A Train to Somewhere Special…

We’re going on da train Mammy.”

“Are we really?”

I do enjoy how much of a novelty the concept of a train is for my kids. Mini-Me will probably GET that ticket for the Hogwarts Express before we see trains in Donegal in fairness.


“Come on Mammy. Get on!”
“Where are we going?” Mammy asks.
“Somewhere special” answers my wee conductor.

The closest my Donegal Babies will get to a train is the Hogwarts Express


She’s turned the sofa into a train, using cushions to create compartments.
Quite frankly, I’m all for any game that involves Mammy getting to sit her arse on the sofa for a bit.

As I grab my cuppa and walk towards the sofa, sorry train, she is putting the passengers into their “carriages”.

“You sit in here Chase, aside Marshall.”

Aw.

She turns to the ponies… “You guys go in here togever.”

She puts two members of a Sylvanian Family of hedgehogs into the last carriage. “You girls go in here…”

I’m about to ask where exactly Mammy is supposed to go, seeing as that all the carriages are now taken by fluffy bottoms.

“Why don’t you put them in beside your PawPatrol…(sorry POP a Troll)… so I can sit in that carriage I ask.”

“Because of Cowona viwis…”

“Sorry what now?”

“COWONA VIWIS… Only bruvers and sisters can be togever Mammy. We can’t mix them up…”

Fuck.

“You sit here.” I plonk myself at the end of the sofa train and watch her jump on the other end and start to “drive” the train, choochoo sound effects and all.

And while she is off in her imagination, on her way to ‘somewhere special’, I sit at the back, a little bit broken that no matter how much I’ve tried to normalise and downplay the effect of this shitstorm on my wee angel, the impact of it and the reality of it is there in front of me, as plain as a big feckin train.

Fuck you very much Corona Virus.

I never did find out where the ‘somewhere special’ was… I suppose I was already there.

I am Silent Puker Mum

How to sleep with a silent puker… 😐

Who the hell am I kidding? There IS NO sleeping with a silent puker.😥😥

Princess makes no noise.
None.
She can empty the 4 stomachs she seems to have inherited from the Granda’s cows, without making so much as a single sound. 😂 It’s shocking.
Not.
a.
Fricken.
SOUND!

And it means that when she is unwell, (which quite frankly seems to be every fecking FORTNIGHT since we went back to school😠), Mammy here gets to spend the night with small person’s foot shoved up her nostril, or her skull on my nose…

The bed is covered in towels, the basin is set on the bedside locker. Of course, she manages to sleep on the only part of the bed that ISN’T covered by towel and if she pukes, I can damn be sure that she’ll hit the ONE part of the bed that hasn’t been protected! 😂

I end up dozing, sitting upright in the bed, constantly ready to jump for the basin. Every sound she makes, every time she turns, every time her breathing changes or pauses… Crazy frog here is wide awake and ready to pounce.

Everytime she gets a tummy bug, I end up booking a session with a physio within a week because my Mammy Bear reflexes are more concerned with keeping her safe (and keeping the fricken bed clean😂!) than minding my dodgy back.

The Him gets banished to the spare room. Not by me.
Hitler-beag doesn’t like sharing beds with anyone but Mammy. She hisses at him like a deranged Gollum determined not to share her “Precious” with anyone.
Poor lucky Fecker… 😐😂😐

He checked us this morning before he went to work. We looked like a right angle apparently. Her leg was across my jaw. I swear to God, there’s times I think that wee Doll would climb back inside me if she could.

So yes. Poor Baby.
And Poor Mammy. (Seriously. Shape of me!)

Night 1: No sound = No sleep.

She’s snoring now…in her own room. I’ve only checked her 23 times since 7.30pm.
And so begins Night 2: the night of “Mammy needs to but can’t sleep becuase she’s going to leap out of the bed and run to her room everytime she moves in the cot”…

What the feck am I like?
Anyone else got a silent puker?

I am Sad for our Children Mum

Dear Justice System…

Today, once again, but maybe in the most spectacular way yet, you have shown yourselves up and let your country down in one swift movement.

Today, parents all over our little land, weep at the absolute sham of a sentence handed down to a paedophile; to a man who groomed and abused a child; To a man who was so caught up in his own power and self worth that he felt himself justified to destroy the life of a child for his own sick gratification.

Actually, I should not use the word “man”. No. This excuse for a human being is better suited to the term monster. Because that is what he is. He dismissed the most important things in the world; the two things that parents strive to provide for their children; childhood and innocence. He took both of these things from a little girl. She will never get them back and she shall live with the scars and memories of his actions for the rest of his life.

But because he was one of the boys, because he had money and social standing and a solid reputation, because he offered a futile plea of “guilty”, because he has “suffered enough”, a Judge, someone to whom we entrust the justice of the nation and by proxy, the safety of our children, a “Judge“, decided that his punishment for his crime, should be a 2 and a half year detention.
2 and a half years.
30 months.
I’ve had longer indigestion…

This vulnerable child was forced to act in ways that children should NEVER act, and by the admission of the Monster was groomed and assaulted by him. To measure her ordeal AGAINST the bruised reputation of the man who was caught abusing her, would suggest that this monster should spend the rest of his life in prison.

An eye for an eye. A life for a life.
But no.
The only life sentence being served is by her.
He has 2 and a half years in the naughty corner, where no doubt he’ll be quite comfortable and well looked after and offered all sorts of CBT… I wonder will he be safe from the monsters…?

I don’t usually comment on such issues on my blog. I prefer to keep it to the trials and tribulations of parenting, to provide laughs and to provide empathy, but when we realise that we live in a society which protects the predators who pose the most danger to our precious children, I can’t remain silent.

Shame on Him.
Shame on the judge and whoever else helped or influenced the decision to insult the strong and brave young woman who stood up to her abuser.
Shame on our justice system for throwing us all 100 years into the past.

Tonight, we shake our heads in disbelief that in a society as progressive and accepting as Ireland, we are still allowing the “Old boys” to get off with their indiscretions because of who they are and who they know.

As a woman, I despair.
As a Mother, I weep.

As an Irish citizen, I hang my head in shame that we have let our children down.

Romantic Ireland’s dead and gone…

it’s with poor Humphries in the jail.