Category Archives: Uncategorized

I am Some Buck Andy Mum

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Lookit. 👇👇👇👇

Look at this big, gangly, grinning, daft, handsome fecker? 😂

It’s Andy from “Andy’s Prehistoric Adventures”. (How many of you just sang “Andeesprehistoricaaad-ventuuuuuuuuures” in your head?😂😂)
For SOME reason, this show has the ability to stop both Mini-Me AND the terror that is my Princess in their housewrecking tracks.
It’s clever. It’s well made and like most CBeebies stuff, pretty educational and entertaining. 
 It also prepares my girls for real life…for the real world.  There are many lessons to be learned from Andy, and they aren’t ALL about Dipladoci and time travel.
Andy is preparing them for living with a man.
Here’s why.

1. He’s a scatterbrained, feckless eejit with all of the good intentions in the world and feck all organisation 

skills.
2. He only gets off his arse to DO anything when he hears Mrs Pickles (the crabbit oul Bosswoman) coming down the hall with a walk that would put any Trunchbull Headmistress to shame.  Just like most men, he waits until he knows Mrs Whatever is ready to lose the fricken BAP before he realises he needs to do something QUICKLY! 😠
3. He’s a clumsy git who is usually to blame for his own drama. (And if he’s not to blame, it’s the fault of the unsuspecting maintenance cretur.) But interestingly enough it’s always the fault of a man. 😅😅

4. He comes out with crap like “Mrs Pickles won’t be happy” and “OH NO! We’ll NEVER get it done NOW!” State the obvious there ya tool.
5. He loves to say “We need time. I know! We’ll MAKE time!”  If only it was that easy Andy.  If only we had your time machine and ability to know EXACTLY what year to go back to in order to fix the problem. Even if I DID have a time machine, I wouldn’t even KNOW what year to go back to in order to prevent all of MY problems.  (Probably 1980! 😂)
6. His poor sidekick Jen, works her arse off and keeps the museum running quietly.  He has nooooo idea what she does exactly, or how much work goes into keeping everything ticking over, and yet he turns up when there’s a problem, offers the solution as if he’s a genius and takes all the credit. 
7.  “Where’s he always running off to by himself?” Jen asks herself this question everyday. How does this prepare my daughters for cohabiting? Because the answer is easy.  He’s fecked off to the FECKING TOILET, with his FECKING i-phone, where he MUST go on a time travel adventure because apparently it takes him 45 minutes to poo, while Mums can do it it 25 feckin seconds…hands washed and EVERYTHING. 😂😠😂😠😂
8. “Oh no. I’ve landed in a swamp!”  Really? You can travel back 36million years but you can’t figure out how to land the thing on dry ground? I know.  TRY READING THE INSTRUCTIONS! Or you know, using the GPS which is most likely installed in your machine… or is it only there for decoration like the one in your car? Numpty…
9. He only moves fast and efficiently if his life depends on it…like when he’s been “hunted by a facilliasaurus” – or in reality when he hears his Mrs “doyathinkshesaurus” driving into the street.
10. He has a cheeky grin that allows us to forget his plonkerisms, he’s the best looking buck on the Tellybox all day, AND he keeps the kiddies entertained for at least 8 minutes.  For Number 10, we shall forgive him.
AND, he IS reliable and despite Poor Jen not having a clue how he does it, if there’s a problem, he generally FIXES it. Because he’s her Him and he looks after his own wee corner. 💙💙💙

I am Selling Unicorn Farts Mum

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​Ok.
I’m jumping on the train.

I can’t ignore it any longer! There are people to change and money to make Ladybelles.  It would irresponsible of me NOT to share this AMAZING product, that I’ve invented all by myself, with you.  

Why should I have all the fucking FABLIS?

No.

I’m here to HELP you all.

We are going to change the world, one unicorn fart at a time.
Introducing The S-Mum’s EXCLUSIVE new capsules…UN-I-CAN!


New Year, New You?

All you need is UN-I-CAN…The World’s LEADING Product, which has been Scientifically proven somewhere, to MAKE YOU A BETTER YOU!

  

Let’s face it… you are pretty shite as you are right? Especially after Christmas when you indulged in all that, you know, food?  And we here at UN-I-CAN HQ are pretty fuckin fablis, so take this and you’ll can be Fablis too!

My UN-I-CAN is filled with only 100% natural, organic, freezied and airdried Unicorn farts, cultivated only from the classiest Unicorn Mums.


After only 3 weeks taking UN-I-CAN daily, our clients reported:

🦄 rapid weight loss…up to 12 stone in a week!

🦄 More aesthetically pleasing excrement and a magical smell in their bathrooms

🦄 Improved skin…like it sparkles like a REAL unicorn!

🦄 Sparkly eyes and shinier teeth..they GLOW IN THE DARK! 

🦄 Extraordinary hair growth…up to 8 inches in 3 weeks…AND it’s multicoloured, like a rainbow!

🦄 Bigger boobs and unicorn butt!

🦄 You’ll also have the energy of a ninja nymph, the patience of a fairy and the magical powers of Merlin

🦄 Increased productivity and energy and organisational skills, therefore leading to a changed life, no stress and no mortgage. Easy.
Better you…better mum…better friend…better sex…better everything!
Just 99.999999 a month. Cheaper than real glitter.
If you sign up to the Premium Package, you get a free bottle of Unicorn tears gin and your VERY OWN HORN! 

Disclaimer…

*Un-I-Can is not responsible for what happens if you mix the gin with the horn.

*This is a truly original idea, inspired only by unicorns and rainbows.
So there you go Ladybelles.

You know you need this in your lives…

I’m currently working on the Un-I-Can shite shakes, but I’m having trouble getting the consistency right. It’s a bit too much diahorrea and not enough glitter at the minute. 
When your life is shite, shine the UN-I-CAN light!

It makes your poo sparkle

🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂🦄😂

I am Some New Year’s Resolutions Mum

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​My lazy self has decided that ACTUALLY, I probably should make a few New Year’s resolutions after all.  I’m feeling a bit left out on Social Media today as everyone posts their resolves and memes about the new year and blank canvasses and new beginnings.

ANd then I remembered writing some resolutions at the end of 2016, and I found the post.

Turns out, they are EXACTLY the same as what I want to write today.  Does this mean that I didn’t achieve my goals in 2017?  NO.  I kept everyone alove and well and kept my general sh*t between the ditches, didn’t I?  No.  It simply reminds me that parenting is a constant process and that being the perfect parent is elusive.

And so I begin 2018 with similar thoughts.

1. I must stop scolding Mini-Me. It doesn’t feckin work anyway. I’m wasting my energy.

2. I will be calm and zenned at all times… (mostly after 8pm when the Minions are snoring and I have a glass of something soothing in my hand.)

3. I will learn a new language.  Something foreign and exotic and sexy…Yeah. Actually, No.  My arse.  I have enough bother getting coherent sentences to come out of my mouth in English, and now that I’m having to say the sound “BUH” instead of fucking “BEEE” for the letter b, I’m already technically learning one anyway.  My brain would combust with any more pressure. (Seriously, how the hell are the kids going to spell their namesnin the future! “Muh-iiiih-naaaa-iiiii-muuuuu-eeeeee”  That shit bothers me.)

4. I will get rid of the 18.4 stone I’ve eaten and supped over Christmas…(starting next Monday.  There’s 6 more days until the New Year technically begins.) #operationskinnyarse

5. I will never raise my voice to my child.  (I shall lean in and whisper. It’s much more effective. Bookface taught me that one. It’s good isn’t it.)

6. I shall have a clean house at all times.  (At least once a year, for at least 3 days.The rest of the time? Yeah right! If I can keep them all generally alive, fed and clothed in public, I say I’m winning.)

7. I shall never blackmail or bribe my children. That would be terrible. Such techniques are only employed by bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch mamma…( Maybe I should change this to I will try to stop being a bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch Mamma? Might be a better starting point than giving up blackmail. Can’t go cold turkey like…)

8. I shall travel more and make more time for me.   (I shall take the long way home once a week, AND I’ll listen to the RADIO instead of the fecking FROZEN soundtrack when I’m in the car on my own.  Now THAT is Mam-ME time guys! )

9. I shall stop having imaginary arguments with people while I am in the shower or the car.  It’s not healthy, especially when you turn around, mid-rant covered in lather and Mini-Me is standing staring at you and asks “Who are you talking to Mammy?” or interrupts your rant with “LANGUAGE!” in that condescending, disapproving tone of hers from the back seat, causing you to almost crash the frickin car with fright.  Maybe this is just me? Anyone else?

10. I shall stop drinking grapejuice … gin is not as calorific apparently. And Slimline tonic is basically just water isn’t it?

11. I shall stop swearing.

12. I shall stop lying and accept myself as the deluded, delusional talker of general shite that I am.

I could keep going. But in reality, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing next year.  I might be doing stuff wrong, but I’m also doing stuff right and that’s all that matters.

What are your resolutions for 2018?

 

Wishing you a magical Christmas (1)

Happy New Year!

I am Say Hello to 2017 Mum

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​2016 was as well behaved as a threenager and as predictable as toddler’s tantrum, but BOY was it feckin FABLIS!
This time last year, I had NO IDEA that the blog would become a daily one, or that so many people would interact.  I never dreamed that it would be so well received or that it’d EVER end up nominated for a national award.  I never imagined the friendships it would bring me… 💖💖💖
Secrets of S-Mum gives me enjoyment and keeps me sane … well, just a little sane.  It’s offered me some savage opportunities this year and as I enter 2017, I’m excited and determined to keep writing. I LOVE that even the shittiest days can make another S-Mum smile. We’re all as batshit-crazy-biscuits as each other! And we Supermums really DO have the power.

  We’re amazing.

 We’re Fablis.  

We’re glitter-farting unicorns. 🦄🦄🦄


I have big plans for my wee blog and as we start a new chapter, I want to thank those Supermums who follow me and comment and share and like and message me.  Your support and reaction not only makes me happy, it makes me want to keep writing.  
So thank you, from the bottom of my glass, for the love and laughs.

And bring on 2017 Bitcheepooooos.
Let’s see where this poonami wave brings us, will we?
But for now, my Minions are asleep after watching last year’s London countdown (she wanted to see where Uncle Binam lives!😅😅), the PJs are on and The Him and I are supping on bubbles.


Have a lovely evening, whatever you’re at Ladybelles.
See you on the other side.
Much love,💋💋💋
The S-Mum and The Him

😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚😚

I am Sending her on her way Mum

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​Mammy guilt.

I’ve decided that that Sanctimonious Bitch can waddle on her way.
Mammy Guilt
That horrible guilt that Mammies feel. It hits us in two ways:

1. Sometimes it creeps up slowly, beginning as a niggle, but then grows into a giant “butterfly in your tummy”.  (Actually, no.  It’s not a butterfly. It’s more comparable to a drunk, out of control, giant Pigeon that crashes against your insides asnit tries to escape your tummy.)

2. Sometimes it hits you like an articulated lorry, out of the blue.
Either way, it hits. 
 Sometimes over seemingly insignificant things, you know? Like, “They’re having pizza and waffles for tea again.” or “I haven’t bathed him in a week” or “Jam sandwiches for the second day because I forgot to go to the shop.”  We know we’re not following the “Perfect Mammy rule book” and we can guess how our Sanctimammy friend would react if she saw our crimes.

 Bring on the Mammy guilt.
Other times, it’s over bigger things or events. You know that wedding you’re going to? Where you’re going to stay overnight? That you’re reeeeeeally looking forward to? But as it draws nearer, you seriously consider making excuses to the Bride because you just don’t know how you’re going to leave your Minion for 24 hours. Or that nightbout with the girls? Or leaving them in Childcare while you go to work…or not being able to invite the whole class to his party because the money just isn’t there…or telling her “5 minutes Mammy’s working”…
  Oh bring on the Mammy guilt. 
It’s endless. It’s indiscriminate. It pops up in the weirdest places and it can be suffocating. Because it makes us feel wrong, uncertain…useless even.
 How often have you wished the baby monitor to quieten down, only to feel an urge to go in and snuggle her after 20 minutes? How often have you looked at the clock at 5pm and willed it to be bedtime, and then felt like crap because she crawls up for a snuggle? How often have you been given the chance of an extra hour in bed, only to feel like your gut is going to self-combust when you hear your baby crying? You know that she’s safe with Daddy or Granny or whoever is with her, but your Mammy guilt forces you to drag you ass downstairs to check.
That’s the Mammy guilt.


This morning, the Him let me lie in. After a while, I heard the bath running.  He was bathing the girls… my first reaction was “I’d better get up.”  I sat up. My head was automatically filled with thoughts like “Where are her clothes?” “How will he manage both?” “Does he have everything set up?” ” I’d better get up.”  I felt GUILTY that I was snuggled up in bed while Daddy was bathing the girls. 
And then I copped myself the feck on and lay back down!  

Because you see, that’s where we Mammies are going wrong.  We’re allowing the Mammy guilt to be a bad thing. We’re allowing it to make us feel like we must be doing something wrong if we’re feeling guilty.

But we’re not doing anything wrong. It took all of my strength to not interfere… to let him decide what they would wear…to batter the guilt down and stop worrying about something so silly!
If anything, the fact that we’re worrying about being a good Mammy, means that we ARE good Mammies.   Is that “guilt” not simply what keeps us on the right track?
My New Year’s resolution for 2017 is simple.
  I’m taking the Mammy Guilt and I am kicking it out the door.  Instead, I’m going to call it my MammyCheck.

  Because that feeling is not guilt.
 It is panic. It is fear.  It is worry. It’s our mind’s way of making us Check and Double check our decisions.

 If we’re feeling it, we’re being good Mammies already.  
It will a lot of effort and it will take a lot of time, but if we decide to take our Mammy Guilt and turn it into a positive thing, it’s worth a try right?
So if you’re in the throes of making your New Year’s resolutions for tomorrow, add one in.

Refuse to feel the Mammy guilt. Take it as a sign that you’re already fablis. 


Xxxx 😚😚😚😚😚