Tag Archives: parenting

I am Saddle and Sore Bum Mum 😅

Posted in blog, family, Uncategorized by

Mammy’s bottom is sore.
Today, I sat upon the hard saddle of a bicycle.  The only hard saddle that Mammy is used to sitting on, is Jim’s …  you know the stationary, non-moving, non-dangerous, spinning bicycle that is BOLTED TO THE GROUND and which can NOT MOVE?

“Let’s hire the bikes!” suggested The Him when we arrived in Glenveagh.
“Oh fecking joy” thinks Mammy, but NEVER one to let The Him think her unfit or uncool or old and decrepit, and seeing the ACTUAL joy on Mini-Me’s face at the prospect of saving her little legs from the 4k walk, Mammy answered “What a glorious idea My Him. But as YOU are the manliest man in Manville, YOU have my permission to be manly and to strut your masculine Mannity by pulling the trailer containing your two cherubs.”

S-Mum’s FIRST hurdle was THE HELMET. You see my Lovelies, I do indeed have a superbly large and quite weirdly shaped cranium.  I like to think it’s all the brains, but in reality, it is a combination of genetic and bad luck.  (The last time I required a helmet was on a teambuilding horseriding day with my colleagues, when the Gobshite/man shouted to HIS colleague “Gone out the back and bring in the special hat”, before fitting me with a glorified bucket and sending me off on the spawn of Satan…a horse named Mary… shudder.)
But to my amazement, the helmet DOES FIT and so I am good to go.
S-Mum does not delight in the prospect of cycling a real live bicycle for the first time in AT LEAST 20 years, but then S-Mum sees that The Him’s bum looks quite wonderful on his manly bike and so decides to forgoe her trepidation and take one for the team.
“You go in front Darling” says The Him.
“Oh no My Him. I’d much prefer to follow you so I can see my precious minions. Be the man. I shall be a good wifey and follow you” answers I, patting myself on the back for being so cunning and clever. 😈

So off we went.  I sat on the saddle, nodded at the instructions the buck was giving me about gears or something, and wondered HOW the hell I would get out of the CARPARK, nevermind the whole way down to the castle, and back.
But do you know what?

Remember I did.

It really was “like riding a bike.” 😂😂😂
Yes, I was a bit wobbly, and yes I almost died 13 times before I got the hang of the brakes etc, but having spent my whole childhood on bikes with my sister and brother, it came back to me quickly.
I did however discover something interesting.
I have huge difficulty turning right!

Left? No bother.

Right?  Not so much. I felt like I was going to tip over.
Why? I have NO FECKING IDEA! Maybe it’s a sign that the left side of my brain has gone to mussh more than the right?
Anyway, we went, we saw, we cycled.
It was great fun.

The girls loved it, “woohoooooing” their way behind their Daddy.
After my initial wobbles, and as a result of my utter stubbornness, I actually enjoyed it…

And in fairness, the view was pretty impressive too. 😈😈😉😉
How was your Sunday Funday?

Have you found me on Bookface yet?

https://www.facebook.com/the.s.mum

I am Sunshine and Suncream Mum

Posted in blog, parenting, temperature, Uncategorized, wine by

Oh it is sunshiny and fablis. 😎😎
Oh how wonderful.😎
Let us drive home with Stepford Mammy notions of pottering in the garden, topping up our Vitamin D, naming flowers and passing on our memories of nature walks and such. Let us have a light, sunnyful,  salady dinner and let the children run free while we watch and adore them from the poofy lounger. And then, let them be so exhausted from their frolicking and pottering, that they snuggle down for a long sleep, full of the joys of summer and sunkissed and freckled, smelling of the great outdoors…
Good Mammy.
Now let us be realistic. 😅
Yes, we may drive home full of these notions, but notions they are, and only notions.
In reality, let’s collect the minions, tired and cranky from the heat at play/school, let us put them in a car of approximately 31° even with the windows down, for them to get MORE cranky and sweaty on the way home. Let us have a complete fecking meltdown when you offer icecream but end up with ice-POPS because the cone machine has had fecking heart attack at its sudden overuse. Let us try to get the homework done, because Clever Mammy knows that whatever chance we have of getting it done NOW, there is precisely feck all chance of it being done once the pottering commences.
Let us wrestle more suncream onto the two wrigglers, before having a quiet and peaceful 😂😂standoff with the Mini-Me about putting ON her hat,  while the Princess insists on removing HER hat to EAT IT at 3 minute intervals.
 Let is not even think about sitting one’s Stepford Mummy posterier on a lounger, poofy or not, because “Pottering” with a wobbler ACTUALLY means following the little turdler, 3 steps behind, lifting her away from the dog’s bowl and racing her to the gate 16 times in 6 minutes, wondering how her fat little legs are so fast?  😥
Then, let us realise that unless you have a fecking COOK residing in your home, having a light summery etc dinner, STILL requires Mammy to go inside to COOK IT. And going for pizza would require gettinto the car again… nope! 😭
And so begins the END of the “pottering”, and the beginning of ARMAGETTIN…which is where you forcibly remove the suncream clad, slippery, sun stricken, cranky, exhausted and very fecking happy wobbler from the sunshine, by grabbing her in your ARMS and (trying to) GET IN!  

Armagettin. 😅😅
Let us then rejoice in the fact that Iggle Piggle is working his blue bottomed magic in the corner and let us spend the next hour feeding the kids who are two fecking HOT to eat anyway and looking longingly at the sunshine that you can’t get out to, and watching the clock, wishing it to be bedtime so that we can steal the last 30 minutes of sunshine for ourselves.
Let us love this weather, but let is not fool ourselves.  

Stepford Mammies we are not.
It’s not all pottering and gleefully finding bugs in the “gawden Dahling”.  Sometimes it’s a suncreamy, slippery, cranky sesspit of overheated mayhem, that will ultimately lead to 2 sticky, smelly and happily knackered minions CRASHING from a combination of sunshine and heat, and the need for all the bedsheets to be washed in the morning. 

(Trust me, THAT is easier than trying to bath these two tonight! 

Feral I tell you…😍😍😂😂)
And THEN, let us sup on cold grapes and enjoy the not so sunshiny, but still quite lovely evening, in the suncream free company of my boychild. 👇👇👇

Have a good one Lovelies. 😂😂😂

I am “Sit on my knee” Mum

Posted in blog, family, poetry by

“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

I am “So the MAIN the the Baby Books forgot to mention” Mum

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For my final instalment of “I am Some Things the Baby Books Forget to Mention Mum”, I shall impart THE most important truths that any Mammy will EVER need to read.  💋
Thousands upon Thousands of Baby and Parenting Books have been written, all offering varying information and facts to expecting parents.   I don’t dismiss them all. Most are afterall, written by experts. 

 

An expert in parenting I am not.
Of course I bought them when I was expecting Mini-Me.   What benefit did I get from them? 

Honestly?

 I loved reading about the development of my little Bubba each week, looking at pics of what she looked like and imagining my own little alien growing in my belly.  I read every last word of “What to Expect” and drank up all the information…
Forewarned is forearmed isn’t that what they say?😅
But what was the main lesson I learned?  
Well, from the minute you walk in the door of the hospital, anything you have read or researched goes straight out the window, faster than any drug kicks in.  

You are not in control. 
Even the most informed and prepared Mama Bear is not fully in control of the birth. Anything can happen. And more shockingly, the second your Baby arrives, any idea that you had about being in charge or in control, disappears instantly.
All the plans and informed decisions about routine, feeding, changing, habits, EVERYTHING, become memories as your little one takes you on a journey.  
THEY are driving.  They are in charge.  What they need, you give them. Where you are going, is on an adventure, blind as feck and having no idea where you’re heading.  And on this adventure, there is no room for BS Bibles.  
So while maternity books and guides are necessary (first time anyway!), it’s the parenting books that I have issue with.  Why?  Because they often create unachievable goals and, like everything, they suggest that if you are not doing things they way the book outlines, that you are failing.
So what are the only things that EVERY PARENT needs to know?

1. Follow your instincts

And 

2. You’re ALREADY doing a great job.
“Sleep when the baby sleeps”…Yeah right.

“Baby should eat at x hour intervals”… Newsflash. Baby will eat when it’s hungry.  He’ll let you know.

“Bath your baby every night”; feck off

“Don’t start them on solids until”… yeah, whatever. 

“Your Baby should be…”  Let me finish this sentence off for you…
Your Baby should be fed and loved.  THAT is all. 
And whether you breast-feed or bottle-feed, wear your baby or push him, co-sleep or cot, in your room or nursery, use pampers or mamia, Baby led wean or…just wean, dodee or not,  IT DOESN’T MATTER.
How you care for your minion is YOUR business.  
If you need help or advice, ask for it.

If you feel that something is wrong, follow your gut and don’t be dismissed by anyone.

If you look at other parents and think they’re better than you, stop comparing yourself.

If you look at other parents and think you’re better than them? Get the fuck over yourself.

 

SO there.
Follow your instincts, Do what’s right for you, and most importantly, even covered in puke, stinking like a chicken coup because you haven’t showered in 3 days, jibbering from lack of sleep and riding the hormonal rollercoaster, You’re already doing a great job.
You’re brilliant and your minions wouldn’t have you any other way.
You’re THEIR world.  You’re all that they know.  You are all that they need.  You are enough…
They don’t need a book to tell them that… neither should you.💙
Some days will be chaos on a plate.  Others will be jigsaws and giggles.💖💖


Whichever it is in your house today, Keep ‘er lit Mama Bear.

 You’re fablis xxxxxx

I am Stay Smiling at You Mum

Posted in family, parenting, Uncategorized by

To my Darling Mini-Me

You stopped me in my tracks this morning. I walked past your bedroom door. You were standing in front of your mirror, brushing your hair, with your little sister watching you silently. You had no idea that you were being watched. You were beautiful. Suddenly, you looked so different; so grown up. The little smile on your face as you gently combed melted me.  You were smiling because you were happy;  Happy with what you saw.  Content with your reflection.  Beautiful and perfect and blissfully content with how you look.

You caught me watching and stopped, mid-stroke.

“Am I gawjus Mammy?” you asked before continuing to brush.

“You really are Darling” I answered, but you were already back at it, not really caring what I said.  Because you already knew that you are.

And indeed you are.

You’re beautiful.

For you, Dear Daughter, I have many hopes.  One of my main hopes is that you get to smile that little smile while looking at your reflection for as long as possible.  Because there will come a day, when you will look at yourself just a little bit differently.  You will compare yourself to your friends. You will look at the images online and in print and wonder why you don’t look like they do.  You will suddenly find yourself criticising your reflection, rather than enjoying it.

And it breaks my heart.

If you’re anything like your Mammy (and we both know you are!), you will deal with wonky teeth, you will be tortured by bad skin well into your adult years, and you will probably wait impatiently for the boobs that everyone else seems to have!  I can save you a lot of trouble right now my Darling.  You’ll probably still be waiting as you approach 40, but by then, you’ll be glad that they never arrived!

Life is cruel and society can be one savagely bitchy playground.  If I can give you one thing, it will be the ability to be comfortable in your own skin.  You may wish your teeth were straighter or that your skin was blotch free or that your nose was smaller, but you will know that you are you, and that it is these little features that make you stand out, that make you individual, that make you perfect.

And I do my best.  Yes, I have days where I feel yucky, but I have finally reached the point of contentment where I care only what one person thinks about how I look:  and that person is ME.

Me, Myself and I.

You might not realise this, but I purposely take off my makeup after work in the kitchen so that you can see that it’s OK to not wear any.  When you ask me why I am putting on mascara, I try to answer that “I sometimes like to wear it”.  I’ll play dress up and makeup with you because I want you to know that it is something that women enjoy.  But I’ll also let you see me going into town without even brushing my hair, because I want you to get into the habit of not giving a crap if people don’t like what you’re wearing or how you look.

I’ll let you wear tights that do NOT match your dress if you want to, because in no time at all, society will be dictating what you wear anyway. And you will not see me standing on scales.  You will see me train but you’ll not hear my swearing under my breath at the exercises! Any issues you are going to get about your beautiful self, I do hope that they do not come from me.

I will do anything for you both, you know that.  I care for you.  I feed you. I look after you.  And I promise that I will also help you to always think you are gawjus.  I will tell you you’re beautiful, even though some parenting “experts” tut at young girls being told they’re pretty.  Nonsense.

I will always tell you you’re beautiful, because there’ll be enough bitches who revel in making you feel that you aren’t.

So you keep smiling that perfect little smile my Gawjus girl, because there is nothing more beautiful than a smile.

And there is no one more beautiful to me, than YOU.

All my love,

Mammy.

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