Songs Offending My Darlings?

I am offended…

Given that everyone is now allowed and encouraged to be offended by absolutely everything, I’ve decided to crack down on the lyrics of other Christmas songs which, let’s be honest, are incredibly offensive to offendable people who like to be offended.

babyitscold

Last year’s uproar about the dreadfully offensive lyrics of Christmas classic croonfest “Baby It’s Cold Outside” is being spouted again by the EOTs  (Easily Offended Types).  It quite rightfully opened the door* for all sorts of uproar about every lyric ever written ever.

(*the door was not opened or held open by the song or for the song, but rather automatically so that basic manners might not be perceived as chauvinistic by the easily offended).

It’s only taken us 70 odd years to realise the utterly heinous and terrible connotations of dominance and kidnapping in the lyrics of this shocking song.  How were we so naive?

How could we ever have misconstrued the lyrics as a playful interaction between a man and woman, who, at the end of a date are toying with the idea of getting the leg over. How dare we see it as a coy, flirtatious exchange in which the man is trying to extend the cuddle time, and the woman, (who quite obviously wants to stay) is playing a little hard to get… by choice.  What were we THINKING?  I mean, he’s obviously an evil-demon -from-hell-Mantype.

There’s no way he’s just a man.  Or you know, that she’s just a woman, who (shock horror) doesn’t mind the idea of coitus, even though 1940s society would have frowned upon such frivolity.

babyitscoldoutside

Shit Lads, what were we thinking? (Sorry,I shouldn’t say lads. Ladies? No, that too is offensive as it has the word lad in it… )

I am indeed offended by the lyrics.  I shall ignore the fact that it’s one of my favourite Christmas songs and jump onto the offended bandwagon, just because it is cool to be offended by anything and everything.

I am also joining in with the campaign to change or bleep out the word “faggot” from the classic “Fairytale of New York”.  It offends me.

fairytale.png

Actually, so do the the words “Cheap and lousy” as they suggest that I am not willing to spend money.  I ‘m offended by the glorification of betting and gambling in the line “Came in eighteen to one” and the OBVIOUS ageism in “An old man said to me won’t see another one”.

I’m also offended by the suggestion that I “can’t face it all alone” or that “I could’ve been someone”.  Do NOT TELL ME I can’t be ANYTHING I WANT TO BE!  You are OFFENDING MY RIGHTS!

Can we also take out the word “arse” as, you know, offended… And while we’re at it, let us change the title.  Because we should NOT be telling our daughters that Fairytales are a thing.  That is making them grow up into the type of woman who gets trapped by the evil demon from hell mantype who wants to drink with her and doesn’t want her to catch cold… Irresponsible parenting is personified in the title.  I am offended.

Other Christmas songs that we shoud just ban while we’re at it, are:

frosty

Frosty the Snowman.  I am offended that this particular snowman is a man.  Also, the fact that he is “made of snow” offends me because it suggests that he is weak. He also tells us he’ll “be back again someday”.  This offends me as sometimes, people leave  This line therefore is giving our children a false sense of security.

“I saw Mammy kissing Santa Claus” must also go.  It reeks of adultery.  Where is poor Daddy? Mammy is conveyed as a slut here. She is EXACTLY what the woman in “Baby it’s cold outside” would have turned into, had we not saved her by being offended…

Rudolf the red nosed reindeer...WHY do we feel the need to differentiate between him and the others based on the colour of his nose? Borders on racism I tell you.  Offended.

rudolf

“Jingle Bells” obvious sexual connotations.  “All the way” is putting me under pressure.  One-horsed open sleigh is OBVIOUSLY animal cruelty.  Why aren’t there two horses? And to be politically correct, why is a horse doing the job of a reindeer? Discrimination or equinism gone too farf?  Offended.

“All I want for Christmas is you”  offends me.  It suggests that all women only want a man.  Are we not perfectly capable of being fully rounded, successful and whole beings ALONE? Offensive.

“Santa Baby”  promiscuous wench, bordering on prostitution. Slapper she is in her fluffy cuteness…Offensive.

WEB-SantaBaby.png

“Santa Claus is Coming to Town” – full of threats.  Obvious threats.  “You’d better watch out.  You’d better not cry.”  Obviously abusive language. Offensive.

“Driving Home for Christmas” offends me.  What if I don’t have a car? What if I’m a stay-at-home-parent or a work-from-homer who is ALREADY at home? Do you think I want to be listening to a song which puts pressure on me to drive somewhere, JUST so I can drive home again?

I’m dreamin of a White Christmas”  –  eh racist no?

“Live Aid”  –  Tonight thank God it’s them instead of you?  Well now THAT is just offensive.

Actually, can we move away from Christmas songs?  There are many other offensive tunes on our radios each day.

“Dontchya wish your girlfriend was hot like me” offends me.  What if Nicole Sherzimeister actually means it and is going to steal my Husband who might agree that she is indeed “hotter” than his plain old boring wife?   Offended.  (And genuine cause to hate the perfect one obviously.)

Bohemian Rhapsody?   –  Violence!  Offended by Mama pulling a trigger.  I’m pretty sure the word Fandango should offend me too…

Dance Monkey?  –  I am offended that you think my dancing makes me look like a primate.

Would you like me to go on?  I could you know?  I could find offense in fucking Nursery Rhymes if I felt like it.

But do you know the thing about being easily offended?

It means NOTHING!  NOBODY GETS HURT AND NOBODY ACTUALLY CARES IF YOU ARE OFFENDED.  You don’t get a rash.  You don’t get a badge.  You just get tired with all the energy it takes to be OFFENDED BY EVERYTHING ALL THE FECKING TIME!

Have I offended you?

Whatever.  You’ll survive.  Write a letter to Santa or The Grinch.  He can put you on his ever growing “offended” list.

It’s on the page after the Naughty List ends.

 

grinch

 

 

Some Things I’d change about Christmas…

grinchy

​If I were Queen of the whole world (as opposed to my own little corner), there are a few things I would change about Christmas…

  1.  Christmas jumpers should be permissable for wearing from December 1st.  To all occasions, without eye-brow raising, without judgement…unless you are judging how fucking FABLIS it is is comparison to your NOT Christmassy, everyday, boring Jumper.

2. Only competent drivers should be allowed on the road from the 11th until the 24th.  Because Christmas Eve is on a Monday, the last minute panic (and for some, ALL their shopping) will have to be done over one long weekend.  This would not be a huge problem if everyone knew how to DRIVE.  The town will inevitably stand still with non-moving cars and the special Dumbasses who the Grinch or some other Gremlin sends down from Dumbass Land, and who ONLY come out to drive on Christmas Eve and who test the patience of EVERYONE else by not using INDICATORS or knowing what a fucking YELLOW BOX is.  They are not even real people.  I think they’re like Matrix people who we can all SEE blocking the roundabout or taking 2 hours to reverse their Corsa into two spaces, diagonally, but they’re not ACTUALLY real… they can’t be.  That level of Dumbass doesn’t exist does it?


3. The shops should all close at 1pm on Christmas Eve.  Why? So that the creturs working in them get to GO HOME to their families of course! Be nice to retailers Ladybelles.  You might be stressed, but they’re still working. When I am queen, the whole world shall shut down early and Christmas shall be forced to begin at a decent hour.
4. Anyone who parks in a disabled spot or a parent spot without good reason or genuine need, should be zapped by a glitterfying lazer and beamed to a 1980s Tellybox set like in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, where they shall have to stay until Boxing Day, being continuously whipped by a mansized Bosco.  Better still, their CAR should be zapped away from them as they lock it so they can see just how fucking difficult it is to suddenly have an unnecessarily long distance to navigate a wheelchair or crutches or 3 screaming kids and 10 bags, just because they think they’re more special than the rest of the world.  Pricks. (Note…this applies all year round. 🤐)
5. Children and Hims should not be allowed to get sick before or during Christmas.  It’s hugely unfair on the Mamma Bears who are already trying to fit ALL THE EVERYTHING into their lunchbreaks and do the full grocery shopping in 8 minutes flat enroute to the school gate.  It is highly inconvenient and terribly upsetting when your minions suddenly feel poopy at this time.  Of course it could always be worse… especially if your Him decides to do his annual Nutcracker rendition and act out the part of the useless and slightly tragic wooden soldier who needs something fucking magical to instil life and joy into his bones again.  Of course I’m not referring to my own Him here.  😇He is a Braveheartesque soldier at all times😲😲 and never succumbs to manflu or calls for his Mammy when his Her tells him to “man the fuck up.”
6. Cars will have a secret “other” boot.  This will stop the drama of “How the feck will I get the stuff that isn’t really there and can never be seen by little eyes into the house before they decide to open the boot to throw their schoolbags in?” Such a debachle!
7. All Mammies will be allowed to drink tea or grapes or gin as early as they like from the 20th.  Sorry…the 19th 😂😂until at LEAST January 3rd.  This shall be law.

8.  Baby it’s Cold Outside and Fairy Tale of New York should be played on repeat in every shop from now until Christmas Eve, especially for all of the OFFENDED people who like to be OFFENDED so much that EVERYTHING OFFENDS them.  Yeah, that’s a whole other post…

Oh and everyone shall smile always, and wear big hats (which will ALL be made XL to fit humongously craniumed wenches like S-Mum) and we shall all be lovely to each other and sparkle like glittery unicorns because ’tis the fucking season and all that.
How was your day?

Are we there yet? 🎄🎅🦄🎄🍷🎅🎄🦄🍷🎅🎄❄⛄🎄🎅🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

The Unspoken Reality of (most) Hotel Stays with Kids.

‘Let’s stay in a hotel’ they said.

‘Let us pack up our minions and go on an adventure and stay in a lovely family room in a hotel.  It shall be fun!’ they said.

Forgetting momentarily that

  1. Most “Family rooms” are simply big rooms with two beds.

  2. Children do not automatically behave themselves when in hotels.

  3. Scolding and voices must be conrolled by Mammy and Daddy as whatever frowning might be done at the chaos caused by minions, more frowning will be done if Mammy or Daddy use their usual shouty voice.

  4. Children, regardless of being up since 5am and walking the entirity of Dublin zoo after a 3 hour drive, shall NOT be “so knackered that they’ll conk out straight away” (Me. This was MY fuckwittery. Not Him’s in fairness.)

  5. Children who are used to their own rooms, will either complain incessently about the sibling being “on their side” or cackle incessently together, or both at the same time, for no apparent reason other than to drive Mammy and Daddy up the bathroom wall…

  6. Because the bathroom is where Mammy and Daddy invariably end up EVERY SODDING TIME WE STAY IN A HOTEL with the kids.  Daddy lies in his clothes, in the empty bath, with his phone, Mammy on a cushion of towels with a glass of grapes and, quite often, a book.  Professionals I tell you!      *We learned after the first time to treat ourselves to a nice, full, cold drink at the bar before going up to do the bedtime dance, because there’s not much to do in a bathroom while awaiting your feral one’s to concede to the long overdue sleep in the bedroom, is there?

  7. After 45 minutes of complaining and cackling simultaneously, with random hisses of “Go to sleep!” and “If I have to come into that room” from OUR side of the bathroom door, children will eventually have to be placed by Daddy into separate beds.  After a few minutes, they will go to sleep, usually lying horizontally across the pillows, leaving Mammy and Daddy to wonder where the hell they are going to sleep, not that they can finally remove themselves from the bathroom.

  8. Parents will debate whether to poke the bear…as in try to replace small child into the bed beside her sister, risking said child wakening again… or to simply climb into a bed each, beside the horizontal sleeping feckin cherubs.

  9. Parents will not poke the bear…figuratively, physically, metaphorically or other.

  10. All members of the family shall be asleep by 8.45pm, with both parents sporadically wakening throughout the night to check that miniest minion has not fallen out of the 8 foot high bed, or indeed wet it, just for the craic.

 

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Mammy

I am Shopping Mum

When did shopping turn into such a gauntlet?
 
I’ve never been a huge shopping fan, but recent experiences have confirmed to me that I actually HATE it.
 
I hate, hate, hatey McHaterson it. 
 
Last week I was lucky enough to have a few hours to wander around huge shopping centres in both Dublin and Belfast. 
 
Imagine the novelty for Mammy-Amazon here, whose clothes shopping generally consists of sportsgear or the odd binge buy in Dunnes-of-the-fablis, (usually on pay day before the Direct Debit Bandits have hit and I descend back into brokedom.) 
 
“I am in the city. I shall shop”, think I.
 
“I shall shop like the Fashionable Bloggers do.  I shall purchase cool and quirky stuffs which I might even share by doing one of those terrifying Haul things that they all do.”
 
But then, I laugh at the sillyfullness of such a thought.  Who wants to see what Mammy picks up in shops?  
 
In go I to the Debbienems… the mothership of mothershops in all corners of the civilised world. 
 
My eyes hurt instantly.  The lights…Christ alive!  Am I in surgery or a shop?
 
The evil yellow glare lights used to be only reserved for changing rooms and hairdressers.  Now it seems that they are par-for-the-course in every corner on every floor of these big bright shops… perhaps a way to highlight the few of us who still dare to enter such establishments with nout but mascara on our faces? 
 
I catch a glimpse of my naked face and tracksuit in one of the mirrors and I feel instantly less confident in my own skin than I did leaving the hotel. 
I thought I looked rather comfy-chic. I thought my swinging pony tail and make up free skin made me look slightly Yummy-Mummiful…
shopping

The OPPOSITE of how I look when shopping

 
Turns out that even in my spensive leeeeezure wear, I actually look like a knackered, sleep-deprived, hungover SkankQueen.  I’d look more at home on Jeremy Kyle’s sofa truth be told.  
 
I am now convinced that I look like I’m about to shop lift the entire contents of the Benefit counter and I’m pretty sure that the shop assistants (perfectly preened and practically perfect in every way) are clustering closer to me as their Radar for criminal cretins goes off.  They’re watching me.  I know they are.
 
Then I realize, they want to torment me.  On every corner, another eyebrow asks me “Can I help you Dear?”  or “Do you need any help today Luv?”  It’s like being at home.  There’s a little person on every corner talking AT me and asking me pointless questions.  One even shoves a little pink basket in my hand, for heaven forbid I might only want ONE THING in the muck up section.  I know they’re only doing their job but Dear Jacinta, I just want to BROWSE!
 
Remember when you used to be able to wander aimlessly around the shops, browsing, looking, buying…not buying?
 
Remember when you could go to the checkout and simply pay for your purchase with nothing more than a polite smile and a thank you? 
 
And then you could leave, swinging the bag with your purchase and simply continue on your shopping…or not shopping?
 
Yeah.  Those days are gone my Darlings. 
 
And then…the WEIRDEST part.  It’s been creeping in to the shops at home too.  It makes me uncomfortable.  I find it a little invasive if I’m honest.  
 
“Do you have an email address?” 
 
“I do yeah.”
 
“Can I have it?”
 
“Oh…why?”
 
“So I can send you your receipt? Because of the environment and all?”
 
“Oh of course…” is what I SAY, before rhyming off the suddenly very hard to fecking spell email address.  (Seriously, none of us EVER considered that we’d be standing at tills in Debbieneems spelling OUT the feckin things when we created them.  We thought they’d always be, well, TYPED!)
 
What I want to say is “And what about GDPR? How can I be sure that YOU are not the reason that I get so many weird marketing emails from companies to which I’m pretty sure I NEVER subscribed? Can you not just print me off my receipt like a normal shop assistant so I can throw it into the bag or the car where it will lay for many months creating a tiny thesis of how and why I am always broke,  Little physical REMINDERS of what money USED to look like.”
 
  I swear to Granny, between Tap machines and Virtual receipts, I don’t even think it COUNTS as spending money any more.  There is NO evidence really…
 
And so I decide that I shall set up a NEW email address, just for the very PURPOSE of shopping.  It shall be emailaddress@ihateshopping.com   That’d be fun…
 
HAH!
 
Moral of the story?  
 
I HATE SHOPPING.
(I’m glad my laptop doesn’t yet have eyebrows to raise.
 
 
 

Mammy in Training…

My journey through the jungle of Mammyhood so far has many things. I am always learning and yet it feels like I never learn! 😅

Regardless of how you become a Mamma: pregnancy, IVF, adoption, fostering, marriage… if you are responsible for loving a child, you’re a Mammy.

And it’s quite a job.  A career.  A vocation even!

Let’s face it.  If I want to embark on any career, I generally need to spend 3-5 years being educated to qualify me properly to attempt it.  Being a Mammy (and indeed a Daddy!) doesn’t require a degree, and yet it is the most challenging career in the world.

As parents, we become educated in life and often hilariously terrifying ways of the world that no university could ever teach…
but if they did…IF there was a degree in parenting, here is what I imagine it would look like:

“Bachelor of the art of Perfect Parenting”

* Pregnancy and Parenting: A beginner’s guide

* Preparing for your new arrival – Required equipment

* Food preparation for the healthy family
* Techniques for sleep and Behaviour

* Planning your child’s play and Sensory Scenarios

 * First aid for Mummies

*Relationships; maintaining healthy romantic and familial relationships

*Positivity, Mindfulness and Sleep Deprivation – How to deal with it.

*Language and Speech Development.

And at the end, you would be a QUALIFIED parent.  You would have folders of notes, and a brain bursting with facts and figures, and lesson plans and medical references.
You’d be sorted. 😉

But as a Real Mammy, who knows that most of the above is utter crap, and that these headings only SCRATCH the surface of parenting, let ME suggest what a parenting degree outline should look like!
“Bachelorette of Thoroughly Modern Mammyness.”

Module 101 – Pregnancy and Parenting: A beginner’s guide – Life as you know it, ends here.  You only think you know what pain, fear and exhaustion are now.  Pregnancy is like a “One size” bra.  It fits some women better than others. Mine fit like a 4 man tent.  You may glow, or you may puke.  It’s great fun.  But at the end of it, there’s a wonderful thing.  And there’s  also the Love. I won’t even try to prepare you for that. I can’t. 💗💙💗💙💗💙💗

Module 102 – Change everything – The house, the layout of your rooms, the car.  Everything.  And enjoy your magazine perfect showhouse with your fancy candles and FengShui… That shit ends once your minion is able to move about on your once-but-never-again-clean rug.  All ornaments and valuables should be put up on a high shelf, or locked away for approximately 15 years.  Actually, just sell them.  You’re going to need the cash for the Stuff. 👇

Module 103 – All the Stuff.  Get your list of Baby Essentials.  Got it? Now, rip it up.  You do not need 250 steriswabs, or 5 pairs of scratch mittens.  The only thing on those lists that isn’t exaggerated, is the quantity of industrial sized sanitary nappies, sorry, towels.  Buy ALL of those bad boys.  And then buy extra.

And as for the list of furniture, equipment and travel accessories?  Get your basics.  Car seat, cot, baby bath, changing mat.  Depending on YOUR own house and YOUR own situation, you’ll know what you need as you need it.  Do not buy all the everything!  Trust  me, you’ll end up with a house that looks like a Baby shop has puked on it and, in approximately 8 months time, as you put the only-used-once-stuff in the attic, you’ll wonder why the hell you bought it in the first place.

Oh! And those lovely nursing chairs that we all want for our idealistic moments of feeding baby in the nursery?  They are the most glorified clothes storage devices in the world.  Your baby will more than likely be in your room for the first 6 years…sorry months… anyway, and when you ARE doing night feeds, you’re more than likely going to want to do them in the heat of your bed,  rather than in an empty room.  Yes, they’re lovely and I’m sure someone will disagree here, but that’s how I see them… A clothes horse.

Module 201 – Techniques for Sleep and Behaviour  –  Pray, wing it and go with your gut.  You can’t control your baby’s sleep.  You can’t control your baby’s behaviour.  You can only go with what you get on a daily basis and trust me, often, as cliched as it is, it IS just a phase.  And if you do find yourself genuinely struggling with either of these issue, ask for help.  There are brilliant (and actually qualified with real degrees) professionals in our community and there are SO MANY brilliant resources that Mums and Dads can access easily.

Google Parent Hub. Parent Hub, Donegal

You’ll be amazed at what they offer. Or talk to your PHN or GP.

Module 202 – Planning your child’s play   – Buy toys.  Watch child play with boxes, lunchboxes, remote controls and ANYTHING they shouldn’t have that could pose danger to them.  Shake head at the amount of educational crap in the toy corner and get out the saucepans and wooden spoons.  Oh and get down on your knees and play! 😅

Module 203 – First aid for Mummies – Have a meltdown everytime they cut themselves, bump their head, break a sweat, have a strange poo or get a temperature.  Slowly learn to recognise your own baby’s physical reactions and signs.  Google symptoms, freak out…ask on a Mammy forum…freak out…

But seriously, we’re mums.  Unless you ARE a Doctor, if you’re concerned about Baby, GO TO A DOCTOR!  And follow your gut.  While it may be sick with worry, Mamma’s gut is always right.

Optional Modules 

Relationships – learning how NOT to murder your partner at 3am

Sex – You will want to think about it again some day… 😈😉😈

Alcohol – It shall be frowned upon, but some days, even the most Sanctimonious of Sanctimommies thinks about gin at 11am.  They just won’t admit it.

Swearing control – Any parent who has never sworn behind the back of their child, or at least mouthed a profanity when they hear “Mammy” for the 387th time that day, is either sedated or a liar…

Disney lyrics – because you will need to know them.
And so there you go. I hereby declare the Bachelorette of the Thoroughly Modern Mammyness open for application.

**No previous experience or qualifications required. 

It’s a tight course, but the end result is something that no amount of paper or letters after your name can measure.  But if you really want to show off your qualifications, just start signing off like this…
S-Mum (Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum.Mum…)
Suggestions for extra optional modules on a postcard please. 😙😙😙

How do you measure up? 😂😂😂