'A clean slate, with your own face on'

Another little milestone in the whirl of day-to-day parenting; Boo started studying an author whose work I have studied. I am conscious as she gets older that she will step the same path as I did; the urge I feel to arm her with wisdom as she takes those steps, can be overwhelming. I have to remind myself that she is her own person; she is not another me.

Boo came home from school with a Sylvia Plath poem...rather advanced for 10 years of age I thought, but it was lovely; the poem 'You're' is about motherhood. An ode to her unborn child. However troubled Plath's life was, she glimpsed genius in her work. I wrote my college dissertation on Sylvia Plath so it resonates with me and reading this poem with my daughter, I was struck again what a full circle life can be. The final line refers to her baby as being '...a clean slate, with you own face on.' That is what Boo is to me. We look, people tell me, uncannily similar (I suspect she is prettier than I ever was; but that could be a mother's love making me biased?)

I remembered, as we talked about the poem and all of its references, when she was born, her little face, was hers and mine and his. That strange mingling of us three, so evident in a firstborn child. The hours I spent just looking at her, fascinated by her. And even now, years later, I can still get that flash of memory of her as a baby, still there in her ever-changing, maturing face. A heady combination of nostalgia and sentimentality mixed with her future potential. This motherhood; it still amazes me every day.

...love this...a silver cross pram!

A thinking girl's post...

I found myself regaling the cautionary news tale of 'Austerity Mum'; the blogger whose cover was blown and whose corporate husband was reported to be 'acutely embarassed' by the disclosures his wife had made on her blog. Admittedly the topic of personal finance is always a touchy one, recession or no recession. Of all of the observations I have ever made about blogging, one is that in general, as a pastime blogging seems to apply to the more privileged echelons of society. Case in point; you have to have a computer and some free time to do it. But what was it that so riled people about 'Austerity Mum'? I can't even imagine the vitriol being penned on 'Mumsnet'. I feel saddened that 'Austerity Mum' had to delete her blogging presence, not that I ever even read her blog, but I sense that if for some reason I had to delete mine, it would be with great sadness.

I also leads me to think - would anyone be acutely embarrassed by my disclosures here? I remain anonymous on most fronts, I try to be sincere and authentic. I think before I write. But is blogging somehow a lapse in judgement? I know some bloggers have told me that they would like to blog in complete anonymity so that they could really go to town on what they feel. I get that vibe...but ultimately, for me the best blogs are the ones where there is a real and genuine person behind it.

Every now and then I forget how much I have told you about myself. I go back and read old posts and realise that in fact I am like an open book at times, spilling my feelings as if the route from keyboard to screen to worldwide Internet is just a hop, skip and jump from my innermost thoughts.

What news stories like this remind me of is that blogging is still considered a quirk; something that bored women do to fill their days. Another case in point, Mary who writes Mary Loves told how her husband's friend, on hearing of her blog, commented that she needed to get a hobby. This made me cross! Maybe deep down in me there is this feminist sensibility that feels that being down on women who blog was a bit like being down on women who wrote in the 19th century. George Eliot used a male pseudonym as she would never have been published as her female self. Can you imagine that now? Errr, this is starting to feel like an essay I would have written at University!

In summary I sense that the interrelationship between blogging, money and feminism may be slightly too weighty a topic for a Wednesday morning, so I will say only this. It's a shame that blogging gets people into hot water and it's a shame that so many people judge it and don't 'get it'. As for me it's been lovely all the way through; I have nothing but good to say about it. Long may it last!

all lovely images via bippity boppity boo

Dear Me...

Dear Me: A Letter to my sixteen year old self. I was given this book for Christmas...its taken me this long to get to it. Mental note: must make more time for relaxing reading.

I love the idea of it - the premise is that people, famous people, celebrities write to their younger selves offering advice with the benefit of hindsight. Oh how I wish I could go back and soothe my furrowed 16 year old brow.

This is what I would write:

Stop fretting about not being a pear-shaped 5'2" ordinary girl with a cleavage, like all of your friends. Being tall is good, clothes will always hang better. Having long legs is good, trust me. They last better than boobs. And I'm sorry to say, whilst on the topic, they will not grow any bigger; only for breastfeeding, which is a reality you don't want to even contemplate right now.

Try not to mess too much with your hair. Perms will never work well; if you were meant to have ringlets, God would have blessed you with some.

You will fall in love young so don't worry that you will be alone. When you get that off-the-cuff invite one Thursday night in the pub, your first term of University, do accept it, do not hesitate...it will lead to untold happiness.

Make more time for your Stepmother - one day she will be gone from your life and you'll always wish you had been kinder, nicer, less judgmental than you were.

You don't have to be a writer or a journalist or work in publishing to write for a living. There are many careers where you get paid to write stuff (amongst other things). Be more interested in business, its not a bad thing and its not dull. There are plenty of cool people who turn into captains of industry.

Invest in shoes and handbags.

When you get invited to that house party with those older friends-of-friends...to that farmhouse outside of town - go along - one day that house will be yours, you will raise your kids in it (yes there will be kids!). Have a very close look...

By way of reassurance and to show that your beloved Mummy is always right - most of the stuff you will exhaust yourself worrying about won't ever, ever happen. I promise.

What would you write?

I blog therefore I am...

A few weeks in now to this blogging phenomenon. I never knew it existed until a few months ago...I attribute my initiation to The Sartorialist. One mention in an article in Vogue and I was hooked. I know, I know everything that needs to be said has been said about that blogging/photographic genius Scott Schuman. Its like inspiration in daily droplet form...reminding us that when we get dressed each day we have a choice...it can be a Sartorialist day or it can be a dull day. I went from that onto Mummy blogs; again another phenomena and a world of the most intimate confessions (Diary of a Yummy Mummy being my current favourite). Quickly hooked. Then bloglogs opened up a whole new world! What are people reading? From one blog to the next - such detail, such a mass of images and commentary that added together, brought something new and interesting to my day. The natural next step for me was: 'I want me one of those!'

I am now a blogging convert...in every sense. However it remains my little secret - I blog as anon (well pretty much...unless you can work out who LouBoo of Chichester is) and I like it that way. I love the way it crosses boundaries, crosses continents, crosses that intimate border into someone's mind and mind's eye.

I love the images...I love the style of some of these bloggers (The Bottom of the Ironing Basket another fav...my goodness, Simone has an eye). And I love the way that one leads to another - like a little road-map of good, enriching reads.

So - to the internet universe, I am enjoying this blog thing...I hope you are liking it too.