At iVillage we’re passionate about supporting Australian bloggers. That’s why we’ve created iBlog Friday.
It’s a chance for bloggers to introduce their favourite post of the week to iVillage readers and for our community to read what Aussie writers are up to.
Here are the bloggers who have sent their submissions this week. Happy reading!
Apparently it is a universal issue of monumental proportions and I am not the only parent with the grey hair and eye twitch to prove that my child refuses to do his homework.
There are a lot of us out there who struggle nightly and at weekends to get the homework completed, and feel bullied by schools to make sure it gets done. It’s obviously harder these days when a lot of us women work, to find the time to monitor the kids homework as well as nurture them in other ways.
Read the rest of Louisa's post here.
At 21 months of age (yes – I’m still talking in “months” which feels awkward but let’s go with it), the Little Mister’s powers of speech are coming along in leaps and bounds. Almost every day he has a new word to learn and attempt. He even has his own little language for the things he can’t quite master. It’s quite a fun age. The other morning his first words of the day were “f*ck f*ck”. Just sitting in his cot, looking happy as Larry to see me. I’m sure he didn’t mean it, but my first words of the day can often be the same (can I get a hell yeah?). I don’t know what he was referring to, but he did have a dummy in his mouth, so we’ll put it down to the muffled effect.
I’ve become the master of lovingly correcting him when we’re out in public and he yells out, “COCK! COCK! COCK!”
“Oh, yes! I can see the CLOCK too!”
Read the rest of Keri's post here.
Back to our book though, I'm no prude so it wasn't all the throbbing genitals and sexual escapades going on that bothered me, it was the fact that quite frankly, it was plain old crap. Lazy, uninspired writing; awful characters; and a plot thinner than a run over panty liner. Mummy yawn was more like it. And, it was completely obvious that a man had written this instead of the posh-but-secretly-naughty sounding "Natasha Walker."
How does stuff like this get published? Even without the "From the publishers of Fifty Shades of Grey" big stamp on the front cover, it's clear the author and his team were attempting to cash in on the mummy porn (heave!) craze. Seriously, it's more like really, really bad Mills and Boon garbage. Nothing clever or entertaining about this style of writing at all.