Once upon a time, people everywhere cried out in unison... “What the hell are mummy bloggers? Who the hell do they think they are?!? And what do they think they are doing?!?
And together they said...
You have birthed your baby, all going well, you gaze the perfectness of them, the purity. You know you would never let anything 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. I know because I have been there too.
You have seen this before, in commercials and advertisements, on TV, in magazines and movies and parenting books.
The marvel doesn't wear off, the love is enormous, and the desire to do only the best thing for your child never wanes.
Only you won't.
You don't see that in commercials.
One day, you will yell undeservingly yell at your child.
You won’t love them any less, but you will look down at the tiny bundle that contains all of your love and be so unbelievably frustrated with it, I'm telling you, you will.
You don't see that on TV.
You will stare contently at your sleeping infant, you may lay awake, straining to hear a little squeak and you won't mind at all getting up to hold them, to feed them and to comfort them.
Then 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. But you won't love them any less.
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, mama, dada and you will run to film it or to call your parents and share in the marvel, it is just like in the movies but 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 very distinct and irritating key, you may grind your teeth to avoid shouting "WHAAAAAT.Do. You. WAAAANT. NOOOOOOW.!? One day, you might not grind your teeth, you may just shout it.
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.
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 a bowl of dry Cheerio’s that had fallen on the floor, 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 rage. You will feel helpless and frustrated. 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.
You will one day look at the father of your child, with so much love, appreciation and gratitude for planting so much love in your belly. You will feel like a team, like all together you are a whole. Until one day... you will look at the father of your child with so much red hot resentment that it could break a window with its power.
Won't read that in a father’s day card.
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, you will tell them to get up for crying out loud, shake it off and insist that their scrape does not even require a band aid... And to 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 guilt’s 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.
The night is when all of the guilt’s are awake.
You won't read about that in the parenting book.
It’s a secret.
Mummy bloggers have a secret too, and that is 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 it 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 spread the word far and wide and more mummy and daddy's joined and soon they had a very happy, content and efficiently self-policed army was built. They were not so lonely anymore.
They wrote their own band aid ads, and parenting manuals, they recognized that it was important to take time for themselves and 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, some found it threatening, some drew crude cartoons making fun of the mummy bloggers, they wrote articles critisising 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 photo's. 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.
But the Mummy bloggers stood firm, their Army was great, not just in size, but in spirit and knowledge and experience.
They were remarkable storytellers and 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.
So they carried on doing what they did, because taking the time to share and to learn and to do things for themselves to keep the mother of their child happy and healthy was the best thing for their child. And they promised.
Even if they could not always keep it.