Category Archives: Uncategorized

I am Some things I learned from my flu Mum!

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​S-Mum is sick. 😣😣
I am Absolutely DOSED with that shitty flu that seems to have been going around since October.  Up until now, I have regally flipped the finger at Miss Flu on many occasions, while smugly muttering “Toddle on by bitch”.
Everyone in the house has had it.  

Everyone in the family has had it.

And S-Mum managed to evade it…until now.
The Him and both girls were very sick with it before Santa, and miraculously, I managed to avoid it.
Perhaps my immune system is so strong because of all the unicorn fart capsules I consume? (Watch this space for my Poo Plus Capsules! 😂😂)

Perhaps my body has a wall which keeps all the nasty little bugs out? (Trump might want to take notes.)

Perhaps there is truth in the “5 a day” technique and my copious consumption of grapejuice has pickled me to such a sterile environment that germs can’t breed?
Or perhaps, as Mammy, I just didn’t have TIME to get sick because I was LOOKING AFTER EVERYONE ELSE!
So since Sunday, the flu has hit.

And I have discovered 5 things.
1. Noise becomes even louder when you have flu.  I have a non existant tolerance for noise at the best of times, especially background noises,  so this means that S-Mum’s temper is shorter than usual.

Don’t say you weren’t warned. 😈
2. Your nose CAN drip.  Like ACTUALLY DRIP.  The way it does in movies. The way it does on babies and toddlers, where you assume that they just don’t know HOW to keep it clean. It can actually, simply and suddenly drip and make you look and feel like a dirty Snotterskank.  
3. Tissues can rip the nostrils off you.  And the skin around the nostrils is much more sensitive and delicate than we give it credit for.  And even using the fancypants “soothing” tissues, eventually will still rip said nostrils to bits if you use enough of them.
4. BABY BUM CREAM is THE best thing EVER.  HOW have I never realised this? The aforementioned scourged nostrils were so badly flared last night that they looked like an infected nether-region.  Moisturisers were stinging. Even vaseline was hurting.  And then, I had the brainwave of lifting the Bepanthem cream and sloshing it on my nostrils and I SWEAR TO GOD, within 3 minutes, the stinging had stopped and the redness disappeared.

Yes.  I have reached a new low.

  I may have Chanel in my bathroom, but this week, I have arse cream on my face.

And it is fablis.
5. It is ridiculously easy to take too much paracetamol.

Joking aside for a second Ladybelles, I made a HUGE booboo yesterday.  In my effort to carry on being Supermum, to remain vertical, functioning and coherent at school and to generally JUST KEEP SWIMMING, I managed to almost OD on medicines. 

 I wasn’t going to share this as I felt so fucking stupid last night, but you know what? It’s so easy to do and I had two colleagues tell me today that they’ve done the exact same thing, so I don’t feel like such a thick Twatsickle now.

Mammies are so determined to stay standing to keep looking after everything and everyone else, that we don’t think. Without going into details, I accidentally took far too many cold & flu remedies, having forgotten the 2 paracetamol I’d taken during a class where my head was lifting.  I became really ill, really quickly and The Him had ro come to my rescue.  After an afternoon of sleeping and some power puking, I finally came around enough to realise my mistake.  

Talk about feeling stupid? When the kids (and even The Him) are sick, I write down every drop I’ve given them and the time, just to make sure I never feck up dosages.

But for myself? Nah, that would have made sense wouldn’t it?

Thankfully, I was fine after a few hours, but I frightened myself at how easily it happened.
And then TODAY?  A text conversation with Himself…

Him: How you feeling now Love of my Life, apple of my eye, light of my world? 😈
Me: Like shite. How’s you?
Him: Just heading to the chemist here. Am crashing badly. Think I’m getting your flu…
OH NO YOU DON’T FUCKWIT.  IT’S MY TURN. If I have to succumb to the snotters and swimming head and sore ears for a few days, you WILL REMAIN IN FULL HEALTH and RESCUE me and pour TLC over me and COOK for me and generally MAKE IT ALL BETTER. 

WILL YOU FECK pull out the Manflu card?

And if you do? 

Feck off home to your Mammy because THIS Mamma Bear is done and I’m NOT sharing the Bum Cream…

Have a lovely evening Ladybelles.  

Hope the kids are in bed and you get those feet up for a bit. 😘😘😘

I am So THAT’s my Baby Mum!

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​Every day, I get to know my minions better.
I am waiting patiently to understand them.  I may wait on by the look of things.
Mini-Me ADORED these books 👇👇👇 when she was younger.  We have most of them, still perfect condition, despite having been read 12 times a day for about 18 months.


Today, I learned something about her…

She is a gentle little lady, who despite having the temper of her mother and the patience of…well, her mother, is quite the delicate flower who looks after her stuff quite well.  
Especially books.
How did I learn this? 

WELL, I found this book today and decided to introduce Princess to our tradition.

And within 5 minutes, the pristine and perfect book looked like THIS. 👇👇👇👇


Mini-Me used to turn the pages gently and point sweetly at the “wee mouse” and cheep at the “wee birdies”.  She’d tentatively touch the sensory sections and her mind would flourish poetically and grow beautifully before my very eyes… 💖💖
Princess ripped the fecking book in bits… like the Hulk that she is…and banged it REPEATEDLY off the floor until she managed to bust the binding.  

5 minutes.

Rambo.
However, never one to dwell on the negative I have decided to perceive her reaction that she TOO was developing her sensory skills.  Her taste for reading can not be disputed either as she has tried many times to EAT the fecking book.  Not only do these books nourish the mind, they are great teethers too apparently.
And so there you go.  These little books do not ONLY educate and encourage and stimulate the minds of our minions, they can also teach Mammies the differences in the personalities of her two little darlings. 😂😂

I am Screaming Leaving Granny Mum

Posted in blog, children, family, tantrums, Uncategorized by

​It is sooooo  Grapejuice o’clock on this wonderfully unfeckeuped feck-it-up Friday.
I was doing well you know…
I was doing SO well that I smugly thought I’d get through a full day without shouting or scolding or being a generally horrible Hell-Beast to my little angel.
 I nearly did it…
And THEN she pulled her usual stunt in “Gwanny’s” that leaves HER in dramatic floods of tears, ME ready for the Nut house and my poor Mother torn between remembering what it was like to be mortified in front of HER Mother, and wanting to steal the Demonchild from me and to raise her in the non-shouting, calm and much more cushioned safety of Granny’s house.
Imagine a Disney Fucking princess as she is dragged, sobbing, from her Prince, hand outstretched and a sad and melancholic expression on her tear stained face, mouthing the name of her lost one, in slow motion of course…
Imagine the child in The Railway Children or such orphanesque tale, watching their only relative as the train pulls away from the platform, knowing that they’ll never see them again…
Imagine the scene in The Hunger Games where Catniss is about to be catapulted up into the Arena and the baddies attack her BFF right before her eyes.

There’s nothing she can do.
She is helpless.

It is terrible.
Now imagine the Gobshite who is causing the drama.  

That would be me.  😭
And poor Granny is witness to the atrocities.  She wants to scoop the little angel into her arms and hush her and sooth her and tell her it’ll be OK and that OF COURSE she doesn’t HAVE to go home with Mean old Mammy and OF COURSE she can stay with Granny for ever and ever and ever and ever cause Granny will NEVER get cross like mean old Mammy.
She wants to.
But of course she doesn’t. 
She helps poor, mental, wits-end Woman put the obviously  abused, unloved and despairing child in the car, telling her she’ll see her tomorrow and to be a good girl for Mammy.  It breaks her heart no doubt.  
The girlchild is so convincing that a little part of ANY witnessing adult would possibly consider ringing fucking Childline to report Cruel, Uncaring, Crazy Mammy.

But.

Granny has been here before.

Granny has been on the other side of it.  

(Obviously with much less dramatic daughters, given the three angelic girlchildren she raised…😂😂😜😜)

Ans as much as Granny does indeed want to save her little girl from the Scary One for a night…she also knows that her little girl HAS to take the scary one home! 😂😂😂
This scene pretty much kills both of the grown ups, but they BOTH know that by the time Madam TurboTwat gets to her own house, (a whole 76 yards away), she’ll have completely forgotten the dramatic ordeal which evil Mammy has just subjected her to by asking her to put on her fucking boots to go home. 
The 90 second drive home will be sufficient for her to completely FORGET her violent and impressively fucking MENTAL protest in Granny’s street.  She shall wipe her tears away, skip in the door and ask “Is scooby Doo on?” before demanding a “cuppa mulk pwease” and then informing Mammy that she is her “best wee mammy” as she is handed said cuppa fecking milk.
And Mammy will stand at the door, watching her in disbelief, completely fooked and wishing that there was some time machine that would whizz her forward half an hour so she could sit on her arse and recover her sanity with some grapes.
Cheers Dollies.

🍷🍷🍷

#callthemammypolice #notathingwrongwithher #fml

I am Snapping before bedtime Mum

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​Today is Chooseday.

Today, I choose the word YES.
Pre bedtime chaos shot. 👇👇👇


Yes, they are too close to the tellybox.

Yes, I know it’s not good for their eyes.

Yes, they’re watching reruns of Scoobyfuckingdoo,🐕 with Velma and Daphne and the other weird-eye-animated unaging and omni-teenage detectives and their big thick plank dog🐶 chasing yet another fucking zombie in disguise.

Yes, it will possibly give herself nightmares.(Princess, not so much, given that the zombies would run AWAY from Crazy little her.😂)

Yes, I know they shouldn’t be encouraged to watch Tellyboxes or any other evil screen (or as I like to call them Mammy’s sanity savers) so late at night… tut…

Yes, I know I’ve probably just ruuned my chances of winning “Mammy of the year.” 😂

Yes, I give NOT ONE continental fuck what the “No way. Bad S-Mum. My kids would NEVER get screen time” Sanctimammies think. (Do you think they binge watch Scoobydoo in their cupboards while the kids play scrabble and suduko and stuff?) 😈😈
Yes, Princess is sitting inside a box..👇😂

Yes, she got in there all by herself.

Yes, she could have sat in the cool pink princess size chair.

Yes, she could have squished herself into the slightly bigger box

Yes, she got stuck.

Yes, of course I left down the mug and lifted her out.😜

Yes, she climbed right back in.
Yes Mammy was drinking coffee at 6.30pm and we all know that one should not drink the magic beans so late in the day, but let me put it to you like this.
It was too early for grapejuice…🍷
Yes, Mammy is knackered.

Yes, the kitchen is a mess.

Yes, I still have to cook dinner.

Yes, Princess still needs a bath and so without the magic beans, Mammy wouldn’t have actually been awake enoigh to wash the slabber covered salty little fudgemonster.

Yes, I’ll probably be up all fucking night doing “to do ” lists in my head.

Yes, I’ll regret it at 1am.

Yes, The Him will want to kill me when I wake him up at 2am to ask him if he thinks we should wallpaper the living room.

Yes, I’m clever. The Him will agree to an indoor pool and special “Mammy grape cupboard” with a comfy chair and everything, if it will shut me up at 2am.

Yes, I am a genius 😈😜 and yes, the coffee worked and so I functioned enough to wash Princess and put the two little terrors to bed.

And now, I have JUST ABOUT enough energy to ACTUALLY tidy the kitchen and cook Him some dinner.☹
So now…what do you think?

Is it time for a little glass of grapes to reward Mammy for being such a feckin legendary Goddess?
The word you’re looking for, is YES!
How was your Chooseday?😘😘

I am She’s hit Poohbeartee Mum

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​Once upon a time there was a Supermum who woke up full of the joys of spring.
“I’m going to go for a quick run before you go to work Darling ” Her said to Him.

Then S-Mum saw the glittery slippery ground outside and so opted for a long shower instead of a quick run.  
S-Mum had a whole 7 luxurious minutes standing under the hot water, as opposed to her usual “step in, quick rinse and step out” routine.  (S-Mum has mastered the art of showering in the length of time it takes Princess to crawl from the kitchen to the bedroom.   It’s a skill I tell you.)   
This morning, S-Mum shampooed her hair not once, but TWICE…AND… she put conditioner in.  And get this? She got to leave the conditioner in for a whole 2 minutes.  She EVEN got to use the scrubby face wash…
And so, S-Mum bounced to the kitchen, full of the joys of spring and determined that today would be a perfectly marvellous day of fun with her two perfectly behaved princesses.  
And then S-Mum remembered that her almost 5 year old Mini-Me is going through “Poohbeartee.”

Poohbeartee is what I have decided to call the phase of utter fucking MAYHEM that is happening in my little darling’s world right now.
She is emotional. She is impatient. She is cranky. She is grumpy. She is impossible and she is unpredictable.  One minute she is laughing, the next she is crying. She reminds me of myself…(you know…once a month..for like, oh, I dunno, about 29 days or so 😂😂.)

  It’s not pretty.

One second she loves me, the next she is declaring that she “has to go live with Granny”.  Yesterday, she spent 20 minutes on top of me BAWLING because “I’m not the perfect daughter!”.  (Note to self. Mulan is banned, the fucking Twit.)
But, today, full of the joys of Spring and invigorated by having had TIME to SMELL the actual SMELL of the smelly shower creams, S-Mum remained optimistic that all would be right with the world and we would have a wonderful day.

And we did, up until about 5pm.


Between 5pm and now, I have lost the spring in my step.

She has screamed.

I have screamed.

 I have tried very hard to “ignore it” and “stay calm”. 

She has slammed doors.

I have pissed her off ROYALLY with such unreasonable requests as “Please eat your dinner” and “Brush your teeth.”
I have said each instruction on average 9 times each. And have realised that regardless of the tone or volume of my voice, she’s decided not to fucking HEAR me, never mind LISTEN to me.
It seems that all I have to do now to cause a complete “Poohbeartescant” strop, is to walk into the same room as her.  

She’s gone to bed declaring me no longer her best fwend because I wouldn’t let her take a glowing red fucking torch to bed with her.  Then she cried for ten minutes because she doesn’t  WANT me to no longer NOT be her best fwend, before telling me that Daddy is reading her a story tonight because I don’t “dweseve one.”
“I love you” I called after her as she gnarled and hissed at me going out the door…
Him puts her to bed and Mammy tidies away the toys, trying not to think about the fact that she is OBVIOUSLY doing EVERYTHING FUCKING WRONG because S-Mum stooopidly thought that Little girls didn’t start to hate their mums until the good old age of 13 or so.


Then, she looks at the “Worry Plaque” she’s bought to “appear” on the wall tonight and says a prayer that it works as well as everyone says it does, so that her little Pooh Bear might learn to relax a bit and Mammy won’t feel so fucking useless and impatient and frustrated.
Fuck me.

I’d try anything at this stage.
Mammy can not win.

Mammy wants a gin. 😍
And then sneaks down to give the Scary one a kiss on the cheek as she sleeps, when she is not quite so terrifying and there is no chance that Mammy’s simple general presence in the room can bring on a row.
The End… until tomorrow. 😐
#pouritnow