Tag Archives: food

I am Saving the Day Mum

Posted in blog, parenting, Uncategorized by

Mini-Me began to BAWL on the way home this evening.

“What’s the matter Darling?”

“I have vewy bad nooooos Mammy”

“Oh no? What happened?”
(Sobbing…)

“Michael Jackson has DIED!”


(WAAAAAAILS for at least 2 minutes, thankfully so grief-stricken that she doesn’t realise I am in fits of laughter in the front seat. In fairness, with my shoulders dancing as they are, she possibly thinks I am sharing in her devestation.)

What should I say? How do I deal with her grief? When did she begin caring about Michael Jackson?

What does a sensitive, open and emotionally supportive Mammy say to their child in such a situation?

“Cheesy pasta for tea?”

“Oooooh yes please!”

#mammywin #sorted

I am She’s Not Quite Getting it Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, Uncategorized by

“WHAT is THAT Mammy?”

“What is what Sweetie?”

“What is THAT fing on the tray?”
“That is the chicken for Mammy and Daddy’s dinner tonight.”

“Dat is NOT a chucken. Chucken is white.”
“Chicken is white when it is cooked. This is a raw chicken.”

“Why is it not moooovin like?”
“Because it’s dead Baby.”

“Nooooooooo? Who kulled the chicken?”
“Erm, the Farmer killed the chicken so that Mammy can cook the chicken before I eat it.” (This may not end well…😥😥😥)

“But that Farmer should NOT kill his wee chuckens. That is NOT very nice.”
“But how would we get chicken for our dinner if the farmer doesn’t kill it pet?”

(Looks at me as if I’m the most intellectually challenged cretur on the planet…😅)
“You COULD just go to the shop and BUY chucken Mammy. Then the farmer could stop killing da wee chuckens and everyone would be happy.”

“Ok. 😐😐😐That’s a great idea. I’ll do that the next day.”
“Good Mammy… And if you see that farmer, sort him out. He shouldn’t be going around kulling his wee pet chuckens. That is not nice behaviour.”

(I wonder if I should tell her where Granda will be sending her buddies Ellie and JohnJoe next Spring? 🐮🐄🐮🐄🐮🐄😂😂)

#fml #iswineonatuesdayallowed

I am Starving the Minions Mum

Posted in blog, family, parenting, toddlers, treats, Uncategorized by

Is Mammy the ONLY Mammy whose minions spend the entire day either with their nappies sticking out of the fridge, or raiding through the cupboards?

This Fudgemonster currently eats 12 meals a day, not counting snacks hidden in secret stashes or cereal eaten off the floor. This was taken 20 minutes after her SECOND breakfast this morning. 😂

I’ve had to take the safety lock OFF the press which contains the bleach and chemicals. It is now on the fridge…

And it seems that there is a limbo or vortex of some sort between our house and next door. No matter how much they eat here, from the second they walk through the door of Granny’s, they EAT. Not only do they eat, they actually BEG. They whine as if they’re STARVING and scobe the food offered into them so fast, that the Grandparents most certainly exchange eyebrow raises over their starved little heads and genuinely wonder if I actually feed them AT ALL over in the torture pit of child hell that is my own house.

Poor unfed, unloved minions. Bad Mammy who never feed them. 😂

So now, with them going back to school and playschool for 5 full days a week, my biggest fear is NOT how they’ll adapt, or settle in, or survive without me… nope. I am seriously concerned that they won’t manage to ONLY eat at breaktimes and lunchtimes. I fear that they shall fade away without the constant drip of food from my poor, knackered cupboards. I expect the childcare facility to send me extra bills for all the EXTRA food that this doll will insist on eating every day.

I wonder if I should smuggle in some extra snacks in their bags? 😂😂😂😂

I am “Shut that alarm clock up” Mum

Posted in children, family, swear words, Uncategorized by

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! 😑

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 call😅.)

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. 😂😂😂 Have a Super Saturday Lovelies.

Anything exciting planned?

I am “Silly Daddy” Mum

Posted in children, family, Uncategorized by

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.

 

20667993_1528192560537179_1429221532_n

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?