It is Friyay…the FIRST Friyay after a FULL week of school and work and routine. And we have all survived. (albeit just about, but survive we have.)
We may be frazzled and fooked Mammies, but still we must find the energy to REJOICE in the Fact that we have made it to the most wonderful evening of the week.
This week, after a long and sunniful summer,I am back to being a Full-time Mammy with a Full-time Job-job. What have I learned? Nothing. But I have remembered many things; Things that I had suffocated and locked in a tattered old box at the back of the memory part of my subconscious, but which now bounce back to the forefront of my ridiculously tired little mind.
- Tired children are cranky.
- Tired children like to find a reason, ANY reason, to cry.
- Tired children do not KNOW that they are tired.
- Tired children refuse to admit that they are tired.
- Tired children will bite one another.
- Tired children do not like to go to their beds, regardless of how tired they are.
- Tired children like to wake up at 2am and play with their toys, with the light on, noisily enough to waken everyone so that they have someone to tell that they are NOT tired.
- Tired children do NOT like to get dressed in the morning.
- Tired children do NOT like it when you bounce into their bedrooms at 7am singing “Good Morning, Good Moooooooorning!, opening curtains and declaring that it is time for school. (Especially the not tired children who have been up half the night playing with their fecking toys.)
- Tired children like to say “No” and “No” and sometimes, “Noooooo!” to absolutely EVERYTHING that Tired Mammy asks or suggests.
And along with tired children, comes the Tired Mammy. But as well as being a tired Mammy, Mammy ALSO has to be SUPER-ORGANISED Mammy.
- Mammy needs to keep on top of the fridge situation.
- Mammy needs to pack lunchboxes and school bags and afterschool bags.
- Mammy needs to remember the fecking HORROR that is HOMEWORK.
- Mammy needs to think about dinners sooner than when she opens the fridge at 6pm.
- Mammy needs to set her alarm to make sure she gets out of bed 30 minutes before everyone else if Mammy wants to pee, shower and have a coffee all by herself.
- Mammy needs to be an intelligent and functioning adult.
- Mammy needs to rid her brain of references to Peppa Pig and Andy and Bing because they are not relevant to Macbeth and teenagers do NOT respond well to them.
- Mammy needs to try to keep the washing basket from puking and Mammy needs to arrange everyone’s clothes before bedtime.
- Mammy needs to remain relatively Wifely and interesting enough to hold a brief conversation with Tired Daddy when he comes home from Jim.
- And Mammy needs to get used to wearing stupid heels and muckup every single day. (I’ll last until the end of September…)
- Mammy needs to cram all of the Mammying and playing and cuddling and scolding and fun into 3 hours in the evening, while being JUST as tired as her beloved Tired Children who are determined to PUNISH her tired ass for abandoning them in school and creche. (Even though they both LOVE where they go and actually CRY when they are collected.)
- Mammy struggles with balancing the Mammy guilt when she’s away from them, and the urge to sell them on ETSY when she’s spent an hour being screamed at and cried at by her Tired Minions.
- Mammy can’t win.
In conclusion. Mammy does indeed need to rejoice that she has made it to Friday night, has the tired minions in bed, her feet up and the grapes poured. And now Mammy needs all of her Lovely Supermums to say Hello and remind her of what I have been missing while abandoning you all this week while trying to keep 286 plates spinning without falling off her heels and onto her poor, muck-uped, Mammy-guilty face.
Because as Tired as the two Dollies are, and despite the fact that I had to WAKE them every morning this week, I guarantee that the little farts shall be up at 6.30am tomorrow…
Because it’s Saturday of course.
Cheers Bitcheepoos. xxx
How to dress a Twoublemaker.
- Lay out neatly ironed and folded clothing choice.
- Place garments onto child in correct order. Lift thrown and crumpled garments off floor in random order, as thrown.
- Make sure to make “Pop” sounds or other sing-songy nonsense to mark the “Popping” of child’s head through vest/tee/jumper.
- Forget to open buttons to loosen head hole on said garment.
- Spend 3 minutes apologising for being a Silly Mammy while rocking frantically.
- Put child’s socks on their two feet.
- Put on trousers.
- Remove trousers. You forgot that the trousers have to go on first this morning. Silly wench.
- Remove child’s socks.
- Put on trousers.
- Put on child’s socks.
- Let child remove socks.
- Lose the will to live as child now tries to put on the socks again on the opposite feet.
- Put on child’s shoes.
- Note: Do NOT ask child if they want to put their shoes on beforehand. It will not end well.
- Put on child’s shoes. Don’t bother fastening until you hear the compulsory “AOOOOOW!”
- Remove shoe and shake out imaginary stone from shoe.
- Put shoe back on just as it was 2 minutes ago.
- Repeat on other foot.
- Try to brush child’s hair into some sort of “I do not neglect my children I actually rather love the little shits” hairstyle. Use too much conditioning spray and threaten to shave it off. (Under your breath of course.)
- Put child down in order to get yourself ready.
- 3.5 minutes later, return to room fully dressed and ready to leave.
- Put on child’s trousers.
- Look for child’s left socks.
- Give up and grab another pair from drawer.
- Repeat steps 14 – 19.
- Remind self to buy gin.
- Consider googling “IV for Gin” if you ever get to work.
- Change child’s nappy…
- Get child into car, pretend you’ve forgotten something and silent scream in your kitchen for 15 seconds before returning alá fucking Mary-of-the-poppins to car to deposit Twoublemaker to playschool…
- Repeat steps 14 to 19 outside door of playschool…
- Repeat steps 1 – 31 EVERY FUCKING DAY for next 2 years.
Then begins the How to dress a Pre-Tween… but that is a whole other post.
Happy Freezer Friyay Bitchepoos.
Enjoy those Beige dinners! (Almost Grapejuice o’clock…)
Ooooooh it’s Friyay.
Today Mammy took a notion.
Mammy is going to surprise the girlies by bringing them to meet Daddy for a surprise dinner date and we’ll have a lovely family evening with our two well behaved darlings, who Shall eat their Yummy dindins. Then we shall have the joy of watching them eating Pink icecream, the adorable little munchkins, before going home for a relaxing bedtime where Daddy would put them to bed while Mammy pours a glass of grapes and puts her Tired feet up for a good old Corrie wedding…
Mammy is a deluded Twatsickle who often falls victim to her very own Disney Princess notions. 😂
But never fear.
Mammy has her very own Mini whose main purpose in life (today anyway) seems to be to knock Silly Mammy off her Disnified perch.
We did meet Daddy.
From the second we sat down, Mini-me was a wagon. A proper little shitsickle. She made Princess look like an angel. That IS Quite the achievement! I won’t go into too much detail but when I tell you that ignoring the waitress, refusing to order, asking for a cocktail, bursting into tears because Mammy ordered for her, sliding onto the floor, scribbling on the menu were only a FEW of her party tricks, you can imagine the rest.
Mammy and Daddy spent the date sending each other apologetic “what we’re we thinking” looks and starting conversations they both knew would not be finished before they started.
Mammy wished she could go back to correcting exams and considered that she should have just gone home to cook the freezer contents. Daddy wondered why he had ever thought that leaving work early was a good idea… I’m guessing that only for fear of Divorce, he would have happily gone back to his BFF Jim.
They did go home: After NO dessert. They did get the girls to bed: After NO story and plenty of the special strops reserved only for the first Friday night after school holidays…
Mammy did pour grapes.
And just like Mammy’s fairytale picture of her evening DIDN’T happen, neither did the Corrie Wedding.
But See there’s where Mammy is going wrong… sometimes life is Corrie, not Disney.
At least with Corrie, you expect disaster!
Here’s to all you Mammies who got a reality check from your little Notionwreckers today.
And here’s to Poor Sinead… she’s better off. It’s only have ended in no icecream and wine.
How was your Friday?