Spending a bit of time each day browsing blogs each day is a simple indulgence. With a cup of tea in hand and a minute or two of quiet it is a restorative practice, good for the soul.
Sometimes I marvel at the crafts or the baking. Sometimes I agree or disagree with the commentary. Often I come away with an idea for something to try or something to think about.
When I read a magazine, that too is a treasured little sliver of me time. But I’m media savvy enough to know that the models are airbrushed, the celebrities are groomed by professionals and the food is styled to look better perhaps than it tastes.
But when I read blogs I assume because I’m reading about real people that it’s all real life. That this bloggers home always looks pristine, that all her meals look this delicious, that the light which dapples her artfully aged refectory table as she photographs perfect projects just happens like that. How media savvy am I? Not at all it appears.
I read a post last week by a mum blogger. One whose blog I very much enjoy as it features beautiful craft projects and recipes and a home decorated with exquisite taste and an apparent disregard for the sticky fingers of her two toddlers. And I always assumed that she was like me, at home during day, up to her elbows looking after two children. But in the post the author mentioned that her children were on holiday from their normal full-time childcare. And the penny dropped for me. The blog I devour for its picture perfect portrayal of family life is actually written while the authors children are cared for outside the home. Of course it is, is there a human being on the planet who could orchestrate a back garden photo shoot of water coloured quails eggs while a couple of littles bomb about?
And why not? This woman is making a living by selling me this beautifully packaged image. She is media savvy and knows that readers want to see carefully considered images for a dash of escapism in a busy day. But doing so is her job and requires that her full attention is given to it.
I blog too, but I’m not making money. This here, is not my family’s livelihood, and no longer will I compare my own less artfully styled ‘real life’ to another’s.
PS this is what my living room looks like as I blog, lest you believe this house is not strewn with sticky finger prints. And I like it this way. This is my wild.


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