Tag Archives: parents

I am She goes, He Goes Mum

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  “OH DU TOILETTE…”

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The Throne…

Becoming a Mum brings with it many wonderful and exciting changes for parents. The “books” will tell you how new babies will test even the strongest relationship.  They do not tell you that one of the biggest bones of contention between parents is the process of the poo.
Let me explain…

(Read alá David of the Attenborough on a wildlife show…)
The female of the species becomes quickly skilled at excretion. After childbirth, despite possible  complications and difficulties with the bladder, she will quickly evolve into a bladder controlling machine. Caring for her young is always a priority. Even with a full bladder, the female can retain control under duress and highly stressful conditions, often balancing her offspring on her abdominal area. She is strong however, and will wait for the perfect moment to pounce on the elusive porcelain.  When the opportunity presents itself, the Mama will swiftly and skillfully do what she needs to do.
The female can relieve a full bladder in 8.5 seconds and it has been said that faecal excretion can take only 5 seconds. (Evidence of this has not yet been acquired as the female is so skilled and speedy that scientific equipment is not fast enough to measure the act.)  The female performs the essential and necessary act of excretion faster than any other species, and often with up to 4 of her young hovering around, or indeed ON, her.  Cleanliness is swift and onehanded in many cases. Other species have yet to evolve at the speed of the human Mammy.

The male of the species is entirely different.
The male is special. He makes quite the production of the animal act of excretion. The bathroom must be empty of all young. The atmosphere should be peaceful and relaxed in order for the full joy and relaxation of the event. Full concentration is required.  Men have evolved to require the help of a handheld device for the excretion process. Tablets are acceptable but the clever male prefers the mobile phone, as it can be sneaked into the room, past the female, more easily.  The male may require anything up to 45 minutes for the process.
It is very difficult and he ensures that the importance of and difficulty of his excretion is heard by his female if she dares to question the length of time he has been in his throne room. “I’m IN THE F$#€** Toilet” may he roared in a manly way, by the manly man, during his manly process, if he perceives disapproval or tutting from the female outside the door.  The delicate procedure is prolonged and made easier for the male by perusal of Bookface or Instagranny for the duration. This device aids in the relaxation required for the faeces to remove itself from the manly male posterier.

Sometimes, for reasons as yet unknown to scientists, the male will remain on the porcelain seat for much time after the act of relieving himself. It has been suggested that this is an avoidance of the reality of the children who are not allowed to bother him while in the special pooping room. This is not yet proven, but breakthroughs are expected in the near future as female scientists are working on remote controls to switch off the prolonging devices. Other exciting developments are self flushing timed toilets, although there are fears that such a device might be mistaken for self cleaning.)
The male reappears into the homestead calm and relaxed, thoroughly relieved and oblivious to how long he has been in the bathroom. The bathroom and the rest of the world have different time rules when the male excretes… what he feels to be 5 minutes, is often 37 minutes by the female’s observant and obsessive count…

The male excretion ends with a ceremonial greeting by the female which can be high-pitched and erratic.

This process remains as such until the female completely loses her mind and screams so much that the children become afraid to interrupt her, or they finally reach the age where watching Mammy poo is no longer interesting or exciting…

The Male checks his phone and wonders what all the fuss is about.
#takeashitalready #soblessed #peeinprivate

I am S is for Special – World Downs Syndrome Day

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It’s World Downs Syndrome Day. ❤❤

 

It’s a day to celebrate the extra chromosome that makes some people just a little bit more special.
One of the first images I saw on Facebook today was of my good friend Lee Gooch and his handsome little man Noah.  

And oh! How it melted my heart.

Not simply because of the angelic and perfect little face of the wee man, but because of the smile on Daddy’s face.

  This 👇👇 my friends is the smile of true pride, of true joy…of true and utter love. 💙💙


And it melts my heart, not only because of the joy it brings, but also because of the memories it provokes in me.
Lee and his family are blessed. 

I know this, because my family too were blessed.

A child with Downs Syndrome isn’t just their extra chromosome.

A child with Downs, is special.
Special in every sense of the word.
My own aunty Carmel was special. 
She was beautiful, mischievous and intelligent. She held more love in the tip of her finger than ANYONE I have ever known. She was witty, bold and an absolute rascal, loving nothing more than to get the craic going with whoever was visiting. She loved to dress up, adored The Rose of Tralee and loved to dance.  Every single person who walked through the door of my Grandparents’ home, fell head over heels in love with her. She was the most head-strong, determined and fearless Ladybelle I’ve ever met.  She kept our family on our toes. 


And she taught me many lessons.

The main one being that we are all different and that different is good. 
I remember being in the shopping Centre with her and my other Aunty when I was about 5. Other kids were staring at Carmel. It was the first time I realised that she was different because I suddenly became aware of other people’s reactions to her. Her reaction to one teenage boy who stopped to look at her? She stuck out her tongue at him, laughed her hearty laugh and waved at him mischievously as we pushed her past.😂😂
 There and then, I was proud of her. Even at that young age, she taught me that you must NEVER let anyone bring you down, that you must be YOU, and that there IS no other You to be.
She was perfect.

She was the strongest woman I ever had the pleasure of knowing.

She was more brave and more caring and more wonderful than I could ever put into words and I miss her every day.
She was indeed my Special Aunty, but for so many more reasons than her Downs Syndrome.

Special doesn’t even start to describe her or the love that she gave or more importantly, the love that she demanded.

Love.

Pure and true…

Like the love on Lee’s face in that photograph and every day.
 A family who have been blessed with an extra chromosome, know a love that is beyond words.
So there. 

I never thought I’d write about my precious Aunty Carmel, but today, I decided it was time. I miss her every day and she lives on in our hearts and in our memories. Knowing and loving her is responsible for so much of who I am today.
And I send my love and respect to every single family who are fighting every day for the rights of Downs Syndrome children, and who are helping to make people realise that the “S” in DS should not stand for “Syndrome”…

It stands for “Strong”.

It stands for “Smile”.

and it stands for Special.
#worlddownsyndromeday #smile #love #special 
(Lee has given me permission to post this pic. Thanks Lovely. And kisses to Noah.)
Follow me on Facebook @the.s.mum and instagram @the.s.mum 

I am Share Positive Birth Stories Mum

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​I had a conversation yesterday with my friend who is due her first baby at Easter.
She’s glowing and beautiful and excited, but she’s frightened beyond belief.
She was telling me how terrified she is and how she’s had to stop reading forums because the horror stories she’s read. 

And she’s right.
As with all areas of life, we tend to tell the dramatic or nightmare stories of childbirth, before we share the positive ones.
Giving birth is terrifying whether it’s your first time or your 6th, but it is also the most natural thing in the world, isn’t it? Our bodies are designed for it.  Women have been giving birth for millions of years. And yet, it’s also perfectly natural to be completely terrified. It’s new. It’s unpredictable. It’s painful.

Usually, unless there are complications or you run into difficulties, most Mammas manage to bring their little minions into the world without too much drama. 💙❤
So let’s help my lovely Glammy Mammy out and share some birth stories WITHOUT the horror stories.
I’ll begin…
Both of my births were by scheduled C-Section, for medical reasons and well called by my Consultant. Both were painful, with their own complications and recovery, but both resulted in birth.  
And as much as no one wants surgery on top of childbirth, I have to say that both were calm and positive and (dare I say), enjoyable, and that I was looked after beautifully by the midwives at Letterkenny University Hospital.
And as unwell as I felt, and as terrified as I was, and as painful the recoveries, both were worth every single ache and pain.💖💖
So there you go.  Nothing overly eventful Thank god.
(And if you’re currently wanting to slap me and grumbling about how crap YOUR experience was, let me clarify that my last one was so “enjoyable” that I’ve sworn NEVER to do it again, but I AM focusing on the positives here and I salute you Mamma. You are a Goddess and you are Supermum, but let’s not terrify her anymore than she already is. 😘)
Did you have a positive birth experience? If you did, share it below and help me convince my Buddy that it’s not all rips and stitches and poo and pain…
If you’d like to share your positive story, feel free. You can pop over to my facebook page @the.s.mum to share on my daily blog there.
Come on Mamma Squad.
Let’s spread the love this Valentine’s.

❤❤❤❤

I am Some Buck Andy Mum

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Lookit. 👇👇👇👇

Look at this big, gangly, grinning, daft, handsome fecker? 😂

It’s Andy from “Andy’s Prehistoric Adventures”. (How many of you just sang “Andeesprehistoricaaad-ventuuuuuuuuures” in your head?😂😂)
For SOME reason, this show has the ability to stop both Mini-Me AND the terror that is my Princess in their housewrecking tracks.
It’s clever. It’s well made and like most CBeebies stuff, pretty educational and entertaining. 
 It also prepares my girls for real life…for the real world.  There are many lessons to be learned from Andy, and they aren’t ALL about Dipladoci and time travel.
Andy is preparing them for living with a man.
Here’s why.

1. He’s a scatterbrained, feckless eejit with all of the good intentions in the world and feck all organisation 

skills.
2. He only gets off his arse to DO anything when he hears Mrs Pickles (the crabbit oul Bosswoman) coming down the hall with a walk that would put any Trunchbull Headmistress to shame.  Just like most men, he waits until he knows Mrs Whatever is ready to lose the fricken BAP before he realises he needs to do something QUICKLY! 😠
3. He’s a clumsy git who is usually to blame for his own drama. (And if he’s not to blame, it’s the fault of the unsuspecting maintenance cretur.) But interestingly enough it’s always the fault of a man. 😅😅

4. He comes out with crap like “Mrs Pickles won’t be happy” and “OH NO! We’ll NEVER get it done NOW!” State the obvious there ya tool.
5. He loves to say “We need time. I know! We’ll MAKE time!”  If only it was that easy Andy.  If only we had your time machine and ability to know EXACTLY what year to go back to in order to fix the problem. Even if I DID have a time machine, I wouldn’t even KNOW what year to go back to in order to prevent all of MY problems.  (Probably 1980! 😂)
6. His poor sidekick Jen, works her arse off and keeps the museum running quietly.  He has nooooo idea what she does exactly, or how much work goes into keeping everything ticking over, and yet he turns up when there’s a problem, offers the solution as if he’s a genius and takes all the credit. 
7.  “Where’s he always running off to by himself?” Jen asks herself this question everyday. How does this prepare my daughters for cohabiting? Because the answer is easy.  He’s fecked off to the FECKING TOILET, with his FECKING i-phone, where he MUST go on a time travel adventure because apparently it takes him 45 minutes to poo, while Mums can do it it 25 feckin seconds…hands washed and EVERYTHING. 😂😠😂😠😂
8. “Oh no. I’ve landed in a swamp!”  Really? You can travel back 36million years but you can’t figure out how to land the thing on dry ground? I know.  TRY READING THE INSTRUCTIONS! Or you know, using the GPS which is most likely installed in your machine… or is it only there for decoration like the one in your car? Numpty…
9. He only moves fast and efficiently if his life depends on it…like when he’s been “hunted by a facilliasaurus” – or in reality when he hears his Mrs “doyathinkshesaurus” driving into the street.
10. He has a cheeky grin that allows us to forget his plonkerisms, he’s the best looking buck on the Tellybox all day, AND he keeps the kiddies entertained for at least 8 minutes.  For Number 10, we shall forgive him.
AND, he IS reliable and despite Poor Jen not having a clue how he does it, if there’s a problem, he generally FIXES it. Because he’s her Him and he looks after his own wee corner. 💙💙💙

I am Simply Feeding my Baby Mum. 

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​“Mumpty Mumpty sat on the wall,

Mumpty Mumpty had a great fall…

All the Queen’s buddies and all the Queen’s men,

Couldn’t put Mumpty together again.”

Yup.

Mammies face a wall.

And boy it’s a big wall.

It’s huge.  It’s long.  It’s terrifying to sit atop because it’s so high.  It’s divided Mammies for years and a much as we campaign and try to promote awareness about the wall,  it only seems to be getting higher. The Mammies on each side of this wall think they’re better than the Mammies on the other side.  And the Mammies still sitting on top of the wall are generally terrified because not only do they not know which side to jump off, but most of them know that regardless of which side they choose, they’ll be judged.
And the worst thing about this wall which divides Mammies?
We built it ourselves.

And we continue to add bricks to it, every single day.
It’s The Feeding Wall.

And you must choose a side:  Breast or Bottle.
It’s the one wall that EVERY Mum must climb up onto, choose a side and jump off.  It’s unavoidable.  Once baby arrives, you must jump.  For many it’s an easy decision.  For others, it isn’t so easy.  For some, for many reasons, the decision is made for them.  Some Mammies choose a side, but then realise that it’s not for them and so they climb right over that wall and do what they must.

And most of us don’t give a damn which side other Mums choose. We don’t particularly care about how other Mammies are feeding their babies.  We don’t feel the need to tell them that they SHOULD be bottle-feeding, or that they MUST breastfeed.  We accept that every Mammy and indeed, every couple, are solely responsible for raising their own children and how they decide to feed and nurture their babies is THEIR BUSINESS alone.

It’s certainly none of mine.

Nor is it any of yours.

Some Mammies are decisive and don’t care about the opinion of others.  Others feel the need to try to convince you that if you’re NOT doing it the way they do it, then you’re doing it wrong.  You’re misinformed. You’re a bad Mammy even.

They don’t understand HOW you can be bothered with the sometimes difficult journey of Breastfeeding.  They don’t understand HOW you can NOT give your child “the best” start in life. They don’t understand HOW you could possibly breastfeed in public.  They don’t understand HOW you can ignore the scientific research that shows Breastfeeding to be “best”.

They don’t understand HOW you don’t think the same as them.

And you know what?

They don’t HAVE to understand, because IT’S NONE OF THEIR BUSINESS!

The Wall is getting higher. It’s ridiculous.  It shouldn’t even exist.  It should simply be a tiny little gate and you should chose which side you want to walk through.  It shouldn’t be high.  It shouldn’t be frightening.

And until we all get off our sanctimonious high horses and stop adding bricks to it, it’s going to get higher.

Ironically, the “Warriors” who fight each day to promote one feeding method or the other, don’t realise that they often add bricks to the wall.  If you automatically get defensive about your chosen feeding method, and the main way you promote it is by dismissing and demeaning the alternative, you’re simply judging… bitching even.

And when the information leaflets and campaigns use “Vs” in their copy, what hope do we have? Even the language is suggesting that there is competition, conflict, sides.

A few weeks ago, I read a post on a national forum from a Mammy of 2, who is pregnant again. Her youngest is 6 and she simply asked where was the best place to buy formula nowadays and which nappies people found best.

Now, bear in mind, this Ladybelle is ALREADY a Supermum to 2 children. She has ALREADY sat on that bloody Feeding Wall TWICE and has obviously made educated and personal choices for herself and her family already.  She wasn’t asking people their opinions on Breast feeding or bottle feeding.  She was asking a housekeeping question.  Where could she save money and which nappy brand is now kicking ass in the world of Mammies.

The answers were generally simply answers, but IMMEDIATELY there were comments such as “Why not do the best thing for your baby and breast feed?”  or “Breastfeed and use cloth nappies.  Better for baby and Mammy.”  And my favourite,“Breast is best.” etc.  The thread turned into a debate between Mums about how she should be feeding.  It got nasty.  It got scientific.  It got offensive and it got deleted.
Had this Mammy been asking for advice on breastfeeding, would anyone on the forum have DARED to suggest “Just bottle feed! It’s far better.”

Probably not.  They’d have been be lynched.  Although Mammies who breast feed often get comments passed too. “How do you know she’s getting enough?”  “Would you not just top him up with a wee bobo?”  “How can you be bothered?”

feeding
I can already hear the thoughts of some Mammies as they read this.  I can predict some of the comments that will appear.  And each one them will simply prove my point.  Our opinions are simply that… OUR OPINIONS. They hold no weight in the lives of others. Nor should they.

If you get sooooo upset by the Beautiful Mammy feeding her baby formula from a bottle, ask yourself why?

If you get soooooo offended by the beautiful Mammy breastfeeding her baby in the cafe, ask yourself why?

Does it hurt you? Are you drinking it? Is it your breast?

No.

So get over it.
Yes, we should live in a society where Mammies are able to, and feel comfortable enough to, breastfeed their babies in public, without sexualisation of the breast, without others feeling uncomfortable. Of course we should. The cities have a wonderful attitude to breastfeeding.  And thankfully it’s improving here too.  And rightly so.  But we must also change our attitudes to feeding in general.

Because we should ALSO live in a society where a Mammy is able to feed her little baby HOWSOEVER she wishes WITHOUT being categorised or judged or having to take a side.  Why can we not all get on with it? Why is it such a bone of contention? Why do we take it all so personally?

Each negative comment on online forums.  

Each judgemental look or comment in hospitals.  

Each eyebrow raised at a raised nursing top is another brick in the wall.

And we’re building it ourselves.

Mumpty Mumpty should not have to jump off the wall.  She should not be pushed off one side or the other.  She should not be judged because of her choice.  She should be offered a helping hand, given a leg up,  from ALL Mammies and she should be applauded when she lands, regardless of which side she lands on.

Because unless she jumps directly onto your head and knocks you out, her choice doesn’t really affect you either way, does it?

Which “side” of the wall am I on?  Well that doesn’t really matter, but I’ll happily tell you.  I bottle fed. Twice.  Why? Well that’s really none of anyone’s business is it?

Do I care how you feed your baby?

Absolutely not. Just keep them fed. That’s all that matters.

“Mumpty Mumpty sat on the wall.

Then all the other Mumpty Mumpties helped her down and told her she was doing a great job and then they all raised their own babies and they all lived happily ever after.

The End.”

I am Simply Feeding my Baby Mum.