A long long long long time ago, way before I even though I could ever get pregnant, I had very clear opinions about parenting. Not only about the important, metaphysical, aspects of it – my rock-steady knowledge concerned also many details of the nitty-gritty everyday of having kids. For example I knew exactly, if I were ever to have a child, that I would NOT follow the masses and push my precious offspring around in a stroller or pram or anything that clogs sidewalks and supermarket aisles making everyone behind me roll their eyes. That’s because, many dozens of months ago, one of my friend’s friend had a baby and she came to meet us wearing her newborn in a wrap, nice and warm under her winter coat. When I saw her, I immediately thought: That’s it! This is the right way to carry babies! Continue reading
Everyone is talking about fresh beginnings, as we are only 12 days into the new year. Promises, diets, gym memberships, juicing strategies are all over my social media. If you read my last post, you know how well I did with last year’s resolutions and you also know what approach I’ve taken toward this year’s – there won’t be any promise I already know I can’t keep, but a consciously crafted, meticulously slow-paced, plan to conquer the world.
What I’m thoroughly convinced of, is that you can’t conquer the world while on a diet. Actually, I believe that diets are the single greatest enemy of anyone who desires or needs to lose weight and/or feel good about themselves. Take it from someone who has gone through at least 27 of them, brushed her tits against two eating disorders, and spent eighteen months dropping L-carnitine while lifting weights in a seedy gym smelling of severe male armpit: diets are traps. Continue reading
I hope you won’t mind the technical angle I will shine my light on. You see, I’m one of those writers who love their craft, with passion. I love to read about writing, I love to study writing, and I love to write about writing too. I believe writers are very much like athletes – the novelists possibly like marathon runners, the copywriters like tennis players, screenwriters could be overpaid football stars – and one of the many things we have in common with sportspeople is the need to look at the results of our performance. So this one goes out to all my fellow writers at the heart of the cozy bunch of this blog’s readers, as I know we all like to compare notes and learn from each other’s downfalls.
Sometime in early January 2015, I took my Big Black Notebook to one of my favorite cafe’s on a Sunday afternoon. Over a delicious bowl of lentil soup and an almond-milk latte, I wrote down what were about to become my writing goals for the coming year – regarding my rookie blog, but also my screenwriting “career”. At the time, Baby Blues And Rock’N’Roll was only 5 months old, I had written a shock of eclectic posts, I had not been published anywhere else than on my own website, and I realized I needed to start planning things a bit better, if I wanted to grow my audience and improve my stories. Continue reading
Those of you who have known me for a longer time, know that this is not my first blog. No, Baby Blues And Rock’N’Roll is, in fact, my third attempt at becoming a famous blogger. I started the first one in 2009 and shut it down before even reaching one year of activity. Why? Because (almost) no-one was reading it. After several weeks of pondering where did I go wrong, I came to the conclusion that it must have been because said blog was in a little-known language (Polish) and THAT most certainly prevented me from reaching an international audience. In 2011 I launched my second blog, which started as an English version of what I had already written, but after just four posts I dropped my keyboard and had to sit back. It wasn’t working, it was bad. What was I thinking posting translated, recycled two-year-old stuff which sounded completely different than the original, and failed to excite even me, the author? How could I expect this was going to engage ANY audience? So the blog went idle for over six months while I figured out what to do. Eventually I did, in 2012 I Continue reading
If you keep an eye on Baby Blues News on social media, you must already know that we have started a collaboration with the brand-new website Rotterdam Parents, which is a source of information and support for the community of expat (but not only) families living in the greater Rotterdam area. I’m very excited to be a regular contributor for the site, as I could not imagine a better way to be involved in creating and promoting a sense of “being at home” for people of all nationalities and walks of life who, just like me, found themselves living in this crazy rainy wonderful country.
The first piece to appear on the site is the tale of what I did on the very first day ever in which I threw in the Mama-towel and jumped a train to the city in a frantic attempt to save my mental sanity. Here is a little taste of how this story goes: Continue reading
Once upon a time, three godzillion years ago, I was not yet a Mom. No, I was a smooth and juicy young gal who liked her sexy time very VERY much. Especially when it was with the man who later became Papa Blues. Indeed, from the very beginning of our lust affair, we both agreed that when it comes to bedroom acrobatics, we don’t necessarily like vanilla all the time, we are into variety and experiments, and we are not at all afraid of getting our freak on once in a while. Believe me, it was FUN.
But then, from all that FUN obviously, we accidentally became parents and stopped having sex completely (sort of). That’s why nowadays I often find myself revisiting the memories of those good times that were and recently traveled back to the night of our second anniversary. The night we decided to celebrate by going to a sexpo. I wrote this story down and was MINDBLOWN that the kick-ass BLUNTmoms found it worthy of being published on their site. Here is a little excerpt (consider it foreplay): Continue reading
During the first year of V’s life, countless times I found myself wandering the streets like a ghost stuck between limbos trying to have him sleep in his stroller. Often, I was also so tired and angry I would run hate-rants in my head like hypnotic anti-lullabies to keep me awake while I walked. Sometimes, I felt frantic and abandoned and it blew my mind that no-one out there paid a spit of attention to me, my bloodshot eyes, and the baby I was rocking to sleep.
So one day I wrote a thoroughly sleep-deprived open letter to all those childless suckers making noises on the street while I tried to get my little one to finally nap and the hilarious and juicy Sammiches and Psych Meds decided to join my cause and publish it on their site. It goes a little something like this: Continue reading