As Rummey Bears continues to evolve and morph into more of a personal mummy (type) blog I keep hitting walls of inner turmoil. Presently I'm mulling over the balance between keeping it aesthetically pleasing whilst remaining true to reality.
We interpret information based on our own experiences. If my experience on a particular day is that of Shitty With Raging Toddler I am not particularly receptive to someone who has merrily cooked and baked or sewn matching outfits for their children (and managed to document it all with a cumbersome DSLR). Nor do I take well to seeing the latest show-and-tell purchases, strategically placed objects in styled photographs or make-believe wishlists. As I write this I realise that on those days it's probably just best to stay off the computer at all. Dang.
However, on a good day these same things may wash over me as I bask in the interwebs endless stream of inspiration and try desperately not to follow any links for handmade wares on Etsy.
Initially I was quite content to pretty up my images (shove mess to the side, pull out a floral sheet here and there – that kinda thing) but now that the readership here extends beyond my immediate family and friends, and many of people that drop by may be time-poor and sleep-deprived mothers, am I at liberty to continue to edit out the crappy and dull? I don't want create a false personal advertorial but I also don't feel compelled to photograph my dirty bathroom – even with the magical 50mm lens.
This is my conundrum. As a blog author do you retain ownership to portray your life as whatever you please? Or do you think as your readership grows you have an ethical responsibility to be more aware of the picture you are painting?
(Images. Top: iPhone shenanigans. Bottom: Abstract Expressionism by BB)
Presently I have a lengthy post drafted (roughly, in my head) about the internet, blogging and so called mummy blogging in particular. However finding the time, energy and words to translate this onto the computer is proving challenging, so it's yet to come into fruition.
BB on the other hand has her favourite three words down pat. All she needs to get her through toddlerhood are No, More and Mummy. In a myriad of combinations, Mummy, more? No more mummy. Mummy no! More no more mummy. More?
She also says mummy with a posh British twang. She's so fancy.
Later on I was chatting to my buddy Jill about other tricks to have up your sleeve when the weather is shit and you can't spend all day outdoors. As parents this is the stuff we need to share. It's desperate times folks. What do you do?
A few months ago – in warmer times – I took some photos for my mate Lou, of Saltwater Sandals (Australia). As I've mentioned before, it's hard work getting these two still for the camera. Jill and I certainly had a challenge styling and directing them (directing? HA!) but we got there eventually with a handful of useable images. There were many outtakes, but the following is my all time favourite:
Back at Centennial, trying to take a picture of my noggin without looking too posy, which in turn just looks a bit strange and stiff. But hey, what a glorious winters day. I could live in a Sydney winter for eternity.
So that's the hair, if anyone wanted to see. I am loving having short hair and have incessantly asked PB if he shares this emotion for my new head. But No Chris, Do You Love It? Like Really Love It? Ahem. Psycho.
And now for this weeks awkward-limbed activity, in which I teach BB how to twirl.