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 Snapping Instagranny Mum

Don’t you just love Instagranny?
The instanty instantaneous instanial portrayals of fabulosity and perfection. The filters. Β The hashtags. The generally innocent fun…
The absolute instabullshit that it is. πŸ˜‚
Now, don’t get me wrong. Β 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. Β 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! πŸ˜‚

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. πŸ’™πŸ’™

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

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, Β 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. Β (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. Β 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!πŸ˜‚)

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 πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ #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. Β 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. Β 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! πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜˜)

I am Still Juggling Mum

Tonight, I am on the hard stuff. πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚


What am I celebrating? 

Life. 

 Normality. 

    And me.
I’m fecking celebrating ME.πŸ˜‰
Because although most of the time, I feel like I am juggling WAY too many china plates, all of which I’m certain are going to crash down around me,  I’ve realised that I haven’t dropped one yet. 

Why?

Because I’m a good juggler?

Because I have lots of help?

Because I’m Amazing?

Well, partially yes to all of these, πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚but the MAIN reason I have yet to drop one of them, is because they’re all far too precious and important to drop.
We’re all juggling.

Some of us juggle better than others. 

Sometimes, the trick is to know which plates to put down for a while.

Sometimes, we have to ask for help because we have way too many things in the air and we know that something is going to come crashing down.

Sometimes, we need to set everything down for just a few minutes, take a breath and start again, picking up only the most important plates…prioritising.
Like every Mammy, I wear a LOT of hats. 

I’m a teacher.

I’m a writer.

I’m an assistant director.

I’m an organiser.

I’m a performer.
But first and foremost I’m a wife and I’m a Mammy.
February is always a busy month for me as we build up to opening whichever musical we’re doing each year.  (We, as in both me AND The Him.)  

This February, I thought I was keeping it all between the ditches, and then the inevitable happened.

  Shit started to go wrong.😣
My Baby got sick.

Thankfully, she’s in much better form now, but her becoming unwell, threw extra stress and mayhem into my already busy headspace.

A few other things happened too; nothing to complain about in the scheme of things, but when you’re already sleep deprived and shattered, these little things become bigger don’t they?

I got sick.

I started to let things (and people) that wouldn’t usually even REGISTER in my head as important, get to me.

And then, to top it all, Work has promised to go into overdrive for the next month.
I did what every Mammy does when the shit hits the fan. πŸ˜†πŸ˜ΆπŸ˜£

I laughed and then I completely ignored everything other than my babies for a few days.

And it worked.
This morning, The Him let me sleep until I WOKE. 

10AM.

TEN.

O.

CLOCK…
And I swear to Peppa, it’s made all the difference. 
Yes, I’m up to my tiny titties.

Yes, I will he for the next month.

But, I’m very aware that I shall get on with it all.

And I’m very grateful to have all of the plates I have in the air.

They’re my plates… my girls, my Him, my job, my musical, my blog, my writing… all mines.

I’ll pull up my Big Girl knickers, slap on my smile, and I’ll start ploughing through my To-Do list like a gang of glammymammies get through a bottle of grapes.
So tonight, yes, I’m drinking bubbles.

I’m updating my website, I’m planning the finale of our wizard of Oz, I’m sitting in my pjs with The Him flat out working beside me, and I’m saying a Big Fat CHEERS to myself, because some days, you have to pat yourself on the back for being so fecking awesome and wonderful.

Because we are you know?

We’re supermums.
Happy Sunday night Ladybelles.

Keep ‘er lit.

And celebrate you.

πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–