Blogging for a living is a strange existence at times. I never know what I’ll be working on more than five or six weeks in advance or, indeed, if I’ll have enough work.
There’s also the fact that I don’t have a specific payday and that a large amount of my time is spent on admin, fixing broken links and chasing overdue invoices.
On the flip side, I often get invited to cool events and offered the chance to review things before they’re in the shops.
I sometimes end up on national radio at short notice and have even been on the telly once or twice. So these high points compensate for their low counterparts.
I’ve been a blogger for eight and a half years, the last handful of which have been full-time. And I still find it odd. So it must be even stranger for my family!
My sons probably only vaguely remember what it was like when I worked for someone else. Their sister, meanwhile, has never known any different.
As I’m at home all the time and wearing what I like, it must be difficult for them to comprehend that I’m actually working.
Sometimes I have to explain myself while busy and realise immediately how daft they probably sound.
Here are a few ridiculous things that I’ve genuinely found myself saying to my kids.
“No, sorry. You can’t keep our bus ticket. It’s a tax-deductible expense that Daddy needs for his records.”
“Stop bouncing on the bed, this is my office!”
“You can’t play with that new toy until I’ve taken photos of it from 27 different angles.”
“Come on, boys, you know you can’t wear branded T-shirts for this.”
“If you have to come upstairs to use the toilet, please don’t flush. Daddy’s going to be talking to people on the radio.”
“Let’s do that again, but please can you drop the phone from higher up this time?”
“No. People are not wasting their time by liking my Instagram pictures. They’re helping us pay the bills. Yes, really. No, I don’t really understand how either.”
“Please don’t eat that yet. I need to get another shot of it with the restaurant’s logo in the background.”
“Look, I’m really sorry that you’ve got your head stuck and I’ll get you out in a minute but keep still. This is social media gold.”
“Please may I have your permission to publish that picture of you with your head stuck in your sister’s highchair?”
“Yes, thanks for that. I know I probably won’t win that award but it was very thoughtful of Mum to nominate me, wasn’t it?”
“Nooooo! Don’t delete that off the Sky Planner. I’m on it!”
Fellow bloggers! Which ridiculous things have you found yourselves saying to your kids?