Tag Archives: life

I am Sobbing at Mamma Mia Mum

Posted in Lifestyle, reviews, Uncategorized by
Mammy is an emotional wreck this morning…
I’m talking a blubbering, snottering, breath-catching, eye-brimming slobberpot.
 
Why?
 
Because snippets of the final scenes of Mamma Mia 2 keep popping into my head. I can’t look at the feral ones without seeing their whole lives, and mine, flit in front of me. Never have I been so fecking aware of my own mortality…
 
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Am I being over dramatic?
 
Well of course, probably…maybe.
 
But I challenge you to find a more real and emotional and poignant and absolutely fucking HEARTBREAKINGLY BEAUTIFUL portrayal of Motherhood than the final 10 minutes of this fricken movie. If you can find it, let me know, so I NEVER put myself through it.
 
Now, the movie is great. A bit weird to begin and not quite as electric and magical as the first one if I’m honest. The choreography and dance scenes were a bit disappointing, but the acting and the sentiment and the one-liners are fablis. The “younger” characters are so well cast that I’m not sure it’s beyond plausible that they were grown from the DNA of the “older” cast in a lab somewhere… shockingly believable.
 
And of course the music is class.
 
But it’s the cheese and glitter and escapist nonsense that you expect and love. And you will thoroughly enjoy it.
 
And if the ending doesn’t make you:
a) broody,
b) Bawl like a toddler whose just been handed the wrong spoon,
c) question your own life and mortality and
d) want to choke your own Mammy with an eternal hug, then you are either emotionally fooktarded or you are already dead.
 
Because this would make concrete weep.
 
It’s incredible.
It’s like the Directorial team had “Let’s break them all! Even the tough bitches” as their only objective!
But seriously, it’s so well directed and so well acted and the final song is just STUNNING.
 
Yes, I shall go back to see it again.
 
Last night I cried like a baby.
This morning, my eyes are still leaking a little.
I can’t look at the girls without wanting to squeeze this little shitsters. I’ve been told to “Stop squashing meeeeee!” three times already…
 
The broodiness however lasted a whole 3.8 seconds and has thankfully passed! Close call. Don’t tell Him.
 
Have you seen it yet?
What did you think?

I am Sexy Cows Mum

Posted in Lifestyle by

My neighbours are cows. Fooking cows. 🐄🐂🐮

Last night they kept us awake from 4am with their shenanigans.

You see, having been separated for quite a while, the cows 🐄and the Bulls🐃 were reunited yesterday evening.

“Moooooh! New Bulls, New Bulls!” the cows mooed at each other on the arrival of the Boyos. 🐃🐃🐃🐃🐃🐃🐃

“Moooooooh! Udders! Udders everywhere lads. Quick! Chests up and strut!” roared Billy Big Balls and his buddies.🐮🐮🐮

The cows immediately began to measure up the biggest boyo, while the bulls, each certain of their own alpha-moo-ness, 🐃strutted around like feckin Paycocks, shouldering each other out of the way, showing off their Bullsiness and trying to make the other Bulls look less Bullsy. 🐂

The Cows flicked their hair, 🐮chewed their cuds seductively and plumped their udders, some standing aloof, pretending not to be affected by the arrival of the testosterone, but watching every member of their tribe of fake BFFs with suspicion and jealousy.

When the human neighbours went to bed, all of the competitors were well behaved and seemed to have settled in to their new surroundings. But somewhere in the field, under the romantic half light of the stars, they found Viagara or Red Bull, and possibly some Benweed, which they mixed to form a drink like Yaga-Bullmers🍷, leading to an early morning Moo-fest. 🐄🐃🐄🐃🐄🐃🐄

Some time around 3.30am, their sir-loins could take no more and they gave in to temptation…

And by the sounds of things, every bull had a go on every cow and then they had a fecking singsong to celebrate their rumps being pumped. 🐃🐄

This morning, all were calm and knackered, possibly hungover from the mayhem of their party.

Tonight, they’re ready for another session and are already shoulder pumping and stomping.

It’s like they’ve never seen a Moomber of the opposite sex before. And with the heat on, the bets-ies are off.

It’s like an episode of Love Fecking Island here. They’re just not quite as orange. 😂😘

Cows next door? Never a bull moment…

I am Saying Bravo and Walking into the Light Mum

Posted in Lifestyle, Uncategorized by

Why did Coronation Street’s storyline about Aidan’s suicide get such a reaction this week?

It’s not as if we don’t all know that young men are more likely to end their lives than women. In fact, “in men, suicide is more common in people who are 15-44 years of age, and particularly in men who are 15-24 years old. In women, suicide is more common between the ages of 45 and 74. Younger women between the ages of 15 and 24 are thought to have a low risk of suicide.” (HSE)

It’s not as if we don’t KNOW that suicide has been a huge issue for many many years.

It’s not as if we don’t know that depression can affect anyone.

So why was the interweb in uproar at the episodes?

On Twitter, there was a general consensus that the writers of Corrie were being “irresponsible” as they “Should have shown him asking for help.” Another asked, “Wouldn’t it be better if he got the help he needed and got better?”

These are only two of the comments that were directed at Corrie bosses. And while yes, these would certainly have had a more palatable result of saving Aidan and making us all blub a little less into our cuppas, they wouldn’t have been quite as effective in raising the biggest taboo surrounding mental health.

And that is, that the signs are NOT always obvious; that the sufferers are NOT always open about it and that there is NO way of predicting it.

Aidan has it all. He has a business, a family who loves him, rugged good looks and respect from his friends and neighbours. And yet, viewers saw him sitting in his local, among his family and closest friends, having just rekindled a possible relationship with the love of his life, staring into the distance in what I can only describe as one of the most breath-taking and harrowing moments I have ever watched on a soap.

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He is lost, lonely, drowning in a sea of people.

And not one person noticed.

Bravo to Corrie. Hats off to the writers for reminding us that we NEVER know what someone else is going through; for frightening us to consider for a second that maybe the strong men in our lives are struggling; for highlighting that suicide doesn’t come with symptoms. And congratulations to Shayne Ward for playing the part to perfection.

I got chills watching Monday night’s episode. Tonight’s broke my heart.

We’ve all been affected by it. For those of us left behind, the biggest questions are often “How did I not know?, “What did I not see?” “Why could I not have stopped it?” And what Coronation Street has done for us this week, is to remind us that sometimes, there is NO WAY we COULD know; no way we could see and no way we could have stopped it.

Suicide is a plague. And only by continuing to keep the conversations alive can we help to challenge it. We MUST talk about the things so long kept taboo. We MUST accept depression and all mental health issues as an active part of our society. We MUST teach our young people, that suicide does not have a face. It can lurk in the minds of anyone. And we must continue to call it out. To make conversations about the darkness normal. To make it real.

Coronation Street has restarted an important conversation. This weekend, all over the world, Pieta House are working towards keeping the conversation alive. On Saturday morning, I will join my family and friends and my community for Darkness into Light.

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On 12th of May, our light will spread across the world, in over 180 venues on 4 continents – DIL/PietaHouse

We shall walk into the light to raise money for the amazing work that they do. I shall remember my own losses, cry for the losses of those I didn’t know, nod at those whose grief never leaves and stand in solidarity with everyone who is fighting to keep the conversation alive.

Only by keeping the conversation alive, can we help to keep the light on for those in the Darkness.

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I am Shopping with Him Mum

Posted in Lifestyle, parenting, Uncategorized by

The weekly shop.

The middle aisle of shite…

When Mammy does the weekly shop, all ingredients and things required to fulfill the meal plan for the family for the week shall be acquired as economically and quickly as possible.

Mammy knows which shop sells what and where the best place to buy kidney beans is.

Mammy can walk into Aldi-Everything and fill the trolley without really having to think too much about it. We’re creatures of habit in our house see, the weekly menu doesn’t change much, and so even if I’m distracted, or in a hurry, or just knackered to the point of Mombie, Mammy automatically reaches for the usual and will always leave quite content that she can feed her minions for the next 5-7 days.

When DADDY goes into Aldi-everything however, while the shopping list will be acquired (mostly…how he misses the eggs everytime, I shall never know…), there is also a 100% chance that we might also acquire some new gadget or item which is completely unnecessary and altogether superfluous. Leaf blowers, power drills, strange shaped batteries, and paint… none of which taste good in a chilli con carne… have all be purchased alongside the nappies and bananas.

When I have the girls with me, I spend my time hissing things like “Put that watermelon down please”, “We don’t need wool and knitting needles” and “Would you come away from the sweets please.”

When we ALL go to do the shopping, which is rare in fairness, it is a fun experience for Mammy.

I get to say things like “Put that ski gear down please.” (We have NEVER been skiing and it is not something that is on the cards for us, like, ever.) “We don’t need a power washer” and “Would you come away from the countertop fridges please. We HAVE a fridge.”

In fairness, I don’t even see the middle aisle usually. I see the peppers and mushrooms and binbags. But for Himself, the joy of a tilecutter across from the breadsticks is utterly intriguing…and baffling.

It’s always fun seeing what he’ll bring home when he does the shopping however. And aren’t I lucky to have a Him who does help out a bit with the boring weekly tasks?

Now, does anyone have a recipe for Paint Stroganoff?

I am Stop with the Bunny Claus Mum

Posted in parenting, Uncategorized by

When did Easter become such a big deal?

Now, before I come across as a Negative Nelly here, let me clarify that I LIKE Easter.

I like it for lots of reasons. Mainly the fact that it is accompanied by holidays, better weather and chocolate. It’s also a great excuse to enjoy Easter dinners, visit family and to meet up with friends.  And it is the time of year where it’s finally acceptable and not weird to wear yellow. What’s not to like?

As kids, Easter meant the end of the drudgery of lent. It meant a lot of services and masses, but it was all topped off by the family occasions and meals and wearing of the good clothes.  It meant cousins visiting and mostly, it meant CHOCOLATE.  The first taste of chocolate melting on your tongue after having had it banned for 40 days, was AMAZING!

Now, Easter is as big an event as Christmas for many.  Houses are decorated. Holidays are planned. New outfits are worn. People go all out. And if you do, good for you. But I have ONE tiny, ickle, niggly little issue that quite honestly is grinding my springtime gears.

The Easter Bunny.

easterbunny2

Why? Because my daughter asked me last week:

“When do we write our letters to The Easter Bunny?”

“Sorry…whodeewhatnow?”

“Why would you be writing a letter to the Easter Bunny?”

“So he can bring me toys?”

“The Easter Bunny doesn’t bring toys.”

“He does.  Japonica says that he is bringing her Shopkins and a scooter.”

What the actual?

Unless it is Japonica’s birthday on Easter Sunday, why the heck she would be getting big gifts like this is beyond me.

The Easter Bunny used to be a symbol.  A thing associated with Easter.  Like the Easter Egg. Now apparently, The Easter Bunny is like the Santa Claus of Springtime. The Easter Bunny, now leaves presents for some kids apparently…the little fecker.

Why?  Because somemum (or Dad), somewhere, decided to treat their little Darling to something nice, which is their prerogative, but in their wisdom, left it as a treat “from the Easter Bunny.”

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Now, if  parents decide to buy things for their kids, for their own reasons, with their own money, in their own home, is their OWN business. Give them what you want, but let them know that they are from YOU… Not a magic bunny.

When you start something that your little one is obviously going to share at school (because let’s face it, presents are CLASS regardless of who leaves or brings them!), you might be causing a problem for others.

You are adding pressure to parents who already have enough to be dealing with. There are parents who don’t think their kids need any more gifts or toys 3 months after Santa has been. There are parents who depend on the 3 for 2 sales to buy Easter Eggs for their kids.  There are parents who depend on family members to buy the eggs.  There are parents who are still paying off Christmas.

easterclaus

Keep them apart please

Christmas is already difficult. It is already full of traditions that should you choose to follow, can be contentious and unfair.  We have already cultured our kids into expecting gifts on December 25th and we all know that the “How come Santa bought HIM a pony but only bought me a bike?” conversation will happen at some stage. But as a society, we have learned to deal with that. We are accustomed to it and we practice our excuses and explanations. And we have a full year to plan and save for it.

Why, oh WHY do we want to be doing it twice a year?

Stop it.

Make Easter whatever you want it to be. Go to mass.  Don’t.  Wear yellow. Don’t. Stay in your PJS. Don’t.  Go out for lunch. Don’t. Buy eggs. Don’t.  Paint eggs. Don’t.  Organize an egg hunt in your garden…or don’t.  Whatever you do, on your own home, good for you, but but for the love of St. Cadbury, don’t start some extortionate rumour mill among the kiddies that the fricken Easter Bunny will bring toys if they’re good. Leave that job to Santa Claus.  We don’t need a Vice-Santa.

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This is just plain creepy

Now, I probably should go buy some Easter eggs. And I might need a yellow dress. But will my little Bunny be writing a letter of request to the Easter Bunny?

Eh, no. No she won’t.

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