Dumping the Notions…

It is midterm.

Mammy knows that she needs to try to decompress and relax while one has time off the job job.

And so one does the equivalent of booking a spa day for Mammy… one demands a skip from the husband.

No, this is not a euphemism.

A lovely big skip arrived today.

Mammy started with the kitchen. Just a long overdue “spring clean”… nothing major.

And yet 3 hours in, Mammy is questioning why, in fucking fact, one started this… and Mammy is really quite exhausted from the physical exertion of hauling all but the kitchen sink outside.

But therapeutic it is.

So much so, that Mammy has actually learned quite a few things about oneself today; I doubt I’d have had such revelations after an hour of essential oil infused meditation goat yoga in an outdoor tub…

Mammy reconnected with younger Mammy and realised/recognized/comprehended…that pre-C Mammy was actually a naive and ridiculous twatgurl who was full of NOTIONS.

(And Pre-C is Pre-children, not Pre-Covid… that’s a whole other post.😂)

Mammy dumped eleventy squillion tiny little pretentious shot flutes, which were bought on the Portstewart promenade 20+ years ago, when Mammy was not a Mammy, and before Mammy had an actual house to fill with such shitery.

Said pretentious little shot flutes were fablis you see. They were used to serve dainty and delicate desserts and sweet sherry to the very fanciful folks Mammy served in the super posh restaurant Mammy worked in at the time.

They were required, you see, to fulfil Mammy’s notions of throwing dinner parties if and when Mammy ever owned a kitchen.

And they have sat in the glassy glass fronted glass presses of both of Mammy’s houses for the past 20 years.

What have they been used for?

Dust.
Holding dust.
Looking fancy holding dust.

Mocking and scoffing at Mammy’s notions and dreams of being a Domestic-fucking-Goddess…

Until today.

Mammy took great joy in smashing those little feckers. They were too dusty and dainty to pass on to someone else, and in truth, they’d simply have taken up someone ELSE’S notiony notions and humbled them in 20 odd years time as they realised that actually, they never DID get used for those dinner parties that never happened.

And then, Mammy found the scallop shells, which were OBVIOUSLY necessary for all of the seafood delicacies and scallopy starters which Mammy NEVER actually cooks or serves, even on the very rare occasion that Mammy does have/did have actual adult people around for dinner.

Add to said scallop shells, countless ramekins and glass trifle bowls…even though the only trifle Mammy EVER eats is in GannyGanda’s on Christmas day… and one had a very literal representation of one’s utter fucking NOTIONS laid out on the kitchen counter today.

And don’t even START me on the pestle & mortar choppy sets. What was I going to do? Grind my own fucking pesto?
Mash my own ketchup?

Cop my own on more like.

And so yes, Mammy has been humbled and taken down from her domestic goddess pre-C notions.

Mammy is quite content however that these accoutrements are no longer required for Mammy to KNOW that she is in fact, a dinner party Queen.

And Mammy is MORE than happy to admit that since the arrival of my cherubs, any “dinner party” occasion that HAS happened in our house, usually required someone to collect it from the Chilli Shaker.

But you’ve never seen ANYONE set out a takeaway as fabulousitified as Mammy.
And that’s WITHOUT the never used fancy shot flutes or scallop shells.

Notions I tell you.

Pop A Troll?

The pair of them are on the sofa, trying and failing to navigate some Paw Patrol videos on YouTube, while I work at the kitchen table.


I’m making an effort to let them do a bit of “surfing” as I genuinely do worry that my 1980s approach to technology is possibly going to leave them completely inept when the rest of their classmates are flying through tinterweb. Honestly, mine can use the tellybox remote, but that’s the height of scrolling here.

They’re on the search bar and Mini-Me is trying to type in what they’re looking for…It’s PAW PATROL! She starts to spell P…A…Princess (who is ALL about pretending she has a CLUE how to spell right now), interrupts:


“Pah – awww – pap” (pause for effect)

“Aaaaaaaaa”

“TROLL”.

“POP A TROLL…”

Sorry what now?

“What are you spelling Darling?” I ask. “Paw Patrol” she answers. There’s that look again. The one that is now daily occurrence. The ‘Seriously Mammy how do you NOT know this’ look.

“Say it slowly for me?” I’m trying not to laugh.
“Pop A Troll”

Aaaaaah OK. SO it seems that the cartoon that has been constantly on our tellybox and with which her bedroom is literally filled, has in HER head been called “Pop a Troll…”

I don’t think I’ll bother trying to explain this one. It’s too cute and now I can not unhear it!

Kind of reminds me of realising that Coronation Street was not in fact Corn Nation Street and that Emma Dale was not an actual person.

Sorry Whodeewhat now?

“OK girls… movie time!” (because if I have to intervene in your fucking 387th row of the day, I may SCREAM.)

Mammy reaches for her phone to rev up the beloved Disney Plus, excited already about the inevitable peace and joyfully joyful quiet that Mammy will now experience for approximately 90 minutes.

I’m planning a cuppa and a sneaky Double Fecker/insta scroll in the tillyday room and am already relaxing in thoughts of imminent calm that is about to be magiced via Disney Plus into my home…

“We’re not allowed Disney Plus!” announces Princess, wide eyed and deadly serious.

“Of course we are. Don’t be silly!” I laugh.

“No She’s not EVEN Lying like Mammy. It’s banned for the rest of the week…”

“Says who?” I demand.

I’m bemused. I’m confused…I’m slightly terrified…

“Says Daddy!” says Princess, still wide eyed and suddenly so fecking virtuous and obedient that it’s OBVIOUS that she will NEVER be coerced into betraying The Daddy.

“Since when?” Mammy is seriously wondering if I blanked out and missed thiat particular row, but in fairness, every day is merging into the next at the minute and I gave up on listening to every single conversation in mid April.

“Since the last night when we were up really late and SHE wouldn’t get out of my room” admonishes Mini-Me, obviously not ready to forgive Princess. “He says it’s banned for the full week…”

Shit.

“Ok I’m sure Daddy didn’t mean a full week. Hang on until I call him to check.” I grin through gritted teeth. My palms are a bit sweaty to be honest. I’m panicking a little… just slighly jittery at the prospect…

A week without Disney Plus? Has he lost his fricken MIND?
I go to the other room and pretend to ring Daddy.

I don’t, for he is back in his office this week, being busy and stressed, and so it’d be unfair of me to ring him now to discuss… because obviously the DISCUSSION would consist of me launching into something along the lines of “WHATTHEFUCKiswrongwithyoubanningDisneyFeckingplusforafullfeckingweek? ARE YOU MAD? It’s OK for you Mr I@m in the Fecking OFFICE all week. YOU don’t have to play waitress and bouncer to these two all fecking day do you!? So I’m SORRY but Disney fucking PLus is NOT being banned for a week, not on MY WATCH. K?”

To which he’d OBVIOUSLY concede and apologise and grovel at his utter silliness and naivity and agree with my decision to reverse the punishment…

So why waste time annoying him right then eh? (I’ll get him again…)

I come back into the room and tell the two minions that Daddy has said that it’s not banned for the week, but just for the day, which is met with rapturous joy and much appreciation for “clever Daddy!”.

Then, The wee doll, who only two minutes ago was fully loyal to Daddy asks, “So what’s on Netflix then?”

I’m either incredibly proud, or absolutely fecked from here on… I haven’t decided yet.


And to be honest, I don’t care. I’m too busy enjoying the calm and quiet. 🙂

Sacking My Handbag: Service No Longer Required

Re: Postponement of Duties.

Dear M.Y. Handbag

As we enter week 5 of the current situation, I must, with regret, postpone your duties indefinitely.

I acknowledge that until March 12th, you were undisputedly indispensable and quite frankly, my right hand woman.

You were with me all day every day, carried all of my belongings and accompanied me to all daily events and meetings.

I apologise now for the amount of extra work and unnecessary files I dumped in you, and in hindsight, know that I never properly appreciated you.

I also acknowledge that you were my PA, a wonderful one at that, and that I really could not have survived even one day of my pre-covid existence without you at my side.

You carried me; my schedule, my finances, my keys, my snacks… You were the glue that held my daily life together.

It is perhaps true that I took you for granted. I assumed that you would always be there for me. And I know that you would have been had this blasted virus not rendered your post unnecessary.

I never thanked you for your constant companionship and support.

It is with true sadness that I must shelve you for the foreseeable.

Until life returns to some semblance of normality and I have a reason to leave the house, I am afraid that your services are no longer required.

Please take care of yourself during this time. I look forward to reinstating your position in the near future. I promise to treat you with more respect and care, and I’ll try to lighten your load where possible.

I apologise for this pause in your contract. It is unavoidable. I only hope you can forgive me and that we can return to our previous relationship soon.

With regret and deep sadness,
Me.

She’s Hard Work She Is…

Cripes alive Sis, She’s hard work today.

I know. She’s not herself.

Maybe she’s hungry. When did we last feed her?

Mmmm. We’ll get her a snack?
Yeah.

She slept all night last night too. She shouldn’t be tired.
Ah I dunno.

Maybe she’s got a wee temperature. It’s not like her to this cranky.

A wee drop of the magical pink elixer of life might do no harm…

Maybe it’s us. Are we doing something wrong?

It’s not us.
It’s just her.

It’s just a phase she’s going through. It’ll pass…

Chripes she’s hard work today though isn’t she?
Yup…

Wouldn’t change her for the world though, would we?

Well…
😂😂😂
😂