I am Slightly Excited Mum

Hurray and Yippee and Woohoo and all the rest.

It is Mammy’s Christmas night out.

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It is Mammy’s favourite night out of the year.  There shall be glitter and bubbles and giggles and snaughles.  There shall be grapeness and cheeseness and obesity-on-a-plateness.

There shall be affirmations of friendships and reminders of “I wub you” and we shall remind each other many times tonight just how much we ought to do this more often, even though for the most part, it’ll be next Christmas before we crush a cup of wine with each other again.

And the most excitingful thing about this particular Christmas party, is that it involves a hotel.  As in a sleepover with my girlies!

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And so while my colleagues all head off this afternoon to get hair and makeup done, Mammy here is going STRAIGHT to the heavenly heaven that is the hotel, to be ALL ALONE for at least 2 hours.  Mammy shall purchase a glass of something fablisly alcoholic and head up to the clean and quiet room, where she will have some very rare time to herself before her roomies arrive.  Mammy shall put on some music and place all of the Muckup that she usually has to keep up high and away from grubby hands out onto the dressing table.  It shall look pretty and after a while, so might Mammy, if not by the muckup and brushes, by the grapes and dim lights of the bar!

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And I shall partake in the cinerellafication ALL ALONE, without saying such things as “Ah AH AH!!” or “Noooo, we don’t touch Mammy’s eyeshadow”, and I shall apply eyeliner without a child swinging on my leg.  And then my buddies shall arrive, already beautified and ready to pretend that we are 21 again. We shall go downstairs to join our other wonderfully jovial and joyeous colleagues and we shall sip herbal tea and have sophisticated and ladylike conversations…

And then pigs shall fly and one legged ducks shall stop swimming in circles…

Bring on the glitterification.  Bring on the grapes.  Bring on the giggles of the sleepover with my girls.  Bring on the fun and feck it, bring on the fuzzy head of tomorrow, for it shall be greeted by no alarm clock, a sleepin until at least 9am and a breakfast that someone else shall cook for me.

If you’re on your Christmas night out tonight, enjoy it and be safe, you Beautiful thing you !

 

I am Social Media Mum

I like social media.
I like how it allows me to stay in touch with people.
I like how it helps me to connect with old friends.
I love how it allows my family members who are scattered like glitter across the planet, to see what’s happening at home.
I love how it lets me see my niece’s little face and how she knows who I am even though they live abroad.
I love how one comment or image can spark conversations that are both heated and entertaining; sometimes even intelligent!
I like to see photographs of the people I like, smiling and happy.
I enjoy it and I get it I suppose.

As a Mummy, it provides some escapism. When the kids are asleep or you find yourself with 5 minutes to sit with a cuppa, there’s something nice about hitting the little blue F  and seeing what’s happening in the real world.

You know? That place where exciting things happen? Where Peppa Pig isn’t in charge and where people live wonderful lives?

Where everyone has terrifyingly precise, painted eyebrows and sparkly white teeth and where people look naturally happy, all of the time?

You get to look into the lives of your “friends”: see their exciting nights out, admire their fabulous clothes, wonder where they get the time or money to visit that salon again.

We see happy families, smiling for the selfie.
We see who’s at the gym, who’s out for dinner and who’s heading away on holiday.

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And while there is no harm in this really,  the key is to know that what you’re looking at is not reality.
It’s virtual.
It’s fabricated.
It’s lies.

No one’s life is perfect all of the time.  We know that, but let’s face it…who is going to voluntarily put a shitty photograph of themselves up for the world to see?

The natural selfies are probably one of 23 shots.

There are magical filters that apparently beautify! (Note to self…find out more about these.)

The reality is that regardless of how careful you are, if you look through your list of friends, you’ll possibly come across at least 2 people about whom you have to ask yourself “who is this?”

And while it keeps us connected, a huge issue for many new mums, is the isolation caused by social media.

Yes, we can see what’s happening and stay up to date with our friends.  We post photographs and status updates about our children and about our lives, to let our friends and families see how cute they are and how entertaining life is with kids.

But when this means that our friends feel that they don’t need to visit, or meet for coffee, or pick up the phone, then… we have a problem.

When seeing everyone else having fun, makes you feel boring and frumpy in your busy, unglamorous world of feeds and nappy changes, then…we have a problem.

When you know the story before someone tells you it, then…we have a problem.

When someone you haven’t spoken to in 2 years only realises that you’re no longer friends when you finally unfriend them on social media, then…we have a problem.

When every conversation  you have includes the line “Yeah, I saw that,” then…we have a problem.

And it’s our own fault.  We see it all on social media so we no longer feel the same need to ring someone up to ask how they’re doing.
After all, we know they’ve been to dinner this week, had the dog to the beach and that the baby has been puking.
We read it on Facebook.

We no longer consider a coffee date important as we know what’s going on with them.
We read it on Facebook.

But of course, Facebook doesn’t give you the same satisfaction that you get from good conversation over a cuppa.
Facebook doesn’t give you a hug before you go back to the whirlwind of your life.
Facebook might help you feel connected to the world outside your home, but only for a second, and only until it doesn’t.

Last week, I met a good friend for dinner.

She’s not on Facebook.

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It was refreshing. She was interested in my stories, in how I was, in how the girls were doing… she hasn’t seen it on Facebook. I was delighted to hear about what she’s been up to since Christmas. It was real conversation and it was lovely. We actually had so much to catch up on.  There were no lies about how perfect life is.  It’s difficult to lie to someone’s face.

We were able to talk about the difficulties we have with our respective Mini-Mes. We laughed at things we remembered from our nights out BC. Stories were interesting because they hadn’t already been told or seen. It was good, old fashioned catch up and it made me feel fuzzy and loved and ridiculously real again.

So while this isolation I speak of obviously doesn’t just apply to mums, that’s the angle I’m seeing it from.  I’m lucky that I have a wonderful family and some very good friends, but sometimes, just sometimes, being a mummy in the presence of two fabulously fun princesses 24 hours a day, can be a lonely place.

And while social media is fantastic and helps us stay in touch, it isn’t real.

So if you know someone; a mummy or daddy, or friend or cousin, who you have to really think about the last time you actually spoke to them, do you and them a favour.

Pick up the phone and say hi.
Or call to visit and actually hold the baby, while she makes you a coffee.

Rather than sharing sentimental quotations or memories on our friends’ pages, we really need to try to make more of our reality… not our virtual reality.

So there you go.
Social media is fabulous.  I get it.  I enjoy it.
But sometimes, it just isn’t enough.
And that’s the truth.

I am Social Media Mum.

Follow me on Facebook 😇

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I am Still Stage Mum

The talented folk of the Letterkenny Musical Society take to the stage tonight for the opening night of  their production of Jesus Christ, Superstar.
I watched the dress rehearsal last night.  It’s stunning and apart from the Saturday matinee, is sold out.
Rightly so.
It’s utterly spectacular.

I’m not involved this year.
That makes me sad.

Obviously,  I have my hands pretty full with Mini Me and Princess, so the show this year was really not an option for me.
I hadn’t really missed it to be honest…until Sunday.

Hubby was in the theatre helping to build the set as usual.
I took the kids in to see what was happening and to say hi to everyone.

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It was the most beautiful, sunny and crisp February Sunday.  The side door to the stage was rolled up, sunlight flooding the stage.  Lighting rigs were hoisted at head height while the crew worked on them.  The production team were creating what would be huge columns for the set.
I stood in the middle of it and closed my eyes.  The familiar voices of Hubby and the usual suspects calling instructions to each other, co-operating and working together, made me smile.  The sounds of the cordless drill…the smell of fresh wood and sawdust…the muffled conversation of the sound guys from the auditorium… it was beautiful.

I opened my eyes and looked at the chaotic scene in front of me, wondering (not for the first time in my theatre life), at how within just a few hours, this chaotic canvass would be transformed into a completely believable world into which the cast would step.
Do you miss us?”  My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of our Producer.   And for the first time, I answered that question without having to think about it or feel guilty for admitting it.
Soooooo much.”

I’ve been asked this asked few times in conversations over the past few weeks.  As the publicity for their show caused conversations to turn to it more and more, I’ve heard “Are you involved this year?” or “Do you miss it?”   My automatic answer?  “Not at all, sure I dont have time to miss it!” (Cue careless laugh!)

More often than not however, the question has been more of a statement.  “Obviously you’re not involved this year.” or “I’m sure you don’t miss it, sure you have more important things to think about.
One friend, meaning well when I admitted that I was missing the build-up to the show, went as far as “But sure look at what you have there.  That’s much more important than a show.”

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He pointed at my 3 month old Princess who was sleeping in my arms while I ate lunch (with one hand as usual!)
And of course he was right.
She and her sister are the most important thing in my world.
They are my show.
They are my production.
They are the choreographed chaos of which I’m most proud, and I’ll direct them through life with the same dedication and love that I put into the shows.

But they are also only a part of me.
Yes, I am their mummy, but I’m still me.
I’m still the drama queen that lives for the stage.
I still love the theatre.
I still get goosebumps when I hear someone hitting that note.
I still get so carried away watching my closest friends on stage, that I cry because I absolutely believe the pain they are conveying.

And so, standing there on Sunday,  I didn’t feel guilty admitting that I miss it.
I didn’t feel guilty last night at the dress rehearsal when I admitted that I’m heartbroken that my friends and Hubby are going to have the best week of their year, without me.
And I won’t feel guilty getting involved again next year.

My girls will grow up in rehearsals for shows.
They’ll see the stress and work and time and effort that goes into this “hobby”.
They’ll learn confidence, respect, organisation skills.
They’ll experience the fruits of the long months of hard work, and they’ll learn that if you want something to happen, you must work to make it happen.
They might even perform on stage with me at some point.
Maybe they’ll hate it all.  That’s OK too.

But if I can’t continue up to be who I’ve always been, just because I’ve been blessed with two little darlings, I’m not doing anyone any favours.

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So this week, I’ll pull up my big girl pants and enjoy watching the people I love so much enjoying their success.
I’ll  cheer them on and encourage them to believe that they are indeed fabulous.
On Saturday night,  I’ll sit in the audience and I’ll clap and cheer and celebrate their achievements.
Because they are Superstars.

And whether I’m on the stage, or in the audience,
I AM Still Stage Mum.

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