“Why do you not consider yourself a mummy blogger?” I hear you cry (well you are reading this so you must be semi-interested).

Oh, ok, “Why do you not consider yourself a mummy blogger?” I hear you mutter, half an eye on your phone, half an eye on Paul Hollywood on GBBO (ugh, do you fancy him? gross).

Well, bit of background – I’m only just in the position where I actually call myself a blogger – I am hopelessly self deprecating and ridiculously polite. I’m the idiot who says ‘I’m so very sorry’ when someone slams me into a wall on the tube. And I’m the person who thanks someone extensively in a shop whilst parting with an extortionate amount of money just because I’m too embarrassed to admit I walked into the wrong shop. I have NO idea where I am going to keep that giant rabbit statue I bought last week. You try convincing your husband a giant rabbit statue wasn’t an impulse buy and having to pretend you’ve wanted one for ages:

Me: ’It was such good value compared to the others babes’

Him – ‘WHAT OTHERS??’

(By the way I’m not telling you this for the sympathy vote – purleeease don’t feel sorry for me. I’ll feel bad that you feel sorry for me and then start feeling sorry for you and get all apologetic – I’m telling you – it’s like an uber polite disease of the mouth.)

Anyway – despite the fact that I regularly write a blog I have been reluctant to call myself a blogger as I feel a bit of a fraud somehow. If I was a real blogger shouldn’t I have a proper camera, a monochrome house and some petals to decorate my meals with? Or at the very minimum half a clue how to update a plug-in… but anyway, I am a blogger. And I have managed to take the ‘just’ out of the equation (mainly thanks to an inspo talk by Mother Pukka). I am not ‘just’ a blogger. I am a blogger (so sorry to be so direct – oh SHUT UP politeness affliction).

But I’m not a mummy one, and the reasons are threefold – (enter bizarre powerpoint presentation):

No.1. It weirds me out when other people call me mummy.

Unless you are actually my offspring, please don’t call me mummy. I HATE it when adults say things like ‘And what does Mummy think?’  to my kids to elicit a response from me. This is because (a) it takes me ages to realise they are talking to/about me and (b) I am not their mummy (take note breast feeding counsellor who says ‘she just wants mummy’ about my baby, I am NOT your mummy – NO SUCKLING – back up ladycakes. And (this is not going to be popular)  even when people say ‘I am mummy to two little girls’ I don’t like it. I am not your two little daughters, no need to alter your language for the aged ones amongst us – just say I have two daughters. Job. Done.

No.2. It doesn’t make grammatical sense.

People can blog about things like make-up or food. They are make-up bloggers or food bloggers. I don’t blog about mummies. It would be rrrr-ubbish (e.g. there is a mummy two doors down, I have a mummy, I am a mummy etc etc). I blog mainly about children or parenting. Child blogger would be more apt but when people meet me they may be slightly confused as to why I am a 5 foot something ladychild wearing shit loads of make-up.

No.3. Do we have to assign our parenting status to what we do now?

It seems weird, I mean that would make my husband a Daddy Accountant (OMG have you ever heard a title as unsexy) or that lady from down the road a Mummy Marketing Account Manager (is that even a role? I’m making up titles now, I’ve been out of work for a while, need to talk to Daddy Human Resources about that). But it’s weird right? Are you a Sister Nurse (sounds quite nun-like) or a Brother Chef (still a clergy vibe) perhaps you’re a Cousin Fireman (hellllo) or an Uncle Ticket Warden (goooodbyyye).

Just because thrice upon a time I had unprotected sex doesn’t warrant me having a job title right?

Right.

And that, if you’re still with me, is why I don’t consider myself a Mummy Blogger.

Call me anything else – a blogger, a parenting blogger, That Mum Blog, a bit of a twat, ANYTHING. But (please) don’t call me that. Hell you can even call me Helen, I’m not precious if you get my name wrong.

But for now this Mummy blogger is signing off,

As just Hattie.

In other news I have large rabbit statue for sale. Collection only. Van required.