Take Some Time, Sometimes

I am Some Time, Sometimes Mum

We’ve “no time” for dancing, We’ve “no time” to sing.

We can’t play that game or go play on the swing.

There’s washing and cooking and things to be done

And sometimes the last thing we think of is fun.

And this is all normal and life does get busy,

But if it’s so hectic it’s making you dizzy,

It’s time to consider the things that mean more,

The small things we all take for granted, I’m sure.

Like breathing and laughing and reading and such,

Like the fact that our lives are each made up of much,

Much more than our jobs or our grades or successes.

They’re made up of giggles and family and messes,

Of routines and drop offs, of friends and of breaks,

Of worries and stresses, of plans and heartaches.

If we knew every morning, what would lay ahead,

There are mornings we’d probably stay in our beds.

But know we do not. Of nothing we’re sure,

Except that we’re here and have one morning more.

So take all the compliments, laugh all the time,

Always give hugs and sometimes drink wine.

Build all the jigsaws, take all the smiles.

Walk in the countryside, drive one more mile,

Say if you’re sorry, cry if you’re sad,

Don’t waste time fighting. Fighting is bad..

Look at the sky and take time to see

The colours and patterns, reflect on the sea.

Don’t waste time worrying about what MAY be

Think of your present. Enjoy memories.

Follow your dreams, Make all the plans,

Never let anyone tell you you can’t.

And while we have problems and things might go badly,

Remember that others would swap with us gladly.

So if you love someone, please make sure that you say;

Tell them and give them memories to replay,

Because we just never know when that last hug or kiss

is being given. So make sure it’s one you don’t miss.

Breathe it all in and live life as you must,

Be kind and polite and remember to trust.

Travel and wonder and read all the books

See all the beauty we’d see if we looked.

When life is good, live it, and take every chance

And never look back wishing that you had danced.

Leave “no song unsung and no wine untasted”

For time spent being happy is never time wasted.

So play all the games and run to the swing

And always make time to dance and to sing.

(Maria Rushe 2018)

The Night Before Christmas – by Mammy

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‘Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land,

The magic was starting and all was in hand.

The trees were lit up and the turkeys were prepped,

The dog was quite cozy by the tree where he slept.

The sugar-filled children were bouncing and reeling,

The reindeer dust sprinkled, the cookies still cooling.

They hoped for and wished that the Big Man would bring

The gifts that they’d ask for, to make their hearts sing.

They stared at the skies, with eyes that were bright

As the stars they were searching, for Santa’s sleigh lights.

The parents enjoyed the excitement and fun

But hoped they’d soon sleep.  There were jobs to be done.

Santa’s snacks were set out and the stories were read

As the children got tucked in and snuggled in bed.

With a sigh of relief and ten checks that they’re sleeping

Mammy opened the nice secret treats she’d been keeping.

They finished their jobs and left everything right

For the Big Man in red who would visit tonight.

And they danced in the kitchen, and with Bublé they’d sing

Excited themselves, for what morning would bring.

For the joy and excitement, the gifts and the hugs

For the fact they’re together and truly know love,

For their family and friends, far away and close by,

For the innocence and magic that can’t money can’t buy,

For the dinner and chocolates and all of the food,

For the laughter and smiles, for the contented mood,

That comes with the sunrise on each Christmas Day,

And they counted their blessings as they ended their day.

So, tired but happy, Mammy turned off the light,

“Merry Christmas to all and to all a goodnight!”

(Maria Rushe 2017)

Wishing you a magical Christmas

This Mammy wants to wish all of my wonderful readers a truly magical and wonderful Christmas.  I hope Santa is good to you all and that you have everything you dream of.

The S-Mum xx

 

 

I am Staring into the Fridge Mum

Mammy spends much time planning the weekly eating.

Not because Mammy is a super organised Mammy. More because Mammy loves food so much that Mammy likes to know what is for each meal, every day. Mammy is the sort who when she is eating one meal, she’s already planning and thinking about what shall be next.

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The Him first realised this about Mammy when he, as newly acquired Friendboy Him, accompanied Mammy and her bestie, Nickers, on holiday.

You see, whilst Mammy and Nickers sat on the Portugese balcony, munching on watermelon and sweet toast and local sardine paste, the conversation would not be so much about what we would do or where we would go that day, but more along the lines of:

“What do you fancy for lunch?”

“Fish”

“We’ll try that seafood restaurant on the beach so?”

“K”.

“Mmmmmmm shhhhhcallops” drool Mammy and Nickers in unison.

Then, whilst munching on shhhcallops and sipping cold Pinot at said seaside restaurant, the conversation would be primarily about which restaurant we’d eat in that night.

“Do you two just eat your way around Portugal?” asked a bemused Friendboy Him.

“Eh… obviously?” came the reply from both of us.

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And yet he stayed and despite Mammy’s obsession with food and planning all holidays and days out around what food we can eat and where we shall be eating it, and despite Mammy’s love of eating all things weird and wonderful and having to try the strangest thing on the menu, just because, he stayed.

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And so now. Mammy puts lots of effort into the purchasing of good healthy food for her minions. On becoming a mother, Mammy had intended to ensure that they shall eat only nutritious and healthy colourful and varied dishes every evening. Mammy also spends a lot of time staring into the fridge, wondering

1: how there is nothing to eat when I’ve just bought aisle 3 in Aldi-everything and

2: what the chances are of something having prepared and cooked itself while I was at work.

3: Why the hell I bother, because Mammy has also realised a few things.

  1. Children are twats
  2. Children don’t give a shite how much money Mammy spent on food
  3. Children don’t give a shite how much time Mammy spends cooking
  4. Children who “don’t eat chucken”, only mean that they don’t eat fresh chicken. Chicken nuggets, chicken burgers and chicken goujons are perfectly acceptable.
  5. Children who don’t like spuds, only mean that they dont like Mammy’s spuds. Granny’s are perfectly acceptable.
  6. Children are twats.
  7. Regardless of how much effort you put into presenting their food, most of it ends up on the floor anyway.
  8. Children will eat pasta, but only specific shapes… but buy ALL shapes as their favourite shape changes approximately 3 times per week.
  9. Children who don’t eat what Mammy gives them, will HAPPILY eat EVERYTHING that is put in front of them in Afterschool.
  10. Children who “aren’t hungry” will always forget this if sweets or chocolate are presented to them.

In fairness, my children are not too fussy…

As long as it’s from the freezer, is battered and is some variation of the colour beige, they’ll devour it. See? Not fussy at all.

 

And so Mammy can plan and dream all she wants, but really, she’d be better dreaming of that Portugese Balcony and shhhcallops and Sauvignon and sunshine.

Because there’s more chance of that happening, than of these two just eating what’s cooked for them.

Mammy x

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I am So What Age is Best Mum?

The recent pregnancy announcement of one of the pretty Princess People in London has caused quite a stir, not only because everyone loves a royal Baby as much as a royal wedding.  This one has caused a stir because Princess-wifey-of-the-other-one will be deemed to be having a “geriatric pregnancy” because she is over 35.

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Geriatric?  The woman looks about 21.  And yet, this is a medical term, much used and much accepted across the medical world.

So, what age is the best age to have kids?

Well now that is really the same as asking how long a piece of string is, or how much wine is too much wine? Erm…

My own parents have done it all!  I was born when they were 20 and 21, the baby being born as they both turned 40.  They tell me that each of us (and we are 6!) brought our own challenges.  I don’t think they’d say which is best, because they wouldn’t change a thing. (I think!)

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I remember when my Dad turned 30. At the wise old age of nine, I thought he was ANCIENT!  And as I now hit hard on 40 myself, I often consider how wonderful it is that so many of my generation were born to such young parents. (and I am grateful to have them both still young and thankfully well.)

In the 80’s, it was the absolute norm for Mums to be 19 or 20.  It was perfectly acceptable to be married at 18 or 19. I remember hearing my Aunty proclaim, on her 21st birthday, that if she wasn’t married by the time she turned 25, to sign her up to a certain religious institution… And yet now, most don’t even consider settling down until late 20s/early 30s and most of us are having our kids in our mid to late 30s.

Having babies young has its benefits as well as its cons.  And waiting until later brings different struggles and joys.

As a Mammy who had Baby one at 30 and Baby two at 35, (Yup! Geriatric Mammy right here!), I can honestly say that the energy levels I had for number two differed desperately.  As did my physical recovery.

But again, everyone is different.  30 was the right age for me.  I was settled in my own skin, in my career and in my relationship.  And yet my friend who had her three kids before the age of 23 will tell you that she loved having them when she was younger and had more time and energy.

When you have your babies, really has no baring on the life of anyone else does it?  You are not ‘better’ if you have kids at whatever the national average is.  You are not ‘better’ if you have your kids young than the woman who is 41 when she gives birth.

Every one is different and as with all things parenty, there is no right or wrong.

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Say Hello to Fricken Freaky Fridays!

Oh joy, oh rapture!
 
It is Friday; the Friday where the significance of Fridays becomes significantly more significant to those of us who have been #soblessed to have the summer off with our minions. And whether it has been a summer of #pottering and #makingmemories and all of that other instaperfect frankittywank that some love to spout over news feeds, or indeed a summer of #fml and #aretheschoolsopenagain, it is now all but over.
 
And so the significance of routine must be acknowledged and what better way to begin, that to return to Freezerful-Friday dinners and Fricken-shut-up-and-pours.
 
My cleaning and organising was disrupted on too many occasions by demands for jigsaws and poos and general “GivemeattentionNOWs” and so while the washing is done, there was no bleaching and even less cleaning done.
My favourite interruption however, was this one. I had foolishly said no to an icepop before her healthy and nutritious dinner of svelty flattened organical sourdoughed bread, adorned with sunkissed blushing tomatoes, elderflower cheese with emmenthol (great for flus) and thinly sliced prosciutto, gilded with the glitter of a fairy’s dandruff… yes. Pizza.
 
I returned the box of rockets to the freezer and inthe 0.43 seconds I had my back turned, Princess Demonica had turned all 6th Sense on me and opened all the doors in protest.
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Funny, when I was expecting her, I loved the name Damien for a boy… May have been appropriate enough.
 
The Hellfiend was so speedy in her task that I’m not beyond being convinced that she sprouted 12 other arms or had the help of a few spirits, just to ensure three things:
1. To remind Mammy, with dramatic effect, what new levels of tantrum she is capable of.
2. To convince Mammy to call upon her own spirits tonight. It is a Friday for gin. Grapes shall not cut it.
3. To confirm Mammy’s suspicions that it is probably high time that my dysfunctional little fambam did in fact get back into routine.
 
They do say we learn from our children, don’t they?
 
So Yay to Fricken Fridays and cheers to those of you whose little demons have tried every last significant ounce of your patience today.
Cheers Mammies.
Remember that if you like my Smumblings, you still have an hour or two to vote for me to reach the final of Maternity & Infant Awards for Best Parenting Blogger.