Tag Archives: irish mammy

I am Smiling at my Award Mum

Posted in Lifestyle, Uncategorized by

It’s been a bit of a whirlwind for Mammy this week.  Blog

Friday was amazing and I am over the moon that my wee blog won the Boots Maternity & Infant Best Parenting Blog, thanks to my incredabubble readers.

I  was GOBSMACKED considering the level of legendaryness of my fellow finalists and honestly didn”t see it coming.

But it did and I am soooooooooo bloodywell PROUD of myself.  (This is apparently not encouraged in modern society, but I say feck to that.  I work hard and I’m genuinely chuffed that I won, so why pretend otherwise?)

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With my fellow finalists…the nicest bunch of Bloggers ever x

The event itself was held in the Royal Marine Hotel in Dun Laoghaire and were hosted by the very lovely Maura Derane and Brian Dowling.

(Did Mammy get completely starstuck and gush into Brian’s poor ear how much I luuuuuurve his Instagranny? Erm…maybe, but the less said about that particular moment of gobshitery, the better.)

Mammy won!
Cheshire cat anyone?
With the Babe that is Brian Dowling

I was surrounded by the cream of the crop of Irish Parenting Bloggers.  The genuine support and well wishes at that table was electrical.  Congratulations too to the gorgeous Popcorn for Lunch who won the Silver award, and to One Yummy Mummy who took the Bronze.

The meal was fab, the ceremony thoroughly enjoyable and the company was amazing. Some of the stories and awards were incredibly emotional and all were so well deserved.  Special shout out to my pal Sharon’s beautiful daughter Sophie, who won Sibling of the Year.  What a beautiful little Lady she is. Check out Sharon’s blog on Our Wheely Big Journey.

It really was a wonderful day and taking home the title was the icing and cherry and sprinkles and marshmallows on the cake.

Mammy won!

The celebrations are on hold however, as with all Mammies, the inevitable happens when you think you’ve got your shit together; the day was topped and tailed by a sick baba and a sick Him. (genuinely unwell…not manflu. Poor Him.)

My floating was brief and I have been popped straight out of my bubble and back to earth with a bang.  But like Cinderella, I had my few minutes. And they were wonderful.

And so the celebrations are confined to me smiling maniacally to myself as I pass my award in the kitchen.  But c’est la vie!

I blog for a few reasons; I like to write. I love to make people laugh. I like to make people think.  I love to make the Mums (and Dads) who read my posts feel normal, like they are not alone in the madness of the business of child rearing.

But mostly, I like to smash the Instamum BS that we’re all #livingourbestlives #makingmemories and #alwayssmiling ,that social media sells us.

It’s not all perfect.

We’re not all perfect.

There is no such thing…

As long as your kids are loved and fed and cared for, you’re doing just fine Mum.

It can’t be perfect all the time, neither can you. But remember that usually, the flaws you see in yourself, are only seen by you.

To your kids, YOU are their Perfect Mum.

And I am the perfect Mum for MY kids…even if you don’t agree with how I do things.

Thank you again for all of your support Mammies. Keep up with my S-Mumblings on Instagranny, Bookface and of course, here, on my (award winning) blog!  (Yeah yeah I know… but feck it, I’m proud!)

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I am So I’m a Career Mum (again)

Posted in blog, children, family, parenting, Uncategorized by

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

I am She’s on the phone Mum

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​”I’m just on da phone Mammy”

“OK Darling.”
I carried on cooking dinner, laughing to myself as she chittered and chattered away on the phone.  She rang her old preschool teacher and had a very convincing one way conversation that went like this…
“Hi Macewa. S’me.  Hi. Yeah. Scuse me Macewa, it’s me here.  I need to speak to Danyel. No not my sister Danyel, ypir kid Danyel.  Yeah..yeah.. no…no.”  Pausing at the proper times and everything.
It was about 100 on the adorascale.
Then, a few minutes later, she announced,

“Scuse me Mammy. I’m just talking to Gwanny Mum, can you pweeeeease be quiet?”

“Ok pet.  You chat to Granny.”
I battered on in the kitchen.  She was sitting on the window sill on the other side of the room having another conversation with Granny apparently.
“You see we took down the Halloween Decorations cos it’s Christmas and now we have to get ready for Santa and I didn’t get to see da fireworks but I did go Twickatweeting and can I come to your house for a sweepover later? Oh Ok Gwanny.  See ya! Byebyebyebyebyebye”
“You finished talking to Granny?” 

“Yup!” And off she went on her next imaginary adventure.
“Wee dote” thinks S-Mum to herself, wondering where on Earth she EVER got the Byebyebyebyebyebye. 😂
Fast forward a few hours.

“Gwanny” calls.
We chat about the funeral she’d been at.  We talk about Princess’s nasty cold.  We talk about going wallpaper shopping on Friday.  She says she’ll call for a cuppa later. 

Pretty normal.
And then she asks “Did Mini-Me hang up properly that time?”
Sorry WHAT NOW?😲😲😲
“What you mean Mum?”

“After she called me earlier? Did she hang up afterwards?”
Hole…eeeeeeee shit.  😲😲😲
The little rascal had apparently called Gwanny after all, and had a full conversation with her. 

When Granny asked her if Mummy knew that she was on the phone, her answer was “I’m just talking to Gwanny Mum, can you pweeeeease be quiet?”

And of course, Gwanny heard me answer “Ok darling. You chat to Granny” so obviously assumed that I’d dialed her number for her to have a wee chat.
Oh how Mummy laughed.  

And Oh how Granny laughed.

And THEN, Mummy started to replay the conversation and the PANIC of “JEEEEESUS what were we saying?” set in! Thankfully, all poor Gwanny heard was my bad singing as I cooked.
But I’ll tell ya.

The phone shall be locked from now on, or at least when she’s “playing” with it, we’ll be checking if she’s ACTUALLY playing.
Couldn’t watch her! 😂😂😂