Have a sing-song of this parody of Christmas Pudding to the tune of Frère Jacques. It’ll be the gift that keeps on giving!
Christmas children, Christmas children,
Screaming lots! Screaming lots!
Confiscate the sugar, Confiscate the sugar,
Lose the plot! Lose the plot!
© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2018.
You watch mums with their kids,
Before a baby’s in your tum.
So quick to think you’re different,
And know how it should be done.
With head full of aspirations;
Motherhood must be a breeze.
You don’t picture all the vomit,
Nits, threadworms and poos and wees…
“They will never sleep in my bed,
I won’t shush-pat on their floor.
My arms won’t jam in cot bars;
Won’t sneak out, commando crawl.”
“They will sleep right through till 7,
And lie in at the weekends.
We’ll maintain a strict routine,
Gina Ford will be my friend.”
“Breastfeeding will come easy;
It’s natural after all.
I’ll never reach for dummies,
Sterilisers or bottles.”
“Every minute I’ll feel happy,
I could never feel alone.
And plastic won’t take over,
Our minimalist home.”
“We’ll get around a weekly shop,
With cheer and smiles and coos.
My child will not suck trolley bars,
Or munch on unpaid food.”
“They’ll all adore their dinner,
I’ll never make them different teas.
They’ll eat main before their pudding;
I won’t resort to bribery.”
“There’ll be no need for TV;
Get bored? There’s just no way!
They’ll never fight, or high-pitched scream;
Love independent play.”
“They won’t rip open presents,
And then ask, ‘Are there some more?’
They’ll never say I hate you,
Shout, scream or slam their door.”
“They’ll always have good manners,
And mind their p’s and q’s.
They will always be good sportsmen,
And not wail if they should lose.”
“Homework will be a doddle;
To learn they’ll be so keen.
They’ll take pride in their appearance;
Always keep their bedroom clean.”
“They’ll never make me cringe.
Or make me want to cry.
I’ll have never-ending patience,
And all the answers to their ‘Why?’s”
“I will always ooze such calm,
And be in complete control.
Despite the hardest job,
I won’t begrudge no mums’ payroll.”
…So, of course, I was deluded,
In my life before a mum.
Turns out it’s not rose-tinted.
But it’s true it’s mostly fun.
One thing that’s as imagined,
Is that mums will always try,
To be the very best they can,
To help their young ones fly.
Next time you see a mum,
Who’s finding motherhood a struggle;
Let her know you understand,
And give the gift of verbal cuddle!
© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.
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.
© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2017.
There’s a gap above the fire,
Where your stocking should have been.
And a break inside my heart,
That I bear, but can’t be seen.
Perhaps you are the magic,
That powers Santa’s sleigh?
May you sparkle down the chimney,
And rest here for the day.
Act as guardian angel,
Sat atop our Christmas tree.
Play a part in all the joy,
And goodwill that you see.
Later, find a quiet moment,
Tiptoe round and plant a kiss,
On the cheek of every loved one,
And feel how much you’re missed.
Then when the clock strikes midnight,
Fly peacefully back home.
Brightest star up in the sky;
Thanks to you, we’re not alone.
© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2016.
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 passmethevalium.com, 2016.
Pass Me The Valium 