Metal Mummy

I haven’t blogged for an AGE and I’ve been asked a number of times where I have been, what I’ve been up to and if I’m still alive.

Firstly, yes, I’m still alive. I’m sorry I haven’t blogged for ages. To be honest, I didn’t think anybody would notice the lack of drivel from this end of the blogosphere. I’ve been ridiculously busy and in another post that I have lined up, I will summarise what I’ve been up to, just so you can (if you wish) get back on track with the goings on of me.

Also,Kate, I’m sorry I haven’t managed to take part in this weeks Listography. It would have been a perfect post for me to restart my occasional blogging, but in all fairness, I just haven’t had time. I’m writing this with a child blowing bubbles in my face, a dog trying to hump my leg and the continuous drone of Peppa Pig on the TV.

It’s one of Freyja’s favourites. She loves Peppa Pig, snorts and oinks every time a pig gets mentioned and pretends to be George just so that she can roar like a very cute dinosaur. OK, so it’s not a bad cartoon really, but there’s something worrying me about it.

And that’s Peppa herself.

Her parents are fine. Her grandad is kinda cool. George is OK. But her? Fuck me, I hope Freyja doesn’t turn into that. What sort of message is it sending to kids? She’s driving me nuts.

For example, in the one (of many) I watched today, she was pretending to be a butterfly. When she realises Grandad Pig isn’t paying any attention to her because he’s being a wriggly worm with George, she steals her brother’s thunder, pretends to be a worm and sings a ridiculous song. Equals attention seeking brat.

Another one that is on the same DVD… Her mates are playing in the park and swinging across the monkey bars on a rubber tyre. She exclaims that they are doing it wrong and that she will show them how it’s done. Hang on a minute, is there really a right way of swinging across on a rubber tyre? Not really. But Peppa seems to think she knows it all and gets stuck in the tyre. I’d have left her there if I was them. Equals Know It All shit-of-a-kid.

I hope Freyja doesn’t become that. Although, the way she’s being at the minute I don’t exactly like much either. Stroppy little madam who thinks that screaming at me will get what she wants.

What it actually gets is me roaring back at her louder so that she knows who’s boss. I’m nice like that.

Hopefully, this is the start of a little comeback to the blogging world. I have no intention to blog as much as I used to, but I plan to do more than I have done over the last 2 months. i.e. nothing.

P.S Good to luck to everyone who has gone to the MAD Awards tonight. Unfortunately, I was unable to make it, but I’m sure it will be an awesome shindig for everybody. I’m just chuffed I got to the finals!

How cool are these? Seriously. A scooter that can change from 4-wheel, to 3-wheel to 2-wheel as your child improves at using it. And it’s in pink. Which, although not my favourite colour in the world, looks pretty awesome sat in the middle of my lawn with a Freyja perched on it.

When we received it, it was simple to assemble (I say simple, I mean I had to get the other half to sort it because I’m a bit of a noob when it comes to building things) and since then Freyja’s been attached to it pretty much daily.

“Cooter mummy, COOTER”

“You mean Scooter darling, let’s play with it when it’s not pissing it down with rain, eh?”

“No mummy, Cooter NOW”

You get the jist.

She didn’t know how to use it to start with but didn’t take her long to figure out that you put one foot on the platform and push yourself along with the other. I should have got a video of her trying to do it the first time. It was hilarious. She put her foot on the platform, put her other foot on the floor, pushed off with it, but then didn’t figure out that you have to pick your foot back UP again, so ended up doing a very impressive splits and landing on her arse. She learned quick enough that that wasn’t quite the way you should do it.

Since then, she’s a dab hand.

She’s also a dab hand and getting me to do it.

“Mummy, your turn on cooter”

Really? Can you imagine what I look like having a go? A 27 fully grown woman on a scooter built for a preschooler? Who’s foot is almost as big as the platform? If my neighbours decide to look out of the window when I’m rolling it around my lawn, they’d have a right laugh.

Ozbozz scooters are fab. Really fab. They fold up which is really nifty, especially when Freyja’s mates are round and I have to hide it to avoid any unnecessary scraps. It’s a great toy to have for the outdoors and with an RRP of less than £20, what’s not to like?

Brill.

I was given a pink Ozbozz My First Scooter for the purpose of the review. All opinions are my own. I really am forced to scoot it around my lawn. Forced. By a two year old.

I’ve just said goodbye to my baby girl for a week. She’s on her way to meet her Granny who is taking her and her 2 young cousins back to France (that’s where she lives) and spending a week’s holiday out there.

Can you imagine how I’m feeling right now? I haven’t stopped crying.

I know she’ll have a fantastic time, but Freyja’s my baby. I’m going to miss her terribly and if it was up to me, I’d probably run after her and sneak her off the plane when nobody’s watching…

I’ll be counting down the days until she gets back.

I think I’ve been needing to write this post for some time. I have completely lost why I started this blog in the first place and this post is to remind myself what it’s all about.

You see, it’s not for the readership. It’s not for the nominations for awards. It’s not for the rankings or the occasionally good stats. It was, in essence, for me; my daughter. A diary for her to look back on, for her to see what we got up to and how mental her mother is. A record, to show how much I think about her. How much time I dedicate to her to make her the happiest kid alive.

Along the way, I’ve lost it. Since finding the mummy blogging world in September last year, my blog as a brand has grown and grown. I’ve been nominated for awards. I’ve hosted memes. I’ve attended conferences. I’ve reviewed a shit load of stuff. All good stuff – except, that’s not what this is about.

I don’t want to stress myself, finding something to write about; digging deep into my subconscious to find even a scrap of interesting snippet that may appeal to my new online mates. I want to write when I find the inspiration to write. I want to write when Freyja does something hilarious or memorable that I’d like to amuse myself with at a later date. I don’t want the stress anymore.

Ever since getting my full time job, I’ve struggled to find time for anything. Constantly knackered and always needing a few extra hours in my days. I want what time I do have to be spent playing with my daughter. Making cakes, getting mucky, painting, taking her places. Not stressing about the last time I posted on my blog or how long the latest review product has been waiting to be reviewed for.

So, as of now, I’m removing myself from the network. I will still linger. In the background. I’ll still be commenting on my favourite blogs (cuz I can’t not read your stuff – you know who you are). I’ll still take part in the odd meme or two if something comes to my head immediately and I’m not just doing it for the sake of it.

I’m stopping all review opportunities. Those of you who have already sent me stuff to do, of course, I will do it. They will be posted in a trickly fashion over the next week or so. But that’s it. No more. Unless something AWESOME crops up. And I mean, awesome (which it won’t, considering I won’t be talking to PRs…)

I’m removing myself from the rankings. No more Wikio. No more Tots 100. No more Technorati or whatever it is. Because, although they are very lovely to be recognised on, I don’t *actually* care. I don’t care about stats (by the way, Google Analytics will be gone too). I don’t care about where I am in the ranks. I don’t care about any of this. This blog wasn’t for that purpose, and shouldn’t have been sucked into it.

I will be reducing the amount of time I am on Twitter. And Facebook. I will, more than likely, be getting rid of my Facebook Fan Page at some point soon. After all, those of you lovely bloggers that I have any sort of friendship with, are on my personal Facebook anyway. I do hope we keep in touch.

So there you have it. From now on, this blog is for me. For me to write about what Freyja did with her poo today, or her latest favourite phrase, or how lovely James has been or how annoying the dog is being. No more, no less. Just us.

Tra a bit.

Last night, Freyja took a while to settle. She went to bed at about half eight but every half hour/an hour until 11ish, you’d hear her bouncing around, whinging and eventually, crying out, “No, No, Ow, Hurt, Sore, Pain, Ow, No”

Hmmm, spose I should go up to her then.

We took it in turns to go up to see to her, gave her some calpol and asked her where it hurt.

“My back, my tummy” she said, “poo, she said”. OK, she’s constipated. She must be. That’s fixable. I try to push for more information.

“Does anything else hurt hun?” I say…

“The door, the window, the train, the teddy. They all hurt”

Hmmm… I think she’s having me on now.