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. 😠

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…

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˜ 

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.” 


“Der’s water beside your bed Mammy.”  

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…


“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! 


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.

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 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‘‡



Teetha granules.



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.)


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


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.


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.


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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I am Sleep Dance Mum

I love to dance.
I’ve been dancing since I could walk.
I’ve danced on stages and I’ve even choreographed a few shows.

My current speciality is the Sleep Dance.Β  And I’m brilliant at it.


Sleep is a currency…who knew?

Currently, I’m broke while Hubby is rich, rich, rich…well he’s richer than I am. He’s dancing the Sleep Dance too, but he doesn’t even know most of the time.

In the world of new parents, the parent who tallies up the most Zzzz hours owes the other: Big time.

They say that we forget the difficult things about having a newborn after a while…like the pain, the exhaustion, the stress.Β  There must be some truth in that as we keep having children, don’t we?

We had Princess almost four years after Mini-Me whirlwinded into our lives.Β  That gap was just enough to have allowed us to have completely forgotten EVERYTHING about having a new baby in the house.Β  How do we bath her?Β  How many ounces do we give her? How does this damned sterilizer work again?

My first hour at home after Princess’s birth was terrifying.Β  We moved house last year, so I didn’t have the luxury of memory to assist me. Our previous home was smaller, so even if Mini-Me was in the bedroom, I could hear her in the kithen.Β  The new house is lovely and spacious, but so new and unfamiliar to us.
Where would I keep the nappies? Which cupboard should I put the baby’s stuff in?Β  Where should I put her while she’s sleeping?Β  The arrangements and habits that we had created for our first baby, were redundant.Β  We had to start again.Β  Ok, so this is not a huge issue and may sound ridiculous, but to a new Mammy, 3 days post-section and drugged to the eyeballs, it was MASSIVE.

For the first week, we caught ourselves looking at the other for help or reminders on more than one occasion.Β  Do we mix the formula when it’s hot or luke warm?Β  Do we go to bed now or just wait until after her next feed? How do we ensure that Mini-Me is still getting her usual attention? The list goes on and the struggles were real, but after a few days, we were the proverbial quacking ducks and the water was no longer quite so choppy.Β  Everything became normal again…except for the sleep.


Before a Baby arrives, how much we sleep goes unnoticed.Β  Pre-parents should really listen when told to enjoy their sleep now.Β  Ok, so you can’t stock up on it, and how much you get before the arrival of your little bundle is not going to help when you’re knackered at 4am, but you can ENJOY it.
Enjoy the luxurious feeling of turning over in the bed without worrying about disturbing Baby.Β  Enjoy being able to go to bed when YOU feel like it.Β  Enjoy not giving a continental hoot how much sleep your partner gets, because once Baby arrives, you’ll moniter their sleep as carefully as you moniter the money in your bank account, or lack thereof.

Every second of snoring that is greater than the seconds you spend snoring, is noted.
Every time he or she turns in the bed, oblivious to the demanding grunts from the cot, (and oblivious to your glares!), is stored in your memory.
Every time you have to haul your ass out of the bed to replace the dummy in your little Munchkin’s mouth, you jot it down in your mind.
Every innocent snore is transformed into the sound of coins being dropped in the piggy-bank of your mind.
Your mind becomes a ledger… how much do I have?Β  How much did he/she get?
Every second your partner sleeps while you are awake between the hours of 11pm and 6am, becomes currency.
In other words… YOU OWE MEEEEEE!

And if he/she gets one hour more than you, you will want to make them pay.
As well as taking mental notes of how much more sleep your partner got, you’ll be taking notes of how little you got.
Yes, while Baby Brain might cause you to forget your own name, (or in my case, the Baby’s name…twice.), it strangely adds to your mathematical brilliance and your late night memory.

6 x out of bed to replace dummy
2 x thinking she was choking
3 x unnecessarily
2 x across the hall to Mini-me to scare off bad dreams
1 x across the hall to Mini-me to beg her to go back to sleep
1 x to the kitchen to heat Princess’s bottle
1 x to the kitchen to dump said bottle as said Princess was snoring again by the time I returned
1 x to get another bottle an hour later
1 x sitting on the edge of the bed for 20 minutes after feeding as she screams everytime I move, knowing that the snuggly Mammy is going to try to deposit her in the cold cot.
1 x your snoring
…and don’t even start me on the ten minutes between your alarm going off and the snooze button!
Do the math.
Or don’t.Β  Just know that YOU OWE ME!



And of course the rational mind reminds me that Himself is working full-time.
And that of course he needs sleep with 5am-8pm working hours.
And that I am off work at the minute.
And that this only lasts for such a short time.

I know all of that, but sometimes, I’m not very rational.Β  Because I’m shattered!

And of course, there are the nights when Daddy’s on Baby-duty and I can sleep, but I don’t usually.Β  Not because I need to be awake, but because I’m programmed to be on my feet and functioning before my mind knows I’m awake.
That’s reality.
I am learning however.Β  I’m now forcing myself to accept the lie in, even if it is only until 8am.Β  I am getting better at going back to sleep when I know that Daddy’s got her. (even if sometimes I’ve had to kick him three times to tell him to get up!)

So yes, be prepared for the Sleep dance.
Be prepared to know exactly how much sleep your partner got and be prepared to know just how much you didn’t.
Be prepared that no matter how honest you usually are, you WILL lie about how many times you were out of bed, just to make sure that partner understands how much he/she OWES YOU!
Be prepared to feel utter resentment for the person you love in real life…because 4am isn’t real life really, is it?

And be prepared to get on with it and to get over it, because it’s worth every single second.

No matter how exhausted your body is, when you look into the cot at stupid o’ clock and see two big, beautiful eyes looking at you; when your finger is gripped by tiny hands, holding on to you for dear life; when you listen to the coos and noises as she drinks; tiredness disappears and is replaced by love.

But yes.Β  He (or she) still owes you.Β  How you make them pay, is completely up to you!

I am Sleep Dance Mum πŸ™‚

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