I am Some Rules I Forget to Follow Mum

I do hope that we are all bright eyed and bushy tailed this morning.

Mammy’s rules (which unfortunately Mammy forgets regularly until it’s too late…)

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Notes to Mammy…

1. Mammy is not 20.

2. Mammy can NOT drink whatever is set in front of her. And Mammy CAN leave drinks untouched. Imagine…

3. Mammy + mixing drinkiepoos = bad idea…ALWAYS.

4. Mammy SHOULD know better.

5. The first time Mammy thinks that maybe she’s had way more than enough and PROBABLY should go home, she should. She is right. She is absolutely right.

6. Mammy should not jive with ANYONE, especially if they are considerably shorter than her heeled self.

7. Mammy must remember that while a good big meal is a good idea before supping beverages, supping beverages before and DURING said meal, defeats the fricken purpose.

8. Mammy is NOT a feckin Pussy Cat Doll and should therefore not “Shake it off” or “drop like it’s hot” or any other such teenage nonsense, Mammy is NOT Cheryl-of-the-squatting. Slut drops after the age of 26 are not advisable. Nor are they sexy, regardless of what lies Gin tells you…

9. Mammy should only partake in Saturday nights out IF she has all of the uniforms ready for Monday, house sorted and general shot together BEFORE she goes out.

10. Mammy should remember that just because she is dying a death, Mini-Me still talks ALL DAY and Princess still POOS frequently. Also, children have this selfish, needy thing about requiring fed, and not particularly caring that even the sight of the kitchen makes Mammy’s tummy turn. Selfish like.

11. Mammy should not watch anything more emotional than The Big Bang Theory after a night out. When Mammy finds herself sobbing at a Pampers advert, or indeed an episode of Paw Patrol, she deserves the raised “seriously” eyebrow from Him.

12. Mammy must also remember that while The Him is very kind and allows her to die a little inside, he will also take every opportunity to laugh at her, torture her and remind her of point 1…

13. Mammy should try to find this post and read it BEFORE she goes out, instead of only remembering about it AFTER she has decided that the gin must obviously have been spiked or the food in the restaurant MUST OBVIOUSLY have been poisoned.

#whylike #neverlearns

Say Hello to Fricken Freaky Fridays!

Oh joy, oh rapture!
 
It is Friday; the Friday where the significance of Fridays becomes significantly more significant to those of us who have been #soblessed to have the summer off with our minions. And whether it has been a summer of #pottering and #makingmemories and all of that other instaperfect frankittywank that some love to spout over news feeds, or indeed a summer of #fml and #aretheschoolsopenagain, it is now all but over.
 
And so the significance of routine must be acknowledged and what better way to begin, that to return to Freezerful-Friday dinners and Fricken-shut-up-and-pours.
 
My cleaning and organising was disrupted on too many occasions by demands for jigsaws and poos and general “GivemeattentionNOWs” and so while the washing is done, there was no bleaching and even less cleaning done.
My favourite interruption however, was this one. I had foolishly said no to an icepop before her healthy and nutritious dinner of svelty flattened organical sourdoughed bread, adorned with sunkissed blushing tomatoes, elderflower cheese with emmenthol (great for flus) and thinly sliced prosciutto, gilded with the glitter of a fairy’s dandruff… yes. Pizza.
 
I returned the box of rockets to the freezer and inthe 0.43 seconds I had my back turned, Princess Demonica had turned all 6th Sense on me and opened all the doors in protest.
tantrum
Funny, when I was expecting her, I loved the name Damien for a boy… May have been appropriate enough.
 
The Hellfiend was so speedy in her task that I’m not beyond being convinced that she sprouted 12 other arms or had the help of a few spirits, just to ensure three things:
1. To remind Mammy, with dramatic effect, what new levels of tantrum she is capable of.
2. To convince Mammy to call upon her own spirits tonight. It is a Friday for gin. Grapes shall not cut it.
3. To confirm Mammy’s suspicions that it is probably high time that my dysfunctional little fambam did in fact get back into routine.
 
They do say we learn from our children, don’t they?
 
So Yay to Fricken Fridays and cheers to those of you whose little demons have tried every last significant ounce of your patience today.
Cheers Mammies.
Remember that if you like my Smumblings, you still have an hour or two to vote for me to reach the final of Maternity & Infant Awards for Best Parenting Blogger.

I am Speed-Clean Queen Mum

Good evening, on this, the 83rd of January, 2018.
 
It is Sunday night once again. Mammy has a list of things she needs to do, but after running around the house for the past 90 minutes finding schoolbags, and lunchboxes and searching for the magical tie and parts of the uniform that get blown to the 4 corners of the earth on a Friday evening, Mammy is fit for NOTHING except parking her posterier on the sofa.
 
Mammy had some lovely friends over for an impromptu dinner last night. Mammy spent 45 minutes speed cleaning the rooms in which her lovely friends would be. It is amazing just how much Mammy can get done when faced with the thought of lovely friends coming to visit. (Not that lovely friends give a continental shite what state Mammy’s Layer of Love is in, but still.) And so Mammy managed to blitz the kitchen, tidy, move, clean bathrooms, mop floors and clean glass, all so that she could apologize for the “state of the place” when the lovely friends arrived.
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How ridonculous eh?
 
“Good evening Lovely Friends, please doooooo come in and look at how homely and coziful Mammy’s practically perfect in every way home is on this fine evening. I must apologize for the layer of love. Please do not judge Mammy for the mess of her candlelt kitchen… Woulds’t one likest some cucumber in one’s gin?
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Ready for catch ups

 
And of course the response from one of the lovely friends was “Yeah yeah. The place looks great. Shut up and start pouring.”
 
The evening was lovely until Princess decided to have her firt EVER nightmare just before 1am. The poor little cretur screamed so loudly that one of Lovely Friends almost spilled her cucumbery gin over herself. And so Mammy had to bid her lovely friends Adieu and take the High-temperatured, sweaty little shaking mess away from the “Bug Bear under me bed” and into our bed.
On the up side, The Him was happily left entertaining lovely friends AND HE did all the cleaning up of Mammy’s showhouse worthy kitchen before he went to bed. And so the remnants of the Heavenly Indian takeaway we had, were gone when I got up.
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Could lick the screen…

 
Fear not however my Mammies. The house is once again a mess and all pretentious notions have left Mammy. Mammy is back in reality, smiling at how quickly Mini-Me and Princess recreated their Layer of Love and glad to have such Lovely friends to speed-clean-for-them-to-not-notice anyway.
I am now ready for bed, hoping and praying that there is no bear or monster under Princess’s bed tonight.
Hope you had a lovely weekend and that you are ready for the last 38 days of January.
The S-Mum

I am Swapping Bacon for Magic Mum

🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷🐷
Mammies.

I have had a genius idea.

My Princess LOVES Peppa Pork. She loves that fat little pink Piggy to the point that it is becoming quite the obsession. Peppa, or “Peepa” as she calls her, has been on the Tellybox here for 5 and a half and 3/4 years. Mini-Me could take Peppa or leave her. (Come to think of it, she’s still not bothered about bacon.)

And while I don’t mind her having little things that she seems fond of or excited by, Peppa of the Pork is not one that I am overly keen to encourage.

Why?

She’s just a cartoon character after all isn’t she? Well yes. And as a teddy, or on clothing, or in toys I don’t mind her. As little figurines to play with, or in books to point at, she’s fine. And while to adults, it has been suggested that Peppa looks remarkably like a doodle of a phallic nature, to children, her pinkness is apparently aesthetically pleasing and wonderful.

No. It’s not her love for Peppa that bothers me. I’m glad she’s finally showing an interest in something other than food and licking the fridge… It’s the script of the TV show that I have issues with.

Peppa is a brat. Pure and simple. She is cheeky, spoilt and whiney. Boundaries were never created in that house. She answers back, regularly tells Daddy Pig he is fat and is so cheeky to her friends that there is a full episode dedicated to them betting her she can’t stay quiet so they can get some peace.

I’m surprised the other talking animals bother with her at all. She whines and complains and is quite the Negative Nelly. And at no point does Mammy or Daddy rebuke her or tell her what she’s saying is naughty.

She’s a bossy little rasher. Expectant and entitled and don’t even start me on the way she speaks to Mammy.

I’ll wager that Mammy Pig has a secret stash of pink gin hidden behind that computer of hers.

Yes, I know. She’s just a cartoon character, but when she seems to be on repeat in your ear for nearly 6 years, I think it’s quite acceptable to dislike her. And when your children begin mimicking her, then, she becomes quite the pain in the pork.
But last week, I had a brainwave.

After 2 days of my Princess being confined to the sofa feeling under the weather, and 2 days of my brain being FRIED by Peppa referring to Daddy Pig’s big belly and telling poor Gawj “You’re too little”, I could take no more.

I did the “flick” part of the Netflix and came across the best alternative to Peppa Pig, EVER!

Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom.


The animation is identical to Peppa Pig. The narrator/voice structure is similar enough to Peppa to lure an unsuspecting 2 year old in, and the sound track is not quite as irritating…yet. Enough of a difference for her to raise a suspicious eyebrow, but not dramatic enough for her to refuse to watch it.

But the biggest bonus is that the characters are generally NICE to each other. Yes there are mishaps and magic tricks going wrong etc, and Wise Old Elf and Nanny Plum have some serious issues to get over, but in general, it is entertaining.  In fact, I am not afraid to say that Nanny Plum is a legend.   She speaks the truth Mammies. She is fablis.

And there is no whiny, annoying, bold little bad example in it.
So yes, I have finally lost my marbles. I have just written a full post on how Ben and Holly is better than Peppa Pig.

But hey! That’s where we are in our house these days, and they do say you should write what you know, don’t they? I could have written about In the Night Garden, but I’m not quite that barmy yet and I don’t think there’d be enough wine to inspire that…

Which TV shows are/were on repeat in your house?

First published on Donegal Woman in my Thoroughly Modern Mammy column

I am Small Cucumber Mum

Dids’t thou know..

Mini cucumbers look very twee and sophistimacated and posh when Mammy is at the till In Aldi-everything.

The checkout lady, Jacinta, attempts to make Mammy cry by throwing the food at her faster than any toddler throwing a tantrum. “Calm yourself Jacinta!”… Mammy does not cry however. (Mammy has every Aldi-everything employees arch nemesis… Trolley Bags. Take THAT Jacinta! 🤣🤣) Jacinta throws the beans a little bit harder than necessary…probably in a strop because she hasn’t broken THIS mini-cucumber buying, obviously very healthy and wholesomey Mammy.

No! Instead of crying, Mammy snaughles at her healthy and adventurous self for finding such cute little one-a-day.

Not only are they green and therefore healthy and wholesome and pretentiously fablis… they’re WHIIIIIIIILE handy for making Mammy’s gin and tonic. 🤣😂🤣😂

How clever is Mammy?

Cheers Ladybelles!