Last January, I did a round-up of my favourite blog posts from 2014 (which you can find here). Not only is great fun to go back over my old posts and pick out my favourites, but it also serves to remind me of the type of posts that I enjoy writing the most.
As a blogger, it can be easy to get bogged down with what you think you should be writing instead of what it is you want to be writing. I’m sure it’s no coincidence that most of the posts I’ve selected here were written earlier in the year. Because as the year went on, I definitely felt like I’d lost my way a bit when it comes to this here blog of mine. Going forward, in 2016, I am vowing to write for me again. It may mean that I blog less often but hopefully each post will be something that I can be proud of.
Without further ado, here are my 10 favourite blog posts from 2015:
What do you do when your child is given a 3ft tall teddy bear for Christmas? I mean, other than look utterly horrified because you have no room for it in your house? Here’s my advice: Don’t, whatever you do, give it a name.
I’m sure, as I helped Jasmine unwrap it, I was unable to mask the look of sheer horror on my face. The look that said “What the hell am I supposed to do with this?!”
Finding that elusive ‘me time’ is hard when you’re a stay-at-home mum. So much so, that in order to get some, I went out by myself to go dancing with strangers.
I took a deep breath, swung open the double doors and walked inside – the music already pounding. I took off my coat and put it to one side. In my head I was trying to work out how to go about making the change from looking like a rabbit-in-headlights to throwing disco shapes in the most inconspicuous way possible.
After experiencing some negative vibes towards the ‘mummy blogger’ community at a blogger event I attended, I wrote this post explaining why I am more than OK to be ‘just a mummy blogger’. It seemed resonate with so many of you.
I don’t want people to lust after some made up ‘lifestyle’ I’m selling. I want people to nod along as they read my writing, to recognise themselves in my words and to feel like they can relate to the things I’m going through. That, to me, makes me a ‘successful blogger’ in my own right.
Shortly after my 28th birthday I wrote this post about how I feel about ‘growing up’ (it turns out I don’t much like it). Do you suffer with Peter Pan syndrome? Great! Let’s build a den!
I accept that I’m an adult. I accept that I have responsibilities (my mini human, being the most important of them all). I have bills to pay. A mouth to feed. A home to take care of. A husband to love and cherish.
But please, don’t ever tell me I’m a ‘grown up’. That is the WORST.
On the 9th June I married my partner, Stephen. During the run up to our wedding I wrote this post – it was basically me ‘thinking out loud’ about the pros and cons of keeping my maiden name. It got a lot of really interesting and thought-provoking comments. FYI – I have kept my maiden name… for now!
Sometimes life presents you with opportunities to wipe the slate clean and start again. Opportunities such as starting a new job or moving to a new area. You can reinvent yourself a little. I feel the same way about a name change.
In September, we made the big decision to send Jasmine to nursery for two mornings a week. As a stay-at-home mum, I felt incredibly guilty about this decision. Ultimately, I was sure that it was the right thing for us to do, as a family. If you’re weighing up the pros and cons of sending your little one to nursery, this post is for you…
That’s what us mums do, isn’t it? We make decisions for our children, in the hope that they are in their best interests, and then proceed to feel guilty about them. Regardless of the outcome.
This may seem an odd post to include in my ‘highlights’ and I suppose it is, in a way. It’s a post that was both incredibly difficult to write and to read back but here’s the thing: we need to talk about miscarriage. The more we can be open about the subject, the less taboo it becomes and the less isolated and lonely, those of us going through it, will feel. I don’t want sympathy – I want a baby. Still, we need to talk about miscarriage.
All I’ve ever wanted to do is grow babies, give birth to them and nurture them. And I can’t. It’s not working. I’m not working. Or at least, that’s what it feels like. My body is broken. My heart is broken.
It’s a moment that every parent dreads, their child losing a favourite toy. This is a story about the day my daughter’s beloved Jellycat Bunny went missing. (Have tissues on stand by!)
“Well, this does not look good.” I said to Stephen, feeling extremely downbeat. “The first 24 hours are the most critical, if we’re ever going to find him.”
I wrote this post when Jasmine was 9 months old. In those 9 short months she had managed to teach me so much about life. Find out how she taught me to love myself, be determined and have a jolly good cry every now and again!
My daughter is constantly showing me what life is all about. She doesn’t understand the concept of inhibitions, let alone have any. Her mind is unaffected by society – it’s pressure to look, act and be a certain way.
Is there a blog post that you wrote in 2015 that you’re particularly proud of? Tell me about it. :)