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.πŸ˜₯πŸ˜₯

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. πŸ˜‚ 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! πŸ˜‚

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 cleanπŸ˜‚!) 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… πŸ˜πŸ˜‚πŸ˜

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 “Shut that alarm clock up” Mum

Mammy has been stressed since BEFORE she opened her Feckin eyes this morning… Why? Because of The Him.

You see The Him is tired and when The Him is tired he likes to play a game called “Let’s see how many times I can make the alarm clock go off before the love of my life loses the plot and physically kicks me OUT of bed game”.

This morning, he played that game and let’s just say, it did NOT end well. On the THIRD Snooze attempt, Mammy opened one sticky eye and whispered “Pleeeeease get up. You’ll be late.”

On alarm number Four, Mammy opened the other eye and hissed “Do NOT let that fucking thing go OFF again. If you wake the Baby, I will HURT you.” “I’m up. I’m up” says Him, very OBVIOUSLY NOT UP. In fact, the end of his sentence was punctuated by a guttural nearly-snore.

By now, I was stressed. I was glaring through his big dopey head, stressing about the fact that HE was going to be late for HIS work, while HE slipped back into the type of sleep that only a feckin MAN can! πŸ˜‘

So there lay Mammy, WIDE AWAKE at 7am, the ONE morning the Minions slept beyond 6.30am this SUMMER, stressed that The Him was going to be late for work, while Him, the big Gombeen waited for his fecking alarm clock to sing at him for the FIFTH time…and SING it did. 😑 Loudly.

So loudly in fact that it did INDEED awaken the Minions across the hall, BEFORE it woke him. Actually, to be pedantic, it probably wasn’t the alarm clock that woke him… It MIGHT have been Mammy pulling the quilt off, putting her feet to his arse and pushing him OFF the bed, all the while serenading him with affectionate terms of endearment, some of which I’m pretty sure even HE hasn’t heard before! (And he worked on building sites for years, so you can imagine the colour Language of THAT morning wake-up callπŸ˜….)

Anybuts. By 10am, I’d calmed down. A bit.

And now, all is right with the world… We have a babysitter, I’ve stolen sparkly danglies from my Baby sister and we’re heading out for his birthday dinner tonight, so I can’t be too grumpy with him, but it’s safe to say that if an alarm clock goes off EVEN ONCE tomorrow morning, someone WILL get hurt. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ Have a Super Saturday Lovelies.

Anything exciting planned?

I am She loves her dodees Mum

S-Mum is a TUBE.

Little Miss Princess has a habit. She requires 3, yes THREE, dodees every night to go to bed; One in her mouth, and one in each fudgy little paw.

Mini-Me was the same. I think it’s cute that they have this little quirk in common. Yeah, yeah, she shouldn’t have a dodee at 20 months.

Yeah yeah, 3 dodees seems excessive.

Yeah yeah, your kid never takes a dodee… good for you.

But this little habit has allowed this Mamma and Pappa to have 12 hours sleep for 18 of the past 20 months so as long as she looks for the dodees, she shall get them. I’ll get them off her when she’s ready and I am able to deal with 3 or 4 nights of Demonic screaming, but I won’t stress too much about it to be honest. Have you ever seen a 17 year old with a dodee? (In public πŸ˜‚)

But recently, with the rather impressive development of her new friend Temper, πŸ‘ΆPrincess has been participating in new behaviour, which quite frankly has a) become a royal pain in the arse and b) caused more than a few 5am mornings in the past few weeks. 😑😑

You see, her new friend Temper, sometimes convinces her to throw her 3 dodees OUT through the bars of the cot, which then leads to dramatic sobs until one of us, (yes, ME), stumbles into the room to return the little feckers to her from the floor.

At 5.30am this morning, I was back in bed, listening to her scream and refusing point blank to go back into the room and I thought, for the 371st time that I must find and invest in one of the little teddies/taggies that my very clever sister-in-law has for her babies. You tie the dodees onto it and baby always has access to them at night time.

So today, I was in town TWICE, forgetting BOTH times to go looking for one of these little yoks which will CERTAINLY solve our problem. I was putting her down to bed tonight, cursing myself for forgetting and vowing in my head to hunt for one tomorrow. As I was leaving her room, I spotted this πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡ little taggy yok that has been in her nursey… SINCE MY BABY SHOWER… But which I’ve never ACTUALLY looked at properly.

Since my FECKING Baby shower!?

Seriously… Possibly bought by same clever sister-in-law. πŸ˜‚ And LOOKIT! The little ends of it unravel to allow you to TIE THE FECKING DODEES ONTO THEM!

This has been under my nose THE WHOLE TIME. And I didn’t even know.😑😑😑 So yes, S-Mum is a tube, but tonight I am a smug and happy tube who will HOPEFULLY NOT have to drag my sorry arse out of bed to pick up the dodees tonight…or at least until Temper decides to tell her to feck the full taggy out over the cot sides instead. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ How was your day? 😍😘

I am Sleepless Nights & Schoolbags Mum

​Hello Ladybelles.
It’s been a funny old week here at S-Mumblehill.

I feel like it’s been 16 days since Monday.  I’m knackered.
Monday was apparently officially the shittiest day of the year.  I don’t usually believe this crap but by 8.50am I was agreeing out loud with the radio presenter as I pulled into the school carpark. “YES. Yes it fucking well IS the shittiest day of the year. And it’s not even 9am.”
  Mini-Me had been up for yet ANOTHER full fecking night, PLAYING in her room and setting up weird little messy shrines in the fricken hall.  “Oh she’s imaginative” said one of my colleagues in a futile attempt to comfort me.  My reply…”Well she can be imaginative without creeping around the flipping house at 3am, making an unholy fucking MESS of random crap in my hallway, just outside my bedroom door thank you very much.”
 I’d taken great pleasure in bouncing into her bedroom at 7am, turning on the light and singing “Good morning Beautiful. It’s time for schooooool!” (That’ll teach you you little night creeper.) I was prepared for a grumpy little Gollum who would pull the covers up in protest and be like a bag of bitches all day.  I WAS NOT prepared for the little face glaring up at me, COVERED in blue.  She had drawn ALL OVER her feckin face in blue crayon and both she, AND the pillow, were like something that smurfville had puked up.πŸ’™πŸ’™
Cue meltdown central, for both of us… Me trying to keep cool and not scream at her and FAILING miserably; her trying to remember wtf was on her face that was making Mammy so mental at Stupid O’Clock…and Princess crawling at my leg shouting “nonononono! ah! Ah! Ah! AH!”

So off I trotted to class, feeling shite at having lost my cool and sent her off to school probably still covered in blue crayon.
#Twatmum.
 The rest of the week has been busy and filled with MANY stressful bedtimes, where she’s been up, still wide awake until after 10pm.  I have NOOOOO IDEA what is going on. She’s usually so good at bedtime, so this is weird and I PRAY it’s only a phase.  I tried letting her have some chill out time in her bedroom before bed.  Didn’t work.  She just made a complete mess.  I’ve even had to lock my bedroom door as she was in there last night and left a trail of my fricken Chanel lippy on the wall. Cheers love.  I’m going to do it back to her you know.  When she is old enough to have nice stuff, I am going to draw all over her bathroom mirror with her favourite lippy.  So there.
So today, I’ve opted for the good old faithful Fresh air stunt.  I let her run wild on Fahan beach, πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡πŸ‘‡ (my ABSOLUTE favourite spot in the world.  AN hour there can fix all the world’s problems!), and then directed her towards the trampoline for half an hour when we got home.  I’m afraid to look down the hall, but I have a small notion that she MIGHT just be asleep, WITHOUT any hallway adventures.


Fingers crossed. πŸ˜‚
I am confident that she shall sleep like a cherub until 7am and that I shall NOT break my ankle tripping over a fortress of lego and naked dolls outside the bedroom door.  Then, she shall awaken from her slumber and the bad tempered, exhausted, emotional wreck demon I’ve had here all week, shall be replaced by my smiling, perfect little angel… hugely confident.

Well confident enough.


And incase anyone doubts that I’ve lost my shit altogether, here’s my #mammyfuckup of the week…  I sent her to school today WITHOUT HER SCHOOLBAG.
Yup.

Do you think I deserve a wee grape? πŸ˜’πŸ˜’


Make me feel better supermums.

What was your #Mammyfuckup of the week? πŸ˜‚

I am Stupid o’Clock Mum

​Some of the things Mini-Me said last night between 11.30pm and 3.21am…
β˜†”Hulk is under my bed.” (Note to self…kick The Him if/when I get back to bed. Fecking stupid Avengers movies.
β˜†”I need bainne.” (Milk) (Nope because then you’ll be even more awake ANDneed a pee.)
β˜†”My room needs tidied.”  (Reeeeeeally? At 2am? THAT’s when you acknowledge that this room is a mess?)
β˜†”Look at theshapadiswoom!” followed by an eye-roll and a pretty impressive Tut tut. (And yet you still won’t clean it in the morning, which is nearly FECKIN HERE ALREADY!) 😒😒😒
β˜† “The Sky’s awake, so I’m awake.” (If I ever get my hands on the prick who wrote that shit…it’s NOT SO ADORABLE AT STUPID O’CLOCK.)
β˜† “I need water!” (“Mummy can’t go up to the kitchen when the alarm is on pet.” 

TAKE THAT MINI-ME!!! 

“Der’s water beside your bed Mammy.”  

DAMMIT! 😑😑😑
β˜†”I hear FOR!” (THOR) “He’s outside my window!” (No, he isn’t Sweetheart … as much as Mammy would LOVE to meet Thor and his hammer in the dark… πŸ˜‚ 😈😈😈)
β˜† “I’ve alweady been to sleep TWO TIMES tonight!”  (Seriously…her logic and debating skills would make a politician look as useless as a chocolate teapot…)
β˜† 3.20am “You can go back to your own bed now Mammy, I need to go to sleep.” 

(Are you serious?)


Then at 8am, (🎢singing🎢)…”Good Morning, Good Moooooorning, we’ve slept da whole night fruu!” in the hallway, just loud enough to ensure that Princess joins in with “Mamamamam!”

(Are you shitting me?)
 S-Mum kicks The Him πŸ‘€, who I know went to bed last night assuming it was his turn for a Sunday morning sleep-in.
S-Mum growls and hisses like a rabid badger, offers some obscenities and expletives about getting EVERYONE OUT, followed by “I only got to bed at 3.45…pleeeeeeeeease…I just need another hour!” 

(Why I still feel the need to exaggerate the time, necause 3.21am wasn’t late enough, I don’t know!)
And so, today, I’m knackered and SHE is like a bag of feckin rattlesnakes, coiled up and ready to attack ANYONE who dares speak to her. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚
How fun…πŸ˜…
Thank you to #glammymammy Nicole for sending me this image.

Enjpy the last few hours of the weekend S-mumblies. Xxxx

I am Sunrise Mum

This morning, Princess woke at 6am with a sore tummy.Β  I brought her into my bed and tried all of my usual tricks to get her back to sleep.Β 
Just one more hour please.
Usually, she snuggles up to me, plants a pudgy wee hand flat on my cheek and sighs.Β  It’s quite adorable.
This morning she was searching frantically through closed eyes for the teat of the bottle that I obviously should have had in her mouth ten minutes earlier. Her arms were flailing and she was grunting like a little pig at the swill bucket.
I swear, it was as if she hadn’t been fed in 3 days.Β 
She’s funny when she decides she’s hungry.Β  Feed me NOW. (She’s like her mother I suppose!)

And so, for the first time in a few weeks, I find myself up and coffeefied before 6.30am.
I got herself settled and she’s currently snoring in the corner.Β 
I was thinking about going back to bed, but then I looked out the window and realised that I haven’t seen the sunrise in a long time.
I’ve always been a morning person.
I’m the person that those “If you see someone smiling before 7am, slap them!” mugs, are about.

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I’ve always loved the calm and the quiet of day break, when you can breathe in the nothingness before the world awakens.Β 
And so, I put on my warmest coat and sat on the back doorstep; coffee and huge dog cuddles keeping me warm.

And I watched.Β 
And I listened.Β 
The countryside at stupid o’clock is eerily quiet. It’s gorgeous.

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And while I knew that this calm would not last; because my little Tasmanian Devil would be waking up to take on the world in approximately ten minutes; I took it all in and enjoyed it.

My backside was freezing by the time I heard her footsteps coming up the hall, but my head was calm and my heart was all warm and fuzzy.
I was ready for the day ahead.

I would have loved an extra hour in bed, obviously,
but sometimes it does not harm to be
Sunrise Mum.

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And on Twitter @Maria_Rushe

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I am Sleep Dance Mum

I love to dance.Β 
I’ve been dancing since I could walk.
I’ve danced on stages and I’ve even choreographed a few shows.

My current speciality is the Sleep Dance.Β  And I’m brilliant at it.

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Sleep is a currency…who knew?

Currently, I’m broke while Hubby is rich, rich, rich…well he’s richer than I am. He’s dancing the Sleep Dance too, but he doesn’t even know most of the time.

In the world of new parents, the parent who tallies up the most Zzzz hours owes the other: Big time.

They say that we forget the difficult things about having a newborn after a while…like the pain, the exhaustion, the stress.Β  There must be some truth in that as we keep having children, don’t we?

We had Princess almost four years after Mini-Me whirlwinded into our lives.Β  That gap was just enough to have allowed us to have completely forgotten EVERYTHING about having a new baby in the house.Β  How do we bath her?Β  How many ounces do we give her? How does this damned sterilizer work again?Β 

My first hour at home after Princess’s birth was terrifying.Β  We moved house last year, so I didn’t have the luxury of memory to assist me. Our previous home was smaller, so even if Mini-Me was in the bedroom, I could hear her in the kithen.Β  The new house is lovely and spacious, but so new and unfamiliar to us.
Where would I keep the nappies? Which cupboard should I put the baby’s stuff in?Β  Where should I put her while she’s sleeping?Β  The arrangements and habits that we had created for our first baby, were redundant.Β  We had to start again.Β  Ok, so this is not a huge issue and may sound ridiculous, but to a new Mammy, 3 days post-section and drugged to the eyeballs, it was MASSIVE.

For the first week, we caught ourselves looking at the other for help or reminders on more than one occasion.Β  Do we mix the formula when it’s hot or luke warm?Β  Do we go to bed now or just wait until after her next feed? How do we ensure that Mini-Me is still getting her usual attention? The list goes on and the struggles were real, but after a few days, we were the proverbial quacking ducks and the water was no longer quite so choppy.Β  Everything became normal again…except for the sleep.

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Before a Baby arrives, how much we sleep goes unnoticed.Β  Pre-parents should really listen when told to enjoy their sleep now.Β  Ok, so you can’t stock up on it, and how much you get before the arrival of your little bundle is not going to help when you’re knackered at 4am, but you can ENJOY it.
Β  Enjoy the luxurious feeling of turning over in the bed without worrying about disturbing Baby.Β  Enjoy being able to go to bed when YOU feel like it.Β  Enjoy not giving a continental hoot how much sleep your partner gets, because once Baby arrives, you’ll moniter their sleep as carefully as you moniter the money in your bank account, or lack thereof.

Every second of snoring that is greater than the seconds you spend snoring, is noted.Β 
Every time he or she turns in the bed, oblivious to the demanding grunts from the cot, (and oblivious to your glares!), is stored in your memory.
Every time you have to haul your ass out of the bed to replace the dummy in your little Munchkin’s mouth, you jot it down in your mind.
Every innocent snore is transformed into the sound of coins being dropped in the piggy-bank of your mind.
Your mind becomes a ledger… how much do I have?Β  How much did he/she get?
Every second your partner sleeps while you are awake between the hours of 11pm and 6am, becomes currency.Β 
In other words… YOU OWE MEEEEEE!

And if he/she gets one hour more than you, you will want to make them pay.Β 
As well as taking mental notes of how much more sleep your partner got, you’ll be taking notes of how little you got.
Yes, while Baby Brain might cause you to forget your own name, (or in my case, the Baby’s name…twice.), it strangely adds to your mathematical brilliance and your late night memory.Β 
Example:

6 x out of bed to replace dummy
2 x thinking she was choking
3 x unnecessarily
2 x across the hall to Mini-me to scare off bad dreams
1 x across the hall to Mini-me to beg her to go back to sleep
1 x to the kitchen to heat Princess’s bottle
1 x to the kitchen to dump said bottle as said Princess was snoring again by the time I returned
1 x to get another bottle an hour later
1 x sitting on the edge of the bed for 20 minutes after feeding as she screams everytime I move, knowing that the snuggly Mammy is going to try to deposit her in the cold cot.
1 x your snoring
…and don’t even start me on the ten minutes between your alarm going off and the snooze button!
Do the math.
Or don’t.Β  Just know that YOU OWE ME!

 

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And of course the rational mind reminds me that Himself is working full-time.
And that of course he needs sleep with 5am-8pm working hours.
And that I am off work at the minute.
And that this only lasts for such a short time.

I know all of that, but sometimes, I’m not very rational.Β  Because I’m shattered!

And of course, there are the nights when Daddy’s on Baby-duty and I can sleep, but I don’t usually.Β  Not because I need to be awake, but because I’m programmed to be on my feet and functioning before my mind knows I’m awake.Β 
That’s reality.
I am learning however.Β  I’m now forcing myself to accept the lie in, even if it is only until 8am.Β  I am getting better at going back to sleep when I know that Daddy’s got her. (even if sometimes I’ve had to kick him three times to tell him to get up!)

So yes, be prepared for the Sleep dance.Β 
Be prepared to know exactly how much sleep your partner got and be prepared to know just how much you didn’t.
Be prepared that no matter how honest you usually are, you WILL lie about how many times you were out of bed, just to make sure that partner understands how much he/she OWES YOU!
Be prepared to feel utter resentment for the person you love in real life…because 4am isn’t real life really, is it?

And be prepared to get on with it and to get over it, because it’s worth every single second.

No matter how exhausted your body is, when you look into the cot at stupid o’ clock and see two big, beautiful eyes looking at you; when your finger is gripped by tiny hands, holding on to you for dear life; when you listen to the coos and noises as she drinks; tiredness disappears and is replaced by love.

But yes.Β  He (or she) still owes you.Β  How you make them pay, is completely up to you!

I am Sleep Dance Mum πŸ™‚

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