There are a couple of new things that have transpired since I gave birth to a sprog.
First thing is I now notice other people’s babies; I have never, ever been a baby watcher. Now I found myself smiling at any unsuspecting child being lugged around the streets.
The second thing is that I am perfectly accepting of my at-home hair dye job. I used to believe hole heartedly that a good dye job was essential to my being. Now it’s as if the time and money that I have to spend to get my hair dyed (into a shade which no one ever bloody noticed anyway) seems misspent.
The third thing is I am now also an avid follower of Constance Hall’s Facebook page. She’s the only ‘Mummy blogger’ I bother to follow. As to be honest, I’m not someone who has found solace in reading about other people’s child struggles. I’ve only got one small human to juggle, and many bloggers have multiple poo machines to tell interesting tales about. So I haven’t found I relate or care that much about reading them and I also find the idea of reading them slightly single focussed, as if I was no longer anything else other than a mummy. I’m busy trying to not over think raising my wee man, and if I were to constantly read about babies then I’d definitely let it consume me.
That being said, I find Constance Hall and her following fascinating. For those of you who have never heard of her check her Facebook out. But to give you a taste here are a few of my favourite posts:
14 September at 18:47 ·
Dear ex boyfriend,
Today after dancing up and down on the table squirting me with a water bottle, my son told me that I am the worst mum in the world because I suggested that he should come down and stormed into his room, under the bed where he proceeded to cry out for me telling me he loves me and begging me to come and find him.
It made me realise that the way I treated you was wrong.
I’m sorry. 💗
5 September at 18:24 ·
I went to pick Snow up from her daycare day last week.
She had to go and hug her bestie good bye, they squeezed each other so tight that they fell over.
Her bestie is Janey, Janey is Indian and has a full head of thick hair and speaks fluently and is already toilet trained.
Snow has no hair, can’t say a word and has never once wee’d on a toilet or potty.
The Daycare Queens told me that Janey talks baby language when with Snow to help them chat and they spend their whole day together laughing and smiling and making weird sounds.
What a world they live in, where intelligence and race and hair goals don’t exist. 💃🏾💃🏾💃🏾
They just love each other 💗
Snowy and Janey for the win 💗👑
She also recently wrote one about her haemorrhoid, which I initially thought a bit crass, but then noticed by her opening up about it she took some of the shame away from others who then felt free to discuss it.
Although I think Constance Hall’s posts are wickedly entertaining, raw and at times thought provoking I find her equally fascinating from a business perspective.
She has something which marketing and PR firms yearn for – an ability to gain a mass following in an organic (read free) way. So what’s Constance got that so many others don’t?
Constance calls herself and all woman Queens. I think she genuinely wants to build a supportive network of woman that don’t tear each other down. As a sassy, loudmouth lass who is far from a nun I think she’s probably faced a fair few snide comments from women in the past and part of the reason behind her blog and posts is to show women that they can put their jealousy and judgment to the side and find alternative happiness in supporting.
Personally I think that if the reason behind something, whether it be a business or blog is not somewhat altruistic and genuine then you won’t get sustained interest.
She gets down and dirty
In a way that is unfortunately reminiscent of Trump’s mass attraction, Constance reaches people by being a straight talking, swearing, and no beat-around-the-bush kinda chick. She talks like many of her followers, it’s easy to read and easy to relate to, as her posts are written as if she was sitting down for a wine with her Queens. She airs her dirty laundry and creates a forum for others to reveal their imperfections too. It’s not aspirational, it’s not telling us who to be and how to be it. It’s her saying ‘this is me and I’m just fine’.
Lonely-hearts club appeal
There is something often isolating about motherhood. You at times feel trapped and alone. Leaving the house can be a pain in the arse with a little one in tow. I know mine hates his pram and car seat with a scarily aggressive passion. So when I go out I have to make sure it’s for short stints to make sure he doesn’t lose his shit and stress us both out. I know plenty of Mum’s who feel apart form the real world, a world that they used to participate in with freshly cleansed skin and high heels and now struggle to pee in peace.
This means that Constance followers are yearning for human connections and empathy. Turning them into active participants in her world, they’ve got the time and primal need to be part of a village.
Other than the lonely-hearts part I want my business to slightly mimic Constance’s style. Although obviously I opened Sarkara to make some money, I never opened it to be a millionaire (and am in no danger of shattering that non-goal). I started it because I wasn’t satisfied by the ‘rat race’ and to create a store that oozed happiness. I also try to be honest and upfront with customers. I never pretend to have the best store, as I know that I could be doing better. I try to be true to who I am with customers and to not create a fictitious personality to make more money.
Who I am is an awesomely flawed Mum & business owner who does silly things like purchase a big floppy hat for the summer, because in my head Jax will have reached an age (12 months) where I can sip wine in my summer dress and hat at the edge of his sandpit in the evenings as he plays quietly and contentedly by himself.
I like to think that this naivety and positive dreamer is what has helped make Sarkara a fun place to be and what will make Jax roll his eyes at me in a lovingly exasperated way.