Mummyfried

Every day, I push a boulder up a hill. It’s shaped like my daughter — brilliant, sensitive, misunderstood. But I’m not pushing her. I’m pushing the weight of judgment, bureaucracy, and the constant need to prove she belongs. She was bullied again. The more it happens, the more she retreats, becoming “weird” in their eyes. And now the school says she should go to a special school. Bullshit. They don’t want to support her — they want to pass her on. We’ve changed schools before. A kind but clueless principal shut the door. I had high hopes for this one, but here we are. I’m heartbroken and angry. At the same time, I’m searching for a therapist who sees her, not just as a case file or a checklist. This is someone’s life — not a 9 to 5. Your words and your choices shape her happiness. I’m not asking for the answer I want. I’m asking you to look at my daughter and see the brilliance she carries. The fire, the sparkle, the potential. Neurodivergent kids need a break, not a shove....

I met a girl some years ago who told me she hated February. She thought it was a wasteful month—too few weekends, silly changes every four years, and the older you get, the more complex its grip seems to tighten. It’s the month of Aquarius moving into Pisces—water, water, drowning everything away. The month specifically allocated to romantic love—a ridiculous, cruel notion when relationships fail, people are desperate for love (or sex), and during a water month, most are going through a love drought.  Every February I think of this girl and agree with her sentiment.  February is a wasteful month. And yet, my first love, my firstborn, was born in February, so I am forced to recognize it. It's the month you need to start functioning again because the New Year hangover is over, and January's festive glow has worn off—reality sets in. And so has my need to blog. 2025 rolled in with all the grace of stepping into a giant pile of dog shit. Slippery, stinky, ugly—with the end result ...

 My little and youngest cherub also known as "The Baby" entered this world with a full head of dark hair, the rosiest cheeks, and the most beautifully red lips, of which Snow White would be jealous. "Easy baby" doesn't even begin to come close to describing her — she arrived in this cold, complex world to make everything effortlessly bright and joyful. Cute doesn't scratch the surface. Clever? Emotionally intelligent? Absolutely. She's all that and more. She has an incredible knack for giving. She consistently dips into her own money box to buy gifts for her older sister just to see her smile. And it's not just a one-off; it's her way of being. I have a collection of love letters, drawings, and hearts from her that tree environmentalists would rightly question how many trees were sacrificed—but each one is priceless. The popularity of this kid astounds me. She gets called constantly for playdates and visits; our door has a revolving sign just for...

 Since February, I have been strutting into a fabulous office, to do a fabulous job, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, ready to conquer the day at this incredible award winning genuinely professional communications agency.  And let me tell you, this place is like the Olympics of professionalism—energetic, dedicated, and responsive, just like yours truly. Let's talk about the boss lady. She's like the superhero version of who I want be when I grow up—smart, hilarious, down-to-earth, and has enough energy to power a small city.  An inspirational leader (who is younger than me, but let's leave that alone). I'm not exactly living that glamorous life. I'm a single mom to two not so tiny terrors who make mornings feel like a battlefield. Getting my moody teen out of bed is like trying to convince a bear to do ballet. And then there's the epic showdown of getting dressed, where I'm basically the ringmaster in a circus of chaos. Meanwhile, the 11 year old baby is wa...

The unwelcome invasion of hormonal, attitudal  (is that a word?), smelly teenagerhood has rudely planted itself in my once, almost peaceful home. One day, I woke up and it was firmly implanted like a concrete blob. Ugly, tough, impenetrable and difficult to remove. No warning, no instruction manual, no return policy. And - it is as brutal, hurtful, scary and about as confusing as a head on collision.  I get that teenagers are stressed, angry, hurting lonely -  I once was that hormonal mess - and this is what worries me.  Under the steel strict ever watchful eye of my mother - I had no wiggle room to be a smart ass (at home) but I have an inkling on how the 'A Clockwork Orange'  type of teenage rage campaign is, and for how long it lasts for. Frankly, I want none of it. I want to pull the plug and now. I am ill equipped, ill prepared to handle this. Modern day teens introduce a whole new complexity to the concept of parenting. I not ready to parent this gracefull...

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 th...

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,...

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' fa...

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 t...

I am a proud member of a closed Facebook mothers group entitled Foreign Mothers & Mothers to Be in Athens. This is a group of women I have met, many only online who have become my sisters. They are my ‘go to group’ for answers, support, advice, and laughs.  We celebrated a coup today (not the sudden, violent, and illegal seizure of power from a government type by an instance of successfully achieving something difficult). And I am proud. Very proud. Not for the group – but for what we have achieved for our children…  Since distributing the below statement today to the press in Greece and since agreeing to bombard retailer websites, schools and registering complaints online over the last two weeks, many retailers have removed what we have considered to be inappropriate images of young girls in fancy dress.  Mothers in Athens come together to put an end to the sexualisation of little girls Apokries in Greece should be a special time filled with fun, laughter...

Another year passed and then another - and here we are. An accomplishment in reflection. The recent years have been a very bumpy uncomfortable ride. I haven't had the luxury 4WD to navigate my way through it smoothly. My beat up little car that stalls and rolls backward on hills, that sounds perpetually out of breath is just that. Out of breath. Throughout the hardship - and I mean American TV soap opera drama I have looked at my two little rays of light.  The two little beings that breathe air into my lungs, who make me throw back my head and laugh wholeheartedly and who make me forget all my woes and remind me that life is for adventure, cuddles, giggles, and love and I am thankful and finally inspired. I am back. Not in full, but in part. Peeping out and waving madly around the army of boring routine, work, bills, stress and consistent ball juggling.  Can you see me? If no, never mind. I am writing for a tiny little audience this time..me. My public declaration...

Last week I was at my local supermarket, a well known Greek chain.  I picked up a few items that were discounted if I produced my loyalty card. I had left my card at home. The sales person promptly asked the lady behind me for her card. She used her card to give me the discount, and handed the card back. Other than  'Oh, I don't have my card' I uttered no other words, and the above transaction took place in a matter of moments. Gobsmacked, I turned and thanked the behind me, and also the sales assistant, They both looked at me as though I was thanking them for jumping on my feet. I left feeling as though I lived in a nice area. Mr. Lucky came home yesterday with an extra carton of milk.  He explained that the day before he forget to pack the milk when he picked up an armload of groceries. The sales assistant remembered him, and told him when he was at the checkout.  She left the till, got the carton of milk, and packed it for him explaining why. Tod...

Bedtime. We three pile into Little Miss' single bed. I pull out three stories. We argue over which to read first. At the end of story time, it's lights out. No moving The Baby into her cot. No, mama does not give her cherubs a kiss goodnight, and confidently walks out the door. Mama balances on the edge of the single bed until Little Miss and The Baby fall asleep. The trundle is pulled out. There is a good chance Little Miss or The Baby will end up sleeping on it at some point in the night. Little Miss and The Baby insist on sleeping together. They hold hands until they fall asleep.  It's lovely. What isn't lovely is that they want me to lie with them and cuddle both of them equally. If I so much as move, they stir. At any time of the night.   A toilet break is a luxury.  A good night's sleep is a dream. Last night both fell asleep quickly.  I moved The Baby to the trundle successfully and tip toed out. I was so ecstatic that I went to bed, my bed, imm...

I wonder how I would feel having a screen shoved up against my face while the world whirls by backwards? I would probably scream uncontrollably too. And not for fun. No, I am not talking about being on a ride at a show. Last night I saw a woman pushing her Stoke pushchair with determination.  Facing her was her baby, howling at the top of his lungs.  I have been there. I don't own a Stoke, but have had that look of determination on my face. That, please don't approach me or give me a look of pity - I have things that need to get done and baby howling combined with a compassionate face may very much result in me wanting to get into a corner, curl up and cry. But then she did something that threw me.  She stopped, sighed, grabbed something that was hiding the baby's face, touched it a few times.  During this time, the baby had stopped crying. I had a sneaky peak into the pushchair and saw the baby was about 9 months old. He was also very cute. Curious, I co...

I have a serious case of green eyed monster. I can't shake it. It's getting bigger, uglier and hungrier by the second. Try as I might to rationalise, calm it down, and tell it to go away, it won't. Like a raging bull, this monster is out of control. OUT OF CONTROL I say! The Baby has an obvious preference for Mr Lucky.  She falls over, she runs to Mr. Lucky. She wakes up in the middle of night howling, only Mr.Lucky can calm her down. She wants to play, it's Mr Lucky. I know I sound like Jan Brady but I can't help but say  'Mr Lucky, Mr Lucky, Mr Lucky!' The clever little bugger comes to me for feeding, nappy changes, baths and when absolutely desperate for a sleep and Mr Lucky isn't around for wind down. That is it. I feel used, useless and a little embarrassed / ashamed to admit I have been doing Jan Brady for weeks - am mortified (particularly as I would have preferred to be cool, hip, well liked and popular Marcia). Little Miss is slowl...

Little Miss had all her teeth very early on.  She can tolerate pain. I don't ever remember hearing her grizzle or complain. The application of gels and administering pain relief to help her through teething was irregular. So much so that when The Baby gets a new tooth or is in pain, it takes me a while to figure out just what is going on.  Like an crazed dog she hooks on to anything she can sink her teeth or gums into and she does not let go.   We went out for coffee yesterday at a seaside cafe. She refused to get out of the pushchair.  She sat, head down with a scowl for what felt like an hour.  There was quiet. There was solitude. I was able to look out at the sea, breathe and let my shoulders relax for a while.  It was like having a massage without needing to shower to wash off the oil.  Bliss. I drank my coffee in peace. And then, a nagging something started to flush out any feelings of peace and calm.  Was I having a r...

‘Even after so many years, you’re all loved up’ a friend once yelled at me. Her accusation resonated for some time. Should I feel guilty? Happy? What prompted her to say such a thing with such contempt?  When I asked, she said she could just tell that we got along well and she wanted the same thing.  I didn’t know how to answer that. Mr Lucky and I are loved up. We are very different in many ways, and at the same time quite similar. We still are individuals in our own right.  And yes, of course it’s not always a  given, we work at it. Well, Mr Lucky is truly a patient man.  He often waits for me to remove my foot from my mouth, only to shake his head in disbelief as I replace it with the other.   He is not perfect either. He shakes his head when I swap feet. That is wrong. Because we arrived in Greece as an already made family as opposed to a growing one (which is what we were in the UK), not many ask how long we’ve been together, or where we met etc....

There will be days that you just want to cry and that is ok Baby poo can travel all the way up the back A baby on the 7 pm to 7 am sleep routine will never be yours Toddlers hate washing their hair their screams can be heard all the way down the street Toddlers like to be held even though they weigh 22 kgs Sleeping in, means getting out of bed at 7 am Sleeping through the night means more than four hours sleep  Walking barefoot during toilet training or baby weaning is not a good idea There are no more private moments in the bathroom If you have nowhere to go, getting dressed in the morning is an achievement If you’re an older parent, it’s unlikely you will ever get your pre baby body back without the help of a personal trainer and dietitian. Just let it go. Really, let it go Cutting baby or toddler nails is bloody hard  Toddlers don’t care if they can’t color in between the lines, why should you? A toddler can't differentiate between a toaster and a dvd pl...