Little Lady Ga Ga

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.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2016.

Wind the mummy up

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 and passmethevalium.com, 2016.

It’s Great to be a Mum

Hardly cool, calm and collected,
Nails, bikini line neglected.
House, I’m certain, is not as clean as some.
Wet washing there for days,
And our beds remain unmade.
Despite my fails, it’s great to be a mum.

My social life revolves,
Around a 6 and 3-year-old.
Nights out have disappeared to almost none.
Cannot wait to catch the gig,
Of the real live Peppa Pig.
Hell yeah, it’s one-long-party as a mum.

My partner may well think,
That my life is rosy pink.
He’ll imply mum days are chat, tea, cakes and fun.
But you know that’s just survival,
You need mummy friends not rivals.
Let’s hug it out, it’s fab to be a mum.

The bruises, pinches, pulling hair,
The “I hate yous” and “you’re unfair”.
There are some days you’ll feel a little glum.
Food lovingly you’ve made,
At which they merely look dismayed.
But, ha, it is so swell to be a mum.

Stress, exhaustion and the mess,
Gets too much I can confess.
Days spent mopping sick and wiping countless bums.
Being ill with kids is rotten,
Chance of duvet days forgotten.
Who cares? It’s so rewarding as a mum.

Mislaid the art of conversation,
Friends have lowered expectations.
Stick sword, lightsaber fights I’ve lost and won.
Embracing every wee,
Spent with them all joining me.
At least you’re never lonely as a mum.

Their energy is off the scale,
Soft play noise makes me go pale.
Each day up with the larks, before the sun.
Now, if I could train those birds,
to do all of my housework,
It would be a fairytale to be a mum.

Belly laughs until it hurts,
Bounds of joy, then go berserk.
In opposite directions they all run.
At least you are so tired,
In a job; you can’t be fired.
It’s proof of all the fun times as a mum.

Spending nights admiring pics,
Of your cheeky dudes and chicks.
Hard work, but who could ask for better ones?
In the face of frazzled looks,
And those dusty advice books.
You’re doing great, keep at it super mum.

© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2016.