Hurray and Woohoo!
Thursday is Takeaway Day.
It’s time for our local Ocras to get their weekly phonecall from me as I lift the girls from creche.
“TenminutesMaria!” (He doesn’t even have to ask who it is. That’s service for ya!)
And I look forward to it soooooooooooooo much. Not because I am going to eat it. No. This Mammy is back on the wagon and as much as I love Joe’s pizzas, I am being good (during the week anyway!)
No. I look forward to it for a few reasons.
Mainly because I am still traumatized by the sausages incident of last night.
Secondly, because I don’t get home until almost 6pm if I go to see Jim and my minions will be “Staaaaaaaaarvin Mammy” if they have to wait for me to cook.
Thirdly, because after the generally organised and productive start of the week, I’m running out of gas/petrol/thewilltolive and quite simply can’t be arsed cooking. (reminder to Him, we still need ACTUAL gas too!)
And most importantly, it means happy kids, no dishes and a headstart on my Thursday night Happy Mammy Blitz.
My Thursday Mammy Blitz is class.
No matter how knackered I am, I make Thursday night all about cleaning.
I get the girls to bed, do the washing, clean the sespits that are the bathrooms, mop all the floors and generally leave the place as clean as possible so that when we get home on Friday evening, it is actual down time. I’ve mentioned it before. I’ve done it for years. For me, the best thing about Friday evening is coming home and not having to start cleaning and doing housework. It’s a mess again by Saturday, but hey! Whatever works eh?
And the ABSOLUTE best thing about my Mammy Blitz, is that my reward for being such a superorganised-notsausageburning-shitMum, is that I get a glass of wine in front of the tellybox before bed.
And now that I have Derry Girls to look forward to on Channel 4 at 10pm, it’s going to be even better.
Ain’t nothing dousing this good mood today.
Have a good one!
“Your Mammy doesn’t work.” or “Your Mammy doesn’t have a real job”
I remember hearing this a few times as a child and as a teenager.
I remember not thinking much of it. I didn’t see it as an insult or a scathing comment until I was 17 and my Mum had just had Baby Number 6, and I overheard a visitor “jokingly” dismissing my Mum with “Oh at least you don’t have a job to go back to. You should try having a career on top of it….hardeeharrhar!”
And I remember that moment because it was probably the first time I lost the plot with an ACTUAL adult. Let’s just say, there were metaphoric stitches required for the new posterier that might have been ripped. She didn’t visit again.
It was a line delivered with one of those fake “hardeehar” Mary-of-the-Poppins laughs, which people of the bitch variety add to their insults to mask them as “Only jokes” or not meaning any harm.
At 17, I was old enough to recognise that the visitor was in fact being a grade a Sanctimammy. And I was old enough to defend my Mum. Because my Mum might not have put on her face and heels every morning and gone to an office or a school or a hospital or a shop or wherever to do a JOB, but BY CHRIST did she work. She worked harder than any other person I know. She still does. She was there, and is there, for us every step of the way, and I’ll never know how she did it.
Being the eldest in a house full of Babies, I learned VERY young that being a Mum is a full time job. There is no rest. There is no relaxation. There are no coffee breaks. There is no “Clocking in” or “Clocking out”. No one cares if you’ve had your lunch hour. Hell, most days, you don’t get lunch! (unless you count their leftovers as lunch, which somedays, we all do. 😅) You don’t have a team to thrash ideas over. You don’t have a Boss to ask for advice. You don’t have a Supervisor to show you the way.
When we were kids in the Donegal sticks in the 80’s, our Mums had a VERY different life. Many of them were at home, all day, without communication, without conversation, without cars, until the Daddy came home (for an hour before hitting the farm.). There were no Forums to ask questions about teething, or wind, or puke. There were no online nurses to contact if a rash appeared.
There were 3 TV stations FFS! So there were no digital babysitters. (and no Peppa in fairness.) There were few telephones and even if there was a phone in the house, you didn’t call up your mate for a 20 minute chat unless you were able to pay for it. There were no Mother and Baby groups, no baby massage, no Mammy meet ups…
Being a Mammy TODAY is lonely. I can’t get my head around what it must have been like for our Mums. And remember too, that then, you DARE not admit that you were struggling with your emotions or your “nerves” as they used to say in hushed, loaded tones.
Being a Mammy is 24/7. It’s the hardest job in the world whether you’re a SAHM (Stay at home Mum) or a CM (Career Mum). If you don’t leave the house to work, you don’t get to say things like “Sorry, I’m finished for the day” or “That’s not my problem. Talk to JohnJoe” or “I’ll leave that until tomorrow.” You work all day, every day (and all fecking night sometimes) and there is no pay-cheque at the end of it. There is no sick pay. There is no annual leave. There is no pension accumulating. Running a home and organising a family is hard. It is full on. It is stressful. It is exhausting. You might not a get a playslip or wages at the end of the month, but boy, do you work.
Now, Before anyone starts their “Try doing all that AND working an ACTUAL job”, let me stop you right there.
I AM a working Mum. I have a very busy, demanding and stressful job. When I am working, I have 13 times more crap in my head to think about than I do when school is closed. I know too well how fecking EXHAUSTING it is to trying to juggle being professional and organised in your JOB, keeping your family on top of all the EVERYTHING and trying not to lose your shit completely.
It’s a whirlwind and it’s madness, but do you know what? Just because I have a career AND kids, doesn’t make me better or superior to a Mum who stays at home to work. I envy Mums who can stay at home. I’m blessed that I was able to work part-time last year and that I get so much time off to spend with the girls. I know that. But the time came for me to go back full time and I did. I love being at home with my girls, but do you know what? I love my job too. So that’s what is right for ME.
When I was off, I looked forward to dressing in my school clothes and having an uninterrupted conversation and a hot coffee in the staffroom when I returned. When I’m at work, I break my heart that I’m not snuggled up in my PJs on the sofa, watching Peppa Pork.
But let’s get this straight. The mums who stay at home ARE working. They work full time. They just aren’t on a payroll. They don’t get paid for the work they do. In money anyway. (Working Mums get the Children’s Allowance too so don’t even TRY that BS).
I envy the Mums who stay at home through choice, but remember that so many are SAHMs because the RIDICULOUS cost of Childcare doesn’t give them any feckin choice. Many would love to be back in the workplace. Many of them look forward to it. But, the shoe fits both feet. To the Mammies who tut at Career Mums for leaving their children to go to work, remember that you’re not a better Mammy than a Career Mammy because you stay at home with your kids.
We all do what we have to do.
I go back to my usual mantra… Don’t be a Sanctimammy.
Just because you do things differently, doesn’t make you better.
Just because you work AND have kids, doesn’t make you better than the Mum who is working her ass off at home.
Just because you’re able to stay at home with your Puking minion, doesn’t make you a better Mum than the Mum who had no choice but to leave hers with Granny.
Every Mum does what SHE has to do for HER family. ANd the only person who knows what is right for your family is YOU.
You don’t know another Mum’s circumstance. You don’t know her. You don’t know if she’s happy, or watching you getting into your car to go to work, longing to be you. You don’t know if she’s driving to work in tears because her Baby cried as she was dropping her off. You don’t know how many times a day the Mammy in the office feels a gutwrenching guilt at being away. You don’t know how the Mum in her kitchen is longing for a conversation.
And if you EVER hear yourself dismissing another Mammy because she’s doing it differently to you, lift your hand, grab that redundant wooden spoon and hit yourself a good hard slap on the arse with it. 😂
Then get over yourself. 😘
Have a Fablis Friday night my Lovelies.
And keep up the good work.😘
Well Feck-it-up FriYay was indeed splendiferous.
TODAY S-Mum was a very clever Mammy.
I collected the minions, and joyfully announced “Shall we go to the seaside my precious Darlings?”
“Yay!” Screamed Mini-Me.
“Woohoooooo!” Echoed Princess out the side of her dodee, not really knowing what was happening, but delighted to join in nonetheless.
Clever Mammy had sneaked home at lunchtime, packed towels, snacks and spare clothes for them and langered on some suncream on myself. (Well, most of myself. The big patch I missed on my back is currently screaming “STUPID WOMAN!” at me. 😥)
Off we went to the seaside.
You see, unlike my sofa and floors, the seaside LIKES splashes of suncream.
And you see, when Princess decides to run, there’s really nowhere she can go, especially when the tide is so far out that the beach looks like a sad, empty wineglass.
And so you see, Mammy got to sit on her Stepford Mammy bum and to watch on lovingly as she waddled around after her big sister, gathering srones and eating sand.
And then I realised No.1 of my Feck-it-ups…
We went splishing and splashing in the sea. In my sneaky quick change before I collected the girls, I’d shaved my legs quickly as although dogs are permitted on the beach, I’m sure people might frown at a wooly mammoth turning up to shed all over the lovely seaside. And I remembered, just as I entered the lovely salty water that salty water and newly shaved legs ARE NOT A GOOD COMBINATION. 😅😅
HOLY SWEET JESUS AND THE WEE DONKEY…
Anyway, I convinced myself that SOMEWHERE in the world, I’d pay a fortune to walk my raw legs into a salty ocean…
And so, I let them run into the sea fully clothed, smug in the knowledge that I was superorganised with spare clothes and towels for them.
Mini-Me almost selfcombusted with excitement when I told her she could “Splash away Sweetie.” And Princess went at that water like baby Moana at the start of the movie. It was fun.
And then Princess fell flat on her fudgy little arse and ended up flat on her back in the water. Oh how funny! Oh how she screamed! Oh how Mini-Me laughed…and laughed…and laughed. She enjoyed it quite a little too much actually. 😈😂😈😂
As I lifted her up out of the water and started the 3 mile trek back to our blankets, I was chuffed with my Mammyself for being so relaxed and spontaneous. 😂
And then, as Princess’s soaking clothes permeated through mine, I realised my Feck-it-up for today…
I had clothes for the two drenched wee dollies, but none for myself.
What a Twat.
I had to dry and change them, absolutely SOAKED and then drive home with soppy shorts and a wet teeshirt clinging to my fried eggs… Turns out, wee light shorts from Penneysbest are ACTUALLY quite heavy when wet. 👇👇👇
Glammy Mammy my arse.
But hey, the girls had an absolute blast, I enjoyed it all up until the drive home and they’re both out cold after their bath now. 💜💜
And if my only Feck-it-up, Fecked-it-up for only me, well sure, that’s fine. 😍😍😍
Anyone know a good truckhire company to return the 3 tonne of sand we magically transported from the beach? 😂😂
How was YOUR Friday dahlings?
Any Feck-it-ups to share with me?
“On my Knee.”
Today you are poorly,
My precious wee lamb.
Today you need Mammy
And right here I am.
I’ll sit right beside you
I’ll rub your wee toes
I’ll clean up your mess and
I’ll wipe your wee nose.
I’ll kiss all your fingers and
rub your wee face
I’ll not give a damn about
the state of this place.
I’ll cuddle and snuggle you,
I’ll let you complain
You don’t understand
this feeling of pain.
To see you feel poorly
It breaks Mammy’s heart.
I’d take every ounce of it,
every last part,
To make you feel better,
To make you feel fine,
I wish with my essence that
the sickness was mine.
And whether you’re sniffly,
or puking or hot,
You’ll sleep right on top of me,
not in the cot.
And yes this is minor
and yes you’ll be fine
But I am your Mammy
And your pain is mine.
So today, there are so many
things I should do,
But none of those things,
as important as you.
The world won’t stop turning
if I stay here with you,
Some days I’m just “Mammy”
Cos only Mammy will do.
So cuddle your Mammy,
Just sit on my knee,
When you need your Mammy,
right here I will be.
xxx Mammy xxx
Want to know the Secrets of S-Mum?
The secret is…
that THERE IS NO SECRET!
There IS NO MAGIC PILL that turns you into Mary of the Poppins.
Most days, I’m so FAR from being a perfect parent that I fear that even my kids have their Crap more together than I do.
Like EVERYTHING, there is no quick fix. There is no magic spell.
There is no manual.
(Well OK… there are parenting guides and books obviously, but when “What to Expect when you’re Expecting” omitted the line “You’re going to push a water melon through your ladybits and realise that you’ll have NO idea WTF you’re doing EVER AGAIN”, it lost credibility in my eyes.)
But there is ONE TRICK…
Knowing to ask for help and knowing where to find the CORRECT information from the RIGHT people is key.
There ARE a huge amount of resources and services and businesses right here in Donegal that are available to us S-Mums and Dads, and we often don’t even know where to look for them.
So while I can’t give you the Secret to being an S-Mum, I CAN put so many Information services, Businesses and Experts into the BIGGEST hotel in town, that the walls are throbbing like a wee heartbeat in the doppler yoke!
I am bringing almost 50, (YES 50!) Qualified Professionals, Experts and Services to Bump & Beyond.
We have EVERYTHING covered: from fashion to fitness, pregnancy to potty training, Sensory Play to SLEEP…
We have a FULL line up of ENTERTAINMENT from LOCAL TALENT, EXPERT SPEAKERS, INTERVIEWS with the Professionals and FASHION SHOWS!
You’ll be able to SHOP from dozens of AMAZING Pregnancy and Baby Business, with NEW LOCAL MOMPRENEURS launching on the day.
Our Princesses and Superheros are returning (with a VERY special performance by a certain Princess…) and there’ll be a Kids’ Corner and Facepainting.
We’ll also have Baby Yoga Demonstrations and the “Paparazzi” will be there snapping your little Halloween Ghouls and Goblins as they haunt the hall.
The most renowned Midwife in town, Geraldine Hanley, shall be there to answer your questions and Fitness Expert Emmet Rushe from Rushe Fitness will be addressing post pregnancy fitness.
Parent Hub, Parent Stop, Citizens’ Advice and The Women’s Centre (to name but a handful!) will be there to guide you through the vast range of services available to parents locally…
The first 50 Mummies to arrive will receive a FABLIS Goodie Bag and the exhibitors are running amazing offers on the day.
AND I am giving you the BEST gift ever… An opportunity to listen to and speak to the HUGELY ACCLAIMED and sought after Sleep and Behaviour Therapist Mrs DENISE GILLESPIE!
And seriously Ladybelles, this is only a fraction of what is planned for the day. Keep an eye on Bump & Beyond for more details this week.
I don’t have the answers. I don’t have all the information. I don’t have any magic tricks or capsules…but I CAN put as many people WHO DO under one roof.
I AM simply a Mammy who struggles in the same way that EVERY other parent struggles, (I just happen to like a challenge and to be quite OK at organising small and subtle and quiet events.)
So please do come along next Sunday.
Hit the Likey button if you see this and feel free to invite anyone who might be interested in the comments section below.
Lots of love xx
I despise Peppa Pig.🐷
Yes, I said DESPISE!
No, I’m not going a bit too far.
She is a walking, talking, whining, obnoxious little lump of pork, with THE most annoying voice, who tells her Daddy he has a fat tummy, hangs up on her best friend when she is jealous and speaks to her brother George in the most patronising voice EVER!
Peppa drives every Mummy, including Mummy Pig no doubt, to thinking about wine at 1pm.
She’s bratty and irritating and I TRY weekly (in vain) to BAN her from the tellybox in Smumble Hill.
She and I do have ONE thing in common. 😐
We both love jumping in muddy puddles.
Yesterday I completed Hell & Back Hercules in Sligo.
Hell and Back is a 10k (12k really) obstacle course through muck and mud and rivers and all sorts of shit. (It’s on a working farm🚜, so I do not exaggerate here.)
The start was the worst part for me. Talk about the gates of hell…😈😈😈
We were met with AN ICE-BATH where you had to step in and duck yourself under a row of tyres to get out the other side. I am not a fan of water and I surprised myself when I did it. I’d like to say it’s because I’m so brave…in reality, I’m just far too STUBBORN for my own good.
I jumped in, took a deep breath, closed my eyes and pinched my nose and under I went.
I emerged gracefully, like a dolphin leaping beautifully from the sea, without even a ripple behind me and landed like a gymnast…
I remember as I emerge flailing and gasping like a fish that I wear contact lenses and so I have to get my eyes wiped dry before I can open them. I’m trying to wipe them, but the stupid gloves I’m wearing are simply sloshing more water onto my face. I know there are others trying to get out behind me so I have to get out quick. There’s a steward shouting “Focus FOCUS!” at me. I’m shouting back another F word which I shall not repeat right now. He tries to help me out, but the next cretur behind me tumbles me as He emerges from the hell bath and I “graciously” FALL arse first out of the big container and ONTO “Focus Fecker”. In his defence, he catches me, slaps me on the back and kindly and encouragingly screams “GO! GO! GOOOOO!”
But nothing could be worse for me than that start, so off we go!
We wade through rivers, jump over ditches, clamber over round bales, sink into muck, slide down hills, climb over nets and tree logs, fall into sludge, get stuck in the mud, lose shoes…
We get slapped in the face by rogue briars, and stung on the arse by PAINTBALLS as we run through forests.
We get ELECTROCUTED as we crawl under obstacles and SCRATCHED by barbed wire if we don’t keep our bums low to the ground.
We jump, leap, crawl, run, slip, slide and fall.
It’s like The Blair Witch Project combined with The Hunger Games … with a bit of Carry On Camping thrown in for good measure. 😂😂😂
The sounds are memorable.
We hear screams behind us and ominous cheers ahead of us.
There’s some swearing…
OK. Swearing us the language in Hell and Back. There is a LOT of swearing.
But mostly, laughter.
Glorious, bellyaching, snorting and snaughling laughter.
Strangers help strangers.
We get encouragement from people who we’ve never met before.
We get pulled over walls and pushed up slopes and no one really gives a hoot who owns the hand that has the misfortune of pushing your arse up or over!
I surprised MYSELF with how easy I found most of it. I’m fitter than I give myself credit for. I am good at jumping, not bad at falling 😂😂and I can lift my leg higher than I thought I could! 😂 Although the course was long and exhausting, I did it no bother. I think I even surprised the Him. 👤
But what I wasn’t prepared for, was the comeraderie.
28 of the Rushe Fitness gang went to Hell yesterday and I must thank them for being the nicest, kindest, funniest shower of head-the-balls that I’ve ever had the pleasure to spend a day rolling in the mud with!
Even those who finished earlier, waited at the 10ft wall to help the rest of us over, and then we all ran through the finish line together. As a team.
It’s 12km of mayhem, but it’s easily the MOST FUN I’ve had in a long time.
I was 10 again, running through the farm, getting stuck in muck and “accidentally” shocked by electric fencing.
We were grown ups on an adventure.
We were splashing in muddy puddles.
And at the end, I had the nicest Pulled Pork Bap I’ve ever tasted. 😈😈😈
Gotta love Peppa and her muddy puddles don’t ya? 🐷
Look at how shiny and white we were at the start?
Hope you all had a lovely weekend Ladybelles. I’m off for a bath full of Epsom salts…💖??💖💖💖
#hellandback #hellandback2016 #SMum #rushefitness #muddymummy #peppapig
How was your Friday Ladybelles?
Mine was pretty uneventful and rather enjoyable really.
We spent the afternoon with my lovely sister and her babies on Walton Mountain. It was noisy. GOOD GOD it was noisy, but oh the fun.
They head off again tomorrow and then we shall miss all the noise immensely and be very sad, so today’s noise was precious and wonderful.
I have two cream-crackered little girls tucked up in bed now after all the noise and cousin fun.
Have you ever been so glad of the quiet when you return to the living room after their bedtime, that you just sit there, staring at the TV…before realising after 10 minutes that you’re watching the “Holy Jesus Thank God it’s over…Right Minions, it’s bedtime!” RTE Junior Screen!?😂
Then, this popped up on my timeline and it was OBVIOUSLY a SIGN wasn’t it?
I don’t have prosecco but non-fizzy grapes will have to suffice.
(And I do have to celebrate as it’s now less than a week until the #LWIBloggies2016 awards, AND
I’ve just found out that a very dear friend is in the Bumpy Way and so I now need to toast her and her inability to drink grape juice for the next few months. More for me! 🍷😉)
So it’s time to turn the Tellybox over to something else, (Yup. The remote is on the other sofa!), and pop open a wee bottle. 😈
Obviously, Mini-Me and Princess shall sleep until at least 9.30am…
But you can’t blame a girl for hoping can you?
Have a Fablis Friday night and thanks to everyone who is reading and liking and sharing. It means a lot and makes me smile. 😘😘😘
Now I know that most LAYDEEEEEEEZ might not associate the words “Small Sausages” with “Big Smiles”…(yes…I said it. You thought it ya dirty hallions!) but today, I do! 😂😂😂
Because today, something as silly and simple as Small Sausages did indeed make me smile. 😆😆
After school/work, we were having some quality mother/daughter time where I was teaching my girls VERRRRRRY important life skills in an edumacational and sensory-stimulating environment.
(Yes. We were in Penneys… life skills I tell you.)
With Mini-Me COMPLETELY knackered after school and Princess CHEWING on ANYTHING or ANYONE who got close enough to her, I was slightly stressed.
I carried Princess AND the shopping bags around, while pushing the feckin pram. Mini-Me was complaining about EVERYTHING, providing a CONSTANT soundtrack in protest to my obvious cruelty and I was up to my tits with “the looks” from innocent bystanders in the Shopping Centre who had to endure our NOISE.
THEN, I almost had a complete MENTAL FREAK OUT on a shop owner who tried to tell me they “Don’t do refunds on ANYTHING” when I tried to return a dress that was store-damaged.
Little Miss Continuous Soundtrack takes the volume it up a notch just to make sure that MY slightly raised volume doesn’t surpass hers, Princess’s new tooth is causing her to be the crankiest cretur ever and she’s now joined in the song of protest in support of her sister and I’m pretty sure that the shop owner is beginning to realise that she is about to bare the brunt of an epic S-Mum bolloking. (Or possibly, my two little shebitcheepoos are genuinely terrifying her?)
Shop Policy bent just this once.
Oh thank you. Shall I grovel in thanks because you’ve, you know…adhered to the fecking LAW that allows me to return faulty goods?
I’d had enough! Enough of the noise and the protests and the CRYING and the NONSENSE Dumbass “Shop Policy” and the snotters and my face being chewed and the … you get the picture.
It was time to leave. 😣
I was either going to cry, or get arrested.
Being arrested would possibly have resulted in some Me-time in a small quiet space… at that particular moment, it wasn’t the WORST thing that could have happened! 😂😂
We headed for the car and THEN the worst thing DID happen.
I remembered I had to go to the butchers. 😥
And that was where the Lovely man with the Small Sausages saved the feckin day! 😂😂😂
I’m ordering chicken and mince.
Mini-Me has stopped crying but is still talking at the top of her voice about ANYTHING.
“MAMMY LOOK AT ALL THE SAUSAGES,”
“We’re getting chicken pet.”
“MAMMY I JUST WUUUUUUB SAUSAGES”.
“No sausages today. Mammy’s buying chicken.”
“OH MAMMY LOOOOOOK! LOOK AT THE BABY SAUSAGES! Aren’t they SOOOOOOO CUTE?” 😣
(Butcher is laughing.)
“Hewooooo Witto SAUSAGES. AW they’re sooooo cute Mammy…”
And then ANGEL MAN, who is finishing putting my order into the bag, did the NICEST THING EVER.
He lifted a dozen of the cute sausages into a bag, tied it and handed it to her as a present.🌟🌟🌟
Small Sausages, Big Smiles…
For both of us.
I had the HAPPIEST little lady skip along side me to the car, where Princess FINALLY took a nap and my blood pressure reduced rapidly.
So there you go.
The smallest act of kindness to a dishevelled SuperMum really does have a huge impact.
Never underestimate the power of kindness.
And Thank you💙 to the lovely Butcher👤 if he ever reads this.
Sometimes, even Small sausages can make a Mamma smile! 😉😅😉😅
#littlethings #mummyblogger #kindness #stressedoutmamma #thepowerofsausages
Don’t you just LOVE kids?
4 and a half year olds are particularly adorable.
I have one you know.
I’m really quite proud of the little toot.
She’s pretty, cute and funny and gives me endless hours of laughter and joy and of course the main one…utter and ABSOLUTE MORTIFICATION.
So frequently do I currently find myself wishing that the ground would open up, that one could mistake me for an archaeologist.
Except, I don’t want to uncover bones or history…
I want to climb in beside the bloody bones and turn back time.
Well behaved Mini-Me being suspiciously sweet and quiet.💗
We were waiting in the queue, behind a lovely lady who was possibly just out of the gym.
Her hair was scraped back and she was very tall and sans muckup. She looked like a wonderfully normal woman, minding her own business.
The DOLLY looks up at her and I can suddenly see what is JUST ABOUT TO HAPPEN unravel before it actually does.
It’s slow motion… 😲😲😲😲😲
I try in vain to distract her and to change the subject before she opens her pretty loud little beak.
I fail miserably because, in the loudest WHISPER you have EVER HEARD, she announces:
“Mammy it’s MISS TWUNCHBULL!”
It’s out and before I get a chance to shush her, she misunderstands that I might not have heard her the first time, so she shouts it again…sans whisper.
I start some ridiculous sing song about reading James and the Giant Peach when we get home, praying she didnt hear, and eventually have to courage to look up at Miss-not-at-all-like-the-Trunchbull to see if she’s going to seing me over the fence by my pigtails!
She seems oblivious and is paying the check-out attendant. PHEW!
The attendant, however, is not oblivious.
He is trying with great difficulty to stifle his laughter.
The unknowing star of our Roald Dahl inspired show leaves the shop and he buckles. 😂😂
“OH GOD I’M MORTIFIED!” I say, scarlet faced.
“I’ve seen worse Love” he laughs.
I pay and leave with Mini-Me trotting behind me, quite happy with herself and having NO CLUE how close she was to getting Mammy locked in the fricken Chokey.
And she’s lucky that there is no Chokey in S-Mumble Hill…
It’s Mortification Monday. 😅😅
How was your day? 😙😙😙😙