Oh you rotters. You’ve done it again. Not content with degrading The Labour Party and the International Development community, you’ve turned your hateful attentions to us mum bloggers, singling out The Unmumsy Mum & Hurrah For Gin for extra detention.
You call us ‘slapdash’ and ‘patronising’ to those who feel fulfilled as mothers. You accuse us of pimping out our children to make a quick buck. But as usual your sloppy approach to journalism has missed the point entirely…
The UnMumsy Mum gave us a voice, and when I say ‘us’ I mean the woman at 3am who’s struggling with breastfeeding, or the SAHM who’s dying inside because she feels so overwhelmed by it all. We don’t ‘boast’ about our mummy-fails. We just like to share our realities of what being a modern mum is really like.
I cried when I first read an UnMumsy Mum Blog. It spoke to me on a level that I hadn’t experienced before. It wasn’t particularly well written (I think Sarah would be the first to say she isn’t a literary genius) but it had heart and it was honest. After generations of having black tape slapped across our mouths she’s come along and helped kick ‘suffering in silence’ to the curb.
I wish she’d been around six years ago. Perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so hopeless. Perhaps I wouldn’t have felt so bleak and alone. Perhaps I wouldn’t have thought about the pair of scissors sitting in the kitchen drawer downstairs. A quick exit for a desperate new mother drowning in PND.
Just because we moan occasionally doesn’t make us bad parents either. Don’t judge us for trying to find a little humour in an overwhelming situation. I think if The Daily Mail took the trouble to dig a little further into The UnMumsy Mum they’d find a woman who didn’t start a blog for fame or fortune, or even to humiliate her kids, but rather a woman who, after a particularly difficult day, decided to write down what we’re all thinking anyway.
We all moan about jobs! I had a so-called ‘dream’ one working in movie production for ten years but I still whinged about it like nobody’s business. Because even though it was glam and different it was still bloody hard work!
Sorry to contradict you again, Daily Mail, but we mummy bloggers are the first to recognise the good stuff about parenthood too. We may not get a paycheck (more’s the pity) but our bonus is in hearing our child’s first words. Being present on their first day at school. Watching them grow from toddler lobbing breadstick monsters into decent human beings.
When I think about the owners of The Daily Mail I imagine a bunch of half-crazed Circus Ring Masters with mad professor hair, cracking their whips at an army of clown journalists with twisted faces like Stephen King’s Pennywise. Extra lashings are in order for all those who don’t spew enough bile across their newspaper todays…
Not Katie Hopkins though. She’s the main event. The Teacher’s Pet. She’s no clown. She’s a dead-eyed prancing pony with a sparkly black feather plume on her head, which screams ‘LOOK AT ME! LOOK AT ME!’ as she lazily circles around the ring, kicking dirt in the eye of human decency and respect.
Sometimes I wish I could round up all the Daily Fail’s Brexiteers and Donald Trump supporters and send them back to primary school. There, some mustached Trunchball character would shout and scream and then banish them to the corner of the room to ‘think about what they’ve done’. Or I could ship them off to a desert island somewhere to see which side vomits the most divisive bullshit first….
You may think you speak for the population, Daily Mail, but you do not speak for me.