Tag Archives: wine

I am Still That Friday Feeling Mum

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Mammy has “That Friday Feeling”.

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Once upon a time, “That Friday Feeling” meant going straight to a licensed establishment with one’s co-workers for a bevvy or beverages. Or it meant finishing work with an air of excitement at the prospect of going home, spending a few hours primping and preening oneself to perfection, trying on 46 different outfits, popping open a bottle of something exciting at 6pm and stepping into high-heels, before going into town with whoever for dinner, or drinks and a boogie.

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It meant not only the excitement of getting out, but also the joy of KNOWING that you could lie on in your bed until whatever time you wished on Saturday morning, before deciding to be very “grown up and sensible” by staying in on Saturday night.

Or you know, getting ready and going out ALL over again!

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Oh, how things have changed.

Now while Mammy does get the odd night out, it is usually prepared for by a spray of dry shampoo, grabbing a top that doesn’t need ironed and a 5 minute slap on of the muck-up; sometimes after the girls have gone to bed, or sometimes my speciality…the one legged Babby-swing, where Princess swings on my leg as I try to apply mascara.

But while I am not going out tonight, Mammy still has “That Friday Feeling”‘; you know the excitement, the relief and the joy? It might be slightly different to what it used to be, but it’s still here… just like me really.

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Me, right now!

Now, “that Friday Feeling” means much more:

  • It means no homework for Mini-Me.
  • It means excitement at the prospect of not having to make lunches for the morning.
  • It means firing the contents of the Freezer into the oven and not feeling one bit bad about it. Call it “Freezer Friday”. They love it!
  • It means no work for 2 and a half days!
  • It means not watching the clock to make sure the girls get to bed before 7.30pm (and some nights, watching the clock to MAKE SURE they are in bed by 7.30pm!)
  • It means a mental switch off from school, where I can allow myself to NOT worry about the notes I need to do, or the copies that need marked.
  • It means knowing that when they are in bed, that I can sit on my arse on the sofa and watch whatever I want, without that feeling of “I should be doing…”
  • It means being able to spend time writing, or reading, or simply scrolling the interweb to watch what other Mammies are doing with their Friday feeling.
  • It means putting on our PJs once we all get home and not feeling one bit bad about it!
  • It means being able to say “yes” if Mini-Me asks to watch a movie at 6pm.
  • It means being able to pour a glass of wine without feeling dreadfully uncouth and Scummy Mummyish for drinking on a school night.
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  • It means pouring a second glass if I so wish.
  • It means not having to plan out what everyone is wearing before bed.
  • It means not setting an alarm clock…
  • It means a generally happier, more relaxed Mammy, because there is a certain celebration and achievement in the fact that I have made it through the week with all of my Minions and myself mostly in one piece.
  • It’s a joy that is difficult to describe, but Friday evening is absolutely my favourite time of the week. And while it might be different now, it’s just as exciting and it’s much more wonderful as when I was young and free.
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Now, I’m old(er) and not so free, but I’m a better me and I’m exactly where I want to be. So bring on the fluffy socks and grapejuice Ladybelles.

It’s Friday and It’s Fablis.

Have a good one.

I am Slight Change of Plans Mum

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Mammy is rather chuffed to see Friday evening.

Mammy doos LOVE Friday evenings.

I tried to be a very good Mammy this evening, ignoring Jim in favour of lifting my girls early, with plans to do some festively frolicky arts and crafts with a lovely Christmas-Card-making-set that I procured in the Aldi-everything last week, to drink hot chocolate and have a Hallmark worthy Mary-of-the-poppins type evening, where they’d play happily while Mammy magically transformed the vegetables in the fridge into wholesome homemade soup for my minions.

How mammiful of me, eh?

In reality, I had an extra hour of them screaming “NO WAY”, “She HUT meeeee!” and “STOP iiiiiit!” at each other and at me, while I delivered a Freezer Friday Special of oven baked cardboard for them to smear all over the floors. Then we watched 65 Cartoons, Princess fell asleep standing up 👇👇👇and we had a generally riotous bedtime chaos…

I didn’t shout as much as usual however and both have gone to bed reasonably content 💞and (finally) temperature free… (Is it bad that I now get more upset if we run out of Cal-of-the-pol, than I do if the graperack runs out? 😂😂)

The arts and crafts stuff remains in the car. It’ll probably still be there on January 1st as I’ll have given in to the cheap, cheerful and mess-free joy that is 30 cards for a penny in the pound shops! 😆😣😅

I HAD indulged in my usual Thursday night Domestic Goddess cleaning splurge last night, in the hope of doing feck all tonight. Right now, it looks like a creche puked its contents onto my living room floor.

There is however a shiny new grape glass from TK-Maxyourcard sitting beside the bottle of grapejuice that needs a snog…

How was your Friday Ladybelle?
Hit me with a gif to sum it up! 😚😚😚

I am Savouring Friday Night Mum

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We did it.
We made it.
It’s Friday.
It is Feck-it-o-clock and this Mammy is KNACKERED beyond belief.

“I am so tired” says Mammy.
“Go to bed then” says The Him.
“WTF is WRONG with you?” answers Mammy.
“You’re tired. If you’re tired, go to bed.”

Mammy stares at the ridiculous man who has just said the most ridiculous thing a Him could ever say to a Mammy on a Friday night… 😅😅

“I will NOT go to bed” declares Mammy. 😶
“Why? Why the hell not? You’ve had a rough week. If you are tired, GO TO BED!” The Him is looking at Him’s wife, probably torn between thinking how sexiful she looks in her fleecy oversized pjs and thinking how strange his little woman can be.

“It’s 9pm on a Friday night” explains Mammy.
“And WHAT? Go to your bed!”
“Did you not HEAR me? It’s FRIDAY NIGHT!”
“AND WHAT?”

Ffs.
“And what” says he? 😤😤😤

“I’ll tell you WHAT, you silly Man… it is FRIDAY. Friday nights are the highlight of Mammy’s week. FRIDAYS are not to be rushed. Friday nights are to be worshipped and adored. Mammy has SURVIVED the week of being a Full-time Mammy with a full-time Job. THIS particular week has had a puking Baby thrown into the mix and so THIS particular Friday night is more anticipated and dreamed about than others. No matter how knackered Mammy is, on Friday night, she SHALL pour at least 2 glasses of grapes, sit on her sofa and watch utter shite on the Tellybox until AT LEAST 11pm. It’s one of those rules that should be on page 3890 of “What to Expect…the lifetime edition”. And regardless of how physically and emotionally drained a Mammy is at 9pm on Friday night, going to BED before 11pm would mean WASTING one of the ONLY fecking Minion-free joys Mammy has to look forward to during the week. 😑 It would mean that she would wake up on “Suddenly Saturday” and the weekend would be almost over already. So NO, TURBOTWAT, MAMMY will NOT just GO TO FECKING BED! That would be silly. Mammy can not let the side down. Mammy must savour the night of the Friday and the virtual Hurrah with other Mammies and the virtual cheers that go up from screens on sofas all over the country…
Mammy must sit here yawning and refuse to do the obvious thing… just because THAT’S why…
Because it’s FRIDAY NIGHT!”

By now, The Him is thinking HE might just go to bed and leave the Crazy Lady to her grapes and Graham..😂

He’s knackered listening to her.

Cheers my Lovely Ladybelles.🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷🍷

I am Screaming Leaving Granny Mum

Posted in blog, children, family, tantrums, Uncategorized by

​It is sooooo  Grapejuice o’clock on this wonderfully unfeckeuped feck-it-up Friday.
I was doing well you know…
I was doing SO well that I smugly thought I’d get through a full day without shouting or scolding or being a generally horrible Hell-Beast to my little angel.
 I nearly did it…
And THEN she pulled her usual stunt in “Gwanny’s” that leaves HER in dramatic floods of tears, ME ready for the Nut house and my poor Mother torn between remembering what it was like to be mortified in front of HER Mother, and wanting to steal the Demonchild from me and to raise her in the non-shouting, calm and much more cushioned safety of Granny’s house.
Imagine a Disney Fucking princess as she is dragged, sobbing, from her Prince, hand outstretched and a sad and melancholic expression on her tear stained face, mouthing the name of her lost one, in slow motion of course…
Imagine the child in The Railway Children or such orphanesque tale, watching their only relative as the train pulls away from the platform, knowing that they’ll never see them again…
Imagine the scene in The Hunger Games where Catniss is about to be catapulted up into the Arena and the baddies attack her BFF right before her eyes.

There’s nothing she can do.
She is helpless.

It is terrible.
Now imagine the Gobshite who is causing the drama.  

That would be me.  😭
And poor Granny is witness to the atrocities.  She wants to scoop the little angel into her arms and hush her and sooth her and tell her it’ll be OK and that OF COURSE she doesn’t HAVE to go home with Mean old Mammy and OF COURSE she can stay with Granny for ever and ever and ever and ever cause Granny will NEVER get cross like mean old Mammy.
She wants to.
But of course she doesn’t. 
She helps poor, mental, wits-end Woman put the obviously  abused, unloved and despairing child in the car, telling her she’ll see her tomorrow and to be a good girl for Mammy.  It breaks her heart no doubt.  
The girlchild is so convincing that a little part of ANY witnessing adult would possibly consider ringing fucking Childline to report Cruel, Uncaring, Crazy Mammy.

But.

Granny has been here before.

Granny has been on the other side of it.  

(Obviously with much less dramatic daughters, given the three angelic girlchildren she raised…😂😂😜😜)

Ans as much as Granny does indeed want to save her little girl from the Scary One for a night…she also knows that her little girl HAS to take the scary one home! 😂😂😂
This scene pretty much kills both of the grown ups, but they BOTH know that by the time Madam TurboTwat gets to her own house, (a whole 76 yards away), she’ll have completely forgotten the dramatic ordeal which evil Mammy has just subjected her to by asking her to put on her fucking boots to go home. 
The 90 second drive home will be sufficient for her to completely FORGET her violent and impressively fucking MENTAL protest in Granny’s street.  She shall wipe her tears away, skip in the door and ask “Is scooby Doo on?” before demanding a “cuppa mulk pwease” and then informing Mammy that she is her “best wee mammy” as she is handed said cuppa fecking milk.
And Mammy will stand at the door, watching her in disbelief, completely fooked and wishing that there was some time machine that would whizz her forward half an hour so she could sit on her arse and recover her sanity with some grapes.
Cheers Dollies.

🍷🍷🍷

#callthemammypolice #notathingwrongwithher #fml

I am Some New Year’s Resolutions Mum

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​My lazy self has decided that ACTUALLY, I probably should make a few New Year’s resolutions after all.  I’m feeling a bit left out on Social Media today as everyone posts their resolves and memes about the new year and blank canvasses and new beginnings.

ANd then I remembered writing some resolutions at the end of 2016, and I found the post.

Turns out, they are EXACTLY the same as what I want to write today.  Does this mean that I didn’t achieve my goals in 2017?  NO.  I kept everyone alove and well and kept my general sh*t between the ditches, didn’t I?  No.  It simply reminds me that parenting is a constant process and that being the perfect parent is elusive.

And so I begin 2018 with similar thoughts.

1. I must stop scolding Mini-Me. It doesn’t feckin work anyway. I’m wasting my energy.

2. I will be calm and zenned at all times… (mostly after 8pm when the Minions are snoring and I have a glass of something soothing in my hand.)

3. I will learn a new language.  Something foreign and exotic and sexy…Yeah. Actually, No.  My arse.  I have enough bother getting coherent sentences to come out of my mouth in English, and now that I’m having to say the sound “BUH” instead of fucking “BEEE” for the letter b, I’m already technically learning one anyway.  My brain would combust with any more pressure. (Seriously, how the hell are the kids going to spell their namesnin the future! “Muh-iiiih-naaaa-iiiii-muuuuu-eeeeee”  That shit bothers me.)

4. I will get rid of the 18.4 stone I’ve eaten and supped over Christmas…(starting next Monday.  There’s 6 more days until the New Year technically begins.) #operationskinnyarse

5. I will never raise my voice to my child.  (I shall lean in and whisper. It’s much more effective. Bookface taught me that one. It’s good isn’t it.)

6. I shall have a clean house at all times.  (At least once a year, for at least 3 days.The rest of the time? Yeah right! If I can keep them all generally alive, fed and clothed in public, I say I’m winning.)

7. I shall never blackmail or bribe my children. That would be terrible. Such techniques are only employed by bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch mamma…( Maybe I should change this to I will try to stop being a bad, terrible, desperate, bat shit crazy bitch Mamma? Might be a better starting point than giving up blackmail. Can’t go cold turkey like…)

8. I shall travel more and make more time for me.   (I shall take the long way home once a week, AND I’ll listen to the RADIO instead of the fecking FROZEN soundtrack when I’m in the car on my own.  Now THAT is Mam-ME time guys! )

9. I shall stop having imaginary arguments with people while I am in the shower or the car.  It’s not healthy, especially when you turn around, mid-rant covered in lather and Mini-Me is standing staring at you and asks “Who are you talking to Mammy?” or interrupts your rant with “LANGUAGE!” in that condescending, disapproving tone of hers from the back seat, causing you to almost crash the frickin car with fright.  Maybe this is just me? Anyone else?

10. I shall stop drinking grapejuice … gin is not as calorific apparently. And Slimline tonic is basically just water isn’t it?

11. I shall stop swearing.

12. I shall stop lying and accept myself as the deluded, delusional talker of general shite that I am.

I could keep going. But in reality, I’m just going to keep doing what I’m doing next year.  I might be doing stuff wrong, but I’m also doing stuff right and that’s all that matters.

What are your resolutions for 2018?

 

Wishing you a magical Christmas (1)

Happy New Year!