Monday, March 25, 2013

DPCON13.

So last week was DPCON13.

I didn't get a lot of time to take many pictures, this one belongs to @TwitchyCorner who very kindly let me use it.


A few more of my favorite people
Left to right

Even the guy that TOOK this photo had the most divine red hair, he reminded me of Ed Sheeran... have you ever seen so many hot shades of ginge in one photo?


For those who are not sure WTF I am talking about, DPCON, is annual blogging conference, where you get to take classes, and wine is served in those classes and you get to meet people in person that you have only ever met on the internet and do all of the things you would severely punish your children for, if they ever attempted to do the same thing..
Its gold.

Much went down...
This blogging thing is taking off in a big way in OZ, even the PM made an appearance into the blogosphere conference land this year.

Unfortunatley, I had to leave early, and even missed the part in which I got to stand up in front of everybody and talk about myself, which yawl know, is my favorite thing to do, but luckily for me, the FABULOUS Glow, from the hilariously funny Wheres my glow, has a very similar sense of humor to me, and she kindly offered to read my speech on my behalf, and by offered, I mean that I emailed it to her and told her to read it.

I bunked in with Glow and Googs, which are quite possibly two of my favorite people on the internet, and I felt like I was at a sleep over, and I was fifteen again.
There was talk of penis's, crochet, crochet penis's and internet related gossip, topics like trends, trolls, memes, SEO and screen names were met with enthusiastic nodding rather than vague eye rolling.

This year, saw a growing number of daddy bloggers at the conference, and I for one, Like it.
Daddy bloggers.
FTW.

In usual fashion, us bloggers broke the internet in style, and just in case you missed it, this was the speech, Glow so kindly read for me, It is the full version of an earlier post, and it goes a little something like this...


Once upon a time, people everywhere cried out in unison... What the hell are mummy bloggers? Where did they come from? Who the hell do they think they are?!? And what do they think they are doing?!?

And together they said...

There was once a time, when I birthed a baby, and I gained so many things that a little of me had to leave to make room.
You will gaze the perfection of your infant, even if according to a text book somewhere, they are not.  
In your arms is purity, and innocence, the world is yet to touch them.
Your heart will break at the thought that the world will, one day mould them, but you know, you would never let anything within your power hurt them.

They are all limbs curled around each other, perfect pink, tiny little finger nails and scrunched little faces, mouths gaping and pursing.
Little brows furrowing, and squeaks and grunts escaping their little bodies.

They are yours and you know now, what love is.

You have seen this before, in commercials and advertisements, on TV, in magazines and movies and parenting books.

I know about this, because I have been there too.

The marvel doesn't wear off, the love is enormous, and the desire to do only ever the best thing for your child never wanes.

Only you won't… & You won't see that in commercials.

One day, you will yell.
Undeservingly yell at your child.
You wont love them any less, or ever want to do the wrong thing by your child, but you will look down at that once tiny bundle that is full with all of your love, and be so unbelievably frustrated with it.

I'm telling you, you will.

You don't see that on TV.

One day your child will wake more times than you can pry your eyes open and you will never know a night could be so long, or so torturous.

You will marvel at your sleeping child and never know such love existed, But one day, there will come a time, when your heart sinks a little when they wake from a nap.

You won't read that in a magazine.

You will spontaneously implode the first time your child mutters your name, and you will run to film it or to call your family to share in the marvel. It will be just like in the movies, only better because it is YOUR child that is so clever.

Then, one day, you will hear your name muttered that one time too many in a note does not exist on any music scale.
It is a tone invented by children that travels to your ear via every one of your last nerves, capable of interrupting any train of thought and making any already mind dulling task take eleven times longer than is really necessary.

It is always accompanied by a demand, like Hey ma, wipe my bum, and you must comply, because not doing so… That is neglect brother... So you must, and you will mentally add Ass wiper extraordinaire to your resume while the you, that used to have a much more publically respected Job Dies a little.
And the you, that now has the far more menial task of creating the futures doctors, politicians, tech supports, secretaries and drive through operators  will glance at your wedding picture in the hall and hang a finger at your spouse’s judgmental “What did you do all day” look when they walk in the door..

Because some days, all you CAN do all day is try not to lose your shit, you will only collect someone else’s underneath your finger nails.

One day your name will make you grind your teeth to avoid shouting "WHAAAAAT. The flying frosty fuck. Do. You. Want now??!?.

And Your Parenting today, will have been brought to you buy the internally muttered letter F.

You won't see that on the nappy ad.

You promise that you will only ever offer nutritious meals for your child, just like the article on nutrition in the parenting magazine you read outlined. Until you don't, and one day you will find your child eating 2 minute noodles dipped in Nutella from the jar, and you will pretend you didn't see, just so that you can get this ONE thing done.

You will one day convince yourself that the fish food the cat knocked over and your child is now eating by the fist full is a good source of omega three.

The same voice that vowed to only ever let nutrition filled foods pass your child’s lips will now say things like;

Don’t eat your Boogers at the table,
Yucky, don’t suck on the cat and Shhhh, Fine, whatever eat the m&m’s you found under the lounge cushion, get scurvy, look at me not. Giving a shaz.

One day, you will flip open that magazine, or an advertisement will come on the TV reminding you that the first 5 years of a child's life is crucial, everything you do in that time will shape the rest of their life. The same life you gazed at in all their purity and innocence and loved so much, and you will get a pang in pit of your stomach, Because your child watched seven episodes of Babar in a row yesterday while they ate an apple that had fallen on the floor at least twice, and you didn’t even rinse it because you know.. one wrong move out of you and they will realise they are eating something you approve of, and an apple covered in dog hair is still an apple.

You will get an awful feeling because you promised that tiny bundle with all your love that you would always do right by them, but you won't.

No one told you that at birthing class.

One day your precious little bundle will throw a tantrum and all of this fear and anger and frustration will boil out of their tiny little bodies, those tiny little limbs that curled around each other will be flailing and pummelling with pure anger. You will feel helpless and frustrated.
You will look at that once tiny little innocent face and it will still be scrunched and perfect, but it will be scrunched in rage.
Spit and snot will be simultaneously bubbling from that little face, they will be emphasising every word that they have learned to articulate with that once pursed little mouth, will be articulated with an alarming head and knee jerk, like tantrum exclamation marks. Your child will become the tantrum and there is no escaping it.
It will cling to the door frames of every room you are in, it will be under your feet and clinging to your legs whilst you attempt to go about your business, it will kick the back of the toilet door while you wiz and it will bite the cushions of your lounge while you look on, hoping that the bit of lounge cushion they are biting is the same bit of lounge cushion that had carrot smooshed into it, because if nothing else comes of it, at least they will have eaten some carrot today.

One day you will have endured one too many of these out breaks and you will tell yourself that you can't do this.

One day you may feel like you can't cope with all of this love.

 & you won't see that on TV.

One day your child will fall over, and they will bleed and your heart will break and you will cuddle them and comfort them and hold them till they feel safe, you will carefully place a band aid over the hurt and want to take all the pain away, just like in the band aid ad...

Then one day, Your child will fall over, They will look first to see if you witnessed this act of unjust from the universe, and if you did... only then, will become the most painful thing that they have ever endured and you won’t care.
You will roll your eyes and tell them to get up for crying out loud, shake it off... Uppy Up… and insist that their scrape does not even require a bloody band aid... And go play.

They CAN’T put that in the band aid ad.

One day you may feel as though you would walk to China to get five minutes alone, (unless you live in China, if so replace China with Australia) you will so desperately want to be alone, but never felt so lonely all at the same time.

One day you will realise that you have not gotten up in the night to your child for a time now, that their minor scrapes no longer need band aids and they can do all of these things on their little own and don't call out for you so much. You will lie in bed and the awful night guilts about all of the times you did not keep your promise to only ever do good by them will hit you in the gut all at once, because despite all of your promises and good intentions you cannot keep them all, but you will never love them any less. You won’t want to do anything but the right thing for them any less.

The night is when all of the guilts are awake and there is no chapter in the parenting book about that.
Its a secret.

Mummy bloggers are just like you, and they know that secrets can eat you alive.
You might not read about these secrets in books or publications, you might not hear these secrets on the radio or see them in movies or television, but there are mothers everywhere that have felt the same, thought the same, done EXACTLY. The. Same. Thing.
They are ALL of them, everywhere.

So some, who enjoy doing so write about, not because they are bad at keeping secrets, but because they didn't read about them anywhere either, they didn't see it on the big screen or hear about in on the radio, and necessity is a mother too, the mother of all invention.

And so, MUMMY bloggers were born.

They shared and they laughed and they cried. They supported and they cringed and they shared some more. They were no longer bound to make friendships based on geographical convenience and they spread the word far and wide. More mummy and daddy's joined in and soon, a very happy, content and efficiently self-policed army was built. They were not so lonely anymore.

Those mummy’s and Daddy’s that could not write, read and they rejoiced that they could identify.

Mummy bloggers wrote their own band aid ads, The kind that don’t make you feel like you are a neglectful monster, and they were funny and well received… and Band aid companies said, hey! Great idea, Let me pay you so that you can make a little money for your hobby, and they didn’t stop there.. Mummy bloggers wrote their own parenting manuals, and their own medical text books that showed their child as they saw them, not their imperfections.
They wrote about fashion, and knew that some women needed to consider the fact that their breasts that once sat perfectly on their chests now more closely resembled two empty pennant flags flapping on the line, and that tucking your tits into the waist band of your pants was a viable support option some days.

The Mummy bloggers recognized that it was important to take time for themselves, to do something that they enjoy and do it they did.

They welcomed that not all children nor parents were the same and different ideas and styles were helpful for everyone, even if they did not agree.

Some didn't like it,Um mum muh maaa… some found it threatening, and drew crude cartoons making fun of the mummy bloggers, they wrote articles criticising the mummy bloggers in big papers and they started hateful forums and said snide things on the TV about them. They made fun of their spelling and grammar and photos. They did their best to make the word Mummy as patronising and as dirty as they could so that they could keep their secrets because guilt is a wonderful marketing tool, it sells a lot of things, for every inadequacy there is a self-help book or an article or a product... Did you know you are going to die one day? Don’t Burdon your family with your funeral costs.
** That was Not Sponsored By the way...

But the Mummy bloggers stood firm, their Army was great, not just in size, but in spirit, knowledge and experience.
They were remarkable storytellers and besides..they had heard much worse..

They had all heard the words "I hate you mummy, you are not my best friend" from their child, and nothing anyone says will ever hurt as much as that, because no one else is as important as their child. Especially not the hurtful nay Sayers.

So they carried on doing what they did, because taking the time to share and to learn, to be that little bit of support they could not find and to do things for themselves to keep the mother of their child happy and healthy because that is the best thing for their child. And they promised.

Even if they could not always keep it.

The end.

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