I am “Shut that alarm clock up” Mum

Mammy has been stressed since BEFORE she opened her Feckin eyes this morning… Why? Because of The Him.

You see The Him is tired and when The Him is tired he likes to play a game called “Let’s see how many times I can make the alarm clock go off before the love of my life loses the plot and physically kicks me OUT of bed game”.

This morning, he played that game and let’s just say, it did NOT end well. On the THIRD Snooze attempt, Mammy opened one sticky eye and whispered “Pleeeeease get up. You’ll be late.”

On alarm number Four, Mammy opened the other eye and hissed “Do NOT let that fucking thing go OFF again. If you wake the Baby, I will HURT you.” “I’m up. I’m up” says Him, very OBVIOUSLY NOT UP. In fact, the end of his sentence was punctuated by a guttural nearly-snore.

By now, I was stressed. I was glaring through his big dopey head, stressing about the fact that HE was going to be late for HIS work, while HE slipped back into the type of sleep that only a feckin MAN can! πŸ˜‘

So there lay Mammy, WIDE AWAKE at 7am, the ONE morning the Minions slept beyond 6.30am this SUMMER, stressed that The Him was going to be late for work, while Him, the big Gombeen waited for his fecking alarm clock to sing at him for the FIFTH time…and SING it did. 😑 Loudly.

So loudly in fact that it did INDEED awaken the Minions across the hall, BEFORE it woke him. Actually, to be pedantic, it probably wasn’t the alarm clock that woke him… It MIGHT have been Mammy pulling the quilt off, putting her feet to his arse and pushing him OFF the bed, all the while serenading him with affectionate terms of endearment, some of which I’m pretty sure even HE hasn’t heard before! (And he worked on building sites for years, so you can imagine the colour Language of THAT morning wake-up callπŸ˜….)

Anybuts. By 10am, I’d calmed down. A bit.

And now, all is right with the world… We have a babysitter, I’ve stolen sparkly danglies from my Baby sister and we’re heading out for his birthday dinner tonight, so I can’t be too grumpy with him, but it’s safe to say that if an alarm clock goes off EVEN ONCE tomorrow morning, someone WILL get hurt. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ Have a Super Saturday Lovelies.

Anything exciting planned?

I am “Silly Daddy” Mum

Mammy is usually very good at giving The Him the credit of being a very wonderful Daddy Bear. Usually…

But sometimes, he comes out with something, or DOES something, SO FECKIN DOUCHEBAG, that my brain starts singing Mary Magdalene’s “He’s a Maaaaaan, he’s JUST a man” at full volume and I can’t help but raise an eyebrow at him and put on my “Are you fecking KIDDING me?” face.

Today, The Him returned from Jim and decided to make himself an omelette.

 

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Now. given that the minions had JUST eaten their lunches, one might be forgiven for thinking that they would not require more sustenance for a few hours.

But knowing them, especially the Princess, like we do, one would also assume that The Him would have automatically made extra for The Bin that is our youngest daughter.

Nope.

He makes himself a lovely omelette and sets it down on the table. As he turns to get his coffee, The Fudgemonster has already climbed up on his seat and reached for his fork… or as she saw it in HER world… HER fork.

“Hi Wee Woman!” exclaims The Him, interrupting her cutting of the omelette with her finger. “That’s Daddy’s.”

It’s like a slow motion NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO scene from a movie where he has the words out before I can warn him…

She stops.
She stares at the omelette.
She looks up at Him.
She looks over at me. (I’m holding my breath at this point.)
She looks back at the omelette and then slowly puts down the fork…
(I swear to God, a MAFIA boss would have been less sinister in his calmness. I almost expected “Get rid of him Donny” to be the next words out of her mouth and for Bugsy style shooters to jump out from behind the sofa, dressed in 1940’s gear and DESTROY him!)

The Him by this point is realising that he MIGHT have made a mistake…

He looks at her.
He looks at me.
He looks terrified…

And just as the poor cretur is about to appease the situation by handing over ALL the food, Princess takes a breath, quivers her lip, climbs down from the chair and runs towards me, her little cheeks and thighs wobbling in the wind, and launches into THE SADDEST, most Genuine and heartbroken WAIL I have EVER heard.

Poor Princess.
Poor Daddy. He doesn’t quite know what to do.

“Cut off a piece for her and put it on her plate” I whisper. The Him briskly does what he’s told. He puts the plate on the table and says “Princess want some omelette?”

“YEAH!” she shouts, mid sob, before jumping off my knee and making it onto her seat in less than 4 seconds, where she happily munched on the omelette piece, firing dirty looks at her Daddy between bites.

You see, what Daddy didn’t realise, (or forgot, feck knows), is that there are rules about eating in the same room as a wobbler, especially OUR wobbler:

If I see it, it’s mines.
If you make it, it’s mines.
If I smell it, it’s mines.
If it’s edible, it’s mines.
If you cook it, it’s mines.
If you put food on a plate, it’s mines.
If I think it’s yours, it makes it more tasty and more mines.
etc., etc., etc…

How Daddy didn’t know these rules, I’ll never know.
But he knows them now and somehow, I can’t see him making the same mistake twice.

When you break an egg, there’s no going back, is there?!

How was your Bank Holiday Ladybelle?

I am Some Fruit and Cake Mum

What a FABLIS and slightly smug Mammy I am.
See picture 1. πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡

My minions are eating fruit.  Like, REAL fruit. Fresh and actual fruit.  πŸ‰πŸŒπŸ…πŸ“πŸŽπŸπŸŒAnd what’s MOST impressive is that they ASKED Granny for it… themselves.  Yes. Eating fruit. Voluntarily and happily, on top of their very impressed Uncle Brian, after eating ALL of their respective dinners.
Proud Mammy.

Good Mammy. 
“Ooooooh” I hear you gasp in awe, “How did you get them to eat all of their dinners S-Mum, you Wonderwoman Extraordinaire?” 
Well, the trick is in the second photograph. πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡ πŸ˜†πŸ˜† 


Cake.
They knew that if they didn’t eat all of their dinner, they wouldn’t be allowed any of the MAHOOOOOOOSIVE eleventy billion layered, schawipple-chocolate, monstrous birthday cake that Clever Mammy sneakily Showed Them BEFORE dinner! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
Yes. 

Clever Mammy.

Bad Mammy.

Good Mammy… etc etc…
And so the fruit was requested yes, but about 90 minutes AFTER they’d come down from the sugar high induced by the chocolate cake! 

But still.
They ate fruit. 
And they also ate chocolate cake.
Now, if I were a Sanctimammy, I would ONLY have posted photograph 1. You know? To show how “perfect” and on top of this parenting shit I am.
But I am not perfect. 

I like my kids to eat fruit. (Real fruit πŸ˜…πŸ˜…)
But Golly do I also enjoy the looks on their wee faces when Granny tells them to go ahead and stick all of their fingers into a big chocolate cake!
And now, I’m going to ring the Birthday Boy and tell him to drop me over another slice before the salivating ruins my screen here… πŸ˜…πŸ˜…
Happy “No uniforms Sunday” Bitches. 
(Mammy’s turn for fruit now. 😘😘😘)

#nocapsulesaroundhere #realfruitonly #letthemeatcake

PS.  If you have the tellybox on, stick it over to #OneLoveManchester I’m notnsure who many of these people are, but what a show so far. And if THAT is who our little girls aspire to, I’m happy.) πŸ’—πŸ’—

How terrible I am.
How truly awful and immature I am.
Today, Mini-Me ate chucken.
My long time followers will know that Mini-Me decided recently that she “HATES chucken,”πŸ“ so imagine my surprise when I found her happily devouring not 1, not 2, but THREE Chucken fingers earlier today.
I’m not sure if it was because Her Uncle Daniel cooked them for her,  instead of Mammy who obviously tries to poison her every mealtime by even SUGGESTING chucken, or because her cousins were eating them, declaring them to be yummy! 😐😐
 It MIGHT have been SOMETHING to do with the fact that she THOUGHT they were “fushfungers”… πŸ˜‚
I was about to ask her if she was enjoying her chicken, when she piped up “Uncle Daniel, these Fushfungers are yummy!” πŸ˜‚
I didn’t correct her.
I offered her another one and told her what a good girl she was… and then I laughed and laughed and laughed. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

Yup.
Terrible and awful I am, but terribly funny and awfully satisfying it was! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
Bad Mammy… 

I’m going straight to hell.

But that is OK as all of my friends will already be there and the grapes shall always be warm. πŸ˜ˆπŸ˜ˆπŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
How was your day? 
πŸ“πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”πŸ“πŸ”

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 Summertime-Family-Fun at Castleknock Hotel.

Last week, The Him and I took Mini-Me and Princess to Castleknock Hotel and Country Club for a 3 night Staycation.  Situated on Porterstown Road, Castleknock, this hotel is perfectly located for exploring Dublin.

We booked the Family Fun Package, which included a family room, Breakfast, tickets to Tayto Park and the Zoo, a dinner and a packed lunch.

When we arrived, we were checked in by a truly lovely young man.  Stephen was his name as far as I remember. He was friendly and efficient. When we arrived in the room allocated to us however, we weren’t overly impressed.  It was at the far end of the hotel, looking out at the hotel bins.  My 4 year old’s first words about the room were “Look at the man working at the bins Mammy.” There was a single bed and a double bed, but no cot and there wasn’t enough room to fit one in.

I rang reception and asked for a different room.  Again, he was very friendly and said he would look into it.  I went back to reception after ten minutes where Stephen was working on trying to find us alternative room for the three nights.  He eventually moved us to a new room, which was a bit bigger and so the cot fit in and we still had room to move about.  This room was overlooking the carpark and above a flat roof, but was much better than the first.

The hotel is clean and the public lobby, bar and reception are spacious and comfortable.  (Gorgeous air freshener in the huge lobby!)  The outside patio area is beautiful and a playpark was very well received by Mini-Me each evening. One lovely touch was the table of blankets, suncream and sunglasses at the door to the outside area.  Very simple, but very thoughtful.

The gym is basic but functional and the pool area is beautiful. There are two pools suitable for young children.  They were a perfect temperature and open to children from 9am until 6pm each day. (I should say that this suited us with very young children, but had our kids been a bit older, or teenagers indeed, we would not have been impressed that they couldn’t avail of the pool after 6pm.)

A family changing room would be helpful in the leisure area also.  Yes, there is a baby changing room and changing tables near the entrance to the pool, but for a young family, a communal room where both parents can help the children dress would have been wonderful. (A suggestion rather than a criticism.)

Breakfast each morning was perfect.  Porridge, fruit, pastries, cheeses, smoked salmon and a hot buffet.  The toasting machine needs replaced asap however…infuriatingly slow and took three attempts to warm the bread before eventually burning it!  The staff were very accommodating each morning.  On the third morning, Trish had seen us coming down the stairs and by the time we got to the restaurant, had reset the table closest to the buffet, set up the highchair and had even left extra teaspoons on the table for feeding the baby.  This was a simple act, but again, made us feel welcome and looked after.

We had barfood on the first 2 nights.  It was tasty, with a varied menu and satisfying portions.  Again, staff were efficient and friendly, taking time to talk to Mini-Me.  On our final night, we used the included dinner in the very elegant restaurant.  Decor in this area is stunning; elegant, tasteful and classy.  Our server Christina was superb from beginning to end and the food was exellent.

Had the Him and I been in this beautiful restaurant on our own, we would have enjoyed it much more to be honest.  It was difficult to enjoy this meal to its full potential with a tired baby and a 4 year old who thought we were at a ball in her honour!  We were terrified she would break or spill something. We both agreed that a barfood voucher included in the package would have been much more beneficial in the family package.

The hotel is very close to the zoo; it’s only a 5 minute drive to Phoenix Park.  It’s also close to Tayto Park and the City Centre so it is ideal for a family adventure in the Capital.

Overall, we thoroughly enjoyed our break. We have stayed in Family rooms in other hotels which had a small hall or reception area which allowed for us to watch a movie or even have a drink after the girls went to bed, but the fact that they go to bed early isn’t really the hotel’s fault is it!?  It is however something that we would consider if booking again.  Perhaps adjoining rooms or a suite would be worth paying the extra for.

The Castleknock Hotel was very pleasant and perfectly located, the grounds and golf course were lovely, the food was excellent and the staff were friendly.  We left with a tasty packed lunch to spend the day at the zoo and they even put down the red carpet for Mini-Me! (Obviously it was for her and not for the beautiful Bride that day. πŸ˜‚)

We will be back, (but maybe we’ll try one of the couple’s packages next time!)

I am Summertime-Family-Fun Mum

Follow me on Facebook  @secretsofsmum, or instagram @the.s.mum and on twitter.
Contact me on secretsofsmum16@gmail.com

(Please note: S-Mum received No Renumeration for reviewing this hotel.  I do so simply to help other parents to decide if such a family break would suit them.  These simply are our experiences.)

I am Stuff-that-is-frozen Mum

Today, I did the grocery shopping.
Or as we say here in Donegal, “I got a few messages“.

I had a full 30 minutes in the supermarket, without the babies.
It was thoroughly enjoyable.

It was quiet.

It was, dare I say, relaxing.

Like a holiday in fact.

If I had been allowed to sit in aisle 7 with a glass poured from one of the many bottles of wine that lined it, I may even have been able to get that “holiday feeling” you only get with daytime tipples in the sun.

Obviously,Β  I didn’t drink wine in the supermarket.
Instead, I bought the “messages” to keep my wee family fed for another few days.

I bought the meat…(sausages and all, despite all the ranting on the radio today about a certain Friday night talk show host…)

I bought the fruit; lots of it since Mini-Me has decided that she only eats “fwoot” now, not dinner.
I bought the vegetables; fresh and frozen.

And then I went to collect my first born from her ballet class.

We were driving home.
“Can we go to Gwanneee’s house for TEN minutes?”

“Yes, but we can only stay for ten minutes because I have frozen stuff in the bags.”

And then she belts out a scream of excitement so loud that she’s either a) seen Santa Claus or b) seen a unicorn.

I almost crash the car, such is the volume of the scream.

“OH…MY…G!!” she gushes with utter dramatics.”I CAN’T BEWEEEEEVE YOU BOUGHT ME FROZEN STUFF. YOU ARE THE BEST MAMMY EVER!”

I’m completely confused.Β  (This morning I’m pretty certain she told me I was “not my fwend.”)

And then I realise that when I say “frozen stuff”, I think this…

image

And when Mini -Me hears “Frozen Stuff”, she thinks this...

image

And if you look closely, you’ll see that when I Googled “frozen stuff” to search for images for this blog, Google thinks the same as my 4 year old.

My daughter is obviously a genius.

My daughter and Google are on the same wave length.

My wave length?

I’m still stuck on holidays on aisle 7.

I am Stuff-that-is-frozen Mum❄❄⛄⛄❄❄

Follow me on Facebook here.
https://m.facebook.com/Secretsofsmum/ ❀❀