Michael Bolton and me

There are some mummy blogs that are aspirational, applying some heavy handed filtering to present a glossy and gloriously snot and poop free image of family life. Other bloggers sit firmly in the “honest” camp and choose to painstakingly cherry pick the hell (and hair) raising moments using sweary humour brilliantly for added effect. My little blog doesn’t feel like either. It’s all a bit middle of the road. A bit soft rock. A bit Michael Bolton. But with better hair (most days). 

Blogging gives you an opportunity. You can be whoever you want to be. So I toyed with creating a persona. Maybe I could construct an hilariously pithy and potty mouthed account of mummy life. That would be fun. Reading this kind of blog is after all massively therapeutic paired with a glass of wine (or large G&T) at the end of a long and chaotic day. But, I don’t swear (I still at 35 have my mum’s disapproving face hovering over my shoulder, pummelling at my conscience if I even dare to think in profanities) so it could all end up being a load of, well, boll**ks (sorry mum). 

So maybe I could be the glossy type. I could Instagram the life out of every photo and create an image of Johnson life that wouldn’t look amiss in a JoJo Maman Bebe catalogue. 

Look, I could nail glossy mum


But some days feel more like this

But I’m not sure I could keep this picture perfect pretence up, especially on the evenings when I’m sitting writing these blogs glass of wine in hand wearing clothes covered in snot and baby sick and with a day’s worth of dirty nappies piling up at the front door waiting for Mr J or I to give in and do the bin run. Hmmmm. 

The truth is I have some occasional days where I feel like we’re living in a stylish photoshopped life. When we’re splashing in the sea with the sun on us and snacking on picnics of neatly cut sandwiches and healthy snacks. Then there are occasional days where Poppy has snot encrusted around her nose for a little too long because I can’t face another battle with a toddler, Milly is so sicky I give up trying to stay sick free and simply wet wipe myself clean for the hundredth time and CBeebies and chocolate are used excessively to achieve calm. But most days are simply normal. We dissolve in laughter over the stupidest things (toilet humour is popular). We sing fantastically out of tune in an attempt to stop (or at least drown out) Milly screaming in the car. We make good cakes (usually from ready made mixtures) and rock hard biscuits that are truly disgusting. We play on the park sometimes when we should be doing bedtime and we have stressful battles to get out the door to nursery/wash hands before dinner/share nicely with cousins etc. It’s all very normal. But every laugh is genuine (as are the tears).  So my soul searching about my blogging persona uncovered one big revelation – our life is wonderfully middle of the road. And this is what makes it great. I hope it will make my blog a good read too. 

PS. Sorry if you clicked on this post expecting a hilarious tale of a chance meeting with Michael Bolton or a confessional piece about a fetish for men with nineties mullets. You must feel disappointed. 

PPS. Just to preserve some illusion of cool, I may be middle of the road mummy but I don’t actually have any Bolton hits in my music collection. Mr J would never allow it!


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