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Tag: dinner

  • Before Daddy Left For Work

    Before Daddy left for work this morning, Daddy did not have to give Mummy a list of things the children needed. He did not have to ask Mummy to watch the children for a few hours. He didn’t have to give Mummy a single prompt on how to look after her own children, because Mummy knew.

    1. At 3:25pm Daddy arrived home from work. He had ever so kindly (although begrudgingly) helped Mummy out by fetching their eldest child from school on his way home.
    2. As Daddy and the eldest child walked through the door, Mummy whom was stood at the sink washing the dishes greeted them with a lovely and jolly ‘hello! Are you both ok?’
    3. Mummy had lovingly prepared and cooked the family dinner. Because Mummy knew that everyone needed feeding. Mummy did not need asking if she was planning on feeding the children, Mummy just knew.
    4. During the day whilst Daddy had been busy being very important at work Mummy had spent what felt like twenty-thousand hours cleaning, washing clothes, hoovering the carpets and tidying away toys. Then redoing it every time her feral youngest child decided to fuck it all right up again.
    5. When Daddy arrived home he did not need to ask Mummy if they had been victims of a reverse burglary.
    6. When Daddy arrived home from work Mummy was not sprawled out on the carpet watching Ben and holly’s little kingdom whilst chaos erupted around her.
    7. At 5pm when Mummy had to pop out to work for a couple of hours, Mummy asked Daddy if he would mind watching the children for a couple of hours. Mummy asked Daddy if he could possibly feed them some supper before bed, maybe even bath them if he could manage it by himself.
    8. When Mummy walked in from work at 7pm…a mere 2 hours later, the house looked as if someone had indeed reverse burgled the house. It looked as if a massive sodding Smyth’s toys lorry had arrived, the driver had tipped the whole contents of the bastarding lorry onto the living room floor and then sprinkled a box of coco pops on top of the massive pile of plastic for an extra special treat.
    9. When Mummy walked in from work at 7pm…a mere two hours after she had left, she witnessed Daddy, sprawled out on the floor amongst the massive pile of plastic and coco pops, calmly viewing Ben and Holly’s little kingdom whilst the smallest child sat emptying every pan out of the cupboard in the kitchen.
    10. When Mummy nipped upstairs for a quick wee, she quickly realised Daddy the amazing had actually managed to bath of the children. Mummy felt ever-so-grateful as she followed a trail of 56 wet towels lay on the floor leading towards a bath full of freezing cold water and 234 toys floating within it that needed to be fished out. She felt even more grateful once she realised Daddy had also learnt to multitask! Shaving at the same time as bathing the kids was a real talent. Mummy was so pleased she had scrubbed the sink earlier in the day for it now to be infested with facial hair.
    11. When Mummy asked Daddy if the children had eaten their supper, Daddy informed Mummy that neither of the children fancied milk with their coco pops, that they requested them dry. Hence why the living room now had a twatting dusting of them. Daddy informed Mummy he had already picked a few up.
    12. When Mummy asked Daddy why the eldest child was wearing pyjamas that were approximately 3 sizes too small, Daddy informed Mummy that he was not sure where all of her pyjamas were kept. Daddy snapped at Mummy and told her that nothing was ever good enough for her.
    13. When Mummy noticed the sink was yet again full of pots, even though the children had only been fed dry cereals straight from the box, Mummy thought she might actually just spontaneously combust.
    14. When Mummy called Daddy a useless scruffy Cockwomble as she began to rage clean for the eighty-eighth time that day, Daddy looked surprised. After all…Daddy had done everything Mummy had asked him to.

    “What is wrong with you? Why are you in a bad mood?” Asked the oblivious Cockwomble.

    “It’s a twatting mystery when I should be feeling so grateful.” Replied Mummy.

    Then Mummy drank wine.
    Mummy drank Lots and lots of lovely wine as she wondered what fresh hell would await after her considerably longer than 2 hour shift the next day.
    The end.
    🤣🤣

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/laughwithmummy/

  • My Jalapeño Were A Torture Device To My Children

    The other night, I was cutting up jalapeños while cooking dinner.

    My sour patch kids (daughter & son) are always in my shit.

    I can never fully accomplish a whole task without them in the way.

    Little ankle biters, they are.

    So, I’m chopping these peppers up and answering questions left and right like I’m a contestant on a game show.

    I’m currently killing this mom shit.

    I’m multitasking AF.

    I’m pouring chocolate milk, slice another jalapeño, twirl around checking a butt for poop, peek on the chicken in the oven with a smile on my face, run to the living room to clean up a spill, and back to the kitchen to finish the jalapeños.

    I’m gliding through the kitchen just basking in my motherliness.

    Until I hear a cry for help from the bathroom. Suddenly, Kaison, my 6 year old, who wipes his butt always, forgets how to wipe his butt.

    I sprint down the hall to offer hand services for the butt in need.

    I get caught in the hall by my daughter who asks me to put her princess play shoes back on. Every mom with a daughter knows the damn shoes. They only fall off every other step because they are made for a child with an almost invisibility foot. I slip the bitches back on for the 100 time while rushing and she’s screaming because I left her pinky toe out and still trying to shove it on. After I tuck that little piggy back inside, she cautiously walks away on the plastic heels of death amongst the wooden floors, to the kitchen looking for a “snack.”

    After I complete the butt wiping task, I walk back into the kitchen to the sounds of gagging and coughing.

    The gags progress to wails and cries of pain.

    I see Micah and Lilah with tears in their eyes sobbing and wiping their tongues. I asked Lilah what was wrong and she said, “hot hot hottttt!!!”

    I try to find answers to what in the actual fuck was happening and then Lilah said, “I don’t like those grapes. Those grapes so yucky” as she points to the jalapeños.

    😒 I try to sound concerned, but my initial emotion was anger because I’m down one whole jalapeño less than what I started with. Every jalapeño mattered.

    After grieving the loss, I give them milk, I give them bread, I pray, I light incense, I bathe them in Oils. I give them whatever the hell else they want and NOTHING is helping.

    My kids love spicy food, but these were not your average jalapeños.

    These were the Devil’s peppers. And they came with vengeance. These bitches was spicy and they was angry.

    The hands that they grabbed the peppers with are now rubbing the tears from their eyes and rubbing the snot around their noses.

    Now, their whole face is on fire.

    At this point, there’s not many options

    other than to just throw both children away and start over. I have two others not infected at all.

    I’m running their whole heads under water. I’m trying to flush the Devil’s pepper out of their eyes and nose. Nothing is working.

    I’m screaming, “GOOGLE, HOW THE FUCK CAN I SAVE MY CHILDREN’S EYES FROM THE DEVIL’S PEPPER?”

    Google is no use because google has no intellectual understanding of curing children from jalapeños at this time. (Words from the mouth of Google herself)

    The chicken burned.

    More shit spilled.

    My jalapeños didn’t get used for a meal, instead they were a torture device to my children.

    The babies ended up with wash cloths on their faces on the couch while chugging chocolate milk. Nobody was blinded. We all survived.

    Except for me.

    Soon after I laid the children down for bed, Jalen, my other 6 year old, walks in my bedroom hysterically crying.

    I asked him what the hell he wanted because my hours of operation were clearly over, and then he said, “my butthole is burning.”

    Ok…gonna need you to elaborate, son.

    Guess who played with a Devil’s pepper while not learning from the magical hell his siblings went through?

    Him. That boy. The burning butthole kid.

    Why did his butthole burn, you ask?

    Because after playing with the Devil’s pepper, using it as a stage prop for his dinosaurs to eat, he decided to just itch his ass. A lot.

    Welcome to parenthood, where we are solely surviving on prayers and wine.

    That’s some real #Seriousmomshit

    Disclaimer: the butt I wiped, was not the butt that burned. I have twins. Thanks for the concern on my intelligence, but, I got this 🤞🏻

    DON’T Forget to SHARE with a momma who needs some laughter tonight.

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/Seriousmomshit0/

     

  • I Sucked Ass At Being A Mum Today

    I sucked ass at being a mom today. Some days, I feel like I’m not doing a good job at this mom thing. Because it’s so fucking hard. I know, I know, it’s always worth it, and I love my kids. But man, when did it get so hard?

     

    Today I yelled too much at them, they watched too much tv, I fed them pasta, which they glazed over, picking out most of the nutrients.

     

    I yelled at them to stop yelling (funny huh?), I told my son to stop calling his sister “poopy head” at least thirty times today. Something I never thought I would be doing. ⁣

     

    As I write this caption, I am sitting on my bedroom floor. Hiding. Trying to get a moment of silence. It’s so hard some days. And I know I’m not alone.

     

    There’s no “silver lining” to this post.

     

    Being a mom is fucking hard.

     

    That’s all.

     

    Everyday, I tell myself “tomorrow! Tomorrow will be the day I don’t yell. Tomorrow will be the day I talk calmly all day to them. Tomorrow will be the day they won’t fight with each other. Tomorrow. Tomorrow will be better. Easier.” ⁣

     

    And whenever I lay them down to bed at night, I look at those beautiful souls I created and think “how could I ever be so mad at them?” It’s a routine I have had for the past few years now.

     

    Being a mom is fucking hard. And I suck at it a lot of the time. But that’s okay, because I’m trying my best to raise good, kind, decent, loving human beings, in a world so cold. ⁣

     

    There’s no way that’s going to be easy.

     

    Keep going mama, we got this. Even if we fucking suck some times.

    Instagram – Caitlinfladager

     

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  • The Worst Surprise Of My Life

    During lunch at work, I ate 3 plates of beans (which I know I shouldn’t). When I got home, my husband seemed excited to see me and exclaimed delightedly, “Darling I have a surprise for dinner tonight.” He then blindfolded me and led me to my chair at the dinner table. I took a seat and just as he was about to remove my blindfold, the telephone rang. He made me promise not to touch the blindfold until he returned and went to answer the call.

    The beans I had consumed were still affecting me and the pressure was becoming unbearable, so while my husband was out of the room I seized the opportunity, shifted my weight to one leg and let one go.

    It was not only loud, but it smelled like a fertilizer truck running over a skunk in front of a garbage dump! I took my napkin from my lap and fanned the air around me vigorously. Then, shifting to the other leg, I ripped off three more. The stink was worse than cooked cabbage. Keeping my ears carefully tuned to the conversation in the other room, I went on releasing atomic bombs like this for another few minutes. The pleasure was indescribable!

    Eventually the telephone farewells signaled the end of my freedom, so I quickly fanned the air a few more times with my napkin, placed it on my lap and folded my hands back on it feeling very relieved and pleased with myself.

    My face must have been the picture of innocence when my husband returned, apologizing for taking so long.

    He asked me if I had peaked through the blindfold, and I assured him I had not.

    At this point, he removed the blindfold, and twelve dinner guests seated around the table, with their hands to their noses, chorused, “Happy Birthday!” 🎂

     

  • a smart dinner conversation

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  • fancy dinner time

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  • having a nice little dinner

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  • I Grew Up In A Time Where Everything Was Better

    I grew up during a time when everyone treated each other like Family.

    We went outside to play on streets, build dens and make tree swings, we got dirty, bathed on a Sunday we didn’t eat fast food….we ate a Sunday dinner…proper home made food  and chips cooked in a proper chip pan!

    We got ice cream from Mr whippy when we could afford it, otherwise a choc ice from the freezer. We played football , kerby , Hide and Seek, british bulldog and  Made life long friendships and are still in touch with them today albeit not on a regular basis, but true friends.

    There was no bottled water  we drank water from the tap (bathroom tap at night) we shared the same bottle of pop… After we’d wiped it with our mucky sleeves, We only had kids tv after school and Saturday mornings.

    We rode our bikes for hours, There was no such thing as a mobile  or any other electronic device.

    If someone had a fight, that’s exactly what it was… a fist fight.                                     Kids didn’t have guns or knives. The street lights were our curfew or until our mum shouted us. School was mandatory . We watched our mouths around our elders because we knew we’d get a clip.

    Sayings like “What’s for tea?” your guaranteed reply was shit with sugar on “where’s Mum?” Run off with the milk man would be the answer. Nothing was too PC back then.

    And you know what everything was better back then, respect was given, manners were used and everyone looked at for one another, life was more simple but it was kinder and happier.

  • we are all eating dinner

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