I am She Hates Me Apparently Mum

“I hate you Mammy”

Ok, well I haven’t quite heard that one yet, but it’s coming.   However, I do hear “You are the WORST Mammy EVER!” at least once a week.  I reckon we’re building up to the H-bomb…

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“I HAAAAATE YOU!”

My answer to her when she screams at me is usually “I love you too”, or “Why thank you very much.”

What I want to say is this:

“My Darling Daughter,

No Sweetheart.  I am not the “worst Mammy ever”.

OK, I might be crap sometimes; I might shout and scold and sometimes I scream so loudly that I wonder if the neighbours aren’t putting on their shoes or finding their coats in fear; but this does not make me the worst Mammy.  

OK, I might put awful food in front of you, like soup or vegetables, but just because you would prefer colourless Freezer food doesn’t make me the worst Mammy.  Sometimes Mammy doesn’t have the time or energy to cook 3 different dinners and do you know what? Sometimes, you’ll just have to eat what’s given to you.

OK, sometimes Mammy says no.  “NO”.  One little word that frequently ruins your little day. This is something you might have learned to get over by the time you turn 26.  I’m not going to give you everything you want, when you want it.  I am going to make you help me to unload the dishwasher, or pick up your dirty clothes, or tidy your toys.  Not because you are my “Servant” as you so frequently tell me, but because I don’t want you to grow up being a useless and entitled cretur who expects the world to owe them something.  I will teach you what my parents taught me.  You want something? You work for it.  You try and you fail and you try again.  You are entitled to nothing. Harsh? Now maybe, but when you’re older, you’ll get it…along with a job as soon as you’re able to get one.  

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One loaded little word…

OK, Mammy might be bad when she doesn’t always do what you want.  When she doesn’t give you your way. When she turns off the TV or tells you you’ve had enough chocolate. When she doesn’t allow you to be completely in charge of the house and our day and the mood in our home. Because sometimes, we have places to go, or Mammy has work to do and while these things might interfere with your colouring or PJ Mask binge, they have to happen and it’s nothing personal my Darling. 

But even when you are determined that Mammy is indeed the “Worst Mammy ever”, you don’t REALLY think I am.  No. Of course you don’t.  You probably think that Mammy is a royal pain in the ass and you’re angry and frustrated that you’re not getting your way.  

Life’s a bitch.  Mammy isn’t.  It’s just my job to prepare you for it. All you see is Mammy blocking or ruining your fun.  But that doesn’t make me the worst Mammy ever.  It just makes me a Mammy.

And when I’m doing all of these annoying and frustrating things that are driving your little emotions to a new level of anger and tantrums, it’s not because you’re bold and really hate me, it’s because you don’t yet have the logic or words required to make sense of them.  And that’s OK. Sometimes Mammy doesn’t have the words or the logic to figure out how she feels either.

 I could say all of this until I am blue in the exhausted face and you’ll still only see that I turned off the telly, or that I didn’t buy Coco Pops… because you’re 5. (and a half and three quarters).    But someday, (probably when you have your own minions and find yourself saying No more times a day than you blink), you’ll get it. And you’ll understand why sometimes, being the worst Mammy in the World makes you the best Mammy in the world…and it’s the hardest thing to do.

Because as long as when I say “No” and you say “You’re the worst Mammy ever”, we both know that underneath the snarls and snots, we are really saying “I love you”, then you keep shouting. And I’ll keep saying “No”. (Most of the time.)”

Giving in would be much easier.  But I won’t have you being brought up thinking that you are the centre of a world which owes you everything you want.  Yes you are the centre of mine.  Yes, you can have whatever you want, but only with hard work and determination and resilience.  And to learn these fading life-skills, (and trust me Darling, they are fading), you have to learn the word “NO”.

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It’s because I love you…

Because if you don’t hear it at home, where you ARE the most important person in the world, how will you cope when you hear it in real life, where you aren’t?

To you, I might be the worst Mammy in the world, but to me, you are the best daughter, so I guess we balance it out nicely eh?”

I love you, 

Mammy xxxx

 

 

I am Surviving a Mary-of-the-Poppins Christmas Mum.

 

This week’s Thoroughly Modern Mammy column for Donegal Woman is an updates post on Christmas Survival for the Mary of the Poppins types…

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“Surviving Christmas,” “Christmas Survival Tips for the Working Mum”, “How to Survive Christmas”…

I googled these last night.

Some of the “advice” online is nothing short of HILARIOUS.  I fear most of it may have been written by one of the following:

🎄Mary of the Poppins herself

🎄Someone without kids

🎄A Man… 😂😂😂
Here are some of the best pieces I gleaned, followed by my honest and polite responses: (Buckle up!)

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1.  “Be Prepared.”

No sh*t Sherlock.  As opposed to waking on Christmas Eve and remembering to buy a turkey and gifts? Seriously…  This is a useless piece of advice. It’s like telling a woman to calm down.  When in the history of the world has telling a woman to calm down, resulted in her calming down?  Never. So telling a Mammy to “Be Prepared” for Christmas, is NOT helpful.
2. “Buy gifts throughout the year and wrap them as you go.” 

Now this one I can partially agree with, except S-Mum’s version would read “Buy gifts throughout the year, put them somewhere safe and then forget all about them until the week before Christmas, when you have all the gifts bought and then open a box or bag or suitcase and find all the PawPatrol jigsaws you bought in July.  Or even better, find them when you’re putting the decorations away in January!”

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3. “Choose a theme for your gifts to add that personal magic”. 

Here’s a theme.  Shut.  up.  Most of us just about manage to buy for everyone we have to buy for.  And if you’re anything like me, you’ll remember someone on Christmas Day and freak out with guilt and embarrassment and mumble some crap about it not being delivered on time, before popping to the loo to order on Amazon with next day delivery.

(But if you doooooo want to add a personal touch and be remembered fondly by your loved ones, put glitter🦄 into all of the cards and gifts so that their floors get clattered and you are applauded for spreading the magic of Christmas. Go ahead, I dare you! 😂😂)
4. “Place delicate or expensive ornaments on higher branches.

Ok this one, I can empathise with.  Especially if you have toddlers or dogs. 🐶But in reality, put delicate or expensive decorations in the ATTIC and leave them there until 2026.

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5. “Ice the Christmas Cake 2 weeks before Christmas”

Or in real life, remember on the 23rd that for some reason you need a Christmas cake to have in the kitchen which will never be cut or eaten.  Then you’ll  either pop to Marks of the Spensive or decide not to bother with cake this year. Either way, it doesn’t really matter does it?
6. “Decorating the home should be a family occasion followed by a family meal.”

Oh really? Should it really? If by “family meal” you mean a bottle of wine after the kids have all gone to bed, then yes…yes this is true. 😅

Decorating the home is, for most, a painful and highly stressful process which generally takes more than one afternoon and involves tears, mess and even declarations of divorcing children… and husbands.  If you can get the actual tree up in one go, save yourself the stress and put everything else up by yourself, on your own, without the rest of the family annoying your head.  After bedtime is ideal.😘😉
7. “Keep alcohol locked away.”

Out of the reach of children yes, but keep the key in your frilly fricking apron Mammy Poppins.
8. “Stock up on essentials:  batteries, bread, milk and cream.”

Why there is no gin or wine on this list, is beyond me.

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9. “Go Christmas Shopping without children. Bring a drink and a snack with you.” 

Who the hell wrote this? It is common knowledge that drinking while shopping with your children is frowned upon in civil society.  Oh… they meant for the children?  Ohhhh… I knew that.  Well, here’s an idea.  If you can get someone to mind the minions for an hour, OF COURSE, go Christmas shopping without them. Then, if you really want to follow the Perfect Mammy rule book, have a drink and eat all the snacks… by yourself!
10. “Create a cleaning schedule for your home to keep on top of things this Christmas”.

There aren’t enough swear words for this one. A Cleaning Schedule? Who the hell has time to write a cleaning schedule? In the time it would take me to write a cleaning schedule, I would probably have half the cleaning done.  If you can keep floors lego free and counters salmonella free, you’re doing great! You deserve a treat. 💚

Riddle me this Mammies?  Why would you spend hours cleaning before opening the boxes of decorations that are going to cause the whole place to need hoovered and dusted again in an hour anyway?  Why?

So there were the Top Ten pieces of advice from the various Perfect Mammy websites…

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There were a few little nuggets in fairness.  Some of the better advice included “Scale down your expectations”, “Invent your own traditions”, and “Give yourself a break.”  

Another gem that I completely agree with is “Buy disposable baking trays”: I stock up on aluminium turkey trays every year and everything is cooked in them.  It’s a life saver!

Alos, Yes to shopping lists. And sublists. (Any list!  I do love me alist!)  Plan your meals for Christmas week and do the shopping based on the list.  It will save you from buying piles of stuff that you won’t actually use. Will you actually use that goose fat or are you only buying it because it’s beside the cranberry sauce you’ve lifted…that no one in your house eats.

AND  remember to factor in Christmas Eve Dinner too.  Don’t do my speciality… realise you have a fridge full of food and nothing for the dinner when you finally get back to the house on Christmas Eve.  This will lead to arguments about who is going to the shop AGAIN, or toast for dinner.


The “Preparing for Christmas” articles largely did what they always do however; they put undue pressure on already busy parents to stress themselves to create a Hallmark worthy perfect Christmas card-esque scene that, in reality, is nonsense.

Do what YOU want to do.  Buy what YOU can afford.  Cook what YOU like to eat. If you don’t like mince pies, don’t fricken buy them. If you want to let your kids open all of the presents on Christmas morning, do it!  If you like to wrap all the everything, do so.  If you don’t, DON’T!

It’s that simple.  We don’t need a survival list to survive Christmas, we need to give ourselves a break and enjoy it, because if you take a second to stop and look around you, often in the midst of lost presents and superfluous food shopping, you can see a little bit of magic without having to buy it.

A perfect family Christmas is like a Perfect Parent… all that’s REALLY needed is love and what works for YOU!
What is your favourite “Survival tip” and why?

I am Suck it up Mum

Right. Feck it.

I’m doing it.

Before and After Posts… Let’s call out the BS.

This is my first Before and After post. The two photographs were snapped only 3 seconds apart. 😅

So what did I do? What did I take? A magic pill? A Fantabulous Super-shake? A cup of Magic Tea? Nope.

A breath.

I took a breath. 😅

I straightened my back, turned my body slightly and sucked it all in!👇👇👇 You see, yes, I might be back in my favourite jeans, (after 16 months of training in Jim- NOT overnight), but after 2 magnificently STRETCHY pregnancies and two VERY messy C-Sections, my Belly is not what it might APPEAR to be when you meet me in my clothes! 😂

It’s squishy. It’s soft. It’s covered in stretch marks. There is extra skin that sags when I suck in my tummy. If I relax my tummy muscles, it is quite humongous! 💕

Some days I love it. Some days I hate it. Somedays I am so bloated that I look like I’m 6 months pregnant again. But everyday, I look in the mirror and I see a real life miracle. The stretch marks are my war wounds. My skin is stretchy because it made a house to grow my babies in. 💕It’s my Post-Baby Belly and the only person whose opinion on it matters, is ME.

So when your news feed is full of “Weight loss” adverts showing you “before and after” shots of how you can lose “15 stone in a day” if you just sign up to their pyramidic BS shakes, pills, teas, knickers etc, remember that it is likely that the pictures might just be BS. And when you see someone posting their “Look at my abs” pics, telling you how happy they are with their progress, there MIGHT just be another photograph in their camera roll that they HAVEN’T chosen to share.

If I had posted these and said there had been a 6 month gap between photographs, chances are you’d have believed me. (And of course, you WILL see GENUINE “Before and After” photographs of GENUINE weight loss journeys, but they are “JOURNEYS”, with hard work and sweat and determination, NOT miracle products.)😲

And if your body has stretched and changed to grow your minions, be proud of it. It’s yours. It’s a miracle and it’s beautiful, whether you suck it in or let it all hang out. Have a fablis Friday my Lovelies.

(It goes without saying that anyone who feels like writing anything hateful or negative, has my polite invitation to go build themselves and bridge and get over themselves. My body. Not yours.) 😙😙😙

#beattheBS #realityplease #postbabybelly #perspective

I am ‘So here’s the thing’ Mum…

“You will , you know!”

Everyone is the perfect parent…until they have children.”

Who said this first? I have no idea.

Who says it now? Me. Every single day!

I am the proud and enthusiastic Mama bear of a 5-year-old Drama Queen and a 21 month old Dictator. I spend my days winging it through EVERYTHING… breakfast, school runs, work, homework, dinner, bedtime, marriage.

Some days, I feel like I NEARLY have my shit together. Most days, I want to stomp my foot, throw and tantrum and call for my own Mammy! To many, I seem like I hold things together.

Those closest to me, know I’m a fraud.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

I don’t deal with everything in a calm and mature fashion.

I don’t adore my children every single second of every single day.

I don’t always have the schedule sorted.

I don’t always remember everything I’m supposed to.

I don’t always know what’s wrong with the baby, just by her cry.

I don’t always have a sparkly clean house. (Actually, I don’t EVER. Who does?)

I don’t always remember to wash the uniforms.

I don’t always want to get my No Diggity on in the bedroom.

I don’t always feed them homemade meals.

I don’t always give the right answer.

I don’t always say the right thing.

I don’t switch off my brain, even when it’s His turn to get up with them.

I can’t.

Because I “Mammy” 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Sometimes, I yell.

Sometimes, I bribe.

Sometimes the fridge is empty.

Sometimes, I’m so exhausted that I let them eat breakfast cereal for dinner.

Sometimes, I pretend I don’t hear the monitor and carefully kick Daddy so he’ll have to get up instead.

Sometimes, I let them watch TV…a lot.

Sometimes, I swear.

Sometimes, I wish it were bedtime at 3pm.

Sometimes, I cry so hard that my Husband doesn’t know what to say.

Sometimes, I like being at work because I get to finish a coffee in peace…and I don’t feel guilty. Sometimes, I get a babysitter and go out for dinner.

Sometimes, I hand the baby to Himself as he comes through the door and go for a run, or a pee. Sometimes, I feel like I’m so utterly useless that someone, somewhere will certainly report me to an authority of some kind.

But ALWAYS, I love. I am NOT a Stepford Mammy. I will never get it ALL right. No one can, because a perfect Mammy doesn’t exist, and as long as I love my girls fiercely, I’m already doing it right.

The moment that a Mammy realises that there is no such thing as “The right way” or “the proper way” of parenting, is light bulb moment. When you recognise that YOUR choices for your family are NO ONE’s business, a giant weight will be lifted off your tired shoulders.

You don’t have to justify your parenting. You don’t have to explain why you breastfeed, or don’t; why you chose this school instead of that one; why you put the baby in their own room at 3 months, or why they still sleep in your room 2 years on.

You don’t have to justify your parenting to ANYONE.

The ONLY people who matter in your home, are YOUR FAMILY. And nothing or nobody outside of that matters. If you are expecting your first Baby and reading this, with your jaw on the floor, thinking “I will NEVER do those things!”, You will you know!?

You will bribe.

You will eat leftovers.

You will survive on 2 hours of broken sleep.

You will use Babywipes for EVERYTHING.

You will hate your partner for sleeping. (Sometimes, you will hate them for breathing! 🙂 )

You will enjoy watching kids’ TV.

You will have a favourite CBeebies presenter.

You will spend your money on the best you can afford for your kids, while wearing a 15-year-old t-shirt yourself.

You will be so excited at the offer of a babysitter, that you cry. Oh, and you will cry; tears of frustration, tears of worry, tears of laughter and tears of pure, unconditional LOVE.

Because being a Mammy is sometimes crap, but it is ALWAYS wonderful.

And if you are wondering if you’ll be a good Mum?

You will, you know. x

I am Snapping Instagranny Mum

Don’t you just love Instagranny?
The instanty instantaneous instanial portrayals of fabulosity and perfection. The filters.  The hashtags. The generally innocent fun…
The absolute instabullshit that it is. 😂
Now, don’t get me wrong.  I do enjoy the Instagranny. I like posting funky and funny snaps of my day and I HAVE been known to post pictures where I happily look like a spotty, wrinkly badger’s arse, my house is akin to a Game of Thrones Battlefield and other such real life crap #nofilter.
But of course, I also like to post pretties. I don’t usually filter if I’m honest, but whatever, who cares right?
Well, we should care.

Because we need to understand that what we are seeing on Instagranny is usually a load of fabricated instashite.  I can create a veil of instaperfection to hide anything.

I did it today.

If you look at my profile, you’ll see smiles, cuteness, playtime and fresh aired fun.

And yes, all of these things did happen today.

We actually had quite a nice chilled out kind of day.

But here are some of the things that happened today that I didn’t insta:
I woke up with a splitting sinus headache and really thought I wouldn’t be able to get out of bed.

Of course, I HAD to get out of bed! 😂

By 9am I had shouted at Mini-Me 4 times. She had ignored me 13.

We stayed in our PJs until 2pm.

I mopped the floors and 34 minutes later, had to get the hoover out again. I swore a bit.

Princess cried for no apparent reason for a full hour, then poonamied.

No one ate their dinner.

Princess got her hand stung by a nettle.😭

My skin looks like pizza.

I need a shower.

I feel a tad emotional as it’s a special person’s anniversary today. 💙💙

I said “Get off the dog” and “get off your sister” 369 times, sometimes in the same breath. 😂

Mini-Me cried hysterically when I made the mistake of mentioning that the flowers she picked were alive… (more on that another night.)

Then, Just before bed,  when I thought we’d FINALLY made it to “calm time”, Princess pulled a plate of cold uneaten pasta all over herself and my (newly feckin mopped) floor and Mini-Me decided to faceplant the tiles in the hall and scream for 15 minutes.  (She’s fine thank God, but I can still hear the bang of her hitting the floor.)😭
But the BEST one? 🤐🤐
As I was putting the toothpaste on her toothbrush, Princess walked up behind me and…
BIT ME ON THE ASS.
Yup, she ACTUALLY BIT ME.

On my ass.

I thought she was giving me one of her “leghugs”, but nooooooo.  She sank her little teeth right into my upper thigh. And holy Christ, she has some jaw strength.

I am bruised.

(I shall desist from snapping that!😂)

Now, if I had had the wherewithall, time or energy to instagranny all of THAT ☝☝☝ ,

1. I’d actually be a shit mum because it would have taken hours

2. My account probably would have been shut down for public health and child protection breaches

3. No one would think I was instaperfect and that would be instaterrible 😂😂😂 #sarcasm
So there.
A wee reminder that what we are looking at on our instafeeds and of course, EVERYWHERE else, is NOT ALWAYS REAL.
We don’t tend to share the shite parts, or indeed the NORMAL parts of our day.  Today, feeling as grumpy and fooked off as I am, I consciously posted only the lovelies. They make me smile. They might make you smile. (My girls ARE adorable yes, I shall give them that.)
But if nothing else, the image below is only a SNAP of the full day.  A normal day. A typical day. A not very exciting, but satisfactory day nonetheless.
Ok, I don’t get bit on the ass every day, but I do have instaperfectly insta-IMperfect days.
How was your day?

#nofilter #knowwhatsreal
(PS… Black and white works wonders on badger’s arse syndrome! 😂😂😘)

​I am “Small Sausages, Big Smiles” Mum

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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.  

Really?

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? 

Eh no.

Seriously…  😡😲😡😲😡😲
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