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 I’ve found my Marbles Mum

Marbles…

Just when I thought I was in danger of losing my last few, Himself whisked me off to the lovely Shandon Hotel & Spa in Dunfanaghy. We didn’t bother with the spa this time, just focused on some R&R… and finally got to try out their new restaurant, Marbles.

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I’ll keep this short and sweet.

It is Fablis.

Located upstairs from the bar, the restaurant is a lovely size. Tastefully decorated in silver and purple hues, it is fresh and comfortable. We gave our room number and were greeted by name. Simple but classy. And little touches like Cole & Mason table accessories and a traditional and classy cutlery setting let us know that this was a cut above before we’d even seen the menu.

The Menu is extensive without being overwhelming. A lovely variety of starters with all allergens and required info available. There is a choice of every meat for main which is something I find becoming rare in good restaurants.

We ordered a bottle of still water and a bottle of wine. Natalia was our server and when I asked for number 18, she instantly replied “The Malbec.” This is the kind of thing that makes Mammy happy. Having worked in restaurants for years, I always appreciate when staff not only do their job well, but show that they take it seriously. Instantly impressed.

We were offered the Shandon’s famous “Guinness Bread” and then served little prawn bites as Chef’s Amuse Bouche while we waited for our starters.

I opted for Pork Belly. Beautifully presented and perfectly cooked. I love the warmed grapes and puree on the plate. All flavours complimented. He had the fishcake and was equally impressed.

Then they served us a little passion fruit sorbet which was gorgeous.

I had the duck for my main course. It was very tasty and served with a little tarte tatin on top. Himself had the slow cooked beef which melted in the mouth. Sides were veg and creamed potatoes and the portions were plenty.

We asked if we could wait a while before ordering dessert and there was no problem at all. Is there anything worse than feeling rushed along in a restaurant? We weren’t at a window seat for our meal, but when one beside us became free, there was no issue in moving to it to enjoy the sunset. The pinks and purples inside suddenly made sense. The sky was the exact same colour and the whole effect was beautiful.

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My dress matched the decor perfectly!

The dessert menu posed a huge problem for me. I love a good cheese board when I’m eating out, and am rarely tempted by a sweet, but this menu was to die for. There is a trio of Creme Brulee which looked amazing. And yet, I always have cheese. Torn. Torn I tell you!

I stuck with the cheese and it was gorgeous. My one (and only) tiny criticism was that I asked for no nuts on the cheese board. (Sometimes walnuts etc are sprinkled on the plate.) The cheese board arrived, looking fab and with all of my favourites on it, but without crackers. The crackers served see, are homemade and have hazelnuts through them, and quite rightly, the chef couldn’t serve them to me.

Now, my intolerence is specific to coconut and almond, so I was able to have some sent out and I simply removed the hazelnuts. But I would suggest that even having some water biscuits or plain crackers on standby would be a clever move which would allow Nutty ones like myself to enjoy the cheese. The cheeseboard however was divine and I ate every bite of it (yes all by myself!). I shall be back for those Brulee!

Himself had the lemon tart, which I have on good authority was lovely. (Him doesn’t share desserts!) We then moved out to the adjoining bar to finish our drinks and relax some more.

The menu is simply priced at €40 per head. I LOVE THIS. Especially if out in a large group. No nit-picking at the splitting of the bill. It was worth every penny and I can’t wait to return.

Mammy gives Marbles a deserved 5 stars.

It books up quite quickly Ladybelles, so if you plan to visit over the summer months, it might do no harm to book in advance.

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(As always, my review is honest and true. We were paying guests in the Shandon and in Marbles and I am under no obligation to post this piece.)

I am Shopping with Him Mum

The weekly shop.

The middle aisle of shite…

When Mammy does the weekly shop, all ingredients and things required to fulfill the meal plan for the family for the week shall be acquired as economically and quickly as possible.

Mammy knows which shop sells what and where the best place to buy kidney beans is.

Mammy can walk into Aldi-Everything and fill the trolley without really having to think too much about it. We’re creatures of habit in our house see, the weekly menu doesn’t change much, and so even if I’m distracted, or in a hurry, or just knackered to the point of Mombie, Mammy automatically reaches for the usual and will always leave quite content that she can feed her minions for the next 5-7 days.

When DADDY goes into Aldi-everything however, while the shopping list will be acquired (mostly…how he misses the eggs everytime, I shall never know…), there is also a 100% chance that we might also acquire some new gadget or item which is completely unnecessary and altogether superfluous. Leaf blowers, power drills, strange shaped batteries, and paint… none of which taste good in a chilli con carne… have all be purchased alongside the nappies and bananas.

When I have the girls with me, I spend my time hissing things like “Put that watermelon down please”, “We don’t need wool and knitting needles” and “Would you come away from the sweets please.”

When we ALL go to do the shopping, which is rare in fairness, it is a fun experience for Mammy.

I get to say things like “Put that ski gear down please.” (We have NEVER been skiing and it is not something that is on the cards for us, like, ever.) “We don’t need a power washer” and “Would you come away from the countertop fridges please. We HAVE a fridge.”

In fairness, I don’t even see the middle aisle usually. I see the peppers and mushrooms and binbags. But for Himself, the joy of a tilecutter across from the breadsticks is utterly intriguing…and baffling.

It’s always fun seeing what he’ll bring home when he does the shopping however. And aren’t I lucky to have a Him who does help out a bit with the boring weekly tasks?

Now, does anyone have a recipe for Paint Stroganoff?

I am Screen Time Dinner Mum

“Tut tut. Look at those parents using their phones to distract their child. Tut tut.
Lazy young parents of today. Not able to handle their kiddies in public. Whatever happened to conversation at dinner? Tut tut. In my day… yadda yadda fucking yadda.”

Now. Mammy did not HEAR the actual shpeel of verbal diahorrea that was ACTUALLY coming out of the older couple’s tight-set mouths, but the looks and disapproving glances at our table (and the table beside us might I add) when The Him stuck an episode of “Ben & Bolly” on his phone were more than enough to tell us what they were thinking.😡

Now. I am not one who condones screentime at the table, either at home or in public. And actually, our 6 year old does NOT get to look at a screen when we’re eating. Not a hope… but the twoublemaker? Absofeckinglutely. 😂

The couple Saw a snippet of our day. They saw the 9 minutes where Mammy’s lovely dinner had gone cold as she’d spent her time ensuring that Princess did not launch her plate at Mini-Me’s head or SPILL the glasses of milk all over our dinner.

They DIDN’T see the 2 hours of the girls playing at their Doll’s house and in their bedrooms this morning.

They DIDN’T see the 3 hours of fresh air and exercise in Glenveagh.

They DIDN’T see the 45 minutes of colouring in and general chatter as we waited to order and eat.

What they SAW was the “We need to distract the minion for a few minutes to allow Mammy to finish her food and Daddy to order a coffee trick” that most parents turn to as a last fecking resort when their Knackered child has reached their quota of sitting and behaving like a good little girl.

I’m sure they meant no harm. I’m sure they’re lovely. I’m sure they would never have allowed it. Whatever.

Did it bother me? Eh…no! 😂 But I’m pretty sure it might have bothered another Mammy. This Bad Mammy Wagon seriously considered letting her watch another 3 episodes so I could order another glass of grapes. 😂 I didn’t. Cos see, that WOULD MAYBE have been cause for the tutters to tut.

I finished my Yummy dinner. We drank our coffee and we turned off the EBSD. (ElectronicBabysittingdevice)

Then we drove our fed, watered and quite relaxed wee family home.

And we didn’t give a tut what the tutters thunked. They didn’t see the full movie you see. They only saw the blooper reel. So really, their review doesn’t matter, does it?

Now.
A glass of grapes on a Sunday night? How very dare I!? Yay!

Happy Bank Holiday Sunday Bitcheepoos.

Any fun for me?
Mammy x

I am Sparking the Gas Mum

Gas.

I don’t know about your house, but in my house, the little blue flame means one thing and one thing only.

And not what you imagine it to be.

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In most houses, this means that it’s almost time for dinner or for breakfast or for whatever wonderfully nutritious meal that Mammy or Daddy is Nigellaing in the kitchen.

In MY house, it means the beginning of 25 minutes of “TORTURE”.

It’s like the little blue flame ignites the realisation that they are ABSOLUTELY STARVING and must eat EVERYTHING in the house, right NOW MAMMY.

It means the beginning of the fridge being opened every 30 seconds, declarations of “What can I eat?” and “I’m staaaaaarving Mammy!”

It means the cries of the wobbler as if she hasn’t been fed for 3 weeks.  The painful hollers of the pair of them as they scream hunger and neglect and cry continuously until I finally put whatever I am cooking in front of them… for them to obviously declare that they “Don’t wike it!” or that they’re “not hungwy!”

No shit sherlock.  You’ve just spent 25 minutes eating fecking biscuits and croissants and yoghurts and EVERYHING in the fecking fridge while I cooked.

I’m not sure which is the biggest waste; the gas or the energy I use cooking for them.