“Do you know where I can find girls?” The man in the black Trilby hat asked me. His coarse cut moustache overhangs his lips as his smile widens and he waits for my response …I should have run. I should have kept running until my legs ached. But I didn’t. 
I am 12 years old. It’s July, we are in the middle of an unusually blistering and sticky English Summer heat wave. My brother Dave and his best mate Colin are fishing off the banks of the River Wensum. I am with them. Bored, I haul my red bike up off the gravel and pedal off along the bank. A big oak tree overhanging a park bench stops me. The welcoming shade beckons as I drop my red bike in a fashion that reminds me of my mother’s heed; that I do not look after my things. I sit down on the bench and the coolness immediately relaxes me. I am tall for my age, but still my legs dangle off the floor. I glance downstream, squinting through the warm light and watch as my brother yanks his line with another slippery eel hooked from the depths of the brown water.
In the same direction a man walks slowly up the bank towards me. I think he looks odd in his black hat and long overcoat. I think he must be very hot. I expect him to walk by. I expect his Golden retriever or whatever dog he must have to appear by my side – surely that is why he is approaching me. He still is smiling. I think he must be smiling at me as there is no dog and no-one else around. I expect him to keep walking by. I want him to keep walking by. He stops. He sits down. He is still smiling at me. I don’t want to smile back, I don’t know him. I don’t think I like him. I turn away from the man sitting next to me and watch my brother and Colin. They do not see me. Instead they are kneeling on starched grass bank, one each side of the keep net laughing as they hoist the green cage to inspect their swirling and interlocking mass of black, wet ,eel. I wonder briefly if they plan to let the creatures go free. What I really want is for them both to see me and come over to this bench. I want an excuse to leave. I don’t have one. So I smile back at the man, who is still smiling and staring at me.
He asks me his question. “Do you know where I can find girls?” 12-year-old me relaxes. He is lost I think. Or he just needs to find someone.
“Have you tried the pub up there?” I notion towards the red building behind us; someone told me once it was a gay bar, but I figured he might get lucky all the same.
“No.” he said “I tried there. There are not any girls there.”
“Oh.” I say. That figures I think. “What about the River restaurant. Or the maybe the shops?” I offer with a little more enthusiasm. I am helping him after all. It’s in my nature to be helpful and kind.
“No, I don’ think so.” He says and I am sure he has moved a little bit closer to me. “Will you show me where I can find girls?”
I look at his face. His moustache is very ugly. I don’t like this man. Something in my head is telling me to walk away. But that would be rude wouldn’t it? My brother and Colin are almost packed up now. They have pulled on their huge backpacks and picked up their bikes off the ground. I hope they have not forgotten I am here.
“That’s my brother and his friend down there.” I point with some vigor, to underline what I am trying to tell this man. I know what I am trying to articulate. I want him to understand that I am not alone. I know what this is, I think to myself. I think I know what you are. I don’t look at him again as he walks back the way he came.
Nearly 30 years later and still I remember that day with vivid recall. I don’t think I ever talked about it. Maybe I tried. But what was it? Even now, a grown woman in her 40’s with my own little girl to be fearful for I wonder who that man is. Did he try to succeed with another girl? Did he rape another girl? Is that girl still alive to tell her story? Did I get lucky that day or was I just about sensible enough; old enough to get out of what I knew might be happening? Why didn’t I go to the Police? Why didn’t I tell someone, make someone listen? The aftermath is fuzzy now. I think maybe I have blocked it somehow. But I do understand how it can happen. No matter what you tell your kids, how much you enforce stranger danger and talking with people you don’t know – I still think that there is manipulation of the innocent mind to contend with and that is the source of doubt that is used in these situations, by those that seek to hurt our babies.
With this in mind, where do we draw that line? At what point do you stop with the scare tactics and protection of your child and let them make their own choices? Do we continue to body-guard them until they turn eighteen and over? When do we allow them the right to figure it out for themselves and when do you know they are ready? Already I struggle with the fine balance of a nurturing a friendly open and loving little girl and teaching her about her own and others personal space. She is like me you see – she will talk to anyone and sees the good in everyone; she has no fear of strangers. This is my fear.
So I strive on, with 12 year old me in my mind’s eye; sitting on the banks of the River Wensum, trying to figure it out. I will teach my little girl and guide her as best I can. I might even tell her what happened to Mummy that day. I will protect as best I can but I will not and should not be with her 24/7 forever. The day will come, all too soon I suspect when her need for independence will outweigh my need to protect her. I just hope the time in between is enough to give her the knowledge and confidence to see her through.
Nothing Changes if Nothing Changes…..
Nothing changes if nothing changes someone told me matter of fact. She is right of course-a statement of truth if ever I heard it. But when do you know if it’s the right time to change the path you are on? Do you simply move your own posts wider just when it kicks into the too hard goal net? Or is this a tricky test of will on when not to give up?
Do we ignore the problem or do we change direction simply because it gets too hard? What if we are on the right path – but the destination is in fact the journey and all that is required is the stamina to get to the top of the mountain?
I believe there is a point of no return. I don’t want to stop trying either. Perhaps when the little voice in your head turns into a scream its time to re- evaluate and look at the options. I suspect if we just open our eyes the change required is staring us in the face. Keep going: run or walk however you need to get there.But just keep going!
Don’t you dare tell me how it is until you have walked in my shoes – Ok, I hear you, but here is my toddler Top Ten of curve ball catching.
I trolley bashed another mum of a Miss 2 today. Not my fault; Lily had dived bombed the floor display of the Super strong loo paper and I simultaneously cranked on my heels and U turned to the carnage. Too late, the sky-high display kind of did this slow motion box domino free fall. All I can say is thank goodness she was a mummy of a toddler. I got a free pass as she masterly swerved the falling paper-rolled debris and somehow avoided another display of half priced something or other. But here is the thing; rather than scorn my lack of parental supervision or give me the eye up, eye down tut-tut. She instead, without a word, bent down and started to retrieve and re-stack the packets with me. We did not speak. I don’t think either of us wanted to. We simply exchanged the worn exhausted smile and got on with fixing the problem. You know the look? It’s that one that comes with the exact knowing of that moment. She feels for you. She understands. She is you on a different day. So, here for the love of sharing and not advising is my Top 10 of useful get out of jail free cards to help with those more sticky moments as you make the grade through toddler-ship academy.
1. There is something alien in the mouth. It’s not food – but it sure does taste good!
Here’s the thing; babies pick up and chew on stuff because they don’t know any better. Toddlers do it to piss you off. If you try to extract it the old-fashioned fingers in the mouth way, two things are likely to happen. One: you will get bitten. Two: they will choke on the alien and off to A&E you go. I now use the barter system. Pretend you don’t care (that’s hard but go with this) and then offer something else. As long as whatever the swap is it’s bigger than their mouth hole or better still, it’s yummy and they can actually eat it without choking or poisoning themselves.
2. Time to leave -but the toddler heels are stuck firmly in the stay position? How to make the exit – without the tantrum.
Create fun in the goodbye. Literally. Be it the bath, play time in the park, or in a toy store or in a pile of toilet roll. Say goodbye to everything and not just their play mates. Say goodbye to the ducks – say goodbye to the swings. Say goodbye to the muddy puddle. Make it light-hearted and fun and say it first yourself. I was totally surprised by this one – and it works every time now (well nearly every time!) No crying and no battle to get away. 
3. Food tantrums. Urghhh; the pain of cooking to have it literally thrown back in your face. I know that sitting down together and doing the whole Walton thing round the table is not always possible. But honestly, apart from engrossed in a Peppa Pig DVD watching others eat can be stimulating for a toddler. No-one likes to eat alone do they?
4. Try Food Fun on a Plate. Colours and shapes and faces. I took this photo of Lily’s supper. It’s just a jacket potato, with vegetables and a bit of cheese. Nothing fancy in it but with just a little bit of creative fun, it can be so much more – for totally no effort. Lily loved it. I told her it was the potato man. I actually got her back onto Broccoli with this one! (But only when its potato mans hair!)
5. Surprise on your plate! I sometimes give Miss 2 some strawberries on her scrambled egg, or some Kiwi sliced up over her ham sandwiches. Obviously they eat the fun stuff first, and you could be setting yourself up – but, then again, I find on the whole it does work. It stimulates their taste buds into I am hungry. I want more. If they are in the middle of a food tantrum especially, it calms the situation down.
6. I hate tomatoes. YUK. But Miss 2 is not me.
It’s a fact. I hate tomatoes. I avoid them at all costs in their natural state. My mum loves them and nothing gives her greater pleasure than a tomato sandwich, pinch of salt and pepper. So when she asked me – does Lily like tomatoes? I immediately answered no! Mum came to stay a few months later and I walked in to find Nanny and granddaughter happily munching on a tomato sandwich. I felt sick to watch it (It’s that bad for me) but the point is Lily loves tomatoes. Enough said.
7. Who’s afraid of the big bed? I am and the fact she can get out of it.
The big bed. She is in and it’s going well. Then one night you decide to jump in with them – you read a story – and its time to get out, but then they seem unsettled tonight, that back molar is hurting and the dribble in is full flow; an extra cuddle is your last thought as you drift off. It’s a big bed after all –with lots of room for both of you. It’s a big mistake. All those months of self settling and getting them used to being alone at night can go out of the window. It seems easier I know, but before you know it, they will not sleep without you being near by, they associate the big bed – with you in it. Kiss them goodnight for sure – but don’t set yourself up to kiss goodbye to those precious couple of hours before your bedtime.
8. NO, NO, NO-When did that get added with such venom to their vocabulary?
Just about the time I started saying to her I suspect. I corrected it with replacing the No with an explanation or a positive or just an alternative. Keep NO for the big stuff. The final word and if you can say it to their face on eye level and firmly quiet – unless of course they are about to play dodge with on coming truck or they are bashing little Jimmy with a baseball bat…..you know what I mean. It’s an overused word and it does not carry weight after a while. It just becomes the word they throw back at you.
9. Mummy there’s Gecko is in my wardrobe! Fear is learnt.
I am talking the little things here like spiders and creepy crawlies. If you live, like me in sun drenched Australia or similar where the Top Ten snakes and Spiders in the world can kill you – you kind of have to take things seriously in the bug department. But, there is a healthy respect and then there is fear. I don’t like bugs especially big as your hand spiders, but I try very hard not to show fear with Lily when we encounter them. Sure I tell her not to touch, and to leave the little creatures alone – and to be fair to her , apart from squashing ants – she does this well. But if you are scared of spiders and you display it. Chances are they will learn off you and fear them too. Break the cycle.
10. No that’s it. I don’t have 10. It just sounded better than TOP 9.I could do with a few more though. Share with me your curve ball catching; I could do with the help!
Need V Want: Is this the eternal struggle of a Working Mum?
“Your psychometric test results do not match our required employee profile.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I asked the recruitment woman with half-moon glasses. She spins her red swivel chair, back to face me, and then shuffles my computer generated profile stats into a neat pile.
“You’ll get bored within one week.”
“No I won’t.”
She does not respond. She simply arranges her shiny, ultra thin, black Biro on top of her super squared off pile of paper; leans forward, ever so slightly, and then stares me out over the top of her metal rims.
“I need this job.” I tell her quietly, lowering my eyes.
“Yes. But do you want it?”
I want to scream “Yes!”, if only to shut her up. Psychometric testing? Bah! What a load of crap!
But I’d be a liar.
But here is my secret.I do need this particular job; I need its flexible roster hours. I need the no pressure; except to turn up and leave on time. I need to clock on and then 7.5 hours later to clock off. I need no expectation of myself to do any more or any less. It is what it is. The recruitment woman told us so. Her exact words – “I don’t care who does your shift – as long as someone does” See? I am invisible, a bum on the chair. I have no face, merely a workstation number.
This is the job I need to survive as a working mum. No after hour’s phone calls. No thinking or planning my workload outside of the job. No unplanned early starts or late nights. No overlap to blur the lines of time devotion and more to the point energy devotion. This is what I need.
But then my inner self taps me on the shoulder and whispers in my ear. But this is not what you want is it?
Can we have what we need and what we want? Are they one of the same? Or do you trade one off for the other? Is this new selfless life as a working parent a compromise or am I bailing for fear of failure at the first hurdle? Am I ignoring who I am because I am too afraid to take the challenge? You bet I am. I am terrified. I am scared of failing miserably. I am scared of letting myself down most of all. There I said it. I have to find the balance here. You see I think I need to have ‘want’ in my life to keep moving forward. If I just settle for need, then it stops at just the basic essence. I am not pushing myself in any form, so therefore I am stagnant. I need to open my eyes and stop hiding behind myself and what I believe my situation to be. Just because I have not juggled work and parenting – does not mean it cannot be more than the basic need, after all compromise does not equal selling out after all does it? It’s just hard having an argument in your own head sometimes I guess…….
Does anyone else feel the same ? Any thoughts will be appreciated……………
When Life Throws you a Lemon; Chuck it in your Vodka Tonic !
Today had disaster written all over it; the moment I unwrapped a ladies personal hygiene pad and realized the slab of foam in my hand was in fact an incontinence nappy pad. My mad dash around the chemist combined with Miss 2’s forever dissolving attention span translated to random purchase. Our battle of wills; her to be a free spirit and me to hold her down in the shopping cart, with only a flicker of attention to my task as I scuttle down the aisles – throwing food at her, as I go.
I stared at the over-sized protector, wondering if I cut it into quarters; it might just work, especially if I wore my really big Bridget Jones cotton tummy huggers. Then the phone shrilled and interrupted my quandary. 
The day got worse; as the voice on the other end advised me I had been unsuccessful in the job, I interviewed for this week. Hanging up, I took a moment to ponder the rejection and the gargantuan personal hygiene wadding in my hand and reckoned it had to be five o’clock somewhere in the world. Deciding Moscow was as good a place to be as any; I switched my time clock to Russia and dusted off the Vodka bottle, from the back of the cupboard whilst contemplating if my legs would hold up to a bout of random Cossack dancing. Deciding not, I tippy toed the bottle back on the shelf and got back to my reality jobless with only a value pack of incontinence pads to console me.
But then it struck me; a new business venture! What if the incontinence pads were re marketed as your long haul travel companion? No more stopping for toilet breaks on the road trips. Stuck in a traffic jam? Who cares!! You can pee yourself safe in the knowledge that the wet patch stays dry. The ideas are rolling and I have not even sniffed the Vodka – Aeroplanes, coach journeys – Or just – Sofa Friday night football……You know, I might just have found my new vocation after all……
Who will love me when you’re dead and gone? Tomorrow; the day you never get to see.
“Do you know Palm Beach?” the old lady asked me “It’s where all the movie stars live.” she pauses and I follow her blue eyes as she stares out beyond the skyline and we both take in the moment of where we are; waiting on the concrete, outside the closed bank doors that frame the soulless, High Street of my suburban hell hole.
It’s different from here….” She trails off, as we turn to each other to block out the streetscape. Its looks, from the dismal expression on her face – she feels the same way.
‘I’m 85’ she tells me and smiles. It’s a proud warm smile. I want to congratulate her, but I don’t want to sound condescending. So instead I smile back.
“I’m moving up here with my son and his family. But it’s a big move.” She explains to me.
“It is.” I agree “But you only have to do it once” I say without thinking, naively figuring she needed the reassurance.
“I’ve been in that house for 50 years.”
“It’s a good time to de-clutter.”
“I have Cancer.”
I don’t offer an apology. There is no sincerity in that reply today, and I know she does not want one. She is not quite resolved to her fate yet. Her blue eyes, youthful, look odd against her creased, over powdered skin. I sink into them as they reflect her minds eye window of her ocean view. I can taste the sea air for her. I bite the salt on my bottom lip almost in despair to feel it for her. She does not belong here. But here she is – with no where else to go.
Lily and I leave the old lady in her thoughts as the bank doors open, and we go about the rest of our day. But, I cannot forget her. What will happen in years to come if Lily decides Australia is not home? I wonder as I load up the groceries into the car. Will this be our fate in years to come? Tomorrow even? I ponder and I hug Lily a little bit tighter, as I tuck her into her bed. Will someone look out for our daughter if we are not here to look out for her tomorrow? Who is that someone? 
Meeting the old lady has opened up a Pandora Box, that I really had no desire to take a peek into – let alone fling the latch wide open. But now, as I have – I think I must look inside; as no-one knows what tomorrow holds. Live for today and the now; I hear and see the words every day – and yet I do not. Always deciding tomorrow is that day. So what to do? I have two choices: I can wait, plan, dream for tomorrow or I can get on with it now. I will tell my husband I love him now – rather than think it after he leaves. I will pull on my gum boots now and jump in muddy puddles now, rather than wait for the Sun. I will buy the gorgeous dress now rather than wait for the sale. I will experience life now and not just plan the dream for tomorrow. I will take the chance now, have the fun now and take that leap of faith now. I will stop waiting on the tomorrow, as the one thing I have learnt this week – is the one day that never comes.
Back to Work Mum? It’s OK, celebrate and eat your cheese sandwich sitting down.
Over a much needed flat white a girlfriend of mine -a crazy, talented, hectic mum of two under 7’s shuffled her chair in closer to me, and whispered her dirty little secret. She said, ‘Working is a good thing you know. Ok, so it’s an hour of pain and struggle, to get them where they have to be in the morning. But then, you get your self radar back’. I had no idea what she meant – until now. Ok, parents so we might be working, but for a few hours a day – It’s all about you – leave your guilt suitcase at the door please. Here is my Top 4 for you.
1. I can hold a full conversation without getting interrupted and with full interaction with another adult; without keeping one eye on the climbing frame, paint brush, glue pot, potted plant, glass vase, the scissors and Lily’s best friend Finley’s hair. I might actually listen to someone again and fully engage in what they are saying.
2. I can stop guiltily wandering around the house, in permanent clean up mode; with an armful of
everything constantly putting stuff back where it’s supposed to belong, only to find something else in its place that’s needs to be somewhere else. The toothpaste on the kitchen counter, to find socks in the bathroom sink, colouring pencils in the sock drawer and your favourite YSL lipstick in the Pencil Pot….and so it goes on….all day, over and over and over. I must walk 20km around the house – easily. But if I am not there – who cares?
3. I can eat a sandwich sitting down. Or moreover I can eat a sandwich and eat it all by myself, whilst having a conversation with another human being; who too, is only interested in the conversation and maybe how much they are enjoying the taste of their Ham and cheese on toasted Rye.
4. My name is Paula. Not Lily’s mum, or Mummy or Darling (although all are just lovely) but just for a few hours. Just a few….Its all about me.
I could go on. But I have to go and find a job now. If you have any of your own to add to the list please lets hear them!
Divine Intervention – what are you up to? Do we really have choice – or is the Divine GPS taking the wheel?
When redundancy smacked me in the chops three months into maternity leave, I did wonder what was going on – universally speaking. For months, leading up to that moment, I had argued in my head and prattled on to anyone with ears; what I really wanted was to spend the first two years of our precious daughters new life at home. But the reality was I had faithfully promised my boss – to be back at my desk, full-time, after 6 months. So that was that.
So when the ‘see you never again- your service is obliterated’ call came; shocked, I hung up the phone. ‘I love my job’, I sobbed out loud, meanwhile in my head I was attending a funeral for “corporate me” . I plonked myself down on the sofa and stared into the crib as Lily slept – now what?
Then I started laughing. Fist punch. An odd reaction considering my income had just bomb blasted out and the old ego had taken a drive- by battering too. But as I unclenched my fist my fingers loosened and my index went off by itself, upwards to be precise- into a John Travolta air point. Under my tootsies my gorgeous, Italian cream floor tiles transformed themselves into flashing neon squares as the kitchen counter down lights mirror balled themselves. Suddenly here I was; John, me and the BEE GEES – STAYIN ALIVE – Oh yes we were!! Oooh.Oooh.Oooh.Oooh -Stayin ALIVE……yes I’m STAYIN ALIVE. My screech echoed the silence as my head space flicked channels from stunned mama into a feverish disco dancing queen and I randomly sock slid into the dishwasher.…and then it hit me.
For the first time in months, I felt ALIVE, I felt in control and I felt free. The choice was decided for me – and I could not have been happier. At that moment, I just knew this was my opportunity to do what I really wanted to do. Yes it was going to be difficult, but this intervention was not to be ignored……
So here I am. Almost 2 years later. I stayed at home as Divine intervention intended. I think. Yet here we are again, faced with decisions that will affect tomorrow. The road is not clear, we have obstacles to face, I am sure. Whichever route we take, it will have moments of what if ? - that is life. I just want to make the right decision this time. I don’t want the collision course this time; I want to take my road warning signs seriously, wear my seatbelt at all times and even use my indicator at the roundabouts…..well maybe not that far.
But my question to you today- is it choice? Do we get to pick the route or is it just a game with the destination pre- determined? If so, does it really matter if we take the freeway or the back roads, with its twists and turns and the occasional floodways to cross? Will who we meet at the traffic lights of life differ depending on the time, the day or the year of our journey- but will we meet them regardless at some point? Will we pass the road test at the end?
One foot in a stiletto and the other stuck in Play Doh – how do you fake it?
The time has come people. I have run out of excuses and, to be honest cash. Zilch, zero, it’s all gone, every last $$$ of my 20 year savings obliterated. The life clock has ticked past 
the deadline of Stay at Home Mum; and here I am. I have to get back into a paid job – NOW, and to be brutally honest, I am absolutely, mind blaringly terrified of holding it all together. I am not talking stealth, stiletto, and power suit career here.No, I just mean your bog standard, 9 to 5 slog. Millions of parents do it. They have to. We all do. I get that.
But how do you do it ? How can you split an already split share of your life pie and still feel 
that everyone has had enough to satisfy ? I scare myself as I curtain twitch some mornings, coffee in hand, and I see other parents herding their precious little people off for the day. I watch as mum, hurls herself and her two mini me’s out of the front door and into the car. She is half-dressed herself; jacket half on, jacket half off. No make up yet, flat shoes. She looks tired, harassed , and it’s not even 7.30 am yet. Still, the focus and determination on her face to get into that car is worthy of an Olympic sprinter staring down the white lines of the 100 metre track.I think if she wore flat shoes, she might win. You need flat shoes I think for this part of your working day. I am sure she is lacking in food or coffee or both. I am sure it will be almost lunchtime before she realizes or cares. I watch, a tiny little knot is forming in the pit of the my stomach and an uneasy frown, I know has creased my head; I know this is me. Very soon this will be me.
So the kids tumble into the car. Backpacks and socks half hitched, as Mr 7 smudges
strawberry jam onto his sisters clean white shirt. He smirks, as Mum, bent over, her head and her radar safely committed underneath the car seat, in the search for yesterdays discarded lunch box . Sometimes there is shouting; mostly from Mum, as car doors slam. Bang, bang, bang in unison; engine, reverse, gone. Silence. I can almost feel the exhale for her as she drops them at daycare and the school gate. But then what comes next for her? Do the flats come off and the stilettos go on at this point? Are you supposed to drive in stilettos? Do I have to wear stilettos these days? Another deep exhale as she syncs the car clock against her wrist watch and she breathes out….. Its OK, she is on schedule. Well for now. Let’s hope it stays that way. Lets keep everything crossed that the traffic lights are kind today. Lets hope little Miss under 4 holds her breakfast down and does not end up in sick bay again, because lets face it the Kindy nurse will ring; just as you head off into an important meeting, spreadsheet or whatever it is that you do, and you just know, that the nurse will call you first, rather than Dad, that’s just the way it is sometimes…………
So, here I am. Today, as I nightmare the inevitable, before I even open up the job seekers
page my mind starts racing with the unavoidable that will be my life the moment I click on APPLY NOW. Are you going to be a kind and understanding new boss? Especially in the first few weeks, when lets face it, I will be a physical mess as I stumble through your glass doors? Will you be pissed at me, when I get that phone call that little Miss 2 is sick and needs her Mummy? Will Mummy and Daddy fight over whose job it is now to do the cooking, cleaning, washing and the middle of the night call outs? Will she love me less, if I am not there for her ? This is my fear. I know I need to get over it, take a deep breath and know it will be different and I guess it will take some getting used to, by all of us, not just me. I just hope I can fake it, along with the other few million parents, out there. Deep breath. Here we go………………
A Liebster Blog award nomination and a timely chance to redeem my ‘likes’. The secret Club of WordPress opens her doors…………
So this week, I am nominated for the Liebster Blog award by the lovely http://livelaughlovegrow.wordpress.com. In itself, another squishy warm and fuzzy nod from my peers that I am doing OK with this blogging lark.So thank you. But it’s left me feeling a little side whacked; a hard shove in my back as I stumble forward. To finish me off, a little ouch flick behind my ears. A timely reminder; I can do better.
This world of blogging is a life valve for many of us. A connection with like-minded, we are a stash of untapped creative talent and a collective of everyday people who love to share their passion of written word expression. We do not get paid (well most of us), or have the luxury of it being a validated necessity for others. It’s not on the list of the tick tock guilt free passes. No, it’s squeezed awkwardly, somewhere between cleaning the loo and food shopping. A live diary and an outlet to breathe out onto our blogs that which we sometimes, in real-time, hold in. The freedom to write, articulate our fears, our opinions, our joy and our journey is unfortunately for many of us, way down on the list – and that 
sucks. It really does.
So let me get to the point, before you run out of time or concentration to read all of this down (its OK, I do it too) and that really is my point.
We all want our blogs validated by our peers. We all have our reasons as to why too. I sometimes feel a little huffy when I drop in on a blog, where the average’ likes’ roll into the hundreds, and I shuffle along with maybe double figures on a good week. I compare what I have to say with theirs – are they writing it better? Is what they have to say more interesting, relevant, humorous? Surely it cannot be just the tagging and the slog ship of regular posting? Is it?
No of course not. I found out this week exactly what it was and I feel like a complete idiot for not seeing it before…..
My nomination came from a beautiful blogger, of whom I am now (finally) taking the time to read their blog and find out who they are. You see they nominated me, and I had no idea about them. I am a selfish cow sometimes and I took my ‘likes’ off her, without thinking twice about it. Then she nominated me for the award. I nearly died, for fear of retribution from the WordPress Police, that until that point, I ignored her request to take a look at what she was up to. So obviously, I immediately jumped onto her blog, and sucked in her words. I sheepishly found a brilliant, honest and a talented writer. How on earth did I miss that one?
I am not saying, you have to follow everyone who likes, or follows you. Lets be honest, there are some fruitcakes out of there. Plus I have some quality, regular reads, that I connect with regularly and really enjoy. But, I found myself shutting off from new reads; I thought my cup was full. I was wrong. I have missed some wonderful blogs, through my inability to take the time, to check out my new ‘likes’ blogs. My time poor excuses are over. To make this blog work, and work well, it has to be a two-way street. So, I cannot nominate for my Liebster award just yet, as I only have half of the numbers to nominate. The rest is coming later.-when I find them. So starting from today, well earlier this week actually, I have already added a couple of new blogs to my reader that are just so refreshing and lively. So drop by, if you made it to the end of this post, comment if you will, and I promise to find you too.
