*I would love it if you would click here to nominate Right Royal Mother for ‘new blog’ in The MADS Blog Awards 2016. At the bottom of this post are some reasons why. (First you have to nominate ‘blog of the year’ (see below for some ace examples) before you get to the ‘new blog’ bit).*
**The following account is FICTIONAL.**
anmer hall, norfolk, march 2016
“There’s a MAD new blog I think you should check out.”
William, Duke of Cambridge, is lounging at the breakfast bar in Anmer Hall, polishing his glasses. His wife, Catherine (Kate) is wearing a cashmere dressing gown and sipping a slimline G&T whilst browsing pictures nursery has sent her of her toddler son George fighting. She has spent a couple of days in bed, in preparation for her forthcoming trip to India. George is on the floor filling his Bing sticker book with postage stamps. Charlotte, her infant daughter, is teething loudly and Lupo the dog is quietly having a nightmare on the sofa.
“It’s called ‘Right Royal Mother‘. It’s by this woman who thinks it’s fun to write about ‘normal’ life with two small children and how it might compare to ours.”
Kate pauses, mid ice-deposit, and slams down her phone.
“Fun? What do you mean? Because I’m ‘work-shy?’ I’ve had it up to here this week. I’m just a Mum, muddling through. Hurrah for gin, is all I can say.” She tucks her hair behind her ears carefully and takes a large slurp.
William knows his wife can be a bit of a drama (never to be) queen and treads carefully. “I know. And she does too, don’t worry. She even did an infographic in your defence.”
George approaches his parents, wielding the sticker book and a pair of gold safety scissors. “Mummy, look.”
“That’s nice, darling. You’ve used Gan Gan’s head in place of Plop’s. Where did you get that sticker book, anyway?”
“Gan Gan gave it to me when we went to her house.”
George is referring to Her Majesty, the Queen. William gives his wife a sideways look and Kate rolls her eyes. They are both thinking of the snippet of the forthcoming ‘Our Queen at 90,’ which was publicised this week and in which Kate made a dubious-sounding comment.
“I know, I know … I said ‘she always leaves a little present when we visit’. I realise it sounds dodgy. I was nervous.”
“Mummy, can I cut your hair please?” George looks up with a mixture of noble patience and devious intent.
“I already have a ‘Mummy fringe’. I don’t want a ‘toddler bob’ too.” Kate glides to the sofa and shoves Lupo off.
George looks as though he’s about to cry. Maria something-or-other, the Spanish nanny, materialises with Haribo, carrying a yelling Charlotte. William sighs.
“Oh dear,” he says sadly to Kate, then pauses, looking worried. “You’re a right mammasaurus today, aren’t you? You haven’t … “
His wife sticks her tongue out. “If you really want to know, I’m craving a Croque Maman but all I can eat is these.” She indicates a pile of peeled grapes. A footman appears and announces her mother, Carole, is at the door.
“Oh dear, Shouty Charlotte, what IS the matter? Do you want a cuddle, fairy?” William puts the tip of his polo stick, which he has just been cleaning, into her mouth. “Goodness, she’s wild and grizzly today.”
Maria something-or-other slips a gloved finger into Charlotte’s mouth and extracts her discreetly but firmly from her father’s embrace. “She just needs drugs,” she whispers, producing a magnum-sized, bejewelled bottle of Calpol and Sophie the Giraffe.
Fleetingly, Charlotte gazes at her father adoringly, then wails like a banshee.
“Shh!” says Kate from the corner. “I’m talking to Mummy.” Carole looks suitably humble in the presence of her son in law (he is future king). “Sorry. I was just saying … after all the bashing I had over St. Patrick’s Day I’m trying to make a comeback, mum. If I’m going to do this mummy adventure properly – I mean, motherhood. It’s the real deal, right? – I have to connect with the public a little bit better.”
George approaches his mother and maternal grandmother cautiously. He has found a shrimp net in the boot room. “Actually Mummy … can we go fishing?”
Kate sighs. “Not really darling. Remember last time? We found that dead swan and had to take it straight to Gan Gan and tell her it wasn’t us. She doesn’t really need to see another one.”
“You’re mad,” says Kate, laughing from too much gin.
“And you’re a crummy mummy sometimes,” says William. “But I love you too.”
He heads off with George to do some fishing. Maria something-or-other takes the screaming Charlotte off for a bath and Carole remembers she has an Ocado delivery due. Left alone, Kate picks up her iPhone and taps in ‘rightroyalmother.com …’
“Hmm,” she thinks after a few minutes’ silence during which she finishes her drink. “This is MAD. But rather fun. I think I’ll nominate …”
why should you vote for right royal mother – new blog in the mad awards 2016?
It has taken me a while to write this post because I have been running after two small children and a dog. I am probably too late to the table now as I should think most people have nominated already. But if you haven’t, a nomination for ‘new blog’ (or any category, really) in the MADS (Mum and Dad Awards) 2016 would be amazing.
Why should you nominate me for ‘new blog’ in the MADS? Because I think Right Royal Mother is properly different from other parenting blogs. I’m no good at recipes. Or advice. But it’s quite funny. (The founder of Ella’s Kitchen thinks so anyway). It takes a lot of nominations for a blog to get to the next stage of the MADs – and there are SO many amazing blogs out there – but I am giving it my best shot. And, hey, the Duchess of Cambridge might see it. (Squeal).
The links in this post are all to blogs I have nominated in the MADS this year and/or been inspired by in the last few months. Thank you to every single person who has been even the slightest bit encouraging!
I am new. But the blogging community is amazing and I hope I’m here to stay.
KEY TO CHARACTERS
Characters are abbreviated as follows:
NW – not William (husband and father)
NG – not George (daughter, sister and two and a half year old)
NC – not Charlotte (son, brother and four month old)
NL – not Lupo (a Labrador)