I am used to being tagged. As a chubby child I couldn’t run fast enough to get away. Tags these days are much more fun and less demeaning so thanks to Emma at Mummy Mummy Mum for tagging me in Helen at the The Crazy Kitchen’s meme. The idea is to come up with 5 things that your child says that you never will. In some ways a tricky one for me as my daughter and I are like peas in a pod; in other ways, very easy as she comes out with some real crackers. So here are mine (and inevitably they mainly involve bodily functions):
- If a monster comes in in the night, I’ll do a pop to scare it away.
- Have you got a ticket for the wee show?
- I’ve done four poos – a mummy, two babies and a dinosaur.
- Look mummy, your boobies are small.
- I’m not doing anything – just sitting here picking my nose.
So, now I’m ‘it’ – all huffy and puffy from chasing – and I’m tagging:
SAHD and Proud
The rules are simple: 5 things that your child has said that you may once have said but wouldn’t now in a month of Sundays. Then tag some victims. Finally, pop back to Helen’s original post and add yourself to her linky. On your marks …
I received a tweet today from the lovely Mammasaurus asking where the nelly I’ve been and whether I’ve lost my ‘mojo’. I feel like my bra strap has been twanged. Rightly so – my blog has been sadly neglected for a couple of months. At the moment I don’t even feel entitled to call myself a ‘blogger’. I’m more like a ‘blogged’. As for my mojo, well I’ve had a peek and I think it’s still there (unfortunately only in the blogging sense). I’ve felt a couple of twinges anyhow.
Trouble is, I’m a lazy little blogger. I sit and wait for inspiration for strike. This approach is probably quite effective unless, like me, you’re so knackered that inspiration would have to knock several times with a sledgehammer before any brain cells flickered into life. Much of my inspiration comes from people I know or have met and, when I wasn’t on maternity leave, office life. The problem is, this has enormous potential to offend. There’s been many a time when I’ve been itching to put fingers to keyboard but concluded that the likelihood of offence far outweighed the amusement value. I live in a small city where seven degrees of separation is six degrees too many – I rarely speak without checking over my shoulder and certainly never venture an opinion on someone as more often than not it will turn out I’m talking to their closest friend.
Looking back at topics that have inspired me in the past, I could blame the below for my silence (although somewhere in there should be demanding children and Twitter addiction):
- I’ve accepted that the Jeremy Vine Show on Radio 2 is an insufferable mix of high and low brow, I can’t do anything about it and I’m tired of ranting about it (lest I should turn into the type of ranty person who calls into his show – god forbid).
- I’ve accepted that keeping pink and princesses out of my 3-year-old’s life is a losing battle. Bring on the sparkles, I can handle it.
- The weather’s turned cold and women have stopped getting their boobies out in the name of women’s rights. Shame.
Is my blogger’s block therefore because I’m too accepting? Perhaps I need to go back to what I do best – getting my knickers in a twist. And if I want to go from ‘blogged’ to ‘blogger’ then I’d better find a big pair.