Sometimes you just have to let it go...

I have done something which you may think foolish. The shortlist for the Britmums 'Brilliance in Blogging' Awards was published on Friday and I'm on it, as one of the contenders for the 'Lit!' Award.

This is extremely flattering, especially when you read the details for this category:

'Most blogs have writing at their core. But some blogs feature writing that makes it hard to stop reading. Whether a blog reads like a compelling bestseller or gorgeous poetry, this award celebrates the words on the page.'

Wow. Thank you to whoever decided that 'The Potty Diaries' fits the bill and nominated it; I am totally blown away to be on this list.

But. But. Here's the thing. I don't actually think that I write the best of the 20 blogs featured on the short-list. So, do I do what I have done in the past when I've been in this situation and embark on a publicity campaign in the hope of winning votes when I actually don't believe that mine should be the blog to win it? Previous awards have shown that approach to be something of a waste of time, after all, with voters insisting on agreeing with me that yes, there are better blogs than mine out there - and voting for them instead. Dammit.

I can assure you this post is not the result of false modesty on my part. I give good blog, I know that, but I should do; I've been at it for a while and hit 1,000 posts at the beginning of this year. If I'm not capable of stringing a few words together in an interesting and engaging way by now, when will I be?

Despite the fact it is ostensibly anonymous (ha!), I am not afraid to broadcast the fact that The Potty Diaries is MY blog. I write it, I own it, and any rewards that I garner from it are, I think, not through sheer luck; they are rewards I have worked for and of which I'm proud.

But when push comes to shove, I don't believe mine is the best blog on the shortlist for the Brilliance In Blogging Lit! Award - so I've voted for the one that I think is, instead.*

Foolish and defeatist? Or realistic and sticking to my principles?

Whichever it may be, it's all OK with me. And this approach does free me from spending time trying to come up with new and interesting ways of asking you to vote for me over the next few weeks**, and instead to spend it writing about important and topical world issues like My Week In Tweets, supermarket shopping in Moscow, how not to celebrate International Women's Day, and to show you pictures of dead fish and a dog's bottom instead.

So; a win-win situation all round, I would say...

*Click here to see the shortlist and vote

** Although you will perhaps have noted that I have pasted the BIB badge on the sidebar of The Potty Diaries because I am, when all is said and done, bloody proud to have my name on that list...

Netmums Blog of the Week? Why, I don't mind if I do, thankyou very much!

May I point your attention in this direction? Having uploaded my blog to Netmums some time back, I promptly forgot all about it, so being singled out as Blog of the Week was a doubly nice surprise when I found out about it this evening.

Thankyou, Netmums!

Stop-gap post...

We're leaving for a holiday in the UK this afternoon but there are a couple of things I wanted to get down in a post first...

London City Mum has very kindly given me this award. Whilst I'm always delighted to receive such things I'm rubbish about acknowledging them on my blog (and even worse at passing them on), but this Must Change, so LCM, thankyou very much, I'm delighted. I'll pass it on when I'm not so pressed for time (come on - I did warn you I was even worse at that bit...)

A rash of bloggers are participating in Dulwich Mum's hilarious Alternative Boden Catalogue. Check it out - but practice your pelvic floor exercises first...

I have two sons who look similar and have identical abilities to delight and frustrate, but they are separated by approximately two years in age. To open a window onto the experiences of mothers who have twins and triplets - always illuminating - check out the Carnival about Twins And More over at You've Got Your Hands Full.

On a personal note, I'm feeling vindicated this morning. Last week, after 5 months of having no bank account (in Russia, at any rate), I finally got my hands on cash cards that won't cost an arm and a leg when I withdraw money over here. As expected, bureaucracy reigns (this is Russia, after all), and we had to go all the way to the other side of Moscow to pick up both the cards and the pin codes. I stowed the latter somewhere safe (OK, in the middle of a pile of papers - but I knew exactly where they were) when we got home, only to find that they had disappeared without trace a couple of days later when I finally got the chance to activate the cards.

Husband was - to put it mildly - annoyed. As was I; how could I have been so STUPID? I turned the house upside down looking for them, to no avail, and then had to make two more trips back to the branch to confess my foolishness and get new codes. This morning, however, I got a phone call from a very contrite Husband who had found said codes in an envelope of 'stuff' he had packed up and taken to the office. Whilst we did waste time looking for them and trekking backwards and forwards to the bank, overall I'm treating this as a positive experience because:

a) neither of us said anything too damning to the other in the original hunt for the lost codes...

b) I'm NOT crazy, I hadn't lost them...

c) my beloved Husband 'fessed up when he really had no need to. Which is one of the many reasons why I love him so.

Of Mice and Boys

A lot has happened over the last couple of days. A LOT. Where to start?

First off - the Mouse is back, dammit. After lying low for a couple of months (aka; being smart enough not to be spotted but still having free run of the place when my back was turned or I didn't have my contacts in), it declared itself this morning when I got back from the gym. Boy #2, having been left with his father for the incredibly long hour and a half that I was away, was tearing the place up with gay abandon as I walked through the front door. The Mouse, clearly having had enough of the madness, was throwing itself physically against the shut kitchen door in an attempt to make a getaway under the kitchen cabinets.

A Mummy made of sterner stuff than I would have dealt with it on the spot, but not I. Oh no. What did I do? I politely opened the door so it could dash for it's escape hatch and resolved that Husband can deal with it this evening. I hope it likes tuna. That's what the trap will be baited with...

Secondly, Boy #1 had his first school assembly. They're held every Wednesday and parents are always welcome but since his timetable precludes his attending we haven't been before now. Yesterday, however, he had an award to collect (along with most of his year), so the Potty Family pulled on their best bib and tucker (clean jeans, in my case), packed my handbag with bribes to control Boy #2, and trundled along to watch Boy #1 collect his certificate. It was a surreal experience, and made my experiences from last September seem an awfully long time ago.

Along with the rest of his class he trotted happily up onto the stage and was applauded by the whole school and various parents. He seemed so grown up - and yet not. He's still small enough for me to gather close (it's getting harder and more uncomfortable, but I do it whenever I get the chance, remembering countless pieces of advice to make the most of these moments because they won't last), but I'm starting to get flashes of what he might become - given fair weather and a following wind.

Yesterday evening I went into my sons' room and watched them for while as they slept. As a parent, it's such a priviledge to be able to do that; to watch their features in repose. I often find myself thinking that if I could curl up on a mattress on their bedroom floor then that would be true luxury. Forget fancy holidays and jewellery; sleeping next to my children would be enough.

Never going to happen though. Because then, before I get carried away, I remember the Mouse. And immediately, the prospect of sleeping on the floor becomes impossible.

Drat that rodent.


I was also going to post about our fun and games at the hospital this afternoon when both boys had scratch tests to check on their allergies, and follow that up with a review of the Disney movie that we watched subsequently to calm one of them down (no prizes for guessing which), but I'm out of time. It's the last episode ever EVER of ER this evening.

The phone is coming off the hook.

Am I bovver (booted?) Why yes, I am!

Hip Hurrah, I got an award! Thankyou Modern Mother, this one is the coolest. I love the boots! Just one thing though - those of a sensitive disposition shouldn't look too closely at the text on the picture. I said, DON'T LOOK AT THE TE... Oh, for goodness sake. Well, you brought that one on yourself, didn't you? You can't say I didn't warn you.









I have the honour of passing this one on to five other bloggers, so without further ado I would like to award it to (in no particuar order): Country Lite, Belgian Waffle, Not Wrong Just Different, Grit's Day, and Confessions of a Rotten Correspondant.

I also have to list five fabulous addictions. Let's see; Green & Blacks (of course), diet coke (I know, poison, but I can't help it), Kensington & Chelsea, my boys (all three of them), and t'internet...

Here are the rules for the new torch bearers:

1. Pass it on to five other fabulous blogs.
2. List five of your fabulous addictions.
3. Copy and paste the rules and the instructions below.

Instructions: On your post of receiving this award, make sure you include the person that gave you the award and link it back to them. When you post your five winners, make sure you link to them as well. To add the award to your post, simply right-click, save image, then “add image” it in your post as a picture so your winners can save it as well. To add it to your sidebar, add the “picture” widget. Also, don’t forget to let your winners know they won an award from you by emailing them or leaving a comment on their blog. Easy peasey lemon squeezy.