Monthly Archives: November 2011

Controversial Blogging

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Last month was quite a negative one in the blogging world and it’s made me ask myself some questions.

During one particular scandal (more on that later) I posted about stats and rankings. Following that post two big shake ups happened – the Tots100 changed their scoring method and Klout changed its already mysterious algorithms. Both of these changes resulted in many bloggers seeing huge falls in rankings and therefore huge disappointment.

Even if we chose to write a blog for ourselves it’s nice to be recognised isn’t it? Whether that’s by people subscribing, comments, tweets or by being a number on a long list of numbers, it’s nice to be noticed and to have some kind of pat on the back for a job well done. Because for whatever reason we write, we all want to be accepted. We all want to know that one person in the big wide cyber world thought ‘hey, that was a good post’. Blogs are hard work. They require love and attention, it’s nice to get something back when you put so much in.

So the Klout and Tots100 drops were a bit of a hard pill to swallow for some. But life goes on. It doesn’t matter really, we still write, we still try to improve. And then something else happened. Something started by a nasty individual and the more people that got involved the worse it got.

Anyone can start a blog just as anyone can comment on a blog. Everyone has a right to an opinion and a right to be able to express it. But once the dust had settled it got me thinking.

The main thing that bothered me about the events that shall not be spoken about was that someone who calls themselves a genuine, honest run of the mill blogger had found something to hide behind. Of course it bothered me that someone who I consider a friend was being attacked. But what about the readers of this persons original blog? Were they not being deceived?

If the original blog was on the Tots100 list or the writer a member of BritMums is that not deceitful? Should someone who has chosen to take an alter ego to attack others be able to have the perks of being included on a list likely to bring them opportunities or the member of an organisation who strive to keep the blogging world free of nasties?

A blog is defined as a journal. As something personal to the writer. That’s how I have always seen blogs, a personal space and the platform to voice opinions and experiences. But what if your so called blog doesn’t fit in that generalised heading? Can you still call it a blog? If you are hosting a platform purely for guest posts and there is little if any of your own content ever published are you still a blogger?

Does it matter?!

So many people, myself included, put a hell of a lot of time and energy into their blogs. Not only that but they have a sense of pride and ownership about them. I spend a lot of time making sure that my pages are easy to navigate, that all my posts are spellchecked and make sense(ish), that i dnt rite hole paras in txt spk mkin thm v hrd 2 rd. If people are subscribing then I do my best not to publish too much dross or too many posts about why I love cake. And that brings me to my current biggest bugbear: people who plagiarise, sensationalise or publish only guest posts yet still claim their website is a blog.

Is it? Is it really?

More and more of these blogs are popping up and irritatingly, they somehow seem to manage high rankings too.

Maybe I’m going against my own here, and I don’t deny that any website needs constant maintenance, upkeep and hard work, but to be honest there are only so many rehashed or brazen copy and paste jobs that I can read.

Don’t read them you say. I tend not to, but every now and again a conversation on Twitter or a sensationalist title will pull me in and once I’m there I can’t help poking about. It’s like picking at a scab that I know I should leave alone.

Maybe it’s only me that gets wound up. When next months rankings are published maybe it will only be me silently thinking why? Not because I’m the best blogger in the world, not because I have amazing stats (or even good ones for that matter) but because I blog. I produce original content, I try to express my own opinions articulately and I never, ever rip any one off. Maybe I’m just jealous.

Am I being really unfair?

Why I Am A Bad Mum And A Worse Wife

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Everyone has their own way of parenting. From the very early stages of pregnancy I started to form ideas about how I would bring up my baby.

Parenting is something that is so personal, not only to you but to the child that you are bringing up. From outings and groups to kisses and cuddles to what to do when they wake at 3am raring to play, we all know what’s important to us and why.

This is something that’s really getting me down at the moment. I can’t parent in the way that I want to.

The responsibility has fallen to the husband. He spends the most time with Boo, he does what works for him. Of course that’s not always what I would do.

I feel that I have to be careful with what I write; as well as looking after Boo the husband also has the worries and stresses that come hand in hand with looking after me too. A lot of the time I think he just gets through the days with her. I don’t feel I’m in a position to comment.

Where he leaves Boo to entertain herself I would be playing with her. Often he will only speak to her to tell her no. I tend to give a running commentary, always finding something to talk to her about.

I’m no model parent, I won’t pretend to know what’s best but I do know what’s important to me. For me, it is important that she knows how to play by herself but it’s also important for me to play with her. To guide her in what she’s doing and to encourage her to learn new skills. It’s important to me that she’s spoken to, not just to be told no, speaking to her a lot is the only way she is going to start having her own grasp on language.

These are two basic things. I’m not saying that I would spend every waking hour playing and chattering, of course the TV would be switched on at some point and there would be times when I want to sit and have a cup of tea and some biscuits while Boo plays her own games.

Because I’m not around as much as I should be the husband just gets on with it. Playdough that I’ve made and things I’ve put together for games on a good day get abandoned until I’m feeling myself again. When I do feel well enough to spend time with Boo the husband is quick to tell me that I should just leave her to play, that certain things ‘don’t work’, that she likes or dislikes things.

It kills me when he tells me these things. Not only because I should know them but because she is my child too. I know that she will play by herself because most of the time that is what she is left to do, that doesn’t mean it’s right. When she cries the husband thinks she’s being naughty. She’s just bored.

But maybe I’m wrong, maybe he does know what’s right. He certainly knows her best. I’m in no position to tell him what’s important to me or why I think he needs to talk to her more. The only way that I can make sure she gets what I see as important is to do it myself.

Right now I am hating PND because it means I can’t. Instead it makes the times when I’m rebuffed or told I am wrong when spending time with Boo cut like a knife. It makes the want for Boo to have these things a pressure. And worst of all, rather than making me fired up to give her them it makes me feel desperately guilty that I can’t.

Boo is taking such huge leaps in her development at the moment. She thrives when encouraged, she feeds off attention and praise. She needs it.

The husband complains that she never sleeps anymore but when she naps in the day he will wake her when he decides she has slept for long enough, at night if she wakes he will take her downstairs to watch TV until she falls asleep on him. I wouldn’t do that.

Yesterday I went to see what was wrong after Boo had been crying for a while. She was just being grumpy apparently. She was in fact burning up with a temperature.

Stupid little things are eating me up inside, but I know if I open my mouth the husband will take it as an attack and it will all end in an argument.

There’s nothing I can do. I just have to sit here and wait to get better and hope that when I do Boo will get on with my way of parenting too. I’m absolutely sick of waiting.

Listography: Cartoon Characters From My Youth

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Another cracking listography from Kate Takes 5 – Click here to read all the others and add your own.

Cartoons ‘in my day’ were so much better than the ones around now. Most of the stuff on the kids channels (that I put on when I need to keep Boo quiet for five minutes) all looks the same and has had so much creativity syphoned out because of its computer animation.

Here’s my top five list of cartoon characters that I remember loving:

5. Potsworth and Company

An early 90s cartoon about a group of kids who meet up in the ‘dream zone’ when they are asleep and save the world from the evil clutches of the nightmare prince. Awesome.

4. Henrys Cat.

He’s yellow. He likes to eat and sleep…That’s about all that I remember.

3. Rainbow Brite

Typically girly and typically 80s, this was my video of choice when I was allowed to pick at the video rental place.

2. Penny Crayon.

She draws stuff and it comes to life. What’s not to love about that?!

1. Stop It And Tidy Up

I loved these guys. Each character was named after a demand often heard by children; Brush Your Teeth, Comb Your Hair, Beehave and Beequiet to name a few. Terry Wogan was the perfect choice for narrator. I made let Boo watch an episode on YouTube and she loved it. That made me happy.

Mix-Tape Monday #4

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A song from the best gig you have been to.

Foolishly I thought this would be an easy one; I haven’t been to that many gigs so I thought it would be an obvious choice. Turns out it’s not.

I have such good memories of every one because they all mean something to me. I saw Robbie Williams in 2001 – I was 16 and it was my first ever gig. Being in a crowd of that many (yes, and singing Angels with a lovestruck tear in my eye) was truly amazing. Every other gig bar one that I’ve been to have been small, intimate (read: tiny, grimy clubs) and so very different to a field of 40000 odd screaming fans.

I almost went with a track from Easyworld, a band who I actually saw as a support act. They were on before Toploader (sssh) but they were incredible. They took the whole crowd totally by surprise and Toploader sounded very middle of the road afterwards. I realise now that that was because Toploader were middle of the road. Their songs really take me back to that time in my life so vividly.

They are a bit of a forgotten treasure though *makes note to do a forgotten treasure theme* so the gig, if you can call it that, that I am going to pick from is Reading Festival 2005.

Looking back at the line up now, I really missed out. I went with my boyfriend at the time and a group of his mates and so subsequently missed out on all the best bands in favour of who they wanted to see. Honestly, I can’t look at the line up now without kicking myself.

So to save myself any more pain, I have picked. I’ve chosen this because one Sunday night, in a huge tent, not 100% sober and dancing like a loon I realised that festivals are awesome…And that glow sticks can also be used as face paint.

Still a bit bitter about all the bands I missed though.

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You can follow this weeks Spotify playlist here and I will update it as we go along. Spotify is free and also brilliant, get it!

You Can’t Choose, You Are Chosen

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Recently Stan Collymore spoke extremely bravely and openly about his own battles with depression. He tweeted both frankly and articulately about how his depression has affected him. For someone as much in the public eye as he is those tweets make a huge difference in both the understanding and the acceptance of depression by the general public.

Today the top story is the death of Gary Speed. A tragic loss, as any loss is, and in such saddening circumstance. He was on television only yesterday, he appeared fine.

This evening the papers are suggesting ‘suicide’ – the inverted commas very prevalent there*.

Earlier, me and the husband were discussing his death after it was reported on the national news. “He just doesn’t seem like the kind of person to be depressed and commit suicide” he said. “To be a football manager you need to be driven and ambitious, traits that aren’t those of people who suffer with depression”.

So what kind of a person does ‘suit’ depression? The Kurt Cobain tortured artist type? Someone introverted and creative perhaps?

Similar comments can be found on pretty much any article written following Stan Collymores quotes on Twitter – What does he have to be depressed about? He is rich, he is famous…

The perhaps uncomfortable truth for the majority of people who are lucky enough not to suffer with depression is that it can happen to anyone.

From tortured artists to new mums, from happy go lucky teenagers to wealthy bankers. Anyone.

Depression is an illness, a chemical imbalance. Illnesses do not pick and choose their victims. It is not something that strikes when you are down on your luck. It doesn’t choose the vulnerable or the strong. It strikes when you least expect it and usually who you least expect.

So am I the right type of person to have depression? I suppose I have always been creative, but I am also academic. I’m driven, I’m ambitious. I have always been really maternal – even as a child I would say that I wanted to be a mummy when I grow up. I have worked in schools and nurseries with young children, it was what I loved. Is it somehow obvious from my personality that I would wind up with a crippling bout of postnatal depression?

When I was setting up the raffle to raise money for charity I received more than one email, from companies I might add, asking how it is possible to suffer from depression following the birth of a child; ‘having a baby is one of the best and most joyful moments of anyone’s life’. One email even went as far to say that it is ‘not possible to be depressed when you have a new baby’.

The husband has seen me at my absolute lowest; sobbing so much I couldn’t stand up, begging for help. He has also seen me at my best; happy, ambitious, intelligent. It amazes me that through all that he can be as narrow minded as to want to pigeon hole an illness and those who suffer from it.

There shouldn’t be a battle to prove that an illness is not chosen by its victim but this just goes to show how much work there is to be done before people will understand.

 

* I will not pretend to be an avid sports fan, I only know Gary Speed as a former footballer and manager of Wales football club. I do not know anything about him as a person, or whether he has suffered with mental illness, and I’m not going to rely on internet found information to tell me. The circumstances surrounding his death are yet to be confirmed and I will not make any sweeping statements as to the nature of his death. However it came about, it is desperately sad.

Mix- Tape Monday #4

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A song from the best gig you have ever been to.

Better late than never this week!

What’s the best gig you have ever been to? That embarrassing one when you were 10 and your mum helped you make a banner with a big heart on it? The first time you saw a hero? The one where you came away loving the support act more than the band you actually went to see?

The linky will be open all week from Monday so there’s plenty of time to pick a song and join in!

Want to know more about Mix-Tape Monday? Read here.

Oooh, Pretty Things

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Look! Look!

 

I love these, they’re so different to anything I’ve seen around at the moment and they’re all handmade.

I have ten owl pendants, one flower pendant and four flower rings to exchange for donations. Once they’re gone, they’re gone! I’m not going to set a price for anything, so you can donate as you see fit.

If you want one, head over to my charity fundraising page and donate. Leave me a message saying which colour/style you would like and I will send them out to you as soon as possible.

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An Amazing Thing

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I have to admit to being a bit despondent lately. I worked crazy hard setting up the raffle and making sure I had plenty of awesome prizes to offer in return for donations. But then it kind of stopped. And when it did I felt lousy.

But then I realised something (ok, after a couple of days of sulking I realised something) – I am only one person. What I have tried to do is not something that just one person can do; it is something that needs a louder voice of a crowd behind it.

Yesterday that started to happen. The little human shaped pot of loveliness that is Mammasaurus wrote her own post about her experiences with PND. My one lonely voice became louder with hers to back it up. And then lots of you started to help by spreading the word on Twitter (please accept this as my big thank you if I missed saying it personally on Twitter, my mentions were swamped). The raffle pages actually had a fairly low traffic day but the people that did click were the people that mattered.

In less than 24 hours the fundraising total more than doubled. Amazing.

I have all of you to thank for this, I really couldn’t have achieved that without you.

Which brings me nicely to my next point. There really is a lot to be said for the support that you find in other people. There really is an amazing community out there that I am truely honoured to be a part of. The thing is, it’s such a big community that one person can get a bit lost sometimes. As well as the generous donations and the lovely, supportive comments I received yesterday something else just as great started to happen; people started to share their experiences.

Posts about PND are popping up on a few blogs now and that really is amazing. PND is really, really hard to talk about. But talking about it openly is the only way that understanding will build and the stigma will be broken. This is hugely important to the cause. To the brave women who have chosen to share a post already, thank you. I wanted to open a linky so that all these posts can come together in one place. Like a strength in numbers kind of thing. I think it will surprise people just how many mums it affects.

If you have a post, old or new, that you want to share, please add your link. If you feel inspired to write one I’d love you to add your link too.

For about the millionth time, thank you all. Really, none of this would be possible without you and the more of us there are the more of a chance we have of making a change. As it stands we have raised nearly £150 – I’m doing a happy dance right now.

Please, please spread the word if you can. The more people that know about this the better – and lets face it, there are some really great prizes to be won! Tell Twitter, tell Facebook, tell your friends, if you want to sell tickets at playgroup then that would be fantastic! Email me if you have any questions, or if you just want to get in touch.

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Like A Bitch Wading Through Treacle

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Something that I am noticing more and more recently but am struggling to put into words can, I think, be best summed up as frustration. More specifically frustration due to an extreme sensitivity to negativity.

This is a bit of a hypocritical situation because 99% of the time I am Miss Negative. The way that my head orders my thoughts at the moment means that there is always something bad.

Without fail every since sentence out of my mouth ends with a big BUT…

I know she loves me BUT…
I think I’m starting to feel better BUT…
I know I should BUT…

And that brings me on to the point of the sentence where I like to add some obstacles. The bigger the better. I pile them higher and higher until the glimmer of positive I have just seen is totally swamped in shit.

I’ve only just realised that I do this. It’s something that my mum pointed out at the weekend actually. Why do I make all these obstacles for myself? Why do I not allow myself to see good because I’m too busy trying to excuse it or disprove it? Why have I never realised how debilitating this is?

As much as I am guilty of it myself, I can’t bear anyone else being negative. If the husband says that Boo is driving him nuts or that we’re running out of money for the week or that I forgot to take the washing out of the machine it drives me mad.

It sends me over the edge.

When the husband walks into the room with Boo and starts to tell me why she is ‘being bad’ the rage starts building. I know he is not being unreasonable, I know it’s unfair of me to get so angry BUT I have so much negativity whirring around my mind all the time if anyone adds so much as a sprinkle more I can’t take it.

It’s all too much.

In fact, a lot of things are too much for me to handle at the moment. Something as trivial as someone stopping in front of me in a busy town centre makes me so angry. It’s like the final straw. I struggle with all that is going on in my head and the bigger picture makes me panic. This means that for my own good I have to break everything down into bite sized chunks rather than one daunting task.

I don’t ‘go into town’ any more. That’s too vague and too big. Instead, I get ready to leave the house.

Then I get Boo ready.

Then I walk into town.

Then I go to each shop in order.

Then I walk home.

Everything has to be step by step, if I let myself think of things as a whole my mind goes into overdrive. Even the slightest deviation is too much to handle, something as small as someone standing in my way or a broken lift when I what I need is on the 2nd floor is enough to make me want to go home and go to bed.

And that brings me to something that I think is often overlooked and misunderstood. I’m exhausted. The sheer tiredness is something that is really hard to explain. When each day presents me with such a challenge, a series of hours and minutes that need to be arranged and broken down until they feel manageable, combined with the fact that each morning I literally have to drag myself out of bed I am drained. Never mind the variables that naturally appear throughout the day.

If you’ve ever had a driving lesson it’s a bit like that. You have no idea what you’re doing, there are 101 things to take in and another few thousand to think about. You know where the clutch is but you have no idea what it does. After an hour of trying to drive in a straight line, not mow down any pedestrians or stall the car leaves your head spinning doesn’t it? You need a sit down with a cuppa afterwards.

All day I battle with my thoughts; I spend time breaking every single task into manageable bullet points to stave off panic and overload, I force myself through the day. That’s enough. I can’t take external negativity or a cashpoint being out of order too.

This is something that is turning me into a horrible person. Someone that I know I am not. I am this awful, spiteful bitch and I hate her.

The other day the husband said he would get up with Boo. I haven’t been sleeping well again and he wanted me to have a lie in. I was just waking as I heard him bringing Boo and a mug of tea upstairs to wake me up. Lovely right? My head hadn’t woken up enough for my thoughts to be deafening and I was getting tea in bed. Happy happy happy.

But before he had even opened the door all the way he starts to tell me that Boo is being a little shit, doesn’t listen to him when he says no, wouldn’t eat her breakfast nicely…Each shard of negativity feels like its stabbing me.

Rather than a rested and grateful wife he gets an awful angry creature who tells him to fuck off before scurrying back under the covers for the rest of the day. Once the anger has worn of the guilt has set in. The day is too much.

I can’t make this go away and I hate who it is making me