Indelible

a personal blog

Tag: blogging

Shuffling in

I’ve been faithfully renewing this domain every year, and it’s nearly due for renewal again. Of course I hate blogging. I hate journaling, though I give it a try at the beginning of every year. It’s just one more thing to beat myself up about. And a lot has changed since my last post back in 2014. There’s been a change in the family personnel. Jack, our dear and beloved black-and-white cat, died in may last year of kidney failure. We now have Ollie and Luna, two dark brown and white tabbies. Luna is featured in the photo at the top of the page, and Ollie is at the top of this post. We also have new hens in Willow, Laurel, Hazel, and Holly. We still have Shelley, but Buttercup died of a heart attack in january this year.

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E is for… Eee by the ‘eck lad!

Which is my way of saying I am stumped. I’ve thought about it all day and I cannot come up with an entry for “e”. I know, I know, you’re thinking for heavens sake woman, it’s staring you in the face! E could be for Easter. Thing is, I don’t celebrate Easter. I’m a Pagan, so this sabbat is Ostara. And it actually began on march 21, which was the spring equinox. Oh yes, we had chocolate eggs, went out on saturday to Llanarchaeron and watched the children running around on an Easter egg hunt. But it’s not the same, when it’s not your festival. I “get it” when devout Christians get narked about how commercial Christmas has become, because Samhain is my sabbat. But it’s Hallowe’en for everyone else, so it’s all about cute costumes for children, sexy this-and-that costumes for women, and lots of sweets. But for me it’s about honouring the people I love who have gone on into the Summerlands. Okay, people I care about who have died. Ahem, so it’s a solemn and serious time for me. Also, my mother died on november 1 2010, which makes it even more serious.

But y’know, I wouldn’t stop people from enjoying it in their own way. Nor would I want to even tell people they shouldn’t overindulge on oval shaped chocolate, or stop calling it Easter. It is what it is. It doesn’t matter whether it started thousands of years ago or just two thousand, or whether it goes by other names: when you boil it down, it’s a nice time to spend a day or so with the family, out in the spring air and enjoying the end of winter. Or the end of summer, if you live on t’other side of the world.

So this isn’t much of a blog entry, but it will do for today. I’m just getting into the idea of blogging every day so I’ll be gentle with myself and accept that there are going to be some days when I will struggle.

Blogging Madness!

In a mad attempt to force myself to blog more regularly; for if you build it, then they will visit; I signed up to two blogging marathons in april. (Marathons? Is that a good term for it?) One of them is an off-shoot of NaNoWriMo, Najowrimo. And the other is Blogging From A-Z. (Only as I’m British, it’s Blogging From A-Zed, not Zee.)

Why do I need to “force” myself to blog? It’s not as if my life depended on it. The thing is, I get that blogging and journalling is a good thing. But it doesn’t come naturally to me. It falls into the category of being not nice. It feels like showing myself up, as my mother would say. And who would want to read the ponderings of what I like to call my mind anyway? I find I tend to write journal entries in letters to penpals. Sometimes something someone will write will spark me off. Several pages later I’ll realise that I have written a journal entry. Meanwhile, weeks will have gone by before I dust off my actual journal or log into my blog.

So, here I am, journalling and blogging every day in april. Will I do it? Will my mind dribble out of my left ear with the strain of it all? Stay tuned, same bat-channel!

I Love Your Blog! Swap-Bot Swap

As part of this swap, I am to comment on my partners’ blogs.

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I’ll Never Stop Being A Mummy

Today I want to write about mummy blogs (or mommy blogs, if you’re from t’other side of the Big Pond).  Oh, and why they irritate me.

Oh come on, I don’t mean that I’m irritated by people, specifically mothers, who blog about their kids.  I read Dooce, and some other blogs by mothers. But, it would seem that mummy blogs are limited to women who are mothers of small children: babies, toddlers and so on. So what about someone, i.e. me, who is the mother of a 23-year-old daughter. Am I not a mummy too?

I’ve not seen any blogs by older women with older children. It’s usually the 20-somethings who are blogging about their own kids. Which begs the question: is blogging confined to young women? Actually it begs for another question: are the thoughts, memories and opinions of mothers of adults not worth tuppence ha’penny?

Being the parent of a child who is an adult has its own problems, worries and amusements. There’s the whole empty nest symdrome for starters. I was fully prepared for the fact that my daughter had more or less home when she went off to university at the age of 18. Then, we were living in Merthyr Tydfil and she went to university in Aberystwyth, which is quite a considerable distance, especially when you’re a family with no car and no one can drive anyway. Then, just before she started her final year, we actually moved to Aberystwyth. She lived in town, in a student flat, but came home on the ‘bus every saturday, with a bag-full of washing. I would also meet her in town on a tuesday, to have lunch and do a little shopping together. We actually became closer, L and I, enjoying some mother and daughter time.

After graduation, she stayed at home and worked in a local pet chain store for a while, then she went away to Anglesey to work for the RSPB for six months. She came home again for a few more months, then in october 2008 she went to New Zealand for seven months. Again, it was back home for four months, then she started an MSc at Manchester Metropolitan university. So again, she has left home. I have no idea what she’s going to do when she graduates this year. She might come home for a while, get a job locally, or she might be off again. I know she’d like to work as a warden on Skoma Island one day, and she’s often talked about working in the South Pole, of all places!

So as you can see, it really is not the same as being the mother of a toddler. When my daughter was very young, there were no blogs. Imagine that! No internet as such either. I know, it’s the stuff of nightmares, but I coped. We all coped, in fact, at that time. But if there were no blogs about it, does that mean that it didn’t exist? Of course not, I’m being absurd. What I am trying to say is that it is the category “mummy blogs” that annoys me. It doesn’t leave any room for blogs that go beyond the early teens, nor does it acknowledge that motherhood is for life: the life of the child and the mother.

The reason why baby/toddler mummy blogs are so popular is because of the commercial potential of them. Advertisers do not want to hear about old people, unless they are in the context of old folk’s homes, provision for the elderly etc. There is no commercial reason for sponsoring parental blogs when the child is an adult. The ‘net is about now, not then; anything that happened yesterday is old and boring.

Well tough. As I wrote in an earlier post, I really don’t care what other people write about. I am a mother, I am the mother of a 23-year-old daughter who might end up working on the moon one day and I’d like to blog about it. In fact, I willblog about it, if that ever happens. (Could you know, she is very interested in exo-biology.) This is a mummy blog; and a cat blog, and a hen blog and a making cards blog and a whatever-I-feel-like-at-the-time blog. Sorry, no pigeonholes here.

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