I am Schoolbags, Nelly and Polly Mum

Some days are disastrous.

Some days, it’s hard to be Positive Polly.

All it takes is ONE little thing to start a sequence of events that push us down the hill like a big, crazy snowball…gaining momentum and strength as they roll. And it’s so easy for us to suddenly be out of control, losing direction and heading for a crash.

This morning, I snowballed. And I don’t mean a fluffy, fablis, functioning one.

I’m still sick. I know that, and honestly, I should probably stay in bed for few days, but there’s little time to be lying down when life has to keep going on for everyone else in the house, isn’t there? (And I’m sure there’ll be a Blue Peter badge in the post one of these days, won’t there?)

It was one of those mornings where time seemed to go faster than me, where everything that could go wrong did go wrong, and where my Positive Polly faltered and my Negative Nelly won.

Finally getting into the car and starting our already late journey, I realised that we’d left Mini-Me’s school bag in the house. Now the Positive Polly in me says “Sure at least you realised when you did, only 300 yards down the road.” I hear her now, but at the time, the Negative Nelly in me was screaming ‘FFS’ and ‘FML’ and ‘Are you fecking kidding me’ and all sorts, while trying to do a 3 point turn on a one-car wide laneway.

At that moment, Nelly wanted to fight Polly… And trust me, Nelly would have won. This morning, Nelly would have battered McGregor.

Then as I tried to get us to the bus on time, every dumbass driver in the area pulled out in front of me and of course it was THEIR faults that I was later and later and later.

I cursed some more, genuinely stressed more than I have been in a long time, balancing the need to be cross at Mini-Me for walking PAST her fecking schoolbag on her way to the car again, and the need to make her feel loved and fecking secure before leaving Mammy for the day. I lost at this too.

I tried to start conversations.

“Are you looking forward to PE?”

She refused to answer me. She glared out the window, ignoring me. Positive Polly whispered, ‘Leave her be. She’s upset too’. Nelly however roared “Answer me when I’m speaking to you!” Herself got thicker with every mile and Mammy got more and more upset.

Leaving her off, I got a half-arsed hug. Her usual smiling and repeating “Bye Mammy” and excessive waving off, was replaced by the back of her head storming into the room. Mammy tried to make her smile by sticking out my tongue and winking at her. Nope. Her Negative Nelly was winning too and she glared at me like a teenager who’s just been grounded for a month…

The other one gave me a big tight hug, for all her-not-even-threeness, knowing that Mammy needed a cuddle and making me feel a bit better.

I got back into my car and drove out the gate. Mini-Me always runs out to wave as I pass. I toot the horn and wave back and I always leave for school with a smiling face etched in my mind.

This morning? Well, she came out alright, but only to punish me more by NOT waving.

She then turned her back on me as I tooted and waved like a demented Twatso… at the back of her thick wee head.

Negative Nelly was just bitchslapped into her box and this Mammy drove to work in an absolute state.

The guilt. The anger (at myself). The shame.

My daughter went to school upset. I fucked up royally, all over a school bag and my own general shittiness.

There was no one to make Mammy feel better and Mini-Me certainly didn’t give a damn if Mammy felt loved and secure as she started her day. Why would she? That’s not her job.

But if punishing me and making sure I berate myself all day is her job, she’s CEO there already. A child’s ability to punish and destroy its mother, is a skill that can only be matched by the mother herself.

It lingered in me all day. I had to teach a poem about a mother’s love for her child first thing. I just about got through that. Thankfully, my pal at work could smell that I was stressed and a quick hug and a wee tear later, I was less mental and more able to function. But still. When I think of the emotional wreck I have been today, it makes me worse again as I can’t imagine what she was like.

Negative Nelly doesn’t rear her ugly head much with me in fairness. And after today, she can piss away off. Tomorrow is another day and it’ll be so much nicer with Polly. As will I.

And as it happens, she still loves me and a hot chocolate and a cuddle can solve all the problems of the world, for both Nelly AND Polly.

I am Silly Newsreader Mum

Woohoooo and Waaahaaaay!
Good news!
It is Yay of Friyay! It is the eve of no lunch boxes and no uniforms and no alarm clocks. It is the night of acceptable supping of a second glass of the grapes. It is wonderful and I am incredibly glad to see it.
It means that tomorrow is Saturday. The morning of snuggles and CBeebies and Lazy Breakfasts. And it is the morning NOT like the one I described on Thursday! (Until we have to get out the door to go somewhere and the crazy dance begins. It is the morning that we don’t rely on the 8am news to tell us it’s time to go.
I’ve mentioned before how the soothing tones of our lovely Donal Kavanagh starting the 8am news is the “Into the car Darlings!” moment in our house. (In truth it’s usually the END of the news when he says “Next Bulletin at 8.30. Good morning” that inspires “INTO THE CAAAAAAAAAR! WE’RE FECKIN LATE AGAIN!” song, but I could never tell you such truths as a Mammy Blogger, could I?!)
This week I asked the lovely lady who looks after Mini-Me after school to have a wee word with her about something… you know the way our children listen to every word that generally EVERYONE ELSE in the world says to them? How what Teacher says is gospel and Mammy and Daddy are but minions of the legion of the Sad Silly Omni-wrong Parent-type”” who know diddlysquat about ANYTHING in life until they are 25 and suddenly realise that we were right all along?
Yeah, so I asked her to mention how important breakfast is in the morning. I explained that I can’t get her to eat much and it’s causing great stress in the mornings.
I believe the conversation went like this:
“You know that it’s very important to eat breakfast in the morning to help you get big and strong?”
 
“Yeah”
 
“And it’s very helpful to Mammy when you eat your breakfast once you get it so you can all get out the door?”
 
“Yup”
 
“So will you make sure to eat your breakfast tomorrow so poor Mammy isn’t panicking to get you all into the car?”
 
“Yeah. But… See how we are sometimes late getting into the car?”
 
“Yeah?”
 
“It’s not because I’m slow at eating my breakfast.”
 
“Oh no?”
 
“It’s that Donal Kavanagh’s fault. He just reads the news too early some mornings”.
 
I’m not sure the Lovely Lady answered that. I don’t think there IS an answer for that, is there?
Happy Fridays my Lovelies. Cheers to the weekend. Hope it’s full of good news, that is read on time! wineoclock

I am Show Me Show Me Mum

What we see...

Mammy had a lovely relaxing morning. Mammy had time to meditate, do yoga, have a shower, and do her makeup and hair. The children were angels. Mammy had all the clothes chosen, ironed and laid out beside the children’s shoes and clean underwear, before she went to bed at 9.30pm (where Mammy read her selection of Wellness and Good Parenting manuals in an attempt to ensure that she was indeed giving her children all of the positive assurance and interweb proven behavioural techniques possible to ensure that they will grow up rounded and functional humans.) The children ate ALL of their healthy and nutritious breakfast, packed their bags and put on their own coats before carrying their respective bags to the car (must encourage responsibility you know. It says so on page 34 of Clever Mammy Manuals) #clevermammy

Mammy was calm and chilled as she sipped her herbal tea and created Michelin Style breakfasts, not forgetting to snap pics for Instagram to make sure everyone could see how easy it was to eat exciting, colourful food all the time. Mammy was on time and no one needed to rush or shout or be stressed. The very good little girls sang nursery rhymes in the car while Mammy listened to them lovingly, smiling and wishing that she was able to capture this moment of Mummy perfection on her phone too, so she could show the world just how fabulous and perfect her morning was. She dropped the children at school and drove on to her wonderful job, already excited to get home to her spotless home and enjoy her little ladies in the evening. What a wonderful morning. Life is good. #soblessed #youseewhatIshowyou

What we don’t see.

Mammy got up at 6.30am, wishing she’d gone to bed earlier instead of sitting up with Hubby watching another episode of Stranger Things on Netflix. She showered quickly, ignoring her hairy legs in favour of washing her face, made her coffee, made the lunches, packed the bags, found the shoes, dried the uniform cardigan, remembered it was PE Day, found the kit, tumble-dried it, put on a load of washing, woke the kids, negotiated with the Oldest, bribed the youngest, dressed one of her girls in the tumbledried kit, (hoping that her body heat would flatten the creases before she got to school,) while singing the “Will you get dressed please” song over and over and over at the oldest, drank one mouthful of the cold coffee, swore a little under her breath, screamed at oldest to EAT SOMETHING off the plate, proffered Coco-Pops as bribery, cursed her own weakness, put nappy BACK on the baby, put clothes back on the baby, searched for PE runners, took the box of Quality Street from the Baby, wondered WTF she had found them, remembered to grab her own gym bag, put the lunches in the bags, packed the car, put the coats on her children, (because who the fuck has time to watch a 2 year old zipping up their own coat at 8am?), fed the dog, turned off all the lights, set the alarm, locked the house, strapped them in their carseats, swore at the straps and then swore (again) to buy a new carseat once she gets paid, ran back inside, unset the alarm, grabbed her handbag and coat, set the alarm, locked the house, nearly ran over the Horsedog, drove to school thinking about what she needed to do today, tried to hear herself think over the noise of the cat fight in the back seat where the youngest is repeating EVERYTHING the oldest says and driving her insane! “Stop it!” “DOPIIIT” “SHE’s COPYING MEEEEE” “SHEEEtoppeeeeeemeeeee!, turns on radio to distract, listened to Despacito being murdered by oldest, arrived at childcare, took girls and all their bags out of car, put coat back on the baby, told Oldest to lift her coat off the ground as she walked, tripped over oldest’s coat, kissed and hugges both girls singing Cheery “See you Later” and “Have fun at schooooool!” and “Mammy loves youuuuu!”, wondered if she’d have time to go to the shop enroute to buy the earlier proferred CocoPops, stopped at shop, did a dash around grabbing things she remembered she needed, remembered a bag as she approached the till, drove to work and parked the car, went into the staffroom, made a cup of coffee and drank it, sighed as she remembered that she hasn’t brushed her hair and that the washing is still in the machine and will need redone this evening, but other than that, what a great morning. Life is good!

#reallife #youdontseethatthoughdoyou

20180118_1257571549925636.jpg

Seriously!? Look at the hair! 🙂

I know which one I am.

And I’d rather have the chaos and craziness of my normal any day, than live under such notions of perfection that I see my life as a fecking TV Show.

Be real and Be you. You’re better to be a Mammy who knows she needs to shout less and that she really should try to iron her children’s clothes sometimes and that some mornings will be smoother than others, than one who lives under the pressure to seem “perfect” to the virtual friends and followers in your virtual life. Perfect is my kids safe, healthy and fed and loved.

Great mornings are the ones that keep coming. Enjoy them. They’re perfect already, just like you. And you don’t need Social Media to tell you that.

The S-Mumgreatmornings

I am sunday Mornings Mum 

​”I just LOVE 6am starts with my precious minions, especially on a Sunday, after 4 consecutive nights of no sleep and sick baby.” #soblessed #sundaysnuggles #earlymorningsareTHEBEST
#shutthefuckup
6am: 1 hour and 13 minutes after your last trip to her room, and you hear the grumble of the monitor AGAIN. It’s still dark. You know you haven’t been sleeping long enough for it to be morning already. You hear the whine, or groan, or snuffle from the monitor and you hold your breath, hoping to Christ she’s simply lost her dodey and will go back over.  I don’t know why you hold your breath, but you do.  And you don’t move a muscle because you KNOW that she will sense your movement from the next room and you will basically be giving her permission to wake up fully if you breath…or move.
She goes quiet for about 30 seconds.  You’re JUST exhaling when you hear the “CRAAAASH!” as the Dummy is fecked onto the floor, followed by her feigned shocked tone as she announces “uh oh! DOOOOOODEEEEE?”  

Feck.

Then, a few minutes later, it comes, clear as an alarm clock…”MAAAAMMEEEEE”. 

Game over.
Regardless of what other tricks you have up your sleeve; popping the dummy back in her mouth, bringing her into your bed for snoozes, praying; you and she BOTH know that she’s won. You have only ONE other chance of getting another hour of sleep.

One chance.

One possibilty…

But then you look over at the big Gobshite, who is either genuinely in a fucking coma, or just doing a MARVELLOUS job of pretending he doesn’t hear your swearing and grumbling or the brass band now battering in the next room, and you KNOW you have about as much chance of Ryan Gosling turning up at your door and whisking you off for a 3 week holiday in the Maldives where he plays the piano and sings to you, while Jamie Dorian feeds you grapes all day long…
So just to make sure Gobshite Boy KNOWS how fecking AMAZING you are for dragging your arse ljt of bed for the 4th time since you got into it, you quietly and subtly SNEAK out of bed, tiptoe out of the room and gently close the door, leaving him to his slumber…

Or, you dramatically THROW the duvet off BOTH of you, sighing and grumbling things like “FINE. I’LL get up AGAIN shall I? Watch now in case Mammy MIGHT get a FUCKING SLEEP.  YOU SLEEP ON THERE DARLING. DON’T LET YOUR KNACKERED WIFE OR YOUR 2 LITTLE DARLINGS DISTURB YOU THERE NOW WILL YOU.” And just for fear, he hasn’t realised that youre a tad annoyed, give the door a good SLAM as you leave your beloved to roll back over.

He’s knackered too God Love Him.

All that sleeping has him SHATTERED.
But being the martyr you are, you stagger to the kitchen, baby on hip, minion skipping beside you. Yes. Skipping. At 6.13am.
You change nappies, pour milk, feed minions, turn on Scoobyfuckingdoo and make coffee, which you don’t even get to drink. You try to be optimistic and think about #sundaysnuggles but your little Darlings don’t DOOOOO snuggles. They prefer to ignore you except for snarling for food, pull out toys and saucepans, and terrorise each other.  The only way you can guarantee snuggles is if you dare look like you’re taking a snooze. Then, they’re on top of you until they’re convinced that you are awake and alert enough for them to ignore you again. 👇👇👇


And all the while, Sanctimammy in your head is thinking, “They are perfect. I am a wonderful 6am earth Mamma and they are precious and I really do love watching them play. And my Darling Him needs a lie in really. Who needs sleep anyway? #soblessed” 

But the REAL Mammy is thinking “Me. ME. THAT’S who needs a sleep. Me. And of course I love to watch them play, but only after 8.30am, you know, in ACTUAL DAYTIME? And FECK Him the Big snoring Twat. I deserve a sleep-in this morning soooooo much more than he does. Gobshite. #soblessedmyarse #FML”
Anyway, a coffee shall fix everything no doubt.
You may as well do a load of washing. You’re up now anyway. But then you remember there’s cake in the fridge…and suddenly all is right with the world.
Of course, things could be worse Mamma Bear, but you know what? That doesn’t mean that you can’t have a grumble does it?

😘😘😘😘