So. Good week? Nice day? Any thoughts? We have one open post a week on Mamamia, where we can all talk about anything you like. Anything at all. And here it is.
I’ve been writing more column posts on Mamamia lately so I’ve taken a break from writing the weekly Open Post but I thought I’d make a return today.
Many commenters have asked how we’re doing with the increased level of argy bargy that comes with increased traffic. Double edged sword etc. The answer is that mostly we’re fine with it. Rude comments are deleted as soon as we see them. Life goes on.
I was a bit exhausted though yesterday. A wee bit battered. It didn’t last long. I bounced back pretty quickly and I’m feeling much better today. But it is a unique and extremely challenging experience to read hundreds of rude comments about yourself, without being able to be rude back, lest you be accused of, you know, BEING RUDE. Or BULLYING. UNFOLLOW.
This column I wrote about a fight I recently had with a stranger on a plane blew up as a number of commenters went quite feral. It’s always these kinds of seemingly innocuous posts – when they go that way – that catch me unawares. When I write about controversial topics like abortion or feminism or gay marriage or when I take on organised aggressive groups like the anti-vaccination AVN, I’m braced for the onslaught. And in most cases, it’s a spirited debate about ISSUES. Not me.
But when I write about something that happened in my own life and I get slammed for it, well, that’s harder to know how to respond. The way I write has always been to take situations in everyday life and sort of analyse them. Often using myself as a punch line. I never particularly try to show myself in a positive, perfect light. I find it much more interesting to explore the more authentic bits of my life. The unintentionally funny or awkward or uncomfortable or embarrassing bits.
Just as I did for the column about my fight with the stranger. Anyway. It’s all part of the peaks and troughs that come with this gig. My only concern is that I don’t want that kind of loud negativity (negative commenters are always the loudest and most memorable!) to sit on my shoulder next time I’m writing my column and inhibit me from telling the truth about something I did or felt or said for fear I’ll get slammed. Because sure, I could portray this fictitious, glossy magazine version of myself and my life but I walked away from that because I don’t think it’s helpful to other women. To be fake or only talk about the good bits.
So that’s me.
On another note, it’s the Easter Hat parade at my daughter’s school today, followed by a family picnic and easter egg hunt. I’m dashing out of the office to go to the parade but I have a meeting after that and can’t stay for the hunt and picnic. And you know what’s SO interesting about this (to me)? I don’t feel guilty. I keep waiting for it to hit. To feel terrible about not making it to the hunt and the picnic. But for some unknown reason, I’m totally cool about it.
Her nanny who she adores will be there with her own baby daughter and my younger son and I feel completely secure in the knowledge that I’m doing my best to be there for the parade and she’ll have a great time without me afterwards.
If you are a guilt-ridden mother, I just wanted to tell you that to make you feel better. I’m sure I haven’t put my guilt to bed forever but the lightness I feel without it today is quite delightful.
We had some great time together, my daughter and I, on the weekend at Young Talent Time where I took her to watch the show being taped. We loved it so much that I’m going to write a whole post about it this Friday. But I’ve put a few sneak peek shots in the photo gallery below:
What’s on your mind?
Top Comments
Oops, typo.....first line..."she".nthats what you get for a first time blog.
Ok, firstly my parter suggested I blog, well he didn't actually use those words but suggested all her girlfriends would agree with her and as most follow this site, here I am. Now as to why. I did the washing, again. No, I didn't put in red footy socks with white tee's, nor did I put her nice undies in with my industrial strength jeans, darks with darks.....simple. Or so I thought. No. "How many times have I asked you not to do the washing" she yelled....umm....weren't we at therapy and didn't you say "...if he only did more around the house, things would be good between us". So in search of eternal happiness I lifted my game....so you can appreciate my surprise at her reply. You see I didn't use the pre-wash option so aparently it had to go through again....and all her girlfriends pre-wash and I am once again relegated to the Neanderthal bench with my fellow males....note to self, time to re-read Men are from Mars (right after I read the instruction manual to the washing machine). AB.