Festive Tea at Harvey’s Point

Last Saturday, I was invited to join a handful of Donegal Bloggers at the official launch of the Festive Afternoon Tea at Harvey’s Point.

donegal bloggers

It is available there from Saturday 1st of December, right through to January 6th and Oh My WORD guys, it is beautiful.

We were met with a Prosecco reception by an open fire.  From the first moment, the staff were friendly and attentive.  We then met the formidable lady behind this incredible gem, Deirdre McGlone,  whose passion for the hotel is infectious.   She is a lady and the love story which brought her to Harvey’s is deserving of its own book.  (Let me know if you’d like it written Deirdre!)

Carina and Sheila gave us an informative and fun history of the hotel, before taking us on a tour of it.

Ladies.  The Him and I have been lucky to stay in some of the loveliest and most celebrated hotels, both at home, and abroad. We do like our luxury every so often. We’ve done most of the 4 & 5 star “must sees” of London and paid the extra for some luxury in NYC.  But nowhere, have I seen the spacious luxury of Harvey’s Point.  Even the corridors are huge.

And the rooms? We saw both the basic suite and the Premium…each of which are approximately the same size as the downstairs of most houses.  They are beautiful. Massive mahogany framed beds and plush carpets, with the most spectacular bathrooms.

I can see myself sipping bubbles in one of the giant bathtubs very very soon. (And there are robes, which if you know me, you’ll know how important that is!)

The Festive Tea was then served to us in the main dining room.  The table was beautifully laid out and injected the first little flourish of Christmas Spirit into us.  We were greeted by the waiters who were looking after us, our napkins were flourished individually onto our knees (I love things like this!) and then they brought us our mulled wine.

It was divine; not too sweet and very mild. Then we had little cups of soup, before the main tea displays were carried to us.  I’ve never seen such a beautiful bundle of happiness inducing delights.  Sandwiches; egg and watercress and turkey, stuffing and cranberry – and I’m not talking a finger of one sandwich each.  Scones with clotted cream and fresh jam, Christmas pudding, Mince pies, Santa mousse bites, little cupcakes, smoked salmon bites, duck paté… Each bite nicer than the last.

Tea or coffee was topped up frequently.  The coffee was superb, unlike most hotel coffees which leave me longing for an Americano on the way home. This was smooth and perfectly roasted.

As bloggers most of us know the others from our online presence.  Some of us had met briefly at different events or launches, but had never really had the chance to speak properly.  I being of the geriatric blogger/Mammy variety, who invariably has to rush off from everything to collect kids, was delighted to meet and actually have time to sit and chat with these ladies.  It was a wonderfully unexpected perk to the day. The ladies were lovely; all ages, all styles of creator and yet all genuinely delighted to get to share a lovely afternoon tea.

The tea is €26 per person (€36 with Bubbles) but as Afternoon Teas go, I have never experienced one as beautiful as this.  The most impressive thing for me was the amount of food and the array of flavours; from sweet to savoury, but all delicious.

Carina and Sheila really did look after us and every member of staff that we met, seemed genuinely happy to be there.  Harvey’s Point might be constantly expanding and growing, but I can predict that the ideas of family and home which formed the hotel in the first place, will never be far from its heart.

Now, off I go to pencil in a Roseymantic Mammy and Daddy time with my Him.  I’m sure I have a weekend free in 2019.

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Mammy was an invited guest to tea in Harvey’s Point.  As always, my review is honest and my own.  I was under no obligation to post or write about the event or the hotel.  My views as my own. 

Mammy needs your help Lovelies!

Ok Ladybelles.

It’s that time of year again when I ask you all to help me out.

The S-Mum Blog is in the running for “Maternity and Infant’s Best Parenting Blog Award” again this year.

Last year I made it (thanks to you lot) to the TOP TEN and I got to meet some of the loveliest people ever. 😍

With last year’s finalists in Dublin

 

And so I ask that if you like my blog and my posts and the general nonsense that I spout; if I make you laugh, or sob a little, or just feel a bit normal; please please please take two seconds to hit the link and throw me a wee vote.

You can VOTE HERE. (No registration or nonsense required!)

If you don’t like it, then I wonder why you’ve read this far, and I’ll still ask you to vote. Sure why not? 😋

The competition is FIERCE this year, but I know that my lovely readers will help me out. 😍

It’d be great to get a wee Donegal Mammy to the final again! You’re an incredible bunch and I do appreciate every like and heart and comment, so I truly would love you all even more if you could give me a click. 😋

You can do it here… http://bit.ly/VoteforMammy

And if you might be happy to share this for me, I’ll love you forever.

Thanks gals,
Mammy x

I am So, I’m in the Irish Examiner today Mum

Thank you so much to the lovely Denise O’Donoghue from The Irish Examiner for putting together this feature on me.  What a lovely way to start my week.
 Click the link to visit Irishexaminer.com
http://www.irishexaminer.com/lifestyle/features/online-lives-the-s-mum-blogger-maria-rushe-460113.html
ONLINE LIVES   –   THE IRISH EXAMINER

Teacher Maria Rushe has been blogging as The S-Mum for almost three years about her life with her husband, Emmet, and their two daughters.

“I write about the realities of being a parent,” she said. “I try my best to dispel the false perfections and perceived ideals that are portrayed online. As mammies, we all do what is best for our own kids and what another mum thinks about your style of parenting is quite frankly, not your problem.

“I don’t hold back. I sometimes swear. I post and blog about the highs and the lows and I like to make people laugh.”

Maria describes blogging as “therapy” and she loves connecting with like-minded people.

“I enjoy the interaction on my Facebook page. My favourite thing ever is when I read a message or comment from another S-Mum saying how I’ve ‘read her mind’ or how she ‘could have written this’. To know that your words can have a positive impact is such a treat. And realising that I’m not the only one who feels like I’m about to lose my marbles helps too!”

The mum-of-two is cautious of social media but embraced blogging to better understand the students when she teaches English.

“Social media is our ‘Terrible Beauty’; it’s wonderful but so dangerous. I enjoy the communication and new people it brings to me, but I find it difficult to keep up with it all.

“Blogging helps me in my job as being submerged in Social Media definitely helps me to understand the world of my students. I try to teach them how to read it; how to recognise it as a genre, rather than a reality.”

Maria found remaining anonymous challenging and sometimes struggles with trolls online.

“At the beginning, I tried to remain anonymous. After a few months, that became difficult. I grew more confident in my writing and the response was encouraging.

“I do use my poetic licence sometimes. I have to inject a little bit of fiction into the S-Mum to prevent it from being too intrusive to our lives. I chose what to share. I chose what not to share.

“Your first hater or troll is a challenge too. I don’t take them on. I ban and block. End of.”

She says the support she received from fellow parent bloggers has been encouraging.

“I have found them to be such a supportive and honest bunch. It’s refreshing talking with like-minded people and it’s intriguing how many different avenues people take their blogs.

#irishexaminer #onlinelives #thesmum

 

I am She’s Punishing Me Mum

Smile and Nod.
Mammy must smile and nod…
Mammy is very good at the smiling and the nodding. 😆😶

“She’s the best girl. There’s not a bother with her.” 💕

Every day I hear this. And the lovely Ladybelles who say it, mean it 100%.❤
And I smile and I nod and I agree, but as I do, my inner Mammy voice is laughing.
She is laughing hard.
So very hard.

On the outside, I Smile and Nod…
What I’m THINKING however, is “Let me tell you, as a Mammy with previous experience of a “Street Angel, House Devil”, that while she is indeed being ‘the Best Girl’ and giving you ‘Not a bother’ here all day, she is simply saving all of her energy for the Wilderbeastial Demonic Darling that she will morph into when I get her into the car.” 😈

It begins with her luring Mammy into a false sense of security with her displays of excitement as she runs into my arms when I arrive to collect her. Cue “Ooooooohs” and “Aaaaaaaahs” from all with ovaries in the room. She hugs and kisses and answers “Uhhuuuuu” in her adorable little husky voice as I carry her little Koala Bear Butt 🐨to the car. I breathe her in and sniff her sticky hair and coo at her, knowing full well that I may enjoy it while it lasts. 😂

Once in the car (maybe even before I get her strapped in if she’s feeling particularly thick with Mammy), her demeanour changes. Sometimes, it’s gradual, building up as we approach home, revving up with every gear change. Sometimes it’s instantaneous, spontaneous combustion because I’ve looked at her wrong, or asked her a question, or you know, breathed.

It escalates with a simple “No”.
Not just an utterance of negativity or disagreement. A proper, teenage “NO”, complete with attitude and challenge. When the “NO” is accompanied by the furrow of the brows, we know we are entering the beginning of the tantrum. 😣

By the time we reach home, my excitement at the thought of an evening at home with my Baby has been replaced by a devastation of the reality that ONCE AGAIN, I have NO control over the moods of my minion. Any notions I had of a picture perfect evening of #Mammywins have been left at the creche. And once again I remember, that I have NO idea what the hell I am doing.
I am winging this Mammy craic, 100fricken%. I’m scrambling my brain for tricks and clever Mammyisms that might avert the direction of the storm that is brewing in the back seat.

I throw promises around like a Politician before an Election.
“We’re going to have pizza for tea!”
“NO!”
“Will we play jigsaws when we get home?”
“NO!”
“I can’t wait to get snuggles when we get home!”
“NO!”
and eventually (yes always) “Will we watch Peppa?”
(Hold breath…)

Princess “YEEEEEEAH!”
Mini-Me “Aw Maaaaaaaaaammy, not again!” (insert eye roll here)
Me “FML” (Probably under my breath. Maybe… Maybe SLIGHTLY audible. Bad Mammy.)😐😂

Parenting experts and friends with kids have explained to me many times in the past, that such behaviour is normal and that the child acting in such a manner is a “compliment” because she feels that she can finally release her frustrations and confusion at the world, in the arms of her favourite person. That I am her safe place and that it all means that she loves me.😶

SOME days, I buy this. Other days, I prefer to see it that she is a little wagon who actually HATES me and is determined to PUNISH her evil Mammy for abandoning her cute, bad-tempered little fudgeybutt to go to work. She sees me coming, smells the Mammy-guilt off me. After her initial “Oh there’s my Mammy” excitement, her mind goes straight to “Hang on a second. WHERE do you think YOU were all day Woman? Did you DARE to drink warm coffee and have adult conversations? Do you not know that YOU ARE MY SLAVE?” 😐

She has to fit 8 hours of reminding Mammy who is the BOSS, into a very short evening. And she must make sure that Mammy PAYS for leaving her at the Fablis and fun-filled creche, where she spends her days being loved and played with and fed and stimulated without the tellybox, and where she is the “best girl” and gives them all “not a bother”. She nevers bites or screams NOoooooooooooooo or kicks or throws custard or cries or scratches the lovely girls.

No,
She saves that for Mammy Bear.
Because she loves me and I am special.
And apparently because I am her safe place. 😍😆

Right now, she is playing with sudocrem…but she’s no longer screeching at me, so we’ll roll with it.

Smiles and nods. 😙

#fml
#mammyguilt
#yessheistheboss

I am So I’m a Career Mum (again)

Rejoice! Rejoice!

It is Friyay…the FIRST Friyay after a FULL week of school and work and routine. And we have all survived. (albeit just about, but survived we have.😂)
We may be frazzled and fooked Mammies, but still we must find the energy to REJOICE in the Fact that we have made it to the MOST wonderful evening of the week. 😆

This week, after two years of maternity leave, unpaid leave and jobsharing, I have finally dipped my toe back into the world of being a Full-time Mammy with a full-time Job. What have I learned? Nothing. But I have remembered MANY things; Things that I had battered down, suffocated and locked in a tattered old box at the back of the memory part of my subconscious, but which now bounce back to the forefront of my ridiculously tired little mind. 😐

Tired Children:

Tired children are cranky.
Tired children like to find a reason, ANY reason, to cry.
Tired children do not KNOW that they are tired.
Tired children refuse to admit that they are tired.😥
Tired children will bite one another.😠
Tired children do not like to go to their beds, regardless of how tired they are.
Tired children like to wake up at 2am and play with their toys, with the light on, noisily enough to waken everyone so that they have someone to tell that they are NOT tired.
Tired children do NOT like to get dressed in the morning.
Tired children do NOT like it when you bounce into their bedrooms at 7am singing “Good Morning, Good Moooooooorning!, opening curtains and declaring that it is time for school. (Especially the not tired children who have been up half the night playing with their fecking toys.😈)
Tired children like to say “No” and “No” and sometimes, “Noooooo!” to absolutely EVERYTHING that Tired Mammy asks or suggests.

And along with tired children, comes the Tired Mammy. But as well as being a tired Mammy, Mammy ALSO has to be SUPER-ORGANISED Mammy.
Mammy needs to keep on top of the fridge situation.
Mammy needs to pack lunchboxes and school bags and afterschool bags.
Mammy needs to remember the fecking HORROR that is HOMEWORK.
Mammy needs to think about dinners sooner than when she opens the fridge at 6pm.
Mammy needs to set her alarm to make sure she gets out of bed 30 minutes before everyone else if Mammy wants to pee, shower and have a coffee all by herself.
Mammy needs to be an intelligent and functioning adult.
Mammy needs to rid her brain of references to Peppa Pig and Andy and Bing because they are not relevant to Macbeth and teenagers do NOT respond well to them.
Mammy needs to try to keep the washing basket from puking and Mammy needs to arrange everyone’s clothes before bedtime.
Mammy needs to remain relatively Wifely and interesting enough to hold a brief conversation with Tired Daddy when he comes home from Jim.
And Mammy needs to get used to wearing stupid heels and muckup every single day. (I’ll last until the end of September…)
Mammy needs to cram all of the Mammying and playing and cuddling and scolding and fun into 3 hours in the evening, while being JUST as tired as her beloved Tired Children who are determined to PUNISH her tired ass for abandoning them in school and creche. (Even though they both LOVE where they go and actually CRY when they are collected.)
Mammy can not have grapes or gin during the week… 😛😛
Mammy struggles with balancing the Mammy guilt when she’s away from the girlies, and the urge to sell them on ETSY when she’s spent an hour being screamed at and cried at by her Tired Minions.

Mammy can’t win.

In conclusion. Mammy does INDEED need to rejoice that she has made it to Friday night, has the tired minions in bed, her feet up and the grapes poured. 😂And now Mammy needs all of her Lovely Supermums to say Hello and remind her of what I have been missing while abandoning you all this week while trying to keep 286 plates spinning without falling off her heels and onto her poor, muck-uped, Mammy-guilty face.

Cheers Bitcheepoos. xxx