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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I am Sunrise Mum

This morning, Princess woke at 6am with a sore tummy.Β  I brought her into my bed and tried all of my usual tricks to get her back to sleep.Β 
Just one more hour please.
Usually, she snuggles up to me, plants a pudgy wee hand flat on my cheek and sighs.Β  It’s quite adorable.
This morning she was searching frantically through closed eyes for the teat of the bottle that I obviously should have had in her mouth ten minutes earlier. Her arms were flailing and she was grunting like a little pig at the swill bucket.
I swear, it was as if she hadn’t been fed in 3 days.Β 
She’s funny when she decides she’s hungry.Β  Feed me NOW. (She’s like her mother I suppose!)

And so, for the first time in a few weeks, I find myself up and coffeefied before 6.30am.
I got herself settled and she’s currently snoring in the corner.Β 
I was thinking about going back to bed, but then I looked out the window and realised that I haven’t seen the sunrise in a long time.
I’ve always been a morning person.
I’m the person that those “If you see someone smiling before 7am, slap them!” mugs, are about.

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I’ve always loved the calm and the quiet of day break, when you can breathe in the nothingness before the world awakens.Β 
And so, I put on my warmest coat and sat on the back doorstep; coffee and huge dog cuddles keeping me warm.

And I watched.Β 
And I listened.Β 
The countryside at stupid o’clock is eerily quiet. It’s gorgeous.

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And while I knew that this calm would not last; because my little Tasmanian Devil would be waking up to take on the world in approximately ten minutes; I took it all in and enjoyed it.

My backside was freezing by the time I heard her footsteps coming up the hall, but my head was calm and my heart was all warm and fuzzy.
I was ready for the day ahead.

I would have loved an extra hour in bed, obviously,
but sometimes it does not harm to be
Sunrise Mum.

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And on Twitter @Maria_Rushe

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