Bloggers beef.

After waking up this morning and wading my way through the sea of sleeping children that had somehow migrated to my bed during the night without my knowledge, I started my first scroll of the day.
And not a cinnamon and apple scroll unfortunately. A Facebook scroll. 
Yeah ok, maybe I’m addicted. But hey, at least it’s not heroin! 

I dished out a few likes, scrolled past some vulgar pictures telling me to say “amen” or I’d go to hell (too late), and then I saw it. 
And I’m going to call it “Bloggers beef”. 

One woman writes a post about another woman, the other woman retaliates.
The internet explodes. And a shit fight is born. Everyone has an opinion, of course.  Myself included, of course. 

It is all sorts of unnecessary. And it is sad. 

Not to mention what it does for our apparent “Sisterhood”. Pfft.

If you’re not sure what the hell I’m on about, Google it. 

Let me tell you, straight from the horses mouth. Sharing your real life, your failures, your fears and your family on the internet is scary. Really scary. Every time I see someone “share” something I have written I am immediately filled with equal parts excitement and dred. Will another asswipe tell me to stop having retarded babies? Will I again be told to run my fat ass around the block? Or will I receive an outpouring of love and messages from people thanking me for making them smile when they really didn’t feel like smiling? As scary as it is, it is also amazing. Really amazing. It is my outlet. And it’s a risk I am willing to take. 

The first woman made comments about the other woman’s parenting, her enormous “following” that was amassed in a short time (which would be terrifying) and as one last kick to the dick, her grammar.

But she wasn’t trying to cause any harm. Hmmm, really? 

I’m trying not to take sides (because I’m no longer 13 nor am I at high school) but I do believe that is wrong. Very wrong. I believe she knew exactly what she was doing. Naming and shaming just because it’s not your style of life is not ok.

Again, it could be heroin! 

Unfortunately we live world where people have not yet realised that they can just keep scrolling should they come across something they don’t agree with. Hold onto your hats, but you can even block things you don’t want to see. 

Isn’t technology incredible?

What a shame humans aren’t.

There is absolutely no reason or excuse for anyone to character bash someone that they don’t share the same views with. Or to openly write your skewed opinion of someone knowing that you’re probably opening up a nasty can of worms. Rookie error if you ask me.

Even when you do put yourself out there on the World Wide Web of Wankers. Minus you lot, of course! No one wants to be hurt, ridiculed or abused. Trust me.

And yes I know that when you “put yourself out there” you need to be open to this shit. I find that frustrating too. If I went outside and “put myself out there” by expressing my opinion, does that give someone the right to punch me in the face because they don’t agree? I think not. We are all heros in the safety of our homes.

I understand we don’t all “like” the same things. Imagine what a boring existence it would be if we did. I understand not everyone wants to read about my horny escapades with the Fathership after I’ve been out and on the wines with friends. I understand that not everyone thinks it’s ok to call their child an asshole. Not to their face of course, settle down. 

I understand. It’s not your thing. 

Just like blogs about making homemade candles out of organic bees sperm to help your child harness their inner genius doesn’t interest me. I would rather have sober sex. And that’s ok. I just don’t read it. I get on with my life and let people enjoy what they do, while I do the same. 

Live and let live. 

I have 1827 followers. I am hardly the voice of our people and I have never been set upon by the vicious parenting police. Or had someone write about what a bad person I am because I swear, love a glass of wine and hate housework. Not yet anyway. I don’t know what it would be like and truthfully, I hate to imagine. What I do believe is important though is knowing your truth. I know who I am. And I know who I am not. I know that while I may have the mouth of a sailor, I make a conscious effort to not swear in front of my children. Ok, so they may have an extensive knowledge of “adult words”, my intentions are always good, pure and imperfect. Sue me. 

I know that while sometimes life in a 13 year relationship full of ebbs and flows is fucking tough, there is no one else in the world I would rather do the horizontal tango with once a month. Twice if he’s lucky. I love him intensely, even if he is a cockhead sometimes.

That is our truth. No shame in my game.

I truly believe that if your children feel loved unconditionally, safe and secure, warm and with a belly full of good food, you are doing a bloody brilliant job. The same goes with our men. Our overgrown children. 

Blogging to me, is like therapy and you are my therapist. You should probably start invoicing me your fees. 

When I write about a tough day and someone says they completely relate, I feel normal. When I write about my sons autism and another parent thanks me for helping them, I feel incredible. When I write about something humerous and friends tag each other lovingly while laughing, I feel happy. 

Haters, stop ruining this for us. If it’s not your thing, move the fuck on. If you think we are terrible people, just concentrate on you being a better person. Tearing someone down doesn’t make you good, it makes you a bitch. Jealous. Nasty. Someone I don’t want to know. 

If there is any positive in this whole mess, I think it’s a really good lesson for the millions of other bloggers out there to learn..

Keep your nose out of other people’s blogs. And don’t be a cunt. 

The Mothership

Round trampolineI gave birth to my first child 5 months shy of my 21st birthday,
I was a toddler having a baby,
It wasn’t planned,
I was scared,
We lived with my Mum for the first few months,
I didn’t further my education to the extent I could of,
I don’t have an exciting career,
I have fucked up so many times,
I don’t have enough money to show them the worl
Or to buy them all the things they’d like,

We don’t have a flash family home,
I swear to much, Continue reading

Unexpected life lessons!

Recently, one of my oldest & dearest friends gave birth to her first baby, a beautiful little girl. Cue the excitement. Finally it was my turn for baby cuddles & then handing the darling back when the fun was over. Oh the joy! I’ve waited years for this.

10 years ago, when my world had done the hugest 360. I had a newborn, was living on no sleep, had bleeding nipples and didn’t know my asshole from my nose, this friend used to come and take Master 10 out for a walk. She would tell me to take a long shower, 14 seconds (on a good day) had become the norm, so this was heaven. I would wash my hair, find clean clothes that didn’t have crusty baby vomit on them and put some make up on.
This made me feel so good. So normal.  Continue reading

Dear plastic baby…

Today we parted ways, by no fault of your own. And I owe you an apology.

From the bottom of my heart, I am sorry. Sincerely sorry.

I am sorry I gifted you to the cold & demonic hands of my three year old. In my defence, I had no idea what you were going to be in for.

What either of us were going to be in for!

I wished for a better life for you. For us!

This was not the vision I had when I plucked you from the shelves at our local toy store.

You were the chosen one. Unlucky, I know! Continue reading

Hello my 1,612th week of life! 

So, I am 48 hours into my 1,612th week of life. 372 months in wanker toddler terms.
Strangely though, to me, both of these sound less harsh than 31 does.
I had a self diagnosed anxiety attack 72 hours ago which I’ve no doubt directly correlates with entering my 1,612th week.
And by anxiety attack I mean I was short of breath. Which I’ve no doubt directly correlates with the 10 cigarettes I smoked on Friday night when I was 5 wines deep.
I have spoken to friends about the 31 fear.   Friends that successfully survived it.

Some totally got it. They related. Continue reading

(Irrational) Humans of my house.

I recently turned three. I am officially a threenager. I know everything.
And everything is mine. Even if it’s yours. It’s actually mine.   This is my world, you just live in it.

I strongly recommend that you do not fuck with me. My wrath is very real.
People piss me off. Especially when they tell me what to do. Or look at me. Or talk to me. Or breath near me. Or help me put my shoes on the correct feet. Basically, I don’t like people. Unless those people are caving to my demands. My Daddy usually does. He is my favourite person in the world. Mummy growls at him sometimes. Continue reading