Say Hello to Fricken Freaky Fridays!

Oh joy, oh rapture!
 
It is Friday; the Friday where the significance of Fridays becomes significantly more significant to those of us who have been #soblessed to have the summer off with our minions. And whether it has been a summer of #pottering and #makingmemories and all of that other instaperfect frankittywank that some love to spout over news feeds, or indeed a summer of #fml and #aretheschoolsopenagain, it is now all but over.
 
And so the significance of routine must be acknowledged and what better way to begin, that to return to Freezerful-Friday dinners and Fricken-shut-up-and-pours.
 
My cleaning and organising was disrupted on too many occasions by demands for jigsaws and poos and general “GivemeattentionNOWs” and so while the washing is done, there was no bleaching and even less cleaning done.
My favourite interruption however, was this one. I had foolishly said no to an icepop before her healthy and nutritious dinner of svelty flattened organical sourdoughed bread, adorned with sunkissed blushing tomatoes, elderflower cheese with emmenthol (great for flus) and thinly sliced prosciutto, gilded with the glitter of a fairy’s dandruff… yes. Pizza.
 
I returned the box of rockets to the freezer and inthe 0.43 seconds I had my back turned, Princess Demonica had turned all 6th Sense on me and opened all the doors in protest.
tantrum
Funny, when I was expecting her, I loved the name Damien for a boy… May have been appropriate enough.
 
The Hellfiend was so speedy in her task that I’m not beyond being convinced that she sprouted 12 other arms or had the help of a few spirits, just to ensure three things:
1. To remind Mammy, with dramatic effect, what new levels of tantrum she is capable of.
2. To convince Mammy to call upon her own spirits tonight. It is a Friday for gin. Grapes shall not cut it.
3. To confirm Mammy’s suspicions that it is probably high time that my dysfunctional little fambam did in fact get back into routine.
 
They do say we learn from our children, don’t they?
 
So Yay to Fricken Fridays and cheers to those of you whose little demons have tried every last significant ounce of your patience today.
Cheers Mammies.
Remember that if you like my Smumblings, you still have an hour or two to vote for me to reach the final of Maternity & Infant Awards for Best Parenting Blogger.

I am Strapping her in Mum

To the Lady in the Car.
I know that right now, it does not look like it, but yes, yes they ARE my children. I am not trying to kidnap them.
Yes it may look like I am a stranger, dragging them against their will to a world unknown, to torture and penance, but trust me, the only one enduring torture and penance at this particular moment, is me. (and perhaps your eardrums.)
I am not a stranger however. I am their Mammy. I carried each of them in my stretched womb for 76 months… I have loved, fed, clothed and nurtured them since their births, and I spend the entirety of my existence working to provide for them, both spiritually and physically. Sometimes, mentally too, but that’s mostly Me. I have paper to prove that these little ones, who right now are screaming and hollering so much that I forgive your raised eyebrow, ARE INDEED MINE. I also have the stretchmarks and ruined ladybits as a receipt.
Right now, as I fight with my Twoublemaker to get her into the car seat in the car that they know well as ours, I wonder if I had an ACTUAL receipt, would some shop take them back…even just for ten minutes? Her plank is stronger than any grown Man in our Jim, and her ability to remain in said position despite Mammy’s manipulation, begging and near force, is fecking ridiculous. While she refuses to allow her arse onto HER car seat, the 6 year old wails because apparently going home with the woman who feeds and clothes and loves her, is a punishment worse than anything imaginable. She too, is crying. WHY? Fecked if I know…
What I do know however, is that to a stranger, it looks like the crazy sweaty woman in her honking gym gear has randomly pulled up to the childcare and lifted the first two children she bumped into. It looks like I am a monster, determined to steal them to sell them for rubies or diamonds…or gin or something.
And as I finally force, (not gonna lie, she didn’t go gently…), my uberstrong fartypants into her seat and strap the crying one into hers, I get into MY seat to start the car. I turn off the radio as I can’t hear it over the pair of them anyway. One is now asking why it is not Friday so she can have a treat, and the miniest one is screaming “POP POP POP” at the top of her strapped in little lungs. I look across and see you smile at my sympathetically and I wonder if your children also like to play the “Let’s make her lose the will to live as she straps us in the car” game. I believe it is their way of expressing their love for me… They love me dearly, they do.
We begin the long journey home, to the house where YES we do all live together, and of course, after approximately 35 metres, both of the little feckers are singing and chattering away in the back seat as if NOTHING has just happened.
I imagine them high-fiving each other behind my back, their eyebrows communicating in secret code, “Go us… we’ve made the wench pay. Now, let’s work on getting pizza for tea.”
“What’s for tea Mammy?”
“Brocolli”.
Take that Bitcheepoo. (Yes, they’re getting pizza… )
Sincerely in nappies and gin,
Mammy
pram
Funny how Jessie and Woody don’t freak out on HER when she’s strapping them into her “car, isn’t it?
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I am Such a Silly Notion Mum 

Ooooooh it’s Friyay.

Today Mammy took a notion.
Mammy is going to surprise the girlies by bringing them to meet Daddy for a surprise dinner date and we’ll have a lovely family evening with our two well behaved darlings, who Shall eat their Yummy dindins. Then we shall have the joy of watching them eating Pink icecream, the adorable little munchkins, before going home for a relaxing bedtime where Daddy would put them to bed while Mammy pours a glass of grapes and puts her Tired feet up for a good old Corrie wedding…
Yeah.

Mammy is a deluded Twatsickle who often falls victim to her very own Disney Princess notions. 😂

But never fear.

Mammy has her very own Mini whose main purpose in life (today anyway) seems to be to knock Silly Mammy off her Disnified perch.
We did meet Daddy.

 From the second we sat down, Mini-me was a wagon. A proper little shitsickle. She made Princess look like an angel. That IS Quite the achievement! I won’t go into too much detail but when I tell you that ignoring the waitress, refusing to order, asking for a cocktail, bursting into tears because Mammy ordered for her, sliding onto the floor, scribbling on the menu were only a FEW of her party tricks, you can imagine the rest. 
Mammy and Daddy spent the date sending each other apologetic “what we’re we thinking” looks and starting conversations they both knew would not be finished before they started. 
Mammy wished she could go back to correcting exams and considered that she should have just gone home to cook the freezer contents. Daddy wondered why he had ever thought that leaving work early was a good idea… I’m guessing that only for fear of Divorce, he would have happily gone back to his BFF Jim.
They did go home: After NO dessert. They did get the girls to bed: After NO story and plenty of the special strops reserved only for the first Friday night after school holidays… 
Mammy did pour grapes. 

And just like Mammy’s fairytale picture of her evening DIDN’T happen, neither did the Corrie Wedding.  
But See there’s where Mammy is going wrong… sometimes life is Corrie, not Disney. 

At least with Corrie, you expect disaster! 

Here’s to all you Mammies who got a reality check from your little Notionwreckers today.
And here’s to Poor Sinead… she’s better off. It’s only have ended in no icecream and wine.

😂🍷😘

How was your Friday?

I am She’d SO win D’apprentice Mum

THOROUGHLY MODERN MAMMY – CHILDISH TRAITS OR LIFE SKILLS?

I watched The Apprentice this week and was reminded of this piece from last year. 👇👇

Turns out that one year on, not only is Mini-Me still the same, but Princess is equally as strong a candidate.

Lord Alan-of-the-Sugar wouldn’t last 5 minutes in MY boardroom!

And I’ll bet you Mammies can see your own Minis in this Letter of Application?
********************************
Dear Sir Alan-of-the-Sugar,

I attach the CV of my Daughter, Miss Mini-Me of the S-Mum, who I feel must be brought to your attention.

Having watched the opening episode of your FABLIS show “Dapprentice”, I feel that IF you were to fly Mini-Me  (and her Mum obviously) to London to meet you, you would hire her IMMEDIATELY and put an end to the tedious, although highly entertaining, process of ” Dapprentice”.

For her 5 (and a half and 3/4) years, she is VERY accomplished.  I will outline just a few of the qualities she possesses which make her an obvious addition to your team.

She would certainly impress you, Her-of-the-fablis-straight-face-and-shiny-hair and Him-of-the-bald-head-and-eloquent-speaking.

In fact, I do believe that she could be your Mentor if I’m honest:

■ She is highly intelligent. Beyond her years really.

■ She is ruthless and assertive.

■ Her communication skills are superb. She speaks English, Irish and French  (Buideal means “Hi” no?). She also speaks Mini-Me which even YOU can’t speak.)

■ She is loud and can be obnoxious if the situation requires her to be so.

■ She will manipulate the knickers off an elephant.

■ If she doesn’t get her way, she will revert to tears if necessary.

■ She is loud.  She WILL be heard. There will be NO ONE in the boardroom who will be louder than her.

■ She is hugely adept at the talking AT the handset as opposed to INTO the phone like a normal, non-dapprentice person does.

■ She can change Best Friends at the drop of a hat, so really, you could fire ANYONE and she wouldn’t care.

■ She will blame EVERYBODY else in the room, even if the project has failed SOLELY because of her.

■ She believes in herself and her abilities 100%. (And so she should. She’s awesome.)

■ She can stare wistfully out a car window, seemingly ignoring everyone, but listening to EVERY SINGLE WORD and storing it as evidence for the boardroom.

■ The doll who thinks she has the “energy of an atomic bomb” would look like a fart in the wind beside Mini-Me.

■ Her negotiation skills are world class.

■ She is SUPERB at listening to instruction from her Team leader, before COMPLETELY IGNORING said instruction and doing her own thing. I call this INITIATIVE. Others would call it insolence…

■She is not beyond Blackmail or Bribery.

Mini-Me is determined and diligent.  In fact, she can be like a dog with a fricken bone if she decides she wants something.

Feel free to contact her references:

Granny of the Hill, Granny of the Liffer, Santa Claus.

(No point in asking me or her Daddy. Even SHE doesn’t listen to us.)

Good luck in your search, but honestly you won’t find a more suitable candidate than the aforementioned.
Kind regards,

The S-Mum
Secretary and PA to Mini-of-the-Me and Princess-of-the-world 😗

I am She’s in Charge Mum

It looks like he’s leading her through the woods doesn’t it? 👇👇

Well. What’s REALLY happening here is that this little Wobbler is leading HIM right up the garden path. Princess has morphed into a Demon.

On Sunday she threw her first FULL BLOWN tantrum. We were out for dinner. She lost the bap. We sat looking at each other like two teenagers, neither of whom had a CLUE what to do or how to react. She was screaming and kicking. I held on tight while Daddy pulled Peppa Feckin Pork up on the phone. #needsmust 😢 She stopped screaming once the music started. I swear to God, she was like a deflating balloon and then peace was restored and the other diners stopped glaring at us…

Granda didn’t believe a word of it. Nooooooo. HIS little Princess wouldn’t do that. Not his wee angel…Nope. Granda got his eyes open today however 😂when we went out for tea to celebrate my little sis’s little brown envelope. Once again, DemonDoll threw a strop in the restaurant. Granda declared her a feral tyrant and declared HIMSELF officially retired from all tantrum duties, now that his own youngest is all grown up. I do believe that after 36 years of parenting MAYHEM, it has taken a Curley haired cherub to finally break him. 😂😂

“There was a little girl, who had a little curl”… and when she was bad, she was TERRIFYING! ABSOLUTELY TERRIFYING. 😈😈😈

So as innocent as she might look here👇, dandering up a laneway with her Daddy, from behind, you can’t see the glint in her eye that tells him “I own you Daddy. I own you.”

(In fairness, he’s well used to it. Note what he’s carrying in the other hand… because the OTHER Dollyanna insisted on bringing her scooter and lasted approximately 3 minutes. #rascals #daddy)

Still. I wouldn’t change them for the world. How was your day? I do hope all of the brown envelope Mums are having a large grape tonight and that the Minions have fun and safe celebrations 😚😚😚