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.
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!
© 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.
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.
© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2016.
Ten tired mummies, struggling to see,
How to cope till bedtime, with their sanity.
Can they keep their cool and smiles throughout the day?
Ten tired mummies thinking positive, “yaaaaaaaaay!”
Ten tired mummies actually not feeling fine,
Thank goodness, a playgroup, now there are nine.
Nine tired mummies are always running late,
A toddler tantrum kicks off, now there are eight.
Eight tired mummies, looking up to heaven,
Great, bird poo down a top, now there’s only seven.
Seven tired mummies, need a caffeine fix,
“Latte?” asks Barista, now there are six.
Six tired mummies, it’s lunchtime they’ve survived,
Watch out! Projectile vom, now there’s only five.
Five tired mummies, pacing up and down the floor,
“You really think I’m going to nap?”, now there’s only four.
Four tired mummies, passing A&E,
Damn zip wire in the park, now there’s only three.
Three tired mummies, wondering what to do,
Quick, head for soft play, now there’s only two.
Two tired mummies, feeling totally out-done,
One discovers Pinterest so now there’s only one.
One tired mummy with patience wearing thin,
Frazzled, creased and broken, searching for the gin.
Witching hour begins, kids wrestle on the floor,
Mummy friends save the day by bursting through the door.
Drinking booze from sippy cups, in the safety zone,
Keep each other laughing, reassured they’re not alone.
© Pass Me The Valium and passmethevalium.com, 2016.
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