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.

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.

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!…

It’s Great to be a Mum

October 24, 2016November 24, 2016Leave a comment

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.

Circle of Strife (A Snapshot of Four Women on a Beach)

October 20, 2016November 24, 2016Leave a comment

“Oh, look at that family over there:
So cheeky. So charming. Without a care.
I dream that we might have kiddies one day,
Building castles in sand, digging and play.
Cartwheels and giggles, shrill shrieks and fun,
Yet here I am lounging around in the sun.
Worries seem selfish — which book is the best?
Or maybe a cocktail? Or shall I go rest?
Bursting with love. I know now I am free…
But could life be better if two became three?”

“Oh, look at that couple, I so long to be,
Sitting and reading with that G and T.
How I’d love to return to chilled holidays,
Time for each other; sun, sea and way hey!
Unruffled and rested. Sat oh-so-still,
Smiling and talking (and taking the Pill).
My worries are urgent — all day seem to screech,
Military ops just to get to the beach.
I do love them so. Full-on fun this has been…
Please, 5 minutes’ peace though for this magazine?”

“Oh, look at that mum, running here and there,
Gone in a flash, that time just went where?
I loved that bedlam. Now those were the days,
Always so tired though, didn’t we say?
Grueling and crazy, magic memories made,
Hand holds and cuddles soon started to fade.
Worries “are they safe?” still stop me from rest,
Kids grown and less needy; too soon flown the nest.
Missing pick-me-up squeezes, limbs wrapping tight…
I’d go back in a heartbeat to those sleepless nights.”

“Oh, look at that woman, recalling good times,
When she never stood still, her kids crossing lines.
Disorder returns soon on Granny-care days,
But you can hand them back, feeling unfazed.
Tantrums, explosions, toothy grins and hugs,
Frolics and high jinx, and vital gin glugs.
Worries now fewer — I’ve been there, done it,
I’m helping and needed and sure keeping fit.
To start over again with hindsight would be nice…
Always want what you’ve not in the circle of strife.”

Post-Bump Friends

September 27, 2016November 24, 2016Leave a comment

I’d heard Mummies can get lonely, so it seemed the stuff of fate,
To meet an antenatal group just a few weeks pre-due date.

Our nervous introductions, over bumps and raspberry teas.
Preparing for those Braxton Hicks and episiotomies.

Top perineal massage tips united us in horror.
And Tena trampolining? Post-bump bodies sounded bother.

Little knowledge of life stories before our pregnancy days.
But thrown together, in shock and awe, great friendships soon were made.

Only so many people can bond over the colour of poo,
Engorged boobs, feeding in groups, and how often you need the loo.

Soon we wished we’d all had shares in Infacol, biscuits and wipes.
Never alone, at the end of the phone, morning, noon and night.

A lifeline in the blurry times, guaranteed you’re always there.
We support, laugh and commiserate through WhatsApp tales we share.

Protective, non-competitive. No secret motives or fuss.
Surviving motherhood’s thrills and spills, with humour and a cuss.

Sticking together through thick and thin, one thing I know for sure:
“The best money that I ever spent” and friends for evermore.

Pass Me The Valium

Tag: Light-hearted