Tag: Mum

  • I Was A Kick Butt Mother And Then This Happened

    So, I was a kick butt mother this morning.

    My doctor upped my medicine last week and I’ve been feeling goooood. No more out-of-control, fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type parenting for this mama.

    Not anymore.

    I am Mary Freaking Poppins, y’all.

    So today I baked muffins and read books to my babies and picked out adorable matchy-matchy outfits, all before school.

    They didn’t even fuss when I got them dressed.

    I was patient with their breakfast table meltdowns and gentle with discipline.

    I was pretty much a bastion of parenting perfection.

    Somewhere between packing lunch boxes and brushing ponytails and generally herding cats (like moms do), I threw my black skirt in the dryer to get the wrinkles out.

    Who has time for an iron, ammiright?

    Not me!

    I was busy being SuperMom. Into the minivan kids! Time to sing happy songs on the way to school!

    We got to the preschool five minutes early, and when the teachers pulled my babies out of the car, I blew kisses.

    “Bye kiddos! Mommy will be back at 3!”

    Maybe we will bake cookies. #Fromscratch

    Then I drove to my doctor’s appointment all the way across town with ten minutes to spare.

    That’s right. GLANCE UPON MY GREATNESS, YOU UNDERLINGS. I am SUPER MOM.

    I hopped out of my van with my Starbucks and my side ponytail and

    WHEEE is it breezy today or is it me?

    Omg.

    no pants no pants no pants

    NO PANTS!!!!

    My skirt is still in the dryer!!!!

    But now my appointment is starting so I guess I’ll be clinging to this tunic like a wet cat to a curtain for the next two hours?!

    And OH. I just realized I’m wearing floral granny panties. The HOLY kind, if you hear me.

    NOOOO!!!!!!! 😭😭😭😭

    YES Lord, I have heard Your voice. Pride cometh before the fall and I was was so proud—SO PROUD—to be Mary Poppins.

    Welp. I guess it’s true that I won’t be flying by the seat of my pants, today.

    Because I DONT HAVE ANY FREAKING PANTS.

    #ThatSkirtIsStillSpinningAtHome #TheBreezeIsSwifterThanIRealized #AtLeastImWearingATunic #throwback

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

     

  • To All The Mummies Who Don’t Look The Way They Used To

    To all the Mummies who don’t look the way they used to…

    That don’t feel as confident as they used to.

    Who’s photos are of their beautiful babies instead of selfies because you can’t find a filter to fix the tired eyes or get a decent angle anymore.

    To all the mums that feel like they have lost their identity.

    All those who feel like they have lost friends along the way.

    To the ones who forget what day of the week it is and can’t remember the last time you had a bath or toilet break alone.

    I just want to tell you that you are amazing! So strong and beautiful.

    And that it’s okay to cry and crave just 20 minutes alone.

    You are a superstar… even if you don’t always feel like it.

    Being a mum is hard work and constant.

    Every day you make it work and get up the next day to do it all again. Be proud of yourself.

    Every day you become stronger and more inspiring to other mums just trying to keep it together too.

    Go Be Your Own Warrior 💜💜💜

    Credit https://www.facebook.com/BethHarris1234

     

  • To All Mamas With A Child In Hospital

    To all those parents that know..

    I’ve seen you in those hospital rooms. I’ve seen you hand your child off to surgeons, not knowing if you would ever get to hold them again with a beating heart. I’ve seen you pray, hope, and hold on to faith with a sheer will that would put most to shame. I’ve seen you hold your baby with tears streaming down your face because this kind of sickness isn’t the kind that just comes and goes, this is the kind where no one can assure you that your child is going to be okay.

    You fight for your child when they can’t fight for themselves. You hope for them and you stay positive for them, and then run to the bathroom just to cry where they can’t see. You research and talk to doctors and talk to other parents to find the best possible treatment plans and solutions to give the best life to your child. You take part in care for your child in ways even some in the medical field are intimidated by – dropping NG tubes, giving IV meds through a Broviac at home.

    You go to the places no one wants to go. You know a side of the world that most would like to pretend doesn’t exist.

    You call your child hospital your home away from home, and while the rest of the world may find that sad, you see the hope. It’s the place that gives your child a chance at life.

    I see you, mumma And you are loving that child unconditionally, just as you should. You are standing beside them come hell or high waters, and you are doing a good job. You are giving them the best.

    You are their cheerleader. You are their smile maker. You are the one that knows their favorite songs and favorite toys. You are the one that knows how to calm them down, how to hold them, how to love them best.

    While other parents know everything about their child’s sleep habits, you know everything about your child – where their normal sats should be, what their resting heart rate is, their normal pressures. While other parents can talk about their kid’s feeding schedules, you could talk all day about your kid’s anatomy, what surgeries are next, or what treatments are on the radar. While other parents are teaching their kids to crawl and to walk, you are teaching yours to drink from a bottle just to get rid of that dang NG tube, teaching them to bear weight on their legs and rebuild their core from weakness of lying in a hospital bed all day. While other parents look forward to going out on a date night without kids, you look forward to the moments when you can grab enough hands to shuffle around a bunch of machines and a hospital crib to just hold your baby.

    You would do anything for your child. And some of you have to brave the path that no parent should have go down. Instead of debating the best way to introduce solid foods to a baby, you are making decisions with doctors on quality of life for your child.

    To all of you, I see you. Hold on to hope.

    Keep on doing what you are doing, loving that kid no matter what.

    You are brave. You are strong.

    You are doing a good job.

    You are a good mom.

    Love,

    A Momma Who Knows

    written by Lexi Behrndt

    December 22, 2014

    #ShareYourWishes

     

  • When I’m Down, I Call Mum

    When I’m down, I call my mum.

    When I’m sad, I call my mum.

    When something good has happened, I call my mum.

    Sometimes I even call her when I’m feeling absolutely fine, I just would quite like a chat.

    I depend on her.

    I depend on her because she has always been there.

    I regularly hear “you need to stop holding your daughter now, or she will become too dependent”, or

    “break that habit of her crying for you, or she will become dependent”, or “you need to leave your daughter so she can learn to be away from you or she will become dependent”….

    People use the word ‘dependent’ so regularly when it comes to parents and their children.

    But being a parent MEANS being depended on.

    I would be far more concerned if my children grew up to feel as though they COULDN’T depend on me.

    When all else seems wrong with the world, I don’t want them to feel as though they have nowhere to turn.

    I want them to know that they can turn to me, no matter the circumstances.

    I WANT THEM TO DEPEND ON ME.

    We become so focused on FORCING INDEPENDENCE in those early years, that we forget about the importance of BEING DEPENDED ON.

    It starts in childhood, and goes right the way through.

    Being depended on isn’t a failing as a parent.

    It’s a massive success.

    ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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

     

  • Imagine Feeling So Lost You Hug A Stranger

    PARENTS.

    A handful of us went to the Pittsburgh Pride Parade today, sporting our FREE DAD HUGS and FREE MOM HUGS t-shirts. We gave out hundreds of hugs. Hundreds. Some were super happy hugs. But others were like these two… and there were way too many like them.

    Let me tell you about these two.

    He was kicked out at 19 when his parents found out. They haven’t spoken to him since. He cried on my shoulder. Sobbed. Squeezed me with everything he had. I felt a tiny bit of that pain that he carries with him every minute of every day. He was abandoned because of who he loves. And on June 9th, 2019, he was participating in a celebration of love when he was brought to his emotional knees by a shirt that said “FREE DAD HUGS” on a complete stranger.

    Her story? I don’t know the specifics. But I know that she saw me from across the street. I wasn’t paying attention. By the time she got to me, she had tears in her eyes. She stood in front of me and looked up at me, with a look of sadness and helplessness that I’ll never forget. She hugged me with everything she had. And I hugged her back.

    She held on for so long, melting into me, and thanked me endlessly. And I can’t stop thinking about her. What she must be going thru with her family… the ones who are supposed to be there for her no matter what. Who does she go to when she needs advice on love, money or just life? Who does she share old memories with that only her parents would have been there for? What are her holidays like? How often does she hope for that phone call, with unconditional love on the other end? I don’t know her story. But it doesn’t feel like a huge leap to assume she’s lost those who should love her the most and forever.

    Imagine that, parents. Imagine that your child feels SO LOST FROM YOU that they sink into the arms of a complete stranger and sob endlessly just because that stranger is wearing a shirt offering hugs from a dad. Think of the depths of their pain. Try to imagine how deep those cuts must be.

    Please don’t be the parent of a child that has to shoulder that burden. I met WAY too many of them, of all ages, today.

    And if by chance anyone knows these folks, please let them know they can reach out any time they need a surrogate dad to talk to. I’ll be there.

     

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

     

  • How Did Your Body Become A Stranger

    No one really prepares you for what it’s like not to have your baby inside you anymore. All of a sudden, you look and feel different. How did your body become a stranger?

    Your stomach is loose and striped. Your boobs are saggy, one more than the other. Hair unwashed, bags under your eyes. Even your hips are wider than before. Who is this woman looking back at you in the mirror?

    She is a mother.

    She sacrificed her body and mind for another being. She grew life, she brought it into this world and now she continues to sustain it. This body, this unfamiliar body, is amazing! The things it’s done, the pain its endured all made it stronger. She should not be ashamed of her body for her body is incredible.

    You are amazing. You are strong. You are beautiful. You are more than enough.

    You are a mother.

    ~ Author: Unknown

  • I Hate Parent Groups At School

    Parent waiting areas outside schools are the same all over the UK. Various gangs who all occupy their own specific piece of territory.

    THE ACTIVEWEARERS: Half of these ladies haven’t even been for a workout today – they just need the world to know that they are generally more active than you. Buttocks that are bigger, harder and rounder than Katie Price’s tits aren’t enough of a giveaway apparently.

    THE PACKHORSES: These people seem to leave the premises carrying more stuff than your average house move, while their kids hop and skip along carrying a mere twig that they found earlier which has an incredible amount of artistic value.

    THE WHISPERERS: Everyone knows these twats. The ones who smile at you, wait for you to walk past, and then start talking very quietly about how you’re obviously not getting any at the moment because you’ve not had your hair done properly since the end of the last Gulf War. Fuck off.

    THE MOBILE SCREAMERS: They arrive while screaming into their phone, they collect their kids while screaming into the phone, they leave while screaming into the phone. What the hell are they even talking about anyway? Probably crap phone battery life.

    THE COLLECT AND DASHERS: They desperately try to collect their children without making eye contact with the staff because they know that they will be asked to stay behind for a minute and discuss an earlier incident where their child tried to drop kick someone two years younger. This is of course if they haven’t already had a phone call about the resulting bumped head.

    THE ‘LONERS’: They stand by themselves, pick up their kids, and then leave without any sort of fuss – usually because they are desperate to not get sucked into any of the other gangs above. It’s worse than The Bronx, and nobody wants a cap in their ass over a missing party invite.

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

  • I Want People To Know How Serious Mental Illness Is

    Keeping someone alive is hard, physically & mentally. My mum has had a really hard life and sadly she’s now at a stage where she doesn’t want to be here.

    She had a difficult childhood, her sister was hit by a car and killed. My mum turned to alcohol and social services put her into a B&B with a bar. She was raped and told that it was her fault for drinking too much. She had a physically and emotionally abusive marriage, she has spent time in psychiatric hospitals and wasn’t always safe in them. Especially the time that she was on suicide watch but managed to walk out unnoticed. She took an overdose and threw herself into moving traffic. She did that because she has schizophrenia, it traumatised her she saw me being tortured, believed that everyone was conspiring with the devil & she was told that she needed to sacrifice her life to save her me. I was 2 years old and nearly lost my mummy.

    Being hit by a car left her with brain damage as well as partial sight and hearing and epilepsy. She stopped drinking years ago but the damage was done, she now has liver cirrhosis.

    A few years later I was taken from her. She has severe clinical depression, lung disease and many more disabilities and illnesses. Her life is a daily struggle and it only got worse when her husband committed suicide last year. She has no friends and sits alone at home every day, on good days she will go to town where people have knocked her to the ground despite her carrying a blind stick. She’ll go to the doctors and cry and she’ll be sent away, her physical health deteriorates and the doctors surgery always leave her without medication. She can’t concentrate on a book or TV because of her brain damage, she doesn’t feel anything when she listens to music. All she does is sit alone.

    My mum is in hospital at the moment, she hates it there. I’m hoping that this post will open up peoples eyes, there are sadly still some people out there who don’t realise a little kindness goes a long way.

    Remember that the way you treat people will affect their lives. I want people to know how serious mental illness is, it takes lives just like any other illness and it has so much stigma, please love and look after those around you. Mental illness could hit anyone at any time, even you.

    My mum has given me permission to post this, she’s also happy for it to be shared by anyone wanting to 💗

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

     

  • How Can You Not See Your Children

    32 weeks no contact.

    32 weeks of missed milestones.

    32 weeks missed of growth in all kinds of ways.

    32 weeks of stress.

    32 weeks of tears.

    Missed birthdays, Christmas, hospital appointments, hospital stays, major infections, operations, school placements, fights with senco and myself.

    32 weeks.

    How can you go 32 weeks without even a second thought to two little boys who once loved you more than life itself. I forgive you for everything you did to me. I forgive you all the pain and the scars; the bad memories, the doubts, the fear, the damage.

    I forgive you. I hope the life she is providing for you is the one you needed. Because I don’t possess the ability to envy you. Even though I spend every single waking moment crying out for bedtime for some peace. I couldn’t go 32 weeks without seeing my boys. MY boys. The boys WE created. But you chose to leave behind because your hatred towards me overpowered your love for them.

    Meanwhile I’m doing my best to raise two littles into men to be proud of. I keep them safe. I may not have a £700 a week income like yourself. You may have your fancy car and your holidays, and we may only have primark’s finest for the time being and trips to Blackpool.

    But our trips to Blackpool are full of memories. Wonderful beautiful memories with people who have taken on a role without even realising. People who care more in these 32 weeks than you have ever done. Who hold so much love for those boys my heart could burst at times.

    They’re typical arsehole kids. They cause trouble wherever they go. But where as you saw them as a burden, these people see them as a world full of possibilities. They see the potential in Jace’s destructive side, they see the intelligence in Brodie’s attitude and the passion in them both because at only 4 and 2 they stand up for what they believe in.

    And as much as I always wanted that perfect family. A mummy a daddy; their babies and even a dog! I’d take my family and my team as it is right here right now any day.

    They have the BEST Male role models. They have somebody who will drop everything to see them when they ask. Rather than somebody (you) who chooses to drop hours because it’s and I quote ‘not normal to see them other than 10 hours a weekend).

    I really hope you found your peace mark. I do. At one point I loved you more than I loved myself. And regardless of the pain I’ll always hold hope that one day you’ll live a happy life.

    Because it must be so painful, to lead a life full of such regret, pain and shame.

    Credit Kayleigh Jace Jade

  • The Autism/ADHD Coke Bottle Effect

    I recently attended an autism awareness course and thought that this story was a great explanation of what masking/holding it all in whilst in school may be like. This is relevant for both autism and a.d.h.d although some triggers may vary with both from child to child with the COKE BOTTLE EFFECT…..

    ( Every time the child feels and holds in that stress shake the bottle accordingly)

    Meet Max, Y5 pupil at Joe Average Primary.

    This morning, Max had to come a different way to school ‘ cause they were digging up the road.

    Because the road was closed, by the time they’d gone round the diversion, Max was late for school.

    Max hates being late. He hates to walk into class when all the other children are milling about. So he waits in the cloakroom until they’ve all gone in. Mrs White said it’s ok for him to do that.

    When Max steps into class, Mrs White isn’t there. There’s a stranger standing at the front with the Head teacher. Mrs White has gone on a course today and they have a substitute teacher Mrs Grey. But Max doesn’t know this because he came in late. He sits down when the Head teacher tells him to, and wonders when Mrs White will be in.

    Mrs Grey announces that the class spelling test will be first. Max has been trying really hard with his spellings. He has practised them at home. Mrs Grey starts to read them out, but they’re not in the right order. Max can feel a knot in his stomach and writes out the spelling test he has learnt in the right order. Two out of ten and told he will have to try harder. He didn’t even get a smiley face and Max likes stickers.

    At break time, Max goes out into the playground. He’s got an apple for snack, but as he is eating it, a girl playing chase bumps into him and it drops on the floor. One of the boys shouts “football” and kicks it across the playground… It ends up in a puddle and Max goes to get it and gets his feet wet. He hates being wet, so he goes back into class and takes his shoes and socks off.

    Mrs Grey almost trips over Max, who is sitting right in the doorway of the classroom. She tells Max to either put his wet things back on or to put his pumps on. He tells Mrs Grey that it is not P.E yet it’s literacy next.

    Mrs Grey glares at Max and suggests that perhaps Max would prefer to sit outside the Head’s office. Max is quite relieved about this; it’s nice and quiet in the corridor. He puts his pumps on but they don’t feel right without socks, and all he can think about is how scratchy they are on his feet.

    On the way out of the classroom, he sees the girl that bumped into him in the playground. He pushes her back and she tells the teacher that he pushed her for no reason. Mrs Grey walks over to Max. She’s wearing really strong perfume and he wants to wretch. When she asks him why he is pulling faces, he says it’s because she smells. Mrs Grey marches Max down the corridor and tells the Head that Max is being naughty and very rude. Max tells her she is lying. The Head tells Max to sit there until he feels he can behave.

    After half an hour outside the Head’s office, Max is feeling much calmer so he decides to go back to his classroom. Still no Mrs White. He looks round to see what he is supposed to do and sees some boys spinning their pens so he goes and watches them cause it looks interesting.

    When the bell goes for lunch, Max puts his hands over his ears and runs to the classroom door to be first. Mrs Grey tells him off for pushing and makes him wait at the end of the queue. When he goes to get his lunchbox he can’t find it, it’s not with his coat where he left it.

    When the Mid-day Assistant manages to calm him down, she arranges for him to have a school dinner instead. He has to sit on a different table in the hall and the smell of other peoples dinners makes him feel ill. He looks down and notices that the beans are touching the potatoes so he can’t eat that now. Dry food shouldn’t touch wet foods. Everyone is talking and the noise of cutlery and scraping of chairs is overwhelming even the playground is better than this.

    Max goes back to the cloak room and lies on the floor with his coat over his head. The floor is nice and cool and he starts to feel calmer. He makes the Mid-day Assistant jump when she walks past him, and she chastices him saying ” you scared me to death Max!” Max is really worried about this because he really likes her and doesn’t want her to die, but she carries on walking as though she was ok. He follows her round the playground just to make sure.

    After lunch Mrs Grey tells the class to get into pairs. Max sits on a table with two other children, and they’ve already paired up. He doesn’t know what to do… Mrs Grey asks for anyone who’s not sitting with someone to put up their hand. Max doesn’t realise she’s talking to him – he’s sitting with two people, so he doesn’t put his hand up… When Mrs Grey raises her voice and asks why he wasn’t paying attention, it all becomes a bit of a blur…and Max has no idea why he is being told off again. He wonders if it is because he made the Mid-day Assistant die. He really can’t remember what happens after that…..

    The bell goes at the end of the day, and Max goes out to find his Mum.

    (Have you been shaking that coke bottle throughout this story)

    ” Did you have a good day at school Max?” asks his Mum.

    Who takes the lid off? Usually Mum/Dad!