I am Slightly Ashamed Mum

Mammy is slightly ashamed of herself.
Today, Mammy reached a new low.

Mammy put her 23 month old between herself… and a snake: A teeny, tiny, shitty, scrawny fecking snake.

But Mammy here was so petrified with terror that I hid…BEHIND my baby.

We were at a party which had a (really cool) mini farm outside, all bunnies and hedgehogs and sheep and chickens. Nice animals. Proper animals. 🐏🐑🐇🐰🐁

I was sitting on the floor inside with Princess on top of me, playing happily and chatting to my brother. Next thing, in barges the wee man of the house with a snake…a REAL LIFE living, hissing, breathing, bastarding REPTILE… around his wee shoulders.

The Grannies and Aunties in the room FREAKED out; some with fear and swear words to make even ME blush, others with laughter at their reaction. 😂

Me?

I froze in terror, forgot to breathe and HID behind my baby, eyes closed. I couldn’t function… Even when my brother quietly told me “It’s gone…” I couldn’t move. I was afraid that if I opened my eyes, the red-eyed feckingwrither would have been hissing in my face, like an angry wee penis.

The room quietened down. Brother Dearest said it again, laughing “Relax yourself you madwoman, it’s gone.”

I slowly lifted my head and peeped out from behind my little curly headed saviour, to see my cousins looking at me. As I loosened my vice-grip on my poor child, one of my favourite wenches said “Tell me you did NOT just hide from that snake BEHIND your Baby?”

And then they laughed… and laughed and laughed. Bitches.😍

And after I stopped shaking and began breathing again, I too laughed.

Of course the poor wee snake was probably more petrified than I was, and had it been a REAL danger, OF COURSE I would have drop-kicked the slithering bellycrawling demon out the door, but I KNEW she was perfectly safe; partly because her big strong uncle was beside her, and partly because, well, it’s Princess…and she doesn’t KNOW waht fear is. Seriously, she could take on ANYTHING.
Hitler would run away from her if she was in the right mood.

Had it been Mini-Me, there’s a good chance I’d have been out the feckin window.😂😂

Yup. Mammy fail.
Big time.
I’m not even afraid to admit it. 😣😣😣

(But it gave the cousins a laugh if nothing else. Cough *brats!)

#mammyisachickenshit

I am “Sort out that Bull” Mum

Just another Saturday Morning…

I’m driving along, with Granny Dearest in the passenger seat and the two Minions behind me. Mini-Me has told 32 stories in 3 miles. I’m just about to tune out, glad that Granny Dearest is on with me to answer her. I don’t have to “Mmmmhmmm” and “Really?” and “Very good” like a broken record. Granny Dearest is doing a great job of making all the right sounds. I’m humming along to Despasito, when I hear a new conversation begin.

“Granda needs to move them Bulls out of the field Gwanny,” announces Herself.

“He’ll be bringing them in soon pet” answers Granny.

“No, no, no, no, but He Needs to take the Bull out of the field Right NOW.”

“Why Darling…?” (Oh Jeeeeesus I suddenly know where this is going.)

“Because that Bad Bull HURTED one of my wee Cows.” ( Granny Dearest takes a breath and I know that SHE also now knows where this is going.)

“Buckle Up Granny Bear” I mutter, knowing full well what is about to come out of her mouth and wondering WHEN she saw it, and WHY she is only telling me now?

“You see my wee cow Ellie was scratching her neck at the feeder that Granda weft in the field and that big, bad, black bull pushed her out of his way and he hurted her and it wasn’t very nice. That bad Bull CLIMBED up on Ellie’s BACK… and do you KNOW what he did THEN?”

Oh Sweet Jezabell… WHAT is about to come out of my child’s mouth?

“What Darling?” I just about get the words out. I can’t breathe.

“That Bull started RUNNING Granny! ON HER BACK! He is NOT a very nice Bull.”

That’s it. Granny might need a defibrillator in the passenger seat. I’ve pulled in and stopped at the junction. Trying to drive right now is NOT an option. Granny Dearest is turning a perfect shade of magenta, as she tries and fails to hold in her laughter because Mini-Me can see her face from where she sits on her innocent, self-righteous little throne.

I on the other hand am buckled over the steering wheel, in hysterics laughing, while Granny tries to redirect the conversation to a safer and saner place.

“Oh no. The poor wee cow. Maybe the Bull was just playing?”

“Nope. He was being mean. And poor Ellie couldn’t get away.”

“Was she giving him a piggy back maybe?” I venture through the tears.

“Now Mammy. (teenage eyeroll included here). They are COWS, not Piggies. Granda doesn’t HAVE pigs. You KNOW that…”

And that’s that. Granny explodes and I crack up completely.

“It’s not funny you guys. It’s for REAL LIFE

(This is her new one. Everything is “for real-life”.)

“You’ll have to tell Granda when we get home pet,” Granny has composed herself enough to be coherent. I’m still parked on the side of the road…

“I will. I’ll have to tell him to sort that Bad Bull out!”

(I think Ellie might have already done that. Lucky Bull. I now know how I’ll start my answer whatever day she asks where babies come from. “Well Darling. Do you remember that day the bull and Ellie were… )

#thedonegalmammy #thesmum #bull