Showing posts with label posts I won't be writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label posts I won't be writing. Show all posts

21 July, 2020

Blog posts I won't be Writing: the Lockdown Version



  • How I found “me time” during lockdown, because the house was so full/frenetic/loud.
  • Missing having visitors to justify indulging in baking (despite the fact that a household of two parents and three kids is the same number of potential cake/biscuit/lemon tart consumers as a childless person’s household AND their visitors).
  • The stress of supervising online-schooling.
  • Disappointment that I won’t get to see my adult kids every few months because we live in different countries.
  • How hard it is to not see the grandchildren.
  • How different the isolation of lockdown was to my normal life! 

Note: All the above have been said either to me, or around me in the last few months. I don’t discount the issues raised as unimportant (well, except for the baking issue), and acknowledge they cause stress. Stress that I don't have. Stress I might have been pleased to have. So maybe the complaints might have been best directed elsewhere?







27 June, 2016

Blog posts I won't be writing

A continuing series
  • Posts that list prompts that focus on being a parent, and “your” child. I’ve done that already, and have made my point that these posts can almost always be rephrased to be more inclusive, so as I don’t want to keep reminding any of us of what we have lost by continuing these posts, I have finally deleted all those prompts I won’t be using.
But that got me thinking about the other posts I don't want to write here:
  • Posts lamenting what should have been, because I don't feel this language is helpful. I may however, occasionally touch on what might have been, and will always try to be balanced, if not in one post, then in a follow-up.
  • Any post that says "you can achieve anything if you want it enough," because we, of all people, know this isn't true, whether it refers to becoming a parent, or whether it refers to achieving happiness, it only spreads blame and smothers empathy.
  • Posts that ignore the pain and heartache it takes to get to a good place.
  • Posts that deny that we can, indeed, get to a good place, a happy place.


08 February, 2016

Blog posts I won't be writing


Here is another selection of the “parent” posts I won’t be writing, with - where possible - my suggestions of an alternative title, creating a suggested post that one day I might write:
  1. How is was Summer Vacation different for your kids than it was for you growing up?
  2. What grade is your child going to be in? Share a memory you have of yourself as a child at that same age at this time of year.
  3. List eight things you’re looking forward to at this time of year after the kids return back to school, and/or
  4. List eight things you are dreading about sending the kids back to school this time of year.
  5. Write a blog post from your dog’s perspective about how he/she feels about your kids going back to school.
  6. If you had more time, what is one last summer excursion you would plan for your family

08 June, 2015

#MicroblogMondays: Blog posts I won't be writing


When I am at a loss for a blog topic over on A Separate Life, I have a couple of times written a list of blog prompts (sent to me weekly on an email list) that I won’t be using for ablog post. I have so far managed to hide (I think) my frustration at the number of “you as a parent” suggestions, but don’t feel the need to do so here on No Kidding.

Here is a  selection of the “parent” posts I won’t be writing, with my suggestions of an alternative title, creating a suggested post that is so much more inclusive, and that one day I might write:
  1. Write a poem inspired by the last conversation you had with your a child.
  2. List 10 things you love about motherhood having children in your life.
  3. List 10 things you never knew until you were a mom an adult/in your 30s/infertile.
  4. Describe a time your toddler a child or your pet got into something they shouldn’t have.
  5. Something you learned from your a child. (I write this one every time I see my niece Charlie.)