills would make a politician look as useless as a chocolate teapot…)
β˜† 3.20am “You can go back to your own bed now Mammy, I need to go to sleep.” 

(Are you serious?)


Then at 8am, (🎢singing🎢)…”Good Morning, Good Moooooorning, we’ve slept da whole night fruu!” in the hallway, just loud enough to ensure that Princess joins in with “Mamamamam!”

(Are you shitting me?)
 S-Mum kicks The Him πŸ‘€, who I know went to bed last night assuming it was his turn for a Sunday morning sleep-in.
S-Mum growls and hisses like a rabid badger, offers some obscenities and expletives about getting EVERYONE OUT, followed by “I only got to bed at 3.45…pleeeeeeeeease…I just need another hour!” 

(Why I still feel the need to exaggerate the time, necause 3.21am wasn’t late enough, I don’t know!)
And so, today, I’m knackered and SHE is like a bag of feckin rattlesnakes, coiled up and ready to attack ANYONE who dares speak to her. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
How fun…πŸ˜…
Thank you to #glammymammy Nicole for sending me this image.

Enjpy the last few hours of the weekend S-mumblies. Xxxx

I am Soooo could in the Olympics Mum

​Tonight’s story choice was Tangled or Beauty and the Beast.
Tangled is too scary apparently…

Why?

“Because Eugene cuts her hair!”  (Silly Mammy.)
Yes Darling because the huge, giant, fanged, bad tempered MONSTER and mysoginistic arsehole male protaganist in Bootay and the Beast is nothing compared to having your hair cut.

I give up.

Her nightmare tonight had BETTER be about a huge fricken scissors rather than the Beast.πŸ˜‚
We’re going through a nightmare phase, which means that she ends up between us at approximately 2am and no one gets anymore sleep until 5am when Him’s alarm clock evacuates Him from the bed and she decides to slumber with her heel in my back.  

It’s not cute. 😑

It’s a pain in the posterier.  

If she’d snuggle up and go to sleep between us, it’d be tolerable, but NO.

Mini-Me lies there with the eyes of a frightened BLUEBOTTLE staring at the ceiling and jumping dramatically each time there is a sound.

And I would NEVER blame The HimπŸ‘€…

(Pointing out that he let her watch “The Avengers” last Saturday doesn’t count as directing blame.  I’m simply stating a random fact that just happens to coincide with the start of her nightmares. Im not BLAMING anyone…) 😲😲😲
Today, I am a DOMESTIC GODDESS People!
I’m talking Super-fricken-Mum. πŸ˜‚
 I attacked the laundry and made it to round 2 before giving it the fingers and closing the utility room door once again.

The girls were fed AND BATHED today.πŸ˜…

I did floors.

I cleaned.

I tidied.

The minions are now safe and snug in bed, the bombsite is tidied again and the dinner is on. πŸ’ƒπŸ’ƒ
I am fricken fablis and I don’t even want gin tonight!

That’s how much my shit is together tonight Ladybelles.
Or maybe it’s because I’m watching the muscly gymnasts on the Tellybox and they’re making me want to worship my body like the shrine that it is and the possible Olympic winning gymnast that it could be in 4 years time…

I could you know!

Well, maybe not.

My one and only attempt at “the Horse” or vaulty thing as an 8 year old child with seriously BAD EYESIGHT resulted in a black eye, delivered beautifully by my own knee…so maybe not gymnastics.
Synchronised swimming?  Can’t swim…

Diving? Afraid of heights…
Ah I’ll find something to be fablis at.
Maybe being a Mammy should be an Olympic sport?

 I’ll surely have it perfected by 2020! 

Hahahah! 

For now, I’m going to enjoy sitting here watching the non-druggied, good and honest male gymnasts.

Those muscles… the bums… siiiiiigh! πŸ’–
Hope you all had a Marvellous Mumday! πŸ˜™πŸ˜™πŸ˜™

I am Suspicious Mum…Β 

​S-Mum is suspicious.
It seems that my perfectly dysfunctional little family unit survived quite well in my absence this weekend.  I came home to clean children and a tidy house.  I was impressed. πŸ˜…
Even more suspicious is the fact that Mini-Me has been BEAUTIFULLY behaved today. 🌞🌞🌞

Like all day.

I didn’t have to scold or shout once.

And when I spoke, she actually listened…mostly. 
Seriously.  Something is not right.
Usually I automatically say things between 4 and 6 times in one breath, with the volume increasing each time. 

“Get off the baby…get off the baby…Get off the baby…Get off the baby…GET OFF THE FECKIN BABEEEEEEEEEEEY,” can happen up to 14 times a day.
Other lines I LOVE to repeat OVER & OVER ARE:

Put on your shoes please. 

Where are your socks?

Eat your dinner.

Get off the baby. (It happens a lot.)

Wash your hands please.

Where are your pjs?

Will you put down that feckin phone? (At the Him, not the girls obviously. Although I’d be as well saying it to Princess…or the Dog in fact. 😑😑😑😑)
I say these lines about 578 times each day and most of the time, I end up SCREAMING them before anyone even HEARS me.
But no.

  Today, Mini-Me was great.  She was quite fablis and now, she’s IN BED… NOT hiding outside the living door underneath the clothes-rack! 

She’s IN BED.

ASLEEP πŸŽ‰πŸŽŠπŸŽ‰πŸŽŠ.
My beautiful little angelic cherub is on her way to dreamland where hopefully she’ll dream of our AMAZING peaceful and non-screamingful day and her subconscious, or fairies or something, will teach her that THIS is how life SHOULD BE. 

Then, she’ll awaken from her slumber (after 8am) and continue on her streak of utter Fabulosity and perfection.

And I shall NEVER scream again.

And I will NEVER be cross again.

And I shall NEVER feel like NO ONE FRICKEN LISTENS TO ME!

And we shall all live happily ever after… until the Him comes home and looks at his phone instead of at me… πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
But tonight, I shall relish the VERRRRRRRRRY unusual feeling of a FULL DAY OF MUMMY WINS and rest my voice, because in reality, I’ll probably need it tomorrow!
What’s your “FAVOURITE” line that you LOVE to use?  You know? 

Over and over and over and over and over….🍷

I am Stupid teething Mum

S-Mum Β is VERRRRRY tired.

Princess had her first restless night in ages. Stupid teeth. 😠😠 The wee dote had a raging temperature all night and would have sucked the full tube of bonjella had I let her. Β She’s up since 6am and has the dirtiest big red spot on her wee cheek.

It’s now 7am.

She’s on her second dribble bib.

I’m on my second coffee.

Mini-Me was exactly the same when she was teething: temperature, spot, tooth.

In that order.

Every time.

Isn’t it terrible that getting something as simple as teeth can be so bloody sore on them? 😩😩
Meanwhile, The Him is enroute to some foreign county to climb over walls and run around a field full of mud with his buddies from Jim. Β They’ll wade through rivers, crawl under electric wires and clamber over obstacles, getting muck in places that muck should NEVER be. I’m not even going to bother cleaning the bathroom today because he’ll be leaking magic muck from his pores for the next week anyway.

In fairness, it’s all for charity and I’m sure they’ll have a ball.πŸ’ͺπŸ’ͺπŸ’ͺ
He’ll land home tonight acting as if he’s John Mc-feckin-Clane, having saved the state in Die Hard 19, covered in manly scratches and dirt, flopping onto the sofa and expecting a round of applause and a beer.

And praise indeed he shall get… as long as he arrives home with a Prawn Balti from Chilli Shaker.

If he brings naan bread, I might even run him a bath.

If he brings wine, I’ll cheer and shout “Yippeekayeeey Mother Fucker!” at him every 5 minutes until Wednesday.
But now, I’m off to put a collection of teethers and carrots in the fridge. Β Yes carrots. Β Have you ever guven a teethung child a big, chilled, peeled carrot to gnaw on? They LOVE IT! Obviously it needs to be thick so their wee gummies cant bite a bit off, but it’s great. Β Especially when the tooth is almost through.)

Then I’m going to put on my glittery shoes and go shopping.

Shopping list so far:πŸ‘‡

Calpol.

Neurofen.

Teetha granules.

Bonjela.

Gin…

Have a Sassy Saturdays Bitcheepooooos 😎😎

I am Switching-around-the-furniture Mum

Today was a very productive day.
We spent the afternoon moving furniture around and rearranging rooms! πŸ˜†

I can’t tell you the joy this gives me. It makes me happy when The Him is home and actually gets to USE those muscles πŸ’ͺπŸ’ͺhe works so hard on at the Jim. (Yes, I refer to our gym as a person.πŸ‘€ He is after all a member of the fricken family.)

The Him with the muscles however is not so keen on my biannual moving of the furniture. 😐
He doesn’t GET that it makes S-Mumming much easier when there’s a certain amount of organisation and order in our very messy home.

He agreed to move the furniture today on condition that I don’t rearrange the kitchen (again.)
All this did was put that idea into my head and onto my to-do list for tomorrow. 😈
I’ll take pleasure reminding him it was his idea when he’s swearing tomorrow night because he can’t find the black pepper.πŸ˜‚

Anyway, the BEST thing about the rearranging of the furniture was the moving of a double bed into Mini-Me’s bedroom.
S-Mum is being very clever and pre-empting such future events as sleepovers and “I need Mummy” nights of fever or whatever.Β  Instead of my arse hanging out the side of her tiny bed, I shall simply lie beside her. Clever mammy. πŸ˜—

But he BESTEST THING about the double bed is how ABSOLUTELY TINY my lanky, skinny 4 year old looks tonight as she sleeps in the huge bed.Β  She’s so small and tootsy and it’s a lovely feeling to see her so teeny, rather than looking at how big she’s getting and wishing time would stop.
Silly maybe.
But it makes me happy. πŸ˜‡
And after the mayhem of rearranging the rooms, The Him took us out for dinner. (I think it was to stop me from moving the coffee machine into the bedroom really.)
Mini-Me ate everything in front of her.
So did I. 🍰
Princess smiled at everyone and battered our Bloke.Β  (He loved this really.)

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And then we had ice-cream.
So all is now right with the world.
I’m off to pour a glass of grapes.
I do need my 5 a day you know. Must keep the strength up for tomorrow’s kitchen rearranging!
Goodnight S-Folks xx

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