Becoming a parent, I was prepared for many things to change.
I would sleep less, socialise less, pee alone less.
I decided to counteract this by becoming a parenting blogger.
A Mummy Blogger if you please.
I knew that by rebranding myself from Stay at Home Mum to Mummy Blogger, could only have positive results.
The role of Mummy Blogger would come with some pretty sweet perks.
My children would spend most of their time being funny and providing me with hilarious anecdotes, the rest of the time they would be thoughtful – giving me the opportunity to humblebrag about how fantastic they are when they want to donate all their birthday money to the local rabbit sanctuary.
They would ALWAYS pose nicely together for pictures in clean, ironed outfits and my house would be immaculate!
Mummy Bloggers ALWAYS have amazing houses don’t they?
Clean, crisp – not a hair out of place or a toy to be seen.
Instagram tells us this – it must be true.
I couldn’t wait to get typing and reap the rewards.
I’d probably be gifted one of those retro type chairs from Habitat, a super cool rug from John Lewis and rustic looking lighting created from reclaimed tram lines and sold on Etsy.
Heck, I’d probably even hire interior designers to complete the look and make sure it all looked ‘just so’.
Two and a half years down the line and I have come to the conclusion that:
Mummy Bloggers don’t actually have children
Mummy Bloggers are big fibbers*
I have discovered that for as long as my children exist within my four walls – Mummy Blogger or not – I am never going to have that house.
I will never have white walls, a vast, clear floor space and no one is offering me a fancy retro chair.
My walls have marks on that are difficult to identify and impossible to remove, I can’t even find a clean enough patch to use as an Instagram backdrop.
My rug has play dough and sausage roll trodden into it.
There are tiny, painful trains, strategically placed throughout the room for maximum impact and the idiot cat has scratched the couch to within an inch of it’s life.
I’m starting to realise that I have been sold a lie, it’s impossible to have children under 15 and a spotless house.
Maybe I’ll rebrand as a Travel Blogger, after all, they’re always getting free trips to Disneyland right?
*I have absolutely no evidence to prove this…
This post is a collaboration – I did NOT become a blogger for fancy stuff. If I wanted fancy stuff I’d have done better getting a real job or robbing Next.