I am Slightly Excited Mum

Hurray and Yippee and Woohoo and all the rest.

It is Mammy’s Christmas night out.

Christmas-in-Kinsale1

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!

santababy

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!

party

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 She DON’T WIKE it Mum!

Yesterday morning I dressed Princess.
I wanted to put on her Christmas skirt and Christmas jumper as they were filming the Christmas DVD in creche. 

I got the skirt on…

This is the same Christmas skirt that she wore so proudly on Saturday… the same Christmas skirt that she danced around in, swishing and swooshing with a sparkling smile at her Daddy, as happy as can be, announcing “Aaash nice pippy” (pretty) 
I dressed her, left the room for 23 seconds, and returned to a bare bummed #wobbler who had removed said Christmas skirt while declaring at the TOP of her voice, 
 “I. No. WIKE. it!”

Cue Mammy’s frantic finding of a NOT Christmas skirt and urgent attempts to remember the names of the other kids in her room to try to get the Christmas jumper on her.

I tried 4 names to no avail, before FINALLY hitting the jackpot with 

“Shay will be wearing HIS Christmas jumper” .
That worked. 🤣
Noooooo idea who this little man is, but I OFFICIALLY owe him one and apparently he’s more influential than Mammy! 😛😛

I am Slight Toy Story Moment

The Trauma…

On Thursday last, I sent The Him into Mini-Me’s school with a box of toys to donate to the Bring and Buy Sale.  You know the Bring and Buy Sale?  Where Mammies can offload a pile of redundant crap for a good cause, but where you know your minions are going to arrive home with someone else’s offloaded redundant crap, but it’s for a good cause… so everyone wins really?

toy-cash-register-2922214__340

Yeah.

My first mistake?

In my Sudafed inhibited state, I placed one of her “favourite” (apparently) dolls on top of the box.  Now, I don’t recall seeing her play with this doll for quite some time, but as she informed me in HYSTERIA on seeing Daddy place the box in the car, “It’s my FAYAAAYVWIT Dolleeee!”

Initially, I shrugged in off and tried the whole, “we have to make space for Santa to bring new toys melarky”… and then I envisioned her sitting in her class the next day, watching one of her classmates playing with their new Dolly, which she still sees as her Dolly and I imagined how utterly dreadful that would be for a not quite 6 year old, and so the heartless wench in me subsided.  I couldn’t do it to her.  I just couldn’t.

If she had moaned a bit, fine.  She usually complains once, just to be complaining, but quickly forgets about things.  This time however, the tears were real.  They were silent and genuine and she was trying so hard to control her wee sobs in the back of the car, that I HAD to take note.  I know I come across sometimes as being hard on her.  Hard yes, but not heartless.

doll

And so suddenly, we had a problem.

It was like being plunged into Toy Story… How the HELL was I going to get the Doll back before some other unsuspecting and innocent child bought it in front of her?  I had visions of her attacking said new owner and the Doll being ripped in two in the playground.  But worse, I had visions of her breaking her little heart as her “favourite” Dolly got hugged and loved by someone else, right in front of her eyes.

A message to the school FB account and all was sorted.  When I got the “Is this her?” message with the picture of the rescued Doll, I almost danced with joy.

I blamed The Him of course.

The Doll shouldn’t have been on the pile, but I’ll not admit that it might have been my fault.

Nope.

All his.

And so thanks to Mammy’s quick thinking and the secretary’s quick response, home she skipped on Friday evening, her favourite Dolly under her arm.

My second mistake?

And this is one that TRUST ME, I shall NEVER make again.

I gave her €5.

Five. Fecking. Yoyo.

money

When I said this in the staffroom at work, the other Mammies gasped and snaughled at my stupidity. Pity none of them thought to warn me eh?! (Note to self, my first book shall be entitled “Mammying: the unwritten rules that Mammies should be told rather than having to learn for themselves.” Too long? I’d buy it!)

In my defense, I did tell her that she had to spend €2 on a gift for Princess.  Have to teach her to share you know? #twatmum

She arrived home with SO much crap, sorry, “stuff”, that she needed an extra bag and 4 more arms to carry it.  A teddy, a broken game “Poo face”? “Pie Face?” or some such eyebrow-raise-inducing “Nevergonnahappen face” from Mammy, Cards of something I’ve never seen before…AND the best one?  A toilet for a doll.  That flushes.

toilet

I shit you not!

And was there anything in this loot for Princess?  Was there feck? (Although the Dolly loo may come in handy for the potty training journey that lurks ahead in 2018.)

 

“She can share wif me Mammy.  It’s for BOTH of us!”

Yeah right.

So lessons learned.

Don’t assume that she doesn’t play with particular toys anymore.

And for Bring and Buy sales?  50c will do from now on.

Someday, Mammy will learn.  Until then? We’ll gin it and wing it.

(Are you following me on Bookface?  I’m on Instagranny too!  Oh and sometimes, I twit as well as Twat!)

What’s the most ridiculous thing that has arrived home in your Minion’s schoolbag?

I am Slipper Sock Symptoms Mum

Mammy was sick last week.

Not sure if I mentioned that.

It wasn’t quite as bad as ManFlu.  (Thank the Lord and the Little Donkey…)

But it did leave me festering in the same clothes for three days.  Trackies and fluffy socks and serious coziness at all opportunites.

So much so, that when I turned up to collect Mini-Me from “afterschool” on Thursday, she eyed me suspiciously.

“Are you better Mammy?” she asked as I strapped her into the carseat.

“I’m feeling much better Darling.” I answered, shocked and chuffed in equal measure that she even knew I was sick. (At least somebody noticed…is that a violin I hear?)

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.  Mammy will be all better by the morning.”

“You’re NOT better Mammy.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You’re still wearing your slipper socks under your runners, aren’t you Mammy?”

WTF?

“Dat’s how I knows you’re not better yet.”

There you go then!  Nothing to do with symptoms or temperature or medication… just look at my feet apparently.  THAT’s how you know when I’m reeeeeally not well.  😂😂😂

I am She’d SO win D’apprentice Mum

THOROUGHLY MODERN MAMMY – CHILDISH TRAITS OR LIFE SKILLS?

I watched The Apprentice this week and was reminded of this piece from last year. 👇👇

Turns out that one year on, not only is Mini-Me still the same, but Princess is equally as strong a candidate.

Lord Alan-of-the-Sugar wouldn’t last 5 minutes in MY boardroom!

And I’ll bet you Mammies can see your own Minis in this Letter of Application?
********************************
Dear Sir Alan-of-the-Sugar,

I attach the CV of my Daughter, Miss Mini-Me of the S-Mum, who I feel must be brought to your attention.

Having watched the opening episode of your FABLIS show “Dapprentice”, I feel that IF you were to fly Mini-Me  (and her Mum obviously) to London to meet you, you would hire her IMMEDIATELY and put an end to the tedious, although highly entertaining, process of ” Dapprentice”.

For her 5 (and a half and 3/4) years, she is VERY accomplished.  I will outline just a few of the qualities she possesses which make her an obvious addition to your team.

She would certainly impress you, Her-of-the-fablis-straight-face-and-shiny-hair and Him-of-the-bald-head-and-eloquent-speaking.

In fact, I do believe that she could be your Mentor if I’m honest:

■ She is highly intelligent. Beyond her years really.

■ She is ruthless and assertive.

■ Her communication skills are superb. She speaks English, Irish and French  (Buideal means “Hi” no?). She also speaks Mini-Me which even YOU can’t speak.)

■ She is loud and can be obnoxious if the situation requires her to be so.

■ She will manipulate the knickers off an elephant.

■ If she doesn’t get her way, she will revert to tears if necessary.

■ She is loud.  She WILL be heard. There will be NO ONE in the boardroom who will be louder than her.

■ She is hugely adept at the talking AT the handset as opposed to INTO the phone like a normal, non-dapprentice person does.

■ She can change Best Friends at the drop of a hat, so really, you could fire ANYONE and she wouldn’t care.

■ She will blame EVERYBODY else in the room, even if the project has failed SOLELY because of her.

■ She believes in herself and her abilities 100%. (And so she should. She’s awesome.)

■ She can stare wistfully out a car window, seemingly ignoring everyone, but listening to EVERY SINGLE WORD and storing it as evidence for the boardroom.

■ The doll who thinks she has the “energy of an atomic bomb” would look like a fart in the wind beside Mini-Me.

■ Her negotiation skills are world class.

■ She is SUPERB at listening to instruction from her Team leader, before COMPLETELY IGNORING said instruction and doing her own thing. I call this INITIATIVE. Others would call it insolence…

■She is not beyond Blackmail or Bribery.

Mini-Me is determined and diligent.  In fact, she can be like a dog with a fricken bone if she decides she wants something.

Feel free to contact her references:

Granny of the Hill, Granny of the Liffer, Santa Claus.

(No point in asking me or her Daddy. Even SHE doesn’t listen to us.)

Good luck in your search, but honestly you won’t find a more suitable candidate than the aforementioned.
Kind regards,

The S-Mum
Secretary and PA to Mini-of-the-Me and Princess-of-the-world 😗

I am Slight Change of Plans Mum

Mammy is rather chuffed to see Friday evening.

Mammy doos LOVE Friday evenings.

I tried to be a very good Mammy this evening, ignoring Jim in favour of lifting my girls early, with plans to do some festively frolicky arts and crafts with a lovely Christmas-Card-making-set that I procured in the Aldi-everything last week, to drink hot chocolate and have a Hallmark worthy Mary-of-the-poppins type evening, where they’d play happily while Mammy magically transformed the vegetables in the fridge into wholesome homemade soup for my minions.

How mammiful of me, eh?

In reality, I had an extra hour of them screaming “NO WAY”, “She HUT meeeee!” and “STOP iiiiiit!” at each other and at me, while I delivered a Freezer Friday Special of oven baked cardboard for them to smear all over the floors. Then we watched 65 Cartoons, Princess fell asleep standing up 👇👇👇and we had a generally riotous bedtime chaos…

I didn’t shout as much as usual however and both have gone to bed reasonably content 💞and (finally) temperature free… (Is it bad that I now get more upset if we run out of Cal-of-the-pol, than I do if the graperack runs out? 😂😂)

The arts and crafts stuff remains in the car. It’ll probably still be there on January 1st as I’ll have given in to the cheap, cheerful and mess-free joy that is 30 cards for a penny in the pound shops! 😆😣😅

I HAD indulged in my usual Thursday night Domestic Goddess cleaning splurge last night, in the hope of doing feck all tonight. Right now, it looks like a creche puked its contents onto my living room floor.

There is however a shiny new grape glass from TK-Maxyourcard sitting beside the bottle of grapejuice that needs a snog…

How was your Friday Ladybelle?
Hit me with a gif to sum it up! 😚😚😚

I am Saving the Day Mum

Mini-Me began to BAWL on the way home this evening.

“What’s the matter Darling?”

“I have vewy bad nooooos Mammy”

“Oh no? What happened?”
(Sobbing…)

“Michael Jackson has DIED!”


(WAAAAAAILS for at least 2 minutes, thankfully so grief-stricken that she doesn’t realise I am in fits of laughter in the front seat. In fairness, with my shoulders dancing as they are, she possibly thinks I am sharing in her devestation.)

What should I say? How do I deal with her grief? When did she begin caring about Michael Jackson?

What does a sensitive, open and emotionally supportive Mammy say to their child in such a situation?

“Cheesy pasta for tea?”

“Oooooh yes please!”

#mammywin #sorted