3 A.M. Again.

March 20, 2017March 21, 2017Leave a comment

Each night I clock in:
3 A.M. without fail.
Thanks to a cry,
A cough or a wail.

Up changing bed sheets,
Or making night feeds.
World’s most patient hostess,
Of V.I.P needs.

Cold air cramps my neck,
Bum numb on the floor,
Eyes shutting, head drooping,
“Please sleep” I implore.

Now expert at back rubs,
Patting and “hush”
Reminding myself,
This will pass soon enough.

One day they will sleep,
There’ll be no pitch-black cuddles.
No mopping of brows,
No cleaning up puddles.

No reaching for Calpol,
And Neurofen too.
No surprise vomits,
Or exploding poos.

Weirdly I’ll miss this,
Once home’s filled with snores.
I won’t be so needed.
And then I’ll want more!

Smiggle® Niggles

February 26, 2017February 26, 2017Leave a comment

The wondrous world of Smiggle®.
Now who created that?
Shop filled high with bright, fun things,
That act like children’s Crack.

Fluff, sparkles, neon, shimmer,
And heaps of scented stuff.
It seems that if you’re six years old,
You can never have enough.

Tubs of choke-able erasers,
Garish bags that cost the earth,
Secret-pocket pencil cases,
Longed for more than life is worth.

Impossible to walk past,
Without “ooos” and looks of awe.
“Oh Mum please, let’s go inside?”
Reluctantly I mutter “sure.”

“I really need more pencils,
And everyone loves Smiggle®.”
(Though at the till not sure I see,
The parents smile and giggle).

Still, the owner must be laughing,
In the style of James Bond villains.
Skips merrily down to the bank,
Signs cheques with pens sweet-smelling.

Hands up, I am just jealous.
This store’s a genius idea.
Stock that dazzles and delights,
And flies off the shelves no fear.

So a plea to ease our niggles,
Guaranteed win-win, you know.
I suggest an in-store offer:
Complimentary Prosecco.

What To Expect…New Motherhood

February 16, 2017February 16, 2017Leave a comment

First days at home with your baby,
The sound of alarm bells ring.
Panic sets in as you look at your bundle,
“Umm, what do I do with this thing?”

So, now you’re meant to be grown up,
Responsible, calm and together.
But faced with this Mini-Me being,
You’re suddenly not feeling clever.

Sore, cracked nipples and swollen boobs.
Yearnings for cold cabbage leaves.
Stitches, discomfort and pain sitting down.
Trepidation of each “ouchie” wee.

Tired eyes. Haven’t slept now for days.
And not likely to anytime soon.
In your own little bubble, feel jet lagged,
Tearful, exhausted, marooned.

Might fret about breast or the bottle.
Know what? A fed baby’s what matters.
A happy babe equals contentment.
Much better than feeling in tatters.

You’ll become MasterChef of fast mealtimes.
A Jedi of one-handed-skills.
Queen of box-set feeding marathons.
Can truly watch Netflix, and chill.

A blurry time full of confusion.
But it’s gone in the blink of an eye.
One day they will sleep through the night.
Some day they will talk and not cry.

Baby gazing’s your new favourite past time.
Breathe in deeply, that fresh baby smell.
Live in the moment. Forget about chores.
Fall under your gorgeous one’s spell.

Don’t overdo the advice books,
Paranoia of failure is crazy.
Trust your gut instincts, you are a great Mum,
You know what is right for your baby.

These first weeks can feel pretty daunting.
All new, and surreal, and unknown.
But, trust me, you’re doing a great job.
And, please know, you are never alone.

Tomorrow will be different…

February 7, 2017February 7, 2017Leave a comment

Tomorrow will be different:
A home of peace and love.
No worn-out cries “for pity’s sake”,
Raised eyes to Lord above.

Tomorrow will be different:
I’ll have no need to yell.
They’ll get their shoes on speedily,
We’ll make that school run bell.

Tomorrow will be different:
Their pants will stay all clean.
Won’t have to scrub poonamis,
That make my face turn green.

Tomorrow will be different:
I’ll sip hot cups of tea.
Go to the toilet on my own;
Blissful tranquility.

Tomorrow will be different:
There’ll be no fights or scraps.
No embarrassing behaviour,
Or toddler tantrum flaps.

Tomorrow will be different:
I’ll be in complete control.
No winding up, or losing plots,
No bribes of Paw Patrol.

Tomorrow will be different:
On myself, won’t be so tough.
I’ll acknowledge that I’ve tried my best.
I’ll accept that that’s enough.

Good food? “DISGUSTING”

January 26, 2017January 26, 2017Leave a comment

As every Mum knows,
The more effort you make,
To cook wholesome food,
There’s more chance they will hate.

Slaved over for hours,
And crafted with love?
You bet, on the floor,
It soon will be shoved.

“Tonight, lovely soup.
Great for your 5 A DAY.”
“Well, this tastes disgusting”
You’ll soon hear them say.

How about casseroles?
Veg pasta sauces?
Dream on, there’s no way
They’ll eat three hearty courses.

Nutritious meals equal
“Bleurghh, urghhh” and “Yuck!”
Looks of repulsion;
Response: “What’s this muck?”

Try as you might,
To teach them what’s good,
They long for the junk,
And a “Yum” chocolate pud.

You’d make them so happy,
If you could just fix it,
To serve up a menu,
Of burgers and biscuits.

One day they’ll be foodies;
Love flavour adventure.
No frowning or moaning,
No meltdowns or censure.

So, if meal after meal,
All week you’ve been binning,
Resort to fish fingers
And feel like you’re winning.

I do not negotiate with terrorists. Honest.

January 17, 2017January 17, 2017Leave a comment

When all around they run amok.
You feel you’re going mad.
Threat levels reaching “critical”.
Rampaging worse than bad.

Unruly, messy anarchy,
Descent to pure corruption.
Your crazy, little rebels,
They’re weapons of mass destruction.

No negotiation, diplomacy,
Or sweet-talking seems to work.
You try to quell the mutiny,
But they still all go berserk.

A tantrum ticking time bomb,
“You’ve put sweetcorn with the tuna?”
WARNING! Meltdown high alert,
Imploding sense of humour.

You’re the queen of biscuit bribery,
The ambassador of calm.
In a twist of contradiction,
They’re purveyors of smooth charm.

With your wild things on the warpath,
Voice of reason they’ll resist.
But a secret weapon’s up your sleeve –
A cuddle and a kiss.

So, no matter what, keep smiling,
Don’t give up, you’ve got this covered.
Ride out the tantrum terror phase,
Of your dear, extreme beloved.

Who’d be the eldest?

January 5, 2017January 5, 2017Leave a comment

Having younger siblings,
Has got to be quite tough.
Told to be responsible.
Told off for being rough.

Yes, who’d be the eldest?
It’s true, it can be pants.
Leader of the pack; you bear the brunt,
Of Mummy’s “be good” rants.

Irritating siblings!
They long to be like you.
No question that they hold you back,
From things you want to do.

You do protest, despite their age,
They’re given grown-up favours.
While you ate plain old carrot stix,
They scoff Hula Hoops and Quavers.

I know they seem a pain,
But you are their biggest hero.
They beam at you, they always have,
From time point: minute zero.

I promise one day you will feel,
So thankful for each other.
And be as proud as punch,
To have your sister and your brother.

Know in those precious moments,
When it’s just me and you.
I cherish every second,
And those simple tasks we do.

Lego, Battleships and colouring,
In hot chocolate solitude.
A chance to chat through cares and woes;
My charming little dude.

For you’re the one who rocked my world,
From all I’d known before.
You filled my life with “wow”, and smiles,
And pride for evermore.

You ask me for “just mummy time”,
I’ll make that happen too.
Please never doubt how much you’re loved,
And how much I think of you.

Away in a Manger for Sleep-Deprived Mums

December 15, 2016December 15, 2016Leave a comment

Away (like a stranger),
From my comfy bed.
The sweet rebel baby,
Won’t lay down her head.

I glance at the night sky,
Look down with dismay.
Seems sleep is for losers,
You just want to play.

Your Daddy is snoring,
Yet you’re still awake.
When I say “sleep tight”,
Smiles and laughter you make.

I love you, so cheeky,
But please close your eyes.
I’ll lay on your floor,
Till insanity’s nigh.

Let’s rest now, I beg you,
Awake all the day.
I could sleep forever,
I’d love to, I pray.

Bless all the tired parents,
In depths of despair.
Gin awaits us in heaven,
To glug when we’re there.

Little Lady Ga Ga

November 24, 2016November 24, 2016Leave a comment

Where has my sweet baby gone?
The one who goo-ed and gaa-ed?
A prima donna’s moving in,
And making our life hard.

She kicks and stomps with all her might,
She thumps upon the floor.
Coochy coos are long-since gone,
It’s rebellion and roars.

Unreasonable, I know:
Won’t let her pull her brother’s hair,
Clean the toilet with her toothbrush,
Or fall down all those stairs.

Or twang her brother’s willy,
When he’s weeing standing up.
Or I ask her not to bite me,
When I give her the wrong cup.

She wants to do things her own way,
But gets frustrated when,
She can’t peel her banana skin,
And it all kicks off again.

Angry face with tear-stained cheeks,
Irrational, determined strops.
I love that she knows her own mind,
Just please not on my watch!

Living with a toddler’s worse,
Than any A-list diva.
Demands so wild that they could tame,
The likes of Justin Bieber.

I know it won’t last very long,
One day she’ll be my friend.
But in the midst of tantrum times,
I ponder, “will this end?”

No, I’ll embrace these diva days,
Although they feel bizarre.
Marvel at the crazy antics,
Of my little superstar.

Wind the mummy up

November 18, 2016November 24, 2016Leave a comment

Wind the mummy up,
Wind the mummy up,
Pull, punch, slap, slap, slap.

Wind her up again,
Wind her up again,
No chance of nap, nap, nap.

Gunk on the ceiling,
Mess on the floor.
Snot on the window,
Smears on the door.

Hands up if you’re with me,
One, two, three?
Make mine a large G and T!…

Pass Me The Valium

Category: Motherhood