Tag Archives: baby

I am “Sneak Peak to a Princess’s Brain” Mum

Posted in blog, family, parenting, Uncategorized by

“Peppa Pig is starting.  I do like Peppa Pig.  Oooooh. What is Mammy doing? I is a clever witto Princess. Look at Mammy.  Mammy is hoovering.  She is trying to make the room nice and tidy and she has lifted all of my toys.  Wait a minute.  Why has she lifted my toys? That is NOT vewy nice of Mammy is it?  How can I let her know I am not a happy Wobbler?  I could scweam and scweam and throw the toys out of the basket, but NO.  I am NOT a cliche.   I is a Pwincess.  I don’t do fings by half.  I am like my Mammy.  I do it ALL.  She will be so proud of me.  Now, let me see.  Oooooh!  Lookit!  Mammy is hoovering over there and she has left the door open over here.  I like to run.  Running is my Fayvwit.  I shall run down the my bedwoom and wrestle Winnie da pooh.  Daddy calls him Winnie da Shit, but my big sister got scolded when she sayd that so Pwincess is NOT going to say dat.  Pwincess is clever.  I like to run.  OOoooooh LOOKIT!  Oh.  My.  DOG!  Mammy left the bafroom door open just for me.  I must swing in to the bafwoom and see what I can do!  What has Mammy left for me to play wif?  Oh look!  There is the white roll of baby wipes that they always put down the toilet.  I shall put it down the toilet.  I shall put ALL of it down the toilet.  I is soooooo clever.  Mammy will be so proud.  Where is Mammy?  Mammy is still hoovering.  I have put all of the white stuff into the toilet.  I will close the lid now and I will go see my Mammy.  Mammy is now hoovering the kitchen.  I come in and she says “Hello Darling. Are you OK?” and I nod and say my favourite word “Mmmmhmmmmm!”  I will play wif my blo…ooooooh da BUM Cweam!  SHE HAS WEFT THE BUM CWEAM ON THE TABLE! Mammy likes to put the bum bweam on her face.  She never puts the bum cweam on MY face.  I shall be just like Mammy.  I shall put the Bum Cweam on my face and Mammy will be so pwoud.  I am putting the bum cweam on my face.  Mammy turns around and I KNOW she is happy because she is smiling.  Oh.  Now she is running.  She must need the bum cweam.  I hold it out to her and she takes it quickly.  Snapping is not nice Mammy.  Silly Mammy.  Mammy is wiping the cweam off my face and she is cross.  That is OK.  It’s just a phase she is going through.  She goes to put the hoover in the cupboard.  I am climbing on to the chair.  Mammy is calling my sister to come up for lunch.  I am climbing onto the table.  The big table.  I am very fast.  I am a big girl.  

Mammy comes in and Mammy seems excited.  She is screaming and saying some new words.  I likes these words.  She lifts me up and I am so high and I LOVE it so I giggle and put the bum cweam that is hiding on my hand all over Mammy’s face.  She asks my Sister to go get her some toilet roll.  She will be sooooo happy when she sees that I have already put it all into the toilet and so now she has less work to do.   I like to run…

  Peppa Pig is over already.  What can I do now?  I like to run.  Time for a Poo.  I am a clever witto Pwincess.  Aren’t I a clever Pwincess?  Isn’t my Mammy a lucky Mammy?  I wonder where she left my Bum Cweam…”

I am “Stop it with ‘the joys’ please” Mum

Posted in toddlers, Uncategorized by

“Oh the joys,”  they say.
“That’s the joys,” they say…
“The joys”… just the joys. Nothing else needed except raised eyebrows and knowing nods.
The joys.
Let me tell YOU about “the joys”.
There is nothing JOYFUL about “the joys”. 

There is nothing JOYEOUS about “the joys”.
THE JOYS are an absolute pain in the feckin posterier and should actually be renamed “The Shites.”
Today, while Mini-Me frolocked like a lamb in the sunshiny garden, myself and the feral one remained on the sofa. 👇👇👇

She screamed. She cried. She writhed in pain. She clawed my face if I moved. She lost her fricken mind if I breathed wrong. 😭😭😭

Why?
Because she’s teething, cutting a nasty big tooth.
The joys…
Baby has colick… “That’s the joys”

Baby won’t sleep… “The joys”

Toddler throws tantrum… “Them’s the joys”.

Wobbler knocks Sister off her seat”… “the joys”.
All the shite parts of being a parent get labeled as “the joys”.  As usual, parents for generations have been unable to call them what they are.  God forbid you might actually admit that some parts of mammyhood are SHITE.
Christ alive.  Call Childline!  Mammy is not full of the joys and smiling manically and counting her blessings and smug on her Mammy perch, instagrannying the crap out of all her fecking “joys” #soblessed #takethosechildrenawayquick 
No. 

 Instead, when we see another parent type dealing with something horrid, like a screaming baby or a teething toddler, we indirectly remind them that they should be happy and smiling and grateful for “the joys.” 
And yes, OF COURSE these things are part of being a Mammy, but sometimes, we need to stop the facade and call a spade a spade. 
Some days, (especially those where your 18 month old is in so much pain that you seriously consider raiding Granda’s cow meds because you’d honestly pull out  your own teeth to make her feel better)…THOSE days are not Joys.
Those days are Shite.
Pure, absolute and unadulterated SHITE.
“The JOYS” come only after the Calpol has kicked in and the screaming has stopped and you know she’s not in pain for the next wee while anyway.

THEM’S the ACTUAL joys.

Quiet is Joyful.

Sleep is Joyeous.
How was your day? 

Did you enjoy the sunshine?
Don’t think me a wench if I say that I DO hope you all got your arses burnt… I’m not. But if you were out frolicking in it, Them’s the joys. Suck it up. 😉😂😉😂😉😂😉
#thejoys #fml #badtoofs

Have you caught my Facebook page yet? There’s great banter most evenings on it. @the.s.mum 

I’m on Instagranny too. @the.s.mum 

Posted in blog, children, Uncategorized by

Well normality has resumed.
I’ve said before that Princess is like me… she LOVES her food and has always had a wonderful petite.
One of the worst parts of her being sick for the past few weeks has been watching her having no interest in food. 
But it’s all OK apparently, because her appetite has returned, and with it has arrived her attitude.
I think she has fecking worms.
For the past 3 days, she has spent the ENTIRE afternoon and evening…right up until bedtime, either standing at the fridge grunting, opening every cupboard while lamenting the lack of food in her hand, or pushing her high chair around the kitchen, wailing like a cailleach.
And I’m not exaggerating.
Here is what she ate between 3pm and 7pm yesterday…

1 banana

1 yoghurt

2 rich tea biscuits

1.5 rice cakes 

Half of a wrap with ham

A bowl of Cheerios 

Pasta and 3 sausages
Not too bad you say? 

This was AFTER her day in creche, where I am informed she ate:

 Toast

 grapes

 brioche 

and TWO, YES TWO Bowls of Chilli with mashed potato.
TWO.
And once she saw the sausages going onto the pan, she cried incessantly until I lifted her up in my arms, from where she watched them cooking, alternating between squeaks of joy and whines of despair that they were not in fact in her fudgy hands yet.
My back was broken.

My head was busting.

My fridge was dangerously empty.  Only the meat for The Him’s dinner and brussel sprouts remained.

And they were in genuine danger!
Today, we’re slap bang in the middle of her “Feckin Feed Me” dance.  She is currently quiet because she is eating the end of Mini-Me’s yoghurt, deeming her own pot too empty for her.  

I have about 3 minutes before Round 3.

I am Stupid teething Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, swear words, Teething, temperature, Uncategorized by

S-Mum  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.  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.  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.💪💪💪
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.  Yes carrots.  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.  Especially when the tooth is almost through.)

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

Shopping list so far:👇

Calpol.

Neurofen.

Teetha granules.

Bonjela.

Gin…

Have a Sassy Saturdays Bitcheepooooos 😎😎

I am Sleep Dance Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, toddlers by

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.  And I’m brilliant at it.

image

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.  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.  That gap was just enough to have allowed us to have completely forgotten EVERYTHING about having a new baby in the house.  How do we bath her?  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.  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.  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?  Where should I put her while she’s sleeping?  The arrangements and habits that we had created for our first baby, were redundant.  We had to start again.  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.  Do we mix the formula when it’s hot or luke warm?  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.  Everything became normal again…except for the sleep.

image

Before a Baby arrives, how much we sleep goes unnoticed.  Pre-parents should really listen when told to enjoy their sleep now.  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.  Enjoy being able to go to bed when YOU feel like it.  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?  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.
Example:

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.  Just know that YOU OWE ME!

 

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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.  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.  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.  I’m now forcing myself to accept the lie in, even if it is only until 8am.  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.  He (or she) still owes you.  How you make them pay, is completely up to you!

I am Sleep Dance Mum 🙂

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