I am She goes, He Goes Mum

  “OH DU TOILETTE…”

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The Throne…

Becoming a Mum brings with it many wonderful and exciting changes for parents. The “books” will tell you how new babies will test even the strongest relationship.  They do not tell you that one of the biggest bones of contention between parents is the process of the poo.
Let me explain…

(Read alá David of the Attenborough on a wildlife show…)
The female of the species becomes quickly skilled at excretion. After childbirth, despite possible  complications and difficulties with the bladder, she will quickly evolve into a bladder controlling machine. Caring for her young is always a priority. Even with a full bladder, the female can retain control under duress and highly stressful conditions, often balancing her offspring on her abdominal area. She is strong however, and will wait for the perfect moment to pounce on the elusive porcelain.  When the opportunity presents itself, the Mama will swiftly and skillfully do what she needs to do.
The female can relieve a full bladder in 8.5 seconds and it has been said that faecal excretion can take only 5 seconds. (Evidence of this has not yet been acquired as the female is so skilled and speedy that scientific equipment is not fast enough to measure the act.)  The female performs the essential and necessary act of excretion faster than any other species, and often with up to 4 of her young hovering around, or indeed ON, her.  Cleanliness is swift and onehanded in many cases. Other species have yet to evolve at the speed of the human Mammy.

The male of the species is entirely different.
The male is special. He makes quite the production of the animal act of excretion. The bathroom must be empty of all young. The atmosphere should be peaceful and relaxed in order for the full joy and relaxation of the event. Full concentration is required.  Men have evolved to require the help of a handheld device for the excretion process. Tablets are acceptable but the clever male prefers the mobile phone, as it can be sneaked into the room, past the female, more easily.  The male may require anything up to 45 minutes for the process.
It is very difficult and he ensures that the importance of and difficulty of his excretion is heard by his female if she dares to question the length of time he has been in his throne room. “I’m IN THE F$#€** Toilet” may he roared in a manly way, by the manly man, during his manly process, if he perceives disapproval or tutting from the female outside the door.  The delicate procedure is prolonged and made easier for the male by perusal of Bookface or Instagranny for the duration. This device aids in the relaxation required for the faeces to remove itself from the manly male posterier.

Sometimes, for reasons as yet unknown to scientists, the male will remain on the porcelain seat for much time after the act of relieving himself. It has been suggested that this is an avoidance of the reality of the children who are not allowed to bother him while in the special pooping room. This is not yet proven, but breakthroughs are expected in the near future as female scientists are working on remote controls to switch off the prolonging devices. Other exciting developments are self flushing timed toilets, although there are fears that such a device might be mistaken for self cleaning.)
The male reappears into the homestead calm and relaxed, thoroughly relieved and oblivious to how long he has been in the bathroom. The bathroom and the rest of the world have different time rules when the male excretes… what he feels to be 5 minutes, is often 37 minutes by the female’s observant and obsessive count…

The male excretion ends with a ceremonial greeting by the female which can be high-pitched and erratic.

This process remains as such until the female completely loses her mind and screams so much that the children become afraid to interrupt her, or they finally reach the age where watching Mammy poo is no longer interesting or exciting…

The Male checks his phone and wonders what all the fuss is about.
#takeashitalready #soblessed #peeinprivate

I am She’s Deadly Mum

Oh it’s been a deadly week.

Or even Deathly…☹☹☹
☹Monday:☹
“Mammy why do people die?”

 (Fuckitty fuck…)

“Erm, they just do Darling.” (Yes… Even as I say it, I know THAT is not an answer and I need to follow it with something else.)  “Sometimes people’s bodies stop working and they die Darling.” 

(Not bad for off the top of my head as I navigate merging in the town’s spaghetti lanes of the one-way system that was possibly designed by a party of drunk monkeys.)

“But why? Why does they die?”

(Fuckitty fuckitty fuck…)

“Because that’s how it is pet.  Sometimes people get old or sick or something happens so they go to sleep for a very long time.”

(Silence.)

“And where do they go?”

(Christ on a stick. I’m so not ready for this. Note to self, find out who has been talking to her about dying.)

“Erm, they leave here and go to Heaven and then they can help look after us.”

“Awwwwwwwwwww yeah yeah yeah. Like Granda Pops?”

“Yes Darling.” (I love that she remembers my Pops.💙💙💙)

“Aaaaaawwwwww yeah,  and like The Dinosaurs? They disappeared too you know?”

(Well that sentiment was nice while it lasted I suppose.😂)

“Do you wanna listen to Frozen?”

“YAAAAAAAAAAY…LET IT GOOOOOOO!” 

Phew.
☹Tuesday:☹
“What happens when EVERYONE in da whole world DIES?”

“That won’t happen Honey.”

“How do YOU know?” (It’s started already. My word is no longer gospel.)

“Because people will always grow up and have babies and then those babies will grow up and have more  babies.” (Unless Children of Men happens, in which case, we’re fooked.😂)

But why come the dinosaurs stopped having babies and all went to Heaven? What if dat happens us? ” 

(Feck you Andy of the Adventuuuuuuures.)

“It won’t Sweetheart. Will we listen to Frozen?”

“Yaaaaaay!”

Etc…
☹Wednesday:☹
“Gwanny are you old?”

“Well I suppose I’m a BIT old.”

“Dat means it’s nearly your turn to DIE YOU KNOW.”

Poor Gwanny. 😅😅😅
☹Thursday:☹
Silence between school gate and car.

Sad face, shaky lower lip and one single tear.

“What’s up Darling?”

“Hemenahemena’s cousin died?”

(Oh fuckitty fuck fuck.  One of the kids must have had a death in the family…)

“Who’s cousin pet?”

Sobbing now…

“PRINCESS POPPY’S COUSIN!  Branch is DIED.”

(Oh you have GOT to be shitting me…)

“Branch from Trolls? How did he die? Sure he’s still in the movie, perfectly safe…”

“No. He got knocked down outside dacimena (the cinema) last night and he dieded!”

(FML)

“Ah pet. It’s ok.” I let her cry for a few minutes and then put on Frozen which eventually distracted her.

Then we got home and she opened her schoolbag and produces this. 👇👇👇👇

The image apparently includes:

🤐 Princess Poppy

🤐 Branch lying dead outside Dacimena☹

🤐 A scrapbook which Poppy is not allowed to scrap in anymore because Branch is dead (note the x through it.)

🤐 a sad face with tears falling out (see close-up) 😂

🤐 a broken heart… literally… a heart with a crack on it.

I’m not sure whether I should be impressed or disturbed.  
☹☹☹Today’s obituaries:☹☹☹

“The death has taken place as the result of an accident outside the Dacimena of Mr Branch Troll. He is survived by Princess Fuckin Poppy Troll and a gang of big grumpy Berkins.  Removal from Dreamworks-in-the-tellybox, to repose in the imagination of Miss Mini-Me, with the fricken dinosaurs. Wake is private please as theres no actual fecking way to visit the remains of an imaginary dead troll os there? And internment will take place at some random point in the future when she remembers that hims dieded or when she decides to become obsessed by a different movie. No flowers please.  Donations in lieu to Mammy’s grapejuice fund.”

Pour.🍷

Now. 

😂😂😂😂😂

I am Some New Year’s Resolutions Mum

​My lazy self has decided that ACTUALLY, I probably should make a few New Year’s resolutions after all.  I’m feeling a bit left out on Social Media today as everyone posts their resolves and memes about the new year and blank canvasses and new beginnings.

ANd then I remembered writing some resolutions at the end of 2016, and I found the post.

Turns out, they are EXACTLY the same as what I want to write today.  Does this mean that I didn’t achieve my goals in 2017?  NO.  I kept everyone alove and well and kept my general sh*t between the ditches, didn’t I?  No.  It simply reminds me that parenting is a constant process and that being the perfect parent is elusive.

And so I begin 2018 with similar thoughts.

1. I must stop scolding Mini-Me. It doesn’t feckin work anyway. I’m wasting my energy.

2. I will be calm and zenned at all times… (mostly after 8pm when the Minions are snoring and I have a glass of something soothing in my hand.)

3. I will learn a new language.  Something foreign and exotic and sexy…Yeah. Actually, No.  My arse.  I have enough bother getting coherent sentences to come out of my mouth in English, and now that I’m having to say the sound “BUH” instead of fucking “BEEE” for the letter b, I’m already technically learning one anyway.  My brain would combust with any more pressure. (Seriously, how the hell are the kids going to spell their namesnin the future! “Muh-iiiih-naaaa-iiiii-muuuuu-eeeeee”  That shit bothers me.)

4. I will get rid of the 18.4 stone I’ve eaten and supped over Christmas…(starting next Monday.  There’s 6 more days until the New Year technically begins.) #operationskinnyarse

5. I will never raise my voice to my child.  (I shall lean in and whisper. It’s much more effective. Bookface taught me that one. It’s good isn’t it.)

6. I shall have a clean house at all times.  (At least once a year, for at least 3 days.The rest of the time? Yeah right! If I can keep them all generally alive, fed and clothed in public, I say I’m winning.)

7. I shall never blackmail or bribe my children. That would be terrible. Such techniques are only employed by bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch mamma…( Maybe I should change this to I will try to stop being a bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch Mamma? Might be a better starting point than giving up blackmail. Can’t go cold turkey like…)

8. I shall travel more and make more time for me.   (I shall take the long way home once a week, AND I’ll listen to the RADIO instead of the fecking FROZEN soundtrack when I’m in the car on my own.  Now THAT is Mam-ME time guys! )

9. I shall stop having imaginary arguments with people while I am in the shower or the car.  It’s not healthy, especially when you turn around, mid-rant covered in lather and Mini-Me is standing staring at you and asks “Who are you talking to Mammy?” or interrupts your rant with “LANGUAGE!” in that condescending, disapproving tone of hers from the back seat, causing you to almost crash the frickin car with fright.  Maybe this is just me? Anyone else?

10. I shall stop drinking grapejuice … gin is not as calorific apparently. And Slimline tonic is basically just water isn’t it?

11. I shall stop swearing.

12. I shall stop lying and accept myself as the deluded, delusional talker of general shite that I am.

I could keep going. But in reality, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing next year.  I might be doing stuff wrong, but I’m also doing stuff right and that’s all that matters.

What are your resolutions for 2018?

 

Wishing you a magical Christmas (1)

Happy New Year!

I am She’s way too clever Mum

​”Mammy is my tongue black?”
Somewhere along the last few days, someone has imparted this gem of information to my Minion.

And while this crap might have worked on US as kids, the minions have evolved. 

They are FAR beyond old wives’ tales or legends. 
Gone are the days of believing EVERYTHING you’re told, and being too terrified that there might be a LITTLE bit of truth in it, to even ATTEMPT whatever crime you’d been told would turn your tongue black, or freeze your face or make your nose fall off.
No.

Nowadays, children are WAAAAAY too clever.

Or maybe the word I’m looking for is “manipulative”?
Mini-Me was rambling about her day in the back of the car.

I had listened for the first 6 minutes and then successfully responded appropriately enough in the correct pauses for her to think I was listening for another 5.
Then she announced “and we went to the match with Michael Murphy and I won you know?”

(Obviously it was the excitement of her tone and my FABLIS Mammying skills that brought my attention back to where it should have been… NOTHING to do with the mention of Thor. 😂)
“Did you REEEEEALLY?” I asked laughing.

“Yup! And then we got back on the bus and came to school so you could collect me. I’m not lying Mammy honest.”

“Mmmmmmhmmmmmmmmmm!”

” Sewiously Mammy! Look! Is my tongue black?”
We were stopped at a traffic light by now, so I turned around to see her sticking her tongue out as far as she could.
“Why are you asking that?”

“Ith my tongue bwach Mammy?” ( tongue still out!)

“No. It’s not black Darling.”

“See!” (Smug little toot.) “My tongue isn’t bwack so I AAAAM telling the twoof.”
I continue driving, and she continues rambling about playing football wif Michael-of-the-Murphy.
And I laugh to myself.
Because, while I remember being TERRIFIED that my tongue would ACTUALLY turn black, or that an apple tree would ACTUALLY grow in my tummy if I swallowed the pips, MINI-ME is able to TWIST the old fable to use as substantiation and verification of her “Twoofs”.
I may give up now Lads.

She’s not even 5 and she’s two steps ahead of me.

And I may look forward to her graduation from Law school, because I have a feeling she is going to make a damn fine legal type.
So what were the stories (threats) you were afraid of as a kiddy? 

I am Sir Alan Sugar Mum

​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 4.5 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 board room 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 Board Room.

■ 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 Lifford, 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.