December 2011 Archives - mocha beanie mummy

Last Christmas I gave you my ass.

December 30, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 12 Comments

Yeah. Harsh but true. Every Christmas I’d bust my ass trying to make sure it was absolutely perfect for everyone. Everyone else has their problems with Christmas, and I’d be the one running around trying to make it all better. Which would normally result in me missing out on a day that should be filled with fa la laah and alcohol.

I would still get the alcohol, but not with a smile on my face.

This year, something changed. I’ve spent so much time busting my ass for everyone else. Not just for my boys, not just for D, but for everyone. I should have felt insanely guilty about some of the choices I made this Christmas.

Choosing to not tidy the kitchen immediately after I cooked the mahoosive Christmas breakfast fry-up, letting D do it instead.

Making sure the boys didn’t rip into every single present within seconds of seeing them (which they didn’t want to do anyway).

Not cooking every vegetable under the sun and only doing one course for Christmas dinner (we bought in a pudding for the boys).

A significant moment came when I realised I could have a good Christmas, whilst still making sure my boys were ok, and trying to be mindful of others. I was surprised at myself when I was feeling cross with others reactions when I was trying to keep the peace with the boys on either side of Christmas day. I’ve worked hard enough to make sure they have a good day, so that I can have a good day, so that we ALL have a good day.

Weirdly, I enjoyed Christmas day more than any other day of the holidays so far, hands down. Normally I enjoy Boxing day at the in-laws, but this year came away feeling very cross. I know why, and amazingly it wasn’t because things were “out of my control”, which is often the case. Christmas Eve was weird, but I can’t figure out why.

Christmas day, with just me, D and my boys (and my mom for a short while in the morning – she loved watching them open their presents!) was absolutely perfect. I think much of it was because we were all in our own kind of control. I didn’t need to do anything; the day just flowed perfectly. This year, I just made sure the little things worked for us, so that we would be happy.

I suspect that other contributing factors made big differences. Work is going well, and I think, although I’m not entirely sure, that Trevor’s work is slowly sinking in. There’s still so much there that I’m terrified of, and needs work, but it’s still early days, right?

So last Christmas, I handed out my ass on a plate ready for everyone to pretty much use it as they saw fit. I didn’t defend myself when I disagreed with something, nor did I fight for the things I really wanted to do (sit around, be a lazy bitch, play with my presents, play with the boy’s presents, drink, eat, drink some more; you know, the usual stuff). Visiting friends and family, I often came away feeling like shit; a bit scummy for not meeting up to their standards, or because I was always the one everyone could take the piss out of. My reactions this year aren’t quite as laid back as they were perhaps expecting.

My patience is short with others. My precious time is short with people who matter. To me.

This Christmas, I gave what I wanted to give. I gave me. The difference, is that instead of just having my ass on a plate to be beaten, I gave all of me; including the bits that can defend the other bits. My mind, most importantly.

This year was the best Christmas I’ve had in a long time. And I know that when I’m happy, my family in this house are happy. Because I didn’t shut down. Instead, I stood strong. Well, stronger than other times, in any case. And that’s not a bad thing.

Filed Under: actual happy times, christmas, Depression, family

Silent Sunday

December 25, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 4 Comments

~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~≈~

Filed Under: Uncategorized

4 Super last-minute Christmas shopping tips (Yeah, seriously)

December 22, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 3 Comments

Just mere hours before Christmas (honestly, Santa on twitter keeps telling us how many hours to go. Not days, HOURS) I got a PR email with the above heading, minus the bit in brackets. After spending around 30 minutes snorting laughter with D over the 4 tips which were given (which I’m actually not going to list because I wouldn’t use any of them), I started to come up with my own.

1) USE THE INTERNET.

I’m pretty sure this is self explanatory in every way possible.

2) DRINK PLENTY.

See explanation to tip one.

Ummm…

Ok, should you really need to leave the house and you can’t find any old crap in your loft which you can recycle for gifts,

3) PACK A WEAPON

This can be a gun, super glue, boxing gloves – whatever you like, as long as it slows down the opposition, and ideally, makes them move the fuck out of the way

4) TAKE YOUR CHILDREN WITH YOU

This is an add-on to tip 4; the kids are more than just a weapon. They are everything. When they start crying and whining, people will move out of your way. When they’re falling asleep in the trolley, people will watch them for you (in adoration) while you run off around the store finishing your shopping. When there’s a queue for the toilet and there weeping out of desperation for needing a wee, that queue will suddenly shuffle you forwards. When you’ve hit the end of your tether and resort to sitting in the corner sipping from your hip flask, people will suddenly become very sympathetic and helpful (otherwise they’ll leave you the hell alone.)

I should switch to PR, I’ve totally got this down. That’s everything, right?

Filed Under: assvice, AWESOMENESS, christmas, PR, Stuff to make you laaaauuuuuuugh, wtf

Christmas Wishes and some really Awesome Things

December 21, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 8 Comments

Like most people, I have a Christmas wish list. Don’t we all? So in true Christmas blogging spirit, here is mine, in no particular order.

1) I wish for the ability to perform a Shinku Hadoken. For those who aren’t die-hard Street Fighter fans, observe:

Because sometimes, I just feel the need. And necessity.

2) I wish for to tweet me. My stalker tweets are escalating to levels similar to that of , and quite frankly, I just don’t have the time for that.

the tweet needs to make reference to my arse.
the tweet needs to be in such a way that everyone sees it, not just those who follow us.
yes I am making specific demands.

3) I wish for shares in Calpol and Minadex. Because I swear to God, the Smalls have gone through enough of the stuff in the last month to have out me on the same level as frillionaires. Had I not spent all the money on the meds, of course.

And while we’re on the subject of drugs,

4) I wish for The Smalls to stop frigging well being ill omg the Facial Orifice Fluid PLEASE MAKE IT STOP.

5) I wish for shares in Kleenex Ultra Balsam.

6) I wish for people to stop being weird prunts on twitter/Facebook. I know you think you’re being funny, insulting me or taking the piss or having a dig whenever you feel like it? No. You’re just being a prunt, and I don’t take too well to prunts, you know?

7) I wish for jackpot lottery tickets, ideally to win in the next few weeks. Because if you don’t ask, you will never know.

8 ) I wish for my brain to stop being a fucked up piece of shit, in the hope that I can work out who the hell I am, and therefore be able to cope with myself in 2012. Now that’s a nice thought, eh?

9) I wish to become so insanely gorgeous, that when I fall out of bed looking like shit, I DON’T fall out of bed looking like shit, but looking, well, insanely gorgeous. With bigger boobs.

10) I wish for PR people to just back the fuck up for a second and think carefully about what you’re sending me. And if must fuck up a PR email, please fuck it up good and proper, so that I can point and laugh at you, bitch about you on twitter, write about it and then point and laugh some more. OR, on the flip side, be so fucking awesome that I can’t help but send you emails laughing about penises/penii and googling questionable street names. I’m looking at you, . I heart you a little bit.

11) I wish for a Canon 5D Mark II, with EF 70-200mm f/2.8L IS II USM, EF 50mm f/1.2L USM and, you know, a Hasselblad. Preferably, the H4D-40 Ferrari edition.

Camera car porn beyond belief. Now go change your knickers.

courtesy of BMXWonderland

12) I wish for peace, happiness, success, good health blah blah. And bacon. And rum. Lots of rum.

Filed Under: actual happy times, christmas, Facial Orifice Fluid (FOF), family, Holiday, illness, Isaac, Just...everything., MAKE IT STOP, mocha beanie mummy, neurosis, Noah, photos, PR, random,

At what point does Facial Orifice Fluid take the piss?

December 19, 2011 By mocha beanie mummy 1 Comment

When it’s lasted WELL OVER A FUCKING MONTH.

Isaac is nothing but snot. And sometimes, it’s like, caked into an eyebrow. Or sometimes all over a cheek. In big green clumps. Sometimes, he and his brother have reached early puberty in liquid form; they have snot moustaches from where the trails of the clearer stuff has just caked itself to their top lips.

Seriously, there’s only so many times a day you can wipe someone’s face. I’m thinking about securing tissues to their faces by means of an elastic bands.

What’s really driving me batshit, is the combination of FOF combined with the most shittiest moods EVER. Omfg, I’m a bit bored of enduring trains being hurled across wooden tracks and random attacks of maliciousness at each. I’m either going to beat them both up to teach them a lesson, otherwise I’m going to sell them.

Since selling is more profitable and less likely to land me in trouble, I’m going to go with that.

I was out for the weekend and decided to wear my Uggs for warmth (say what you like – they may be ugly but they’re warm as fuck). I was non too impressed to see a questionable, dried on streak of something on both boots. How the hell? Snot on my boots? Is this another price of motherhood? What the very hell. I can understand the smears on my shoulder from where they’re burst into tears yet again and have decided I’m worthy of consoling themselves on me, asking for cuddles (it’s a rarity, trust me), but…my boots? That’s just wrong.

I’ve had to develop a new skill that other parents neglect to share details of (you mean swines). It’s become glaringly obvious that when pulling a top on or off one of these small FOF plastered children, it’s more than likely that stuff is going to go everywhere. Smeared all up the face/down the chin, streaked through the hair/over the chin and inevitably, all over the article of clothing.

This? Is never pretty. In fact, when you find yourself reaching for the baby wipes and picking the globules of it out of their rather thick and curly hair, you begin to realise it’s up there with poop smears and minor vomit spills.

Such is the glamorous life we live in this house. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to remove a bright green slug from someone’s top lip.

Nice.