I am Swapping Bacon for Magic Mum

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Mammies.

I have had a genius idea.

My Princess LOVES Peppa Pork. She loves that fat little pink Piggy to the point that it is becoming quite the obsession. Peppa, or ā€œPeepaā€ as she calls her, has been on the Tellybox here for 5 and a half and 3/4 years. Mini-Me could take Peppa or leave her. (Come to think of it, she’s still not bothered about bacon.)

And while I don’t mind her having little things that she seems fond of or excited by, Peppa of the Pork is not one that I am overly keen to encourage.

Why?

She’s just a cartoon character after all isn’t she? Well yes. And as a teddy, or on clothing, or in toys I don’t mind her. As little figurines to play with, or in books to point at, she’s fine. And while to adults, it has been suggested that Peppa looks remarkably like a doodle of a phallic nature, to children, her pinkness is apparently aesthetically pleasing and wonderful.

No. It’s not her love for Peppa that bothers me. I’m glad she’s finally showing an interest in something other than food and licking the fridge… It’s the script of the TV show that I have issues with.

Peppa is a brat. Pure and simple. She is cheeky, spoilt and whiney. Boundaries were never created in that house. She answers back, regularly tells Daddy Pig he is fat and is so cheeky to her friends that there is a full episode dedicated to them betting her she can’t stay quiet so they can get some peace.

I’m surprised the other talking animals bother with her at all. She whines and complains and is quite the Negative Nelly. And at no point does Mammy or Daddy rebuke her or tell her what she’s saying is naughty.

She’s a bossy little rasher. Expectant and entitled and don’t even start me on the way she speaks to Mammy.

I’ll wager that Mammy Pig has a secret stash of pink gin hidden behind that computer of hers.

Yes, I know. She’s just a cartoon character, but when she seems to be on repeat in your ear for nearly 6 years, I think it’s quite acceptable to dislike her. And when your children begin mimicking her, then, she becomes quite the pain in the pork.
But last week, I had a brainwave.

After 2 days of my Princess being confined to the sofa feeling under the weather, and 2 days of my brain being FRIED by Peppa referring to Daddy Pig’s big belly and telling poor Gawj ā€œYou’re too littleā€, I could take no more.

I did the ā€œflickā€ part of the Netflix and came across the best alternative to Peppa Pig, EVER!

Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom.


The animation is identical to Peppa Pig. The narrator/voice structure is similar enough to Peppa to lure an unsuspecting 2 year old in, and the sound track is not quite as irritating…yet. Enough of a difference for her to raise a suspicious eyebrow, but not dramatic enough for her to refuse to watch it.

But the biggest bonus is that the characters are generally NICE to each other. Yes there are mishaps and magic tricks going wrong etc, and Wise Old Elf and Nanny Plum have some serious issues to get over, but in general, it is entertaining.Ā  In fact, I am not afraid to say that Nanny Plum is a legend.Ā  Ā She speaks the truth Mammies. She is fablis.

And there is no whiny, annoying, bold little bad example in it.
So yes, I have finally lost my marbles. I have just written a full post on how Ben and Holly is better than Peppa Pig.

But hey! That’s where we are in our house these days, and they do say you should write what you know, don’t they? I could have written about In the Night Garden, but I’m not quite that barmy yet and I don’t think there’d be enough wine to inspire that…

Which TV shows are/were on repeat in your house?

First published on Donegal Woman in my Thoroughly Modern Mammy column

I am Sixth Sense Mum

“Mammy. Tell him to STOP!”

“Tell who to stop what?”

“He’s staring at meeeee. Tell him to stop”.

These are not words you want to hear from your 5 and a half and three quarter year old at 7am when there is no one else in the kitchen.

In the 3 seconds it takes me to walk from the utility room, my imagination has delivered me to Destination WCS (Worse case scenrio). I have images of all of my kitchen cupboards having been flung open like in The 6th Sense.Ā  Holy Christ, I think, She’s seeing Dead people…Ā  Ā There is no one else in the room so I know that there is no one to BE staring at her! I take the ten steps to the kitchen, already planning the conversation I’m going to have to have with the priest when I call him to come do an exorcism.

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“Stop iiiiiit!” she screams.

“Mammy’s here Darling. Who’s staring at you?”

“That cow.”

“What cow?” (WT-actual-F?)

She’s now pointing her little finger accusingly out the window at the cows in the field.

Ā “Him!Ā  He’s STARING at meeeee. Tell him to stop staring at me.Ā  I can’t eat my Pancakes when he’s watching me.”

The unsuspecting bovine is indeed looking in the window, happily chewing its cud, probably wondering why the little human is screaming at him.

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It moos, probably telling its own Mammy cowĀ “Mammy. Tell her to STOP! She’s staring at me and I can’t eat my regurgitated food wif her watching meeeee!”

Mini-Me is now banging on the window at the cow.

“Maybe you’re scaring the poor cow? Eat your pancakes and stop your nonsense” I laugh, glad I don’t actually have to ring the priest after all.

I’ll save the exorcism for another time, not that I can ever see any poltergeist brave enough or stupid enough to take her on!

How was your day?

I am Share the Daddy Bloggers Mum

With so many support groups and networks in place for Mums, wouldn’t it be great to see similar initiatives being set up for male parents?

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Most Mums agree that the Menfolk would benefit from support groups just as much as Mammies.

Of course they would, but when we live in a society that still thinks Dad is “babysitting” when he spends time with his kids, rather than, you know, “PARENTING”, and where Dads are often dismissed as being lesser parents or not as significant as Mammies, we have a long way to go.

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But change will come. And the first signs of it are seeping into society.

I know fourĀ  Daddies who stay at home with their children while Mum goes out to work. Ā And that’s just off the top of my head. Loads more share parenting duties and responsibilities with their children’s mum. It’s not a new thing.

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I am single handedly fighting the “Is Daddy babysitting?” bullshit with my semi-violent responses becoming quite famous around Donegal. Ā It may eventually be a nationwide epidemic that might even cause some bloke in Government to ban the question completely, and punishment for uttering the words will carry a sentence of a full Netflix session of Peppa Pork… or worse, Max and fricken Ruby.

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The Him Most Certainly DOES NOT Babysit his girls. He Daddies them.

But most fabulous is the rise of the Daddy Blogger. Ā I know and follow a few Daddy Bloggers and am delighted that this rare and wonderful species are speaking out for the Daddy folk and giving the Mammy Bloggers a run for the children’s allowance.

So in order to spread the love and in the hope that maybe some of my 97% female readers might tag or share with their Daddy Bear type, I want to share my top 3 with you. (If you know a Daddy who might enjoy following some really cool Daddy types, tag away and share this with them.)

My Favourite Daddy Bloggers!

The Stented PapaĀ is a must follow for ALL parents. I’ve met this dude. He is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met and his blog has me in stitches laughing frequently.

 

 

 

Daddy PoppinsĀ is the hilarious and honest musings of an Irish House Husband. Serious wit here my Lovelies!

 

 

 

Digital DadĀ is brilliant. Ā Again, funny and so honest, his posts will crack you up!

 

 

OMG Family, Life and Food keeps it real and relevant. Love his food posts.

These guys are a breath of fresh air. Ā Get following!

If we can get Dads sharing and reading and recognising and empathising with other Dads, who knows?

Eventually we might live in a society that praises and applauds all the amazing Dads who DO exist, rather than wondering what’s wrong with them for being, you know, Dads?

And yes, there are some useless Dads out there. but remember, there are some useless Mums out there too. Shock fecking horror! I get in trouble every time I say this, but hey! Giving birth doesn’t make you the best parent. Loving the child does, and that includes the parents who love their children from different homes and sometimes from afar.

 

If you have any Dad bloggers to recommend, please do so in the comments!

#dadsarefabtoo

I am So, Is Different Always Wrong Mum?

On Wednesday, I wrote a blog post on how an imaginary spider and a pair of knickers caused a post apocalyptic meltdown in my house before 7am. I went to work in tears, spent the day in an absolute state and only settled when Mini-Me was tucked up after a very calm and snuggly bedtime. Most of the stress came from the fact that although yes, SHE had started it, I knew in my heart and soul that the biggest reason for the stand-off…was me.

I wasn’t going to post, but as my readers know, I’m not one for pretending this parenting lark is easy. I’m not Mary of the Poppins. Nor am I Nanny Mc Phee. In fact, most days, the S is S-Mum stands for ANYTHING EXCEPT Super. But post it I did and I’m glad I did.

It never ceases to amaze me how supportive and kind other Mammies can be. (And Daddies actually.) Within an hour of posting it, a dozen Mums and 3 Dads had commented their empathy and another dozen had private messaged me to say that they too had crappy days; that they had also been dealing with similar bahaviour in their homes.

One Mammy, whose kids are now adults, messaged me to tell me that I shouldn’t be so hard on myself and that every mum goes through bad mornings and bad days. Her message made me cry. I went to bed feeling particularly crappy and emotionally exhausted, but Thursday was another day and thankfully, a LOT better.

For every reader who empathised with my strggle, I’m sure that there were a few who tutted their sanctimammious tuts at my post; at my honesty and at my admission that I’d fooked up that morning. That’s par for the course as a blogger. If my #mammyfailure made them feel smug and self righteous. Good. But the readers I care to impress are the ones who think “Thank God it’s not just me.”

Last night, a very followed and applauded Mum blogger in the UK and her equally popular Blogger Husband, posted on Instagram a photograph of themselves out on a date night.

The post initially seemed quite run of the mill, but as you read, it became clear that it was an #ad. The responses to the post were instant. They set the interweb on fire and within a few minutes, had hundreds of comments; most of them negative and disgusted, many of them aggressive and hateful.

Why? Because what initally looked like a typical “Yay! We’re out!” post, was actually an advert for the Babysitting App they had used that evening. “The Uber of babysitters” is how it is described. It’s an app that provides qualified babysitters, all of whom are apparently first-aid and childcare trained and have had thorough background checks done on them.

It’s quite popular in cities, where many parents find themselves without the “Village” required to raise a child. Indeed many of the comments were from people saying that they must check them out. But within minutes, the abuse of the couple began. Lots of people simply stated their suspicion of the app, or the fact that they personally wouldn’t want to leave their children with a stranger. Some went so far as to point out the fact that if the children awoke, they’d be faced with a stanger, (my first thought too.)

But others took it quite personally and went so far as to reprimand and scold them for their “irresponsibilty”, “Disgusting content” and “poor parenting”. Some criticised them for leaving their children with a stranger for an Ad opportunity. Basically, they and their parenting got annihilated by the hundreds of Sanctimammies who felt it their duty to share their disapproval.

Now, while I personally wouldn’t use such a service, I don’t feel the need to tell these people that I have a different view. I am however, also lucky enough to live near family and to have wonderful friends who are part enough of our girls’ lives to mind them if we need them to. But do you know what? Not everyone is so lucky. Not everyone has a support system on their doorsteps. Not everyone has a buddy who can pop over for an hour. And as usual, not everyone parents the same as me, or as you.

And we are so quick to judge. It made me sad to read. I can only imagine how dreadful this couple must have felt if they read some of these comments. While I find it a strange concept to leave your kids with a stranger, I only find it strange because I don’t need to do it. It’s obviously something that there is a demand for. Why would it even exist as a business otherwise?

There is a conception that if you put details of your life online, then you deserve any criticism that comes to you. Well actually, this is nonsense. No one deserves the level of abuse that this couple received last night. Of course, people have the right to say what they want and to criticise and to disagree, but when this turns into disapproving abuse and aggressive attacks, then no. People do NOT have the right to do that.

If you don’t like what someone writes, or what they share or what they say, unfollow, delete or ignore.

There’s no excuse for hateful comments and there’s no need for them. We should be lifting each other up, not putting each other down.

As parents, we beat ourselves up enough don’t we? I know I do. And someone else sticking the boot in is about as useful as a chocolate teapot.

So without bashing any other parents, what’s your take on a Babysitting app? It’s an interesting one isn’t it?

(First published on Donegal Woman on Thoroughly Modern Mammy

http://www.donegalwoman.ie/2017/10/22/is-different-wrong/ )

I am Spiders and Knickers Mum

Mammy has had a fuckitty fuck-up of a day.

It all began this morning at 6.45am, when Mammy’s coffee was interrupted by a meltdown over an imaginary spider and a pair of knickers.

ā€œGo get your pants and socks pleaseā€ seems like a simple enough request, doesn’t it?

Apparently not.

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I don’t see a fricken spider…

Apparently,Ā ā€œGo get your pants and socks pleaseā€ is the code phrase for ā€œGo and imagine a spider that you can’t possibly see on the dark wall without lights on, have an almighty shitbrick attack, refuse to move, scream like a wilder-beast whose nether-regions have been caught in a metal trap until the only way Mammy can get you to shut up long enough to listen is for Mammy to scream even LOUDER than you, to the point that we are both roaring the house down, ending ultimately in a tearstained stand-off.”

Ā You see Darling, although yes,Ā  it would be much easier for Mammy to go into the imaginary spider infested room and get the knickers and socks for you, this would also require Mammy giving in to your Primadona dramatics and losing the last string of authority Mammy has as well as the last string of sanity she just about has. No. As much as you dig those little heels in, Mammy HAS to wait for you to calm the feck down and eventually back down enough to at least look into the room (which Mammy has lit up with the amazingly clever light switch) to see that the mahoosive imagined spider is gone so you can run in dramatically and get your knickers and socks, otherwise Mammy will never get you to follow a single, simple instruction… EVER again…amen.

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Head to head…

Of course, Mammy should have just sucked it up and given in. Mammy knows that. It would have been much easier on everyone and most likely would have saved everyone from the Hellhole that our home had descended into by 7am. Ā It might have saved us both from the tears and sobs and snots and general feelings of utter shittiness that lingered over us (me anyway) until approximately 4pm. Ā Had Mammy not been such a stubborn, bad tempered, thran wench, and had you not been soooo like your Mammy, (you poor cretur), we might have had a peaceful and relaxed and tear-free morning.

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#mammyguilt

But no, we went full on “apocalypse now” and neither of us won. You went to school, Ā probably knackered and emotional… Mammy walked in the staff-room door and fell to bits when a colleague asked how she was. You might have forgotten all about it by the time you got onto the bus…Ā  I’m still feeling like social services are going to arrive on the doorstep this evening while I’m feeding you whatever the feck is in the freezer, because quite frankly, I don’t have the emotional energy to think about cooking.

But for now, Mammy will have to pull up her big girl knickers and try her very best to make sure that this evening is the absolute opposite of the morning.Ā  The Mammy guilt is real and Mammy needs the hugs just as much, if not more, than you do. And never worry about what’s for dinner. If we’re stuck, there’s apparently a huge spider in your room. Ā Maybe we could eat him.ā€

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Like Mammy, like Mini…