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mummy blogger

We have become a grumpy lot haven’t we? I know 2016 wasn’t exactly the dogs bollocks, it was a dire year for many, politically and socially, but I really can’t help but feel that the world in general is sliding into an apathy like none we’ve known before.

A few weeks ago I wrote a post about some shitty teenage girls in Nando’s and how they had behaved towards Edith who really was being well behaved. The post was shared into a mum group on Facebook – the pinnacle of intelligence and kindness these groups, of course – only for one woman to write “Ugh, I’m so sick of these mummy bloggers. How pathetic. What a cringe person, “I have a social media clout” – talk about loving yourself. I bet her little snowflake was being a right little shit”.

Really? So sick of mummy Bloggers that you had time to comment on an article and refer to a child that you don’t know as a “snowflake being a little shit”. Hold the phone honey.

Firstly, Edith was actually being very behaved – something that this woman wouldn’t have known, however if she was a reader of the blog, or the vast majority of the “mummy blogs” she’s so sick of, she’d know that I rarely hide Edith’s beastly moments. Or Reuben’s. Or Toby’s. Or even my marital cracks, my family niggles and my parental fails. What is the point?

This is the reason that mummy Bloggers ARE important in 2017. I’ve heard it said before that a “mummy blogger” is just making stuff up, telling everyone about their perfect lives and their ability to craft a Pinterest worthy birthday party from pure talent and cardboard. This simply isn’t true. Perhaps once it was. Perhaps once upon a time the “mummy blogger” was an unattainable illusion that made parenting look like something out of a bugaboo magazine (we all remember that epic fail of an advert with the sport bra toting mother jogging with her bambino and totally trim figure that suggested she’d never seen a pizza let alone shovelled the half eaten crusts of shame in her mouth from kiddies left over plates…) Maybe once upon a time “mummy bloggers” gave the illusion that their marriages, homes and lifestyles were effortlessly flawless and reviewed products that they thought were awful but recommended them anyway because, hello paycheck… but now?

That isn’t what a mummy blogger is about.

Mummy, or mommy Bloggers, are paramount to a society where being NORMAL, and totally your own version of that, has more public sway that being a celebrity spending 40,000 a month on her hair for a L’Oréal sponsorship… you can’t connect with that can you? Unless you’re Elton John, chances are you aren’t connecting with the Kardashian lifestyle, but you CAN connect with the mum who lives around the corner and types on her laptop about how hard parenting can be, how much she just longs for a day off but misses the kids when they aren’t there. You can connect with the mum who is working out a budget for her weekly meals because she’s skint after Christmas, the mum who HATES to craft, the mum who LIVES to craft, the mum who finds the other school mum’s a drain, the mum who’s only social circle is the school parents.

All of these women (and more frequently men are bringing dad blogging to the fore – something that I think would be vastly useful for men who just don’t TALK about their feelings… not mentioning names but it rhymes with Fadam…) are real people, sharing their experiences and hoping that somewhere out there it helps, it makes a difference and in turn helps them. When I was struggling with Edith earlier last year, I read so many wonderful blogs about postnatal depression, and I sobbed, I held my baby and I put my truth down on paper. It wasn’t to earn money – though make no mistake I do earn money through blogging and you will find a plethora of sponsored content, some of which will probably surprise you on this blog – it was to reach out and say “This is happening to me, this is my life”… because do we really care what Kendall Jenner are more than we do having a comrade in arms say “This shit is hard”?

Either way, ordinary is the black, and my child is anything but a snowflake.

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