Mommy Resume

Lexi Ellis

Address:
Institute of Mental Illness and Chaos, 1 Child/Husband-to-be Road, Shatteredville, Edgy Town.

Telephone:
Can I one bell you? I honestly can’t remember it.

Date of Birth:
Sometime before now.

Personal statement:
An occasionally positive, occasionally suicidal, dynamic and passionate multi-tasker and head case with two years experience of wetting herself in public for no apparent reason, repeatedly scorching her ears with hair straighteners, running around in circles clearing up poop, accidentally interrupting funerals by running over squirrels and then screaming very loudly at the atrocity of it all, and managing to stand on a plug each and every time I am found running barefoot, who is also proudly bringing up (nipple-less, I may add) a two year-old with fully functioning bite reflexes.

Highly personable and honest with a great impending sense of doom, I am consistently task-focused on accomplishing an incredible number of missions during an unrealistic time frame.

I achieve all of this, of course, while also smiling.

Work History:

Mum
2010 – present

• To lead and develop a child into a well rounded individual who doesn’t need therapy in his teens and who suffers no lasting damage caused by repeatedly having to have conversations with his mother while her head is down the toilet.

• To ensure a consistent quality of service by not appearing harassed when the dog vomits in the car just after being de-bollocked, by always talking in calming voices, even when one feels close to a mental breakdown as the child has once again proudly announced he too has now sh** his kecks all over the shag pile, and by always ensuring five back up dinners are cooking on the odd chance the child may not fancy his actual meal.

• To be positively, passionately and completely awake at all times.

• To instigate all areas of play as if one could not think of anything better one would like to do with one’s time other than make another play doh snake, make a digger dance the Macarena for four hours, bring the sandpit in the house, act out the role of trampoline, cultivate an ant farm and be force fed a worm just to prove that people don’t eat worms.

• To pretend to like the sound of whinging. To ignore the sound of whinging. To wish you had gone deaf to the sound of whinging. To eventually start whinging yourself because if you can’t beat them…

• To take postnatal depression and being sectioned into a mental hospital in your stride and to not slap people when they ask you stupid questions, like, “Do you feel guilty about it?” Or even better, “Do you feel selfish?” To not forget to take your medication, and when you do, to completely deny your mood has anything to do with that and instead blame the fact your child flushed the toilet while you had your head down it.

• As a mother, I have to consider and demonstrate sound and logical reasons for decisions, such as, ‘No eating poo’ and ‘No eating worms.’ I also have to provide detailed and thoughtful responses to complex questions, such as, ‘Why is the grass green?’ and ‘What does dead mean?’

Normal Person
Up to 2010

• Never weeing when one sneezes and enjoying control over all bodily functions.

• Judging all parents who didn’t seem to have a well-behaved child. ‘God, have they never watched Supernanny? My child will never behave like that!!’

• Avoiding children at all costs, but marginally feeling broody when I did see one – for like, a second – before returning to my life.

• Partying and showing my toned midriff. (Slight exaggeration possible.)

• Having an idealistic view of how happy and relaxed family life would be for me in the future, and how well behaved and beautiful my child would be, and how my figure would simply ‘snap’ back in to shape after pregnancy. No Impending sense of doom, basically.

• Lie in’s, without the sound of Daddy screaming and losing control in the background, while I fight to stay in bed to the sound of all manner of chaos just outside the bedroom door.

• Television that didn’t involve three Channel Five presenters dressed like cucumbers doing the Macarena at six in the morning. (How have they not been victims of a bloody good beating yet?)

• Being able to call the Irish one by his name, instead of the now commonly used ‘Daddy.’

• Reading a book in bed without the use of a torch.

• Sleeping.

Qualifications:

• Stretch marks.
• Broken Perineum.
• Nipples that graze along the floor.
• Ability to smile in the face of a hell of a lot of poop.
• Snapped back.
• Sore Legs.
• Bags under eyes that resemble extra cheeks.

Interests:
Wine.

Anyone hiring?

Mammy’s Rules:
No one can make you feel inadequate unless you let them.
A day without laughter is a day wasted.
You do not have to be blood related to be family.
If you have nothing nice to say, see a therapist.
How people treat you is their Karma, how you react is yours.

Call if you need me.
Mammy Woo