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, 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, 2016.

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

“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.”

© Pass Me The Valium and, 2016.

Wonder Mum

Being a Mum’s a privilege. We’re lucky, this I know.
But life with little people is intense and tough also.
24/7 on demand, and at their beck-and-call.                                               
It’s exhausting, overwhelming, with no let up at all.                                               

You’re a walking mummy zombie. There’s no chance to relax.                               
Reliant on strong coffees, multi-tasking to the max.                                               
Naturally you beat yourself up, feel only that you fail.
You try your best, yet other mums on smugness seas they sail.                             

Their children all slept through the night on exit from the womb.         
Not once confessing to tantrums, TV, or processed foods.                          
But this is just perception. Be kind to yourself, OK?                                    
Don’t forget, you’re flipping awesome, each and every day.                                    

This phase of feeling broken, with someone always needing,                    
Pushed to tears by never-ending changing, rocking, feeding.                      
I promise it gets better, and in the blink of an eye,                                     
“My baby’s growing up too fast” we’ll start to hear you cry.               

No doubt at times I bet you feel a donkey on the edge.
But from the outside, looking in, you are a total lege.
When it’s too much, take some time out, a breather, have a sob.              
Remember you are rocking, hands down, the hardest job.                          

For now, it is alright to leave those dishes and those chores.
Play, be silly, give squeezy hugs — fun matters to kids more.
Take photos, tons of photos, and lots of videos too.                                    
Look back and you’ll see only joy; hard times forgotten, few.                     

We all have plenty of rough days, there is no perfect Mum.                                               
But to your kids, perfection is you. You are their number one.
Shared toilet trips, the meltdowns and the worries you’ll survive. 
Officially a Wonder Mum who deserves a big high five.

© Pass Me The Valium and, 2016.

Post-Bump Friends

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 and, 2016.