Tag Archives: family

I am Sad Mum

Posted in blog, children, family, Uncategorized by

It’s here. It’s the end of the summer holidays and the night before Workmas. I’m a bit of a wreck today if I’m honest Ladies.

It’s as if Princess knows too. She’s climbed up on me for cuddles 43 times, and run to me to be lifted 83 times. It’s as if she has a sixth sense. Little skitter. šŸ˜…šŸ˜£ And Mini-Me has been the PERFECT child today. Perfect. I shit you not. I didn’t have to raise my voice once today. She told me she loved me 3 times, did EVERYTHING I asked her to, AND she ASKED if she could dust the telly. (Now, this might have been because it hasn’t been cleaned in eleventy squillion months and she couldn’t SEE it, but I’ll take it.) šŸ˜…

I’ve spent the day organising wardrobes and drawers, because let’s be honest, it’s easier to get everyone out the door when you actually KNOW where clothes are. šŸ˜…(Is it bad that I sometimes consider going to Penneysbest and just BUYING new clothes for them instead of facing the pit that is my tiddilyday room? )

I stopped short of rearranging all the furniture in the house for two reasons:

1. I prefer to keep THAT trick for when The Him’s not expecting it. And today, he’s expecting it. He knows what I’m like!šŸ˜ˆšŸ˜ˆ

2. I didn’t have time between all the laundry and cuddles.šŸ˜£

I’ve loved being off with my girls.šŸ’– The summer has been good to us. I have a heart full of memories and a phone full of photographs.

Yes, I hate the thought of dropping them off tomorrow and I’m dreading how long I’m going to be away from them each day, but don’t we all? šŸ˜„

Don’t get me wrong, a part of me is actually looking forward to going back to my other job, but after 2 years of being off or part-time, Me going back to work full-time is going to be a serious shock to everyone’s system. Has to be done though. It’s time to pull up the big girl knickers, dig out my teacher clothes and put on makeup every day again! (The thought of it!) šŸ˜£šŸ˜£

But for tonight, I’m going to finish the summer with a large G&T and try to finally finish my blog post on our trip to NYC. I figure if I spend tonight looking back on summer, I don’t have to deal with it being over…until the morning!

Cheers Supermums xxx

I am ‘So here’s the thing’ Mum…

Posted in blog, children, family, parenting, time, toddlers, Uncategorized by

“You will , you know!”

ā€œEveryone is the perfect parentā€¦until they have children.ā€

Who said this first? I have no idea.

Who says it now? Me. Every single day!

I am the proud and enthusiastic Mama bear of a 5-year-old Drama Queen and a 21 month old Dictator. I spend my days winging it through EVERYTHINGā€¦ breakfast, school runs, work, homework, dinner, bedtime, marriage.

Some days, I feel like I NEARLY have my shit together. Most days, I want to stomp my foot, throw and tantrum and call for my own Mammy! To many, I seem like I hold things together.

Those closest to me, know Iā€™m a fraud.

I donā€™t know what Iā€™m doing.

I donā€™t deal with everything in a calm and mature fashion.

I donā€™t adore my children every single second of every single day.

I donā€™t always have the schedule sorted.

I donā€™t always remember everything Iā€™m supposed to.

I donā€™t always know whatā€™s wrong with the baby, just by her cry.

I donā€™t always have a sparkly clean house. (Actually, I donā€™t EVER. Who does?)

I donā€™t always remember to wash the uniforms.

I donā€™t always want to get my No Diggity on in the bedroom.

I donā€™t always feed them homemade meals.

I donā€™t always give the right answer.

I donā€™t always say the right thing.

I donā€™t switch off my brain, even when itā€™s His turn to get up with them.

I canā€™t.

Because I ā€œMammyā€ 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Sometimes, I yell.

Sometimes, I bribe.

Sometimes the fridge is empty.

Sometimes, Iā€™m so exhausted that I let them eat breakfast cereal for dinner.

Sometimes, I pretend I donā€™t hear the monitor and carefully kick Daddy so heā€™ll have to get up instead.

Sometimes, I let them watch TVā€¦a lot.

Sometimes, I swear.

Sometimes, I wish it were bedtime at 3pm.

Sometimes, I cry so hard that my Husband doesnā€™t know what to say.

Sometimes, I like being at work because I get to finish a coffee in peaceā€¦and I donā€™t feel guilty. Sometimes, I get a babysitter and go out for dinner.

Sometimes, I hand the baby to Himself as he comes through the door and go for a run, or a pee. Sometimes, I feel like Iā€™m so utterly useless that someone, somewhere will certainly report me to an authority of some kind.

But ALWAYS, I love. I am NOT a Stepford Mammy. I will never get it ALL right. No one can, because a perfect Mammy doesnā€™t exist, and as long as I love my girls fiercely, Iā€™m already doing it right.

The moment that a Mammy realises that there is no such thing as ā€œThe right wayā€ or ā€œthe proper wayā€ of parenting, is light bulb moment. When you recognise that YOUR choices for your family are NO ONEā€™s business, a giant weight will be lifted off your tired shoulders.

You donā€™t have to justify your parenting. You donā€™t have to explain why you breastfeed, or donā€™t; why you chose this school instead of that one; why you put the baby in their own room at 3 months, or why they still sleep in your room 2 years on.

You donā€™t have to justify your parenting to ANYONE.

The ONLY people who matter in your home, are YOUR FAMILY. And nothing or nobody outside of that matters. If you are expecting your first Baby and reading this, with your jaw on the floor, thinking ā€œI will NEVER do those things!ā€, You will you know!?

You will bribe.

You will eat leftovers.

You will survive on 2 hours of broken sleep.

You will use Babywipes for EVERYTHING.

You will hate your partner for sleeping. (Sometimes, you will hate them for breathing! šŸ™‚ )

You will enjoy watching kidsā€™ TV.

You will have a favourite CBeebies presenter.

You will spend your money on the best you can afford for your kids, while wearing a 15-year-old t-shirt yourself.

You will be so excited at the offer of a babysitter, that you cry. Oh, and you will cry; tears of frustration, tears of worry, tears of laughter and tears of pure, unconditional LOVE.

Because being a Mammy is sometimes crap, but it is ALWAYS wonderful.

And if you are wondering if youā€™ll be a good Mum?

You will, you know. x

I am “Say What Mummy Pig?” Mum

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Now. You all know how much I love/hate Peppa Pork.

Most days, it doesn’t even register with my brain that it’s on, apart from when Princess screams “Paaapaaaaa!” at the top of her voice at the Tellybox. As much as I despise the nasal whining of Peppa as she bitches about everything her life throws at her, bosses George around, ignores Mammy and humiliates her Daddy for being fat, this squeal of delight from my youngest also indicates to ME that I have 3 minutes to pee, or shower, or breathe.

See? Love/hate. šŸ˜‚

Usually their little Piggy voices wash over my head. I pay little attention to the spoilt little piggy and her mono-wordallic brother or her poor, underappreciated Mammy Pig (who quite frankly HAS to be mixing her happy pills with gin and valium under the stairs in order to maintain such a chirpy disposition amidst this level of feckin stupidity), but today, TODAY, Mammy Pig said something SO utterly RIDICULOUS and SO obviously STUPID, that my ears had to prick up.

šŸ˜ “Naughty Daddy” quipped Mummy Pork. “Look at how dirty your car is!”

Right. Back up there Bacon-arse.

Let’s rewind a second here…šŸ˜”

In what world, on what planet, in which TIME ZONE, would the Mammy have to chastise the DADDY for having a messy car? Because in the REAL world, the parent who has the children 90% of the time, has the car which is messy. EVERYONE knows that.

Actually, the second the car seat goes into the family car, it transforms magically into a bin on wheels. The floor becomes invisible under mountains of crap, never to be seen again until your youngest is approximately 11 years old. Things get sticky. Things become unsettlingly dirty. Things begin to grow on upholstery…No matter how OCD you are about tidy and clean, any chance you have of keeping a tidy car, go out the window at the same time as your “Eminem” CD or “Book of Mormon” Soundtrack.

Even when you attempt to organise the back seat, you know with wee boxes and containers, all you are REALLY doing, is adding MORE CRAP to the mess; adding MORE STUFF for them to chuck around when you’re driving… So considering that Daddy Pig said that he’d take the family on a car run for “a treat”, thereby suggesting that he is in the car ALL BY HIMSELF 99% of the fecking time, FORGIVE ME for wondering why the fook his car would be messy!?

Because in MY experience, it’s Mammy Pig’s car that is disgusting and dirty and messy, while Daddy’s still looks like it did the day he drove it out of Daddy Dog’s garage and the little Piggies aren’t ALLOWED to eat in Daddy Pig’s car, because they’re never IN IT long enough to BREAK Daddy’s soul or drive him to screaming “Just EAT IT THEN!”

So well done Peppa Pork writers. So much for providing realistic and relevant subject matter in your multicoloured portrayal of the life of piggies. See if it had been Daddy opening Mammy Pig’s car and shouting “WTF is going on with your car woman? It’s fecking MINGING!” I’d probably have sat down with them to watch it.

Fecking Peppa.

Bacon for dinner anyone? šŸ˜‚

I am Snapping Instagranny Mum

Posted in Lifestyle, Uncategorized by

Don’t you just love Instagranny?
The instanty instantaneous instanial portrayals of fabulosity and perfection. The filters. Ā The hashtags. The generally innocent fun…
The absolute instabullshit that it is. šŸ˜‚
Now, don’t get me wrong. Ā I do enjoy the Instagranny. I like posting funky and funny snaps of my day and I HAVE been known to post pictures where I happily look like a spotty, wrinkly badger’s arse, my house is akin to a Game of Thrones Battlefield and other such real life crap #nofilter.
But of course, I also like to post pretties. I don’t usually filter if I’m honest, but whatever, who cares right?
Well, we should care.

Because we need to understand that what we are seeing on Instagranny is usually a load of fabricated instashite. Ā I can create a veil of instaperfection to hide anything.

I did it today.

If you look at my profile, you’ll see smiles, cuteness, playtime and fresh aired fun.

And yes, all of these things did happen today.

We actually had quite a nice chilled out kind of day.

But here are some of the things that happened today that I didn’t insta:
I woke up with a splitting sinus headache and really thought I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.

Of course, I HAD to get out of bed! šŸ˜‚

By 9am I had shouted at Mini-Me 4 times. She had ignored me 13.

We stayed in our PJs until 2pm.

I mopped the floors and 34 minutes later, had to get the hoover out again. I swore a bit.

Princess cried for no apparent reason for a full hour, then poonamied.

No one ate their dinner.

Princess got her hand stung by a nettle.šŸ˜­

My skin looks like pizza.

I need a shower.

I feel a tad emotional as it’s a special person’s anniversary today. šŸ’™šŸ’™

I said “Get off the dog” and “get off your sister” 369 times, sometimes in the same breath. šŸ˜‚

Mini-Me cried hysterically when I made the mistake of mentioning that the flowers she picked were alive… (more on that another night.)

Then, Just before bed, Ā when I thought we’d FINALLY made it to “calm time”, Princess pulled a plate of cold uneaten pasta all over herself and my (newly feckin mopped) floor and Mini-Me decided to faceplant the tiles in the hall and scream for 15 minutes. Ā (She’s fine thank God, but I can still hear the bang of her hitting the floor.)šŸ˜­
But the BEST one? šŸ¤šŸ¤
As I was putting the toothpaste on her toothbrush, Princess walked up behind me and…
BIT ME ON THE ASS.
Yup, she ACTUALLY BIT ME.

On my ass.

I thought she was giving me one of her “leghugs”, but nooooooo. Ā She sank her little teeth right into my upper thigh. And holy Christ, she has some jaw strength.

I am bruised.

(I shall desist from snapping that!šŸ˜‚)

Now, if I had had the wherewithall, time or energy to instagranny all of THAT ā˜ā˜ā˜ ,

1. I’d actually be a shit mum because it would have taken hours

2. My account probably would have been shut down for public health and child protection breaches

3. No one would think I was instaperfect and that would be instaterrible šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚ #sarcasm
So there.
A wee reminder that what we are looking at on our instafeeds and of course, EVERYWHERE else, is NOT ALWAYS REAL.
We don’t tend to share the shite parts, or indeed the NORMAL parts of our day. Ā Today, feeling as grumpy and fooked off as I am, I consciously posted only the lovelies. They make me smile. They might make you smile. (My girls ARE adorable yes, I shall give them that.)
But if nothing else, the image below is only a SNAP of the full day. Ā A normal day. A typical day. A not very exciting, but satisfactory day nonetheless.
Ok, I don’t get bit on the ass every day, but I do have instaperfectly insta-IMperfect days.
How was your day?

#nofilter #knowwhatsreal
(PS… Black and white works wonders on badger’s arse syndrome! šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚šŸ˜˜)

I am So I took a week off Mum

Posted in blog, children, family, parenting, Uncategorized, wine by

So, as you’ll have noticed, I took a week off.  I deleted the FB app from my phone and took a long overdue trip with the love of my life, sans kiddies. 

This time last week, I was swinging off a lampost in central Park in 30Ā° sunshine, šŸ‘‡šŸ‘‡ singing “Singing in the rain” at the top of my voice and not giving a continental who heard me.  I’m going to spend the next 5 days starting sentences with “This time last week…” šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚ 

We spent 5 glorious days in NYC, just me and The Him. (I’ll post properly about it during the week.)  Suffice to say, it was AMAZEBALLS and we really did have the time of our lives.šŸ But today, while it CERTAINLY was NOT 30Ā°, we were back in our FAVOURITE park in the world with our favourite little people. Central Park doesn’t hold a candle to Glenveagh with our wee buddies. šŸ’—šŸ’—

Oh how we missed Mini-Me and Princess, and we are so glad to be home safe and sound to them, but taking a few days to be Mammy and Daddy again, (or rather Maria and Emmet), was invaluable. When you’re busy parents, it’s hard to find yourselves in the mayhem.  Every conversation tends to be about the kids. Every phonecall or text message revolves around them. Each thought you have has something to do with the act of parenting. Your daily interactions are mostly about or for the kids. Your entire focus in day-to-day life, is the kids… 

And so it must be,  but to have had 5 full days and nights of just being US, did our little family unit absolutely no harm at all. 

Sometimes, a Mammy and Daddy need to find each other in the midst of all the madness, may it be simply for a dinner date or a movie night, or a trip away.  Yes, we spent much of our time talking about and missing the girls, but we also had fun together, laughed together, drank beer at 2pm, ate our bodyweight, and enjoyed being tourists in a ridiculously fun place.

  We finished conversations without being interrupted 167 times. We did what WE wanted to do when it suited us, just like we used to. We were spontaneous, not thinking about anything but us, and we remembered all the things we actually like about being The Him and The Her. šŸ’—šŸ’™

So while the biggest challenge for me was to STOP referring to him as “Daddy” (and no it is NOT kinky! WTF like? šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚), we managed to have the holiday of our lives. 

 In fact the only thing that made us look forward to getting home, was the thought of getting squeezes and snuggles from the two Dollies. Their reactions were priceless when we got back. 
Mini-Me has announced that we are “never going on holidays again, ever!” and Princess seems to have doubled in size and has learned to use “Noooooooo” quite impressively.  They were spoiled rotten by Ganny and Gwanda.  Of course they were! 
I must admit that I did miss the daily craic here with you all,šŸ’— but I think the week off from writing did me the world of good.   

And how is Jim I hear you ask? Poor Jim, was abandoned by The Him for the Her, for the 1st time in 3 years. Poor Jim my arse.  Jim is probably rocking in the corner waiting for Him’s Daddy back at 6am tomorrow.  
But did we miss him? Not one feckin bit! šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚šŸ˜‚