Mummyfried

Trella in Greek means madness. My ankle biters, the air that I breathe this week have turned into the wicked stepsisters, and I am slowly going mad – and am feeling very under appreciated, hence the term Cindertrella. They are walking advertisements for contraception today. It is hot. I am working from home. It is a busy, busy, busy time, and they are being messy, messy, messy. Trella I say, Trella! In addition to their very, VERY bad behavior, I have been in the not so romantic throws of pre back to school panic clean up.  I asked the little dictators to review & cull unwanted toys, books and clothes and to put them into two piles.  One for those less fortunate and one for recycling. A nice decluttering exercise. Low and behold – and not to anyone’s surprise, my request has been ignored. I have had enough. I am constantly cleaning up, telling them how cute and lovable they are, try to keep them active, aware, stimulated at all times and in the process have let myself go. I

Below are key messages I would like to deliver to management... That's right, to Mummyfried (the boss of the boss:  my own alter ego)  the big boss upstairs, the vertically challenged bosses I gave birth to, the bosses at the paid place of employment:  To Mummyfried:  Stop the 60 -70 working week and dreams about really being a tall, blonde, athletically thin, dedicated houseproud yummy mummy and fabulous friend. It's not working. Take a stand. Get to it and sort it out. (Stop being a slave to the system, eating, and start exercising! the rest will follow). To the ankle-biter bosses: The days of empty threats are over. You fail to pick up, I promise to throw out!  My feet deserve a lego free walking path environment!  To the boss upstairs. Give me a break. Please? Like, a real one? A lottery ticket, a wealthy uncle who wants to hand it all over, a warm hug, and some hot chocolate? Please? Don't carry me leaving footprints in the sand, if I fail to act on the Mummyfried mess

To the light of my life... I more than once said   ‘You breathe air into my lungs, offer me shade, and you quench my thirst’ The anecdotes and stories shared - only you understood With a glance, you just knew You knew Together we fought and won battles that no one could ever imagine We struggled and survived We were superheroes..you knew Slowly, very slowly it started to unravel Like a wicked spell cast, our glue became unstuck Unforgivable words, deeds, reactions.. you knew  It broke me, broke us, and everything we had I stopped taping it together As the bad snowballed  A warrior, a survivor, a protector was born Took over control, commandeered the crash landing We all survived..just We're alive... And living right The bad - like a circle with no beginning or end, grew Stretched and exploded  A smashed  mirror  –the pieces, so small, shattered, sprinkled everywhere Lost. F orever.  Gone... you knew Independent pieces, sharp, surviving The two tiny hearts that

My GP,  a smoking during the consultation, 'free' for a 30E fee isn't a bad guy. He has offered advice and helped me out during emergencies.  He is the sort of man that will jump in if you ask, pay, and promote him. A 'pay me back for my chivalry' type of character.  The sort of man that thinks throwing flowers at singers at Greek Clubs known as the bouzoukia (you have to attend to appreciate this description) is charming, not sleazy. He is however. a good doctor. I usually visit without makeup, sporting a comfy 'at-home' relaxed look. These medical appointments with a guilt-free zero effortless and style-less appearance, when I am unwell are in my mind  - largely expected and understandable. Over the last year or so, he has caught on to my woes & offered support, and if I needed it, intervention.  As noted earlier, he is a good doctor, and I don't think my 'natural look ' influenced his extra care attention.   Walking out of these these cons

Until yesterday, I looked at my angels and saw two mini versions of me.   Mini-Me 1:  A pre-baby body.  A pre-Mr Lucky, pre-debt, pre-stress, and exhaustion from cleaning cooking working, and caring (not in that order). A fit, healthy, rested body - a result of sleeping in till 2 pm after five nights of solid clubbing, hence laughing, exercising, flirting, and genuinely enjoying life. An occasionally clumsy, happy, cool cat that moved in different social circles with lots of friends.    Mini-Me 2: Post-baby body. A doughy soft, perpetual beginners level yogi, with a LOVE  of good food, a select group of very very good friends sprinkled with a blessing of earth angels who have made me laugh, be grateful for what I have, and who encouraged me to appreciate the small things, and become someone filled with endless buckets of positive affirmations, a sun worshiper in a bikini with that 'I know, I shouldn't, but I  am happy and it's comfortable' face.    So, one of my light o

Today I attended an emergency session with a child specialist. I knew deep in my heart, the problem wasn't with either of my children. The problem was / is with the child in me. That sensation of fear, guilt, shame suddenly engulfed me during the session.  What was I doing here? All along, I knew the truth, but for some reason, I had to hear it from a trained professional. I paid 100 euro to hear what my heart had been telling me all along. It was time to grow up - take responsibility and change the circumstances I had created. Without fear.  I had made a decision, the right decision and I failed to communicate that clearly to the children.  I was not acting with confidence - but with great sadness  - and this had caused confusion. I expected the children to accept a change that was better for them in the blink of an eye. They are not that adaptable,. It took me a little over two years to take the courage and gumption to take a positive step. How was it that I was expec

Tonight the baby ran out of the kitchen in tears. I found her on her bed, sobbing  hysterically. She told me she had made a wish and it didn't come true.  She was tired of making wishes, praying and being good.... And never ever, not even once did they become reality. I asked her if her wish was something she needed or wanted. She said she wanted it. I asked if it's something she could obtain if she worked hard for it, and the answer was no. How do you explain to a 7 year old that you can pray and wish with all your might, but you will never be able to grow wings and fly,  nor will you have a magic button that will produce all the dresses you want. I didn't want tonight to be the night where Miss 7 realises that magic doesn't exist. That those dreams don't come true.  We talked about perception, goal settting and manifestations.  Somehow , I wove magic back into her world..and I think I managed to throw in at bit of girl power too. I mana

I was recently asked to prepare a short informal piece on self improvement in 150 words.  I decided to share it but add my own spin and a few more words for my little group of followers.   Are you ready for an internal nip, tuck and lift for a new and better you in three non sweat-able steps? Well, read on... 1.  Sweeten the deal There is an adage, what goes around comes around. Treat people the way that you expect to be treated.  Be fun, caring, loving, thoughtful and polite and watch it all come back to you. No doubt there are a few ungrateful sods who don't want to share the love, never mind, navigate your way around the potential cavity makers and focus on those that you sprinkle your sweet natural sugar on ... you will feel fab, and you will help others feel better too!  2. What you think, you become* Self-belief can move mountains. Begin by treating yourself well mentally and physically. When you start feeling good about yourself, you will start feeling great about

It's been 4 weeks since my babies last put their shoes on. They have been slipper and sock crazy. They stay up till 2 am. Sleep in till 2 pm. They rock. They laugh, party, dance, yell. They cuddle OH do they cuddle. We three are the trio of cuddles, tickles and love. We're in lockdown. We are locked in love.

Star struck? Me? Never. It could be because I have moved countries a few times and as a result fail to recognise homegrown stars. Or...it could be that I am so cool that I have star block. Stars don't care that I am a mere mortal or they realise that I have no idea. Allow me to explain. While living in London, I often greeted and spoke with locals at the supermarket near my home. One elderly lady and I would often chat about nothing in particular but it was a short, polite friendly exchange. Until a store assistant mentioned her by name. The next time our paths randomly met, she looked at me and said 'You know who I am now...don't you?' I nodded mutely.  We never spoke again.