Tag Archives: parents

I am Stoopid Feckin Waddles Mum

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This is Waddles.

Waddles is the class teddy.
Waddles gets sent home with the minions in turn.
Mini-Me brought Waddles home for the SECOND time this year, just a few weeks ago.
I’m only getting around to writing this now, because I was so fricken TRAUMATISED by Waddles…
🐧🐧THE WRATH OF WADDLES…🐧🐧
The first time Waddles came home was painless and quite enjoyable.  I now know that the little twit was luring this Mama Bear into a false sense of security.  He came, we snapped some pics and she drew a picture of her playing with Waddles…
Easy.
So when she bounced off the bus a few weeks ago, clutching Waddles to her little self, I wasn’t too bothered.
“LOOKIT MAMMEEEEEEE. I GOTTED WAGGLES!”
“YAAAAAAAAAAY” said Mammy.
“We has to write sentences about what we do wif him AND draw a pitchur,” she adds.
“YAAAAA…aaaaaaaay…”
I had planned a relaxing evening… I now knew that this was NOT going to happen. 😭
You see, getting Mini-Me to write a sentence I imagine to be akin to getting Donald of daTrump to write his own speeches, all by Himself.

She needs prompts, she needs guidance, she needs “motivation” , she loses concentration every 3 seconds and she needs to constantly correct her mistakes… It’s HARD.
So imagine the chills of horror that went through me as she completed her homework and I opened the schoolbag to see the diary of Waddles…
And just like “Christmas Card-gate” 😂😂, I realised just how PERFECT the writing of the other kids in her class is in comparison to hers.   The few entries before her blank page, looked better than some of my 6th years’ handwriting!
Feckitty, feck, feck, feck…” I muttered to myself as I rescheduled my whole evening.

She did go outside and had great fun with Waddles, before starting her “few sentences”.
An hour and a half…YES…almost 90 fricken minutes after she started, we had eventually managed 3 semicoherent sentences.  I was so knackered and mentally glooped that I ALMOST didn’t correct her mispelling of her last word “trampailín” which looked more like “tampon”.  I should have left it.  😂
By the time we had finished, everyone was grumpy, dinner was cold and Mammy wanted to put Waggles in the oven.
She went to bed that night, happy as Larry, hugging the googly eyed little shit as if her life depended on it.
And then I went back to the kitchen, happy that the whole evening had been worth it to see her so happy… Did I heck! 😥😥

I went back to the kitchen, poured a large glass of grapes and greeted The Him with “Waddles is a Prick” when he came in the door.
So there we go.

The Wrath of Waddles. 👇👇👇👇 (I MAY have added the horns to portray how I see him… 😂😂😂)
I’m actually palpitating slightly here even remembering it if I’m honest.

I’m obviously not over it.
#yesigetthatitsgoodforthembutstill #wrathofwaddles

I am Sad Mum

Posted in children, family, parenting, terror, Uncategorized by

Everytime I start writing tonight, I find myself lost for words…
It seems inappropriate to make jokes and poke fun at my little world today.  It seems wrong to joke about anything tonight.

I can’t even bear to imagine what the families affected by last night’s massacre are dealing with today.
I can’t imagine what the emergency services and hospital staff have been dealing with.
I wanted to hug each and every one of my students today.  In every image I see of missing and lost children this evening, I see their smiles, their poses, their innocence.  And the fact that such terror can happen so close to home, is a terrifying reminder of just how quickly life can change for any of us.
Until this morning, I didn’t know who Arianna Grande was. Tonight, I feel so much sympathy and sadness for her. I really do. Such sadness.
Today, my minions were their usual delightful, devilish, rascalish, sibling-battering, screaming selves.

But they are here.

They are well.

They are mines.

And all the little things that I give out about, and complain about and scold about every other day, I breathed in deep today.
They’re tucked up in bed now, safe and blissfully oblivious to the evil cowardice that resides in our communities.

I’ve held them a little closer. I’ve kissed them an extra time. I’ve cuddled them a little tighter…

I’m sure we all have?
And, like every parent here, watching the devestation across the water, I’ve cried for our neighbours in Manchester.
I send my love, as futile as that may be, to everyone.

#manchester

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

I am “She’s PUUUUUUKING!” Mammy

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Do you know the BEST thing about when your child projectile vomits in public? 😶
You realise how NICE people are.😍
That’s it.

(There is NOTHING else good about having the whole family COVERED, in the middle of a restaurant, especially for the OTHER poor families around or near your table.)
It has to be the SINGLE most horrific, mortifying, cringe inducing and terrifying thing that can happen to parents and it’s one that EVERY parent deals with at some point or another. 
You’re completely covered, trying to comfort the Pukemonster, contain the mess and get help from SOMEWHERE WITHOUT attracting any more attention to yourselves, and to stop yoir other child from shouting “She’s puuuuuuuuking!” over and over again.   You feel soooooooooo terrible for the people sitting nearby and yet your Mama Bear intuition tells you to worry only about your child.
But the best thing, or should I say ONE GOOD THING about a horrid situation is how nice people are.
…
So to the other Mammy who gave me a knowing wink as I tried to get everyone out the door, THANK YOU
To the waiting staff in Backstage who were AMAZING, THANK YOU.

 “You worry about you guys, we’ll sort out the rest” said one of the waitresses as I tried in vain to clean the seat with Pukemonster hanging off me.  I’ve been there. As a former waitress, I can guarantee that this was not the highlight of her week, but yet she was so professional, so helpful and sooooo kind. 
And to the 2 other Supermums who messaged this evening to ask if she is OK, THANK YOU.  Your messages have made me feel a bit better this evening.

As one of them said “We’ve all been there Lovey!” 

And unfortunately, after today, yes we have.   
And to The Him, who just happened to swap seats with me a few seconds before she puked, thank YOU! 😅😅
Hope you all had a lovely evening Ladybelles.
(And if you happened to have been in the audience for Princess’s performance this evening… I’m soooooooooo sorry. 😭😭😭)

I am “She told the truf” Mum

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I don’t “hate” many things, but I can not STAND liars.
I’ve been bitten by enough serial liars in my life to know that liars are septic and that my girlies will:

1. Know that it is bad to lie (eventually!…like by the time they’re 12?)

2.  Know that liars ALWAYS get caught out (eventually!) 😉

3. Be able to spot a serial liar at 100 paces. 

But riddle me this Bitcheepooooos.
How and when are we supposed to teach them that lying is wrong, when we so regularly ask it of them? 
Weekend.

Public facilities.

Me: “Oh God there’s no toilet roll. God these toilets are pretty rotten. They could do with a rub.” (Pulls tissues from bag)

Her: 

Me: “We’ll tell the nice man outside that there’s no toilet paper in these toilets.”

Her: 

“Ok. Pull up your shorts now and we’ll wash our hands.”

Her: ” Is it time for icecream yet?”
Step outside to find Daddy in carpark.  Meet nice steward/staff member.
Me: “Hi. There’s no toilet roll in any of the ladies toilets…”

Her: “Them toilets are JUST ROTTEN!”

Me: (squeezing her hand and hissing Sssssssh!) 

Him: (not hearing her) “No bother love. I’ll get that sorted…”

Her: (louder) Scuse me Muster.  Them toilets needs a good wub. They’re honkin…”
Him? No idea. I actually dragged her sanctimonious little bum across the carpark as quickly as I could go, calling “Thanks a million” cheerily over my shoulder.
And of course, I scolded her for speaking to the man and started on my “You don’t speak to adults like that” tirade.
And she of course, looked up at me with her big blue innocent eyes and said “But sure I was telling the truf Mammy. Look my tongue isn’t black or nuffin?” 😑😑
Case closed.

She was right. 😂

So yes, riddle me this…

How the hell do we expect them to learn how to tell the truth, but only when it doesn’t involve being rude?
It’s not easy is it?
But I’m sure that by the time she is old enough to “know better”, she’ll be able to tell the difference in the little white lies which have only positive effects on people, and the big fat septic ones.
And the toilets WERE pretty rotten in fairness! 😭😭
How was your Monday? 😘😘😘

I am Stuff Everywhere Mum 

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It’s World Poetry Day.
And so tonight’s offering for “I am some things the Baby Books forgot to mention” Mum shall be written in verse.
“Nappies and dodees” should be read/sung to the tune of “Raindrops and Roses” from The Sound of Music.
The BS Bibles spout such shite as “Don’t worry! Babies don’t need to take up ALL the space in your home.  Dedicate a shelf or drawer in your living room to baby essentials to keep them close at hand.  The Baby’s clothes etc should be kept in Baby’s nursery (includes image of pale grey amd white, empty, tidy nursery…)  The moses basket should be in a well appointed space, not too close to any radiators or drafty doors/windows. A well organised changing station will help keep the home mess free.”
Where does it prepare us for the explosion of STUFF that ensures that EVERY nook and cranny of your once tidyish home gets covered in Baby.  It’s like a giant Baby lifts the roof off your house and projectile VOMITS a load of utter CRAP all over EVERYTHING.  No room escapes and while for the first few weeks you might be able to contain the Baby stuff to a few baskets or to one corner, once they begin to play with toys or move about, the house slowly becomes overwhelmed by toys that seem to reproduce and multiply while we sleep.
“Nappies and Dodees and cute little sockies

Big teddies, small teddies, horseys that rockie,

Elephant mobiles that fly on their strings

These are just some of the new baby’s things.
Baskets from Moses and funky shaped pillows

Grufallos, Minnie Mouse, Wind in the Willows,

Breast pumps and bobos and wee plastic pots,

Plastic spoons needed for feeding your tots.
Where’s the dummy?

Close the stairgate.

Get the nappy baaaag.

I simply can’t deal with this amount of stuff

I miss the space that I had.
Cushions and door clips and safety latches

Lift all those candles and hide all the matches

Puke cloths and poop bags and powders and creams,

Lego and Stains on all of your things.
Carseats and carriers, high chairs and bouncers

Moniters, teethers and measures for ounces

Video moniters keep mammy calm

And Daddy’s still learning how to fold up the pram.
Toys toys toys toys

Toys toys toys toys

Did I mention toys?

I simply am listing the simplest of things

We gather for girls…and boys.”


And just like the list the BS Bibles give you, this is by no means exhaustive. You will find more crap to add to it and you will wonder why you didn’t take millions of photographs of your lovely fengshuiyed, Cath Kitsonesque, picture perfect home BC to send to ‘House and Home’

.  

And as for new furniture or carpets? 

Don’t bother your arse until they’re old enough to know NOT to 

write on the cushions with glitter glue. 
Wrecking balls…

Absolute wrecking balls. 😂😂😂