Wednesday, 11 July 2018

Blog Tour Review and Extract: Confessions of a First Time Mum by Poppy Dolan


Confessions of a First Time Mum by Poppy Dolan
Published: 25th June 2018
Publisher: Canelo
Pages: 266
Available on Kindle
Rating: 5/5

Blurb
Stevie’s life has changed beyond recognition since having her first baby.
Stevie loves being a mum, but between the isolation and being vomited on five times a day, she really wishes she had someone to talk to.
With husband Ted working hard to keep the family afloat, Stevie really doesn’t want to burden him with her feelings. Turning to the internet, Stevie starts the anonymous First-Time Mum blog and blasts the rose-tinted glasses of parenthood right off her readers.
In the real world, Stevie meets the formidable Nelle and gorgeous Will, along with their own little treasures, and starts to realise that being a ‘perfect mum’ isn’t everything. But when the secret blog goes viral, Stevie must make some tough choices about who she wants to be, and whether she’s ready for the world to know the truth…
A perfect laugh-out-loud read for fans of The Unmumsy Mum, Gill Sims and Emma Robinson.

Review
Poppy Dolan’s latest novel Confessions of a First-Time Mum is a book which has really resonated with me, she’s totally nailed the insecurities of motherhood and put them in a funny and inspiring read.
Stevie’s a first-time mum to Cherry, a baby who knows exactly what she wants, her mum all the time with added crying and bouts of milky sick for good measure. Stevie loves Cherry with all her heart but she’s finding motherhood hard and lonely as husband Ted doesn’t get a look in where Cherry is concerned. Feeling lonely Stevie clings to health visitors just so she can have an adult conversation as the mum-mums all around her are far too intimidating. Then one-day she strikes gold and meets Nelle and Will and the three form a solid bond.
One night the sleep deprivation gets too much for Stevie and she starts a blog and becomes First Time Mum, a blogger who becomes an overnight sensation, after speaking out about her true feelings about being a mum. The new-found confidence from blogging, along with her new friends slowly help Stevie to see she can do the parenting thing pretty well…until husband Ted drops a bombshell which leads to one blog-post too far.
I think every mum should read this book, as it’s a book any mum can relate to as we’ve all had moments of insecurity and worrying if we’re doing the right thing. In Stevie, Poppy Dolan has created a mum who is a hero and shown us that every mum is the hero of her own life. Being a mum is hard work, you’re responsible for another human being and you don’t get a manual so trial and error is the only way to go. Sometimes things will work out and sometimes they won’t, but that’s okay. Stevie has shown us its okay to have a meltdown every now and then, its okay not to be perfectly dressed, its okay to reach for the ready meals (it’s maybe not okay to leave your baby in the library) and it doesn’t make you any less a mum or love your baby any less.  I loved Stevie, in my eyes she’s the perfect mum. It’s obvious she adores Cherry and will do anything for her, including being caught on camera looking rough in the rush to get her to the doctor and being covered in sick at every social event going; but she also has her flaws, her main one being not expressing her emotions enough which leads her into trouble.
Confession of a First Time Mum is a realistic portrayal of the mum-life but written in a way which makes those stressful, insecure moments funny. Poppy Dolan has shown us there is a funny side to your baby being the one that has a poop explosion in the ball pool and shuts down the soft -play centre. We’ve all had those cringe-worthy moments where we want the ground to swallow us up but remember it happens to all of us and one-day it WILL be funny. I’ve read many “mum” books like this but this one is my favourite and I highly recommend it to any mum and every mum.
Extract

Chapter 7

From: Sarah Rimmer
To: Steviebutnotabloke@hotmail.co.uk
Subject: Hey yoooou
Hello lovely,
How are things? I realised I didn’t hear back from you on that other email and then that sent me into a shame spiral that I shouldn’t be sending you work stuff in your cuddly mummy bonding time. I’m sorry! Do you hate me? Have you dobbed me in? Dear IT guys: if you are monitoring my emails right now for a disciplinary, please know that I have photographic evidence of one of you pole dancing at the Christmas party. And I WILL fight dirty if it comes to it.
Anyway, I just wanted to say: I miss you. So much. Can I come out and see you soon, for a weekend lunch? Are you allowed to drink again these days? Shall I bring three bottles of cava or should I REALLY go to town?!
Can’t wait to see how life goes down in the sleepy burbs… Do you have a pinny? Do you make your own pastry? The mind boggles!
Love you,
Sarah x
Sleepy burbs. If only Sarah knew. While I’ve been reading her email and simultaneously tickling Cherry under the chin to keep her happy in the Hobbycraft shopping trolley seat, I have had four more Facebook notifications ping through on my phone. Three friend requests for First-Time Mum, one more comment on my reply to Gin and Sippy Cups. And that’s just in the last twenty minutes. Since I created the profile three days ago, I’ve made 3,267 ‘friends’ and had a gazillion notifications of Likes, replies and mentions. I have that head-swimmy feeling that I’ve just resurfaced from a scuba dive the whole, entire time.
I should turn off the notifications, really, and just check them at healthy intervals – say, twice a day, rather than between every two mouthfuls of porridge, like I did this morning. But I can’t stop myself. It’s like the dream I keep trying to wake myself up from. I need proof. Proof that this is all real. That this is happening to Stevie Cameron and not someone with a flat stomach and yet also guts, and a winning social media presence as well as a killer business plan. How can it have happened to the bumbling reality that is me?! I can’t find the nous to answer back to a snarky cashier in Co-op but somehow the righteous things my alter ego has typed in the dim light of my bedroom at 4am have really hit home. And people want to hear more. I’ve copied all my old blogs over to the Facebook page now, but I’m aware I need to write something new. And whatever it is had better be bloody good.
When I was just writing for me, I didn’t have this melon-twisting notion. I just let all the mad, dark, stupid, silly, ungrateful, soppy things fall straight from my brain onto the screen. And that was that. I’d give it a cursory reread for typos or anything that could cause offence and away I would go, publishing without a backwards glance. But now I’m a bit… Well, to put it into terminology from my pregnant days, I’m constipated. I’m bunged up with ideas and half-ideas and thoughts I really want to get out, but I don’t seem to have the strength to just do it and commit. And no one has invented prune juice for blogs just yet. So my notes folder has a list with a baffling collection of middle-of-the-night thoughts running away with itself:
      I have a theory that Sudocrem is impossible to wash off so the government can easily track the shuffling movements of new parents, in case they crack and hold up their local John Lewis with a sharpened butter knife. It’s like that ink that explodes over money when you rob a bank: there is NO getting it off again.
      The world of Bing is MESSED UP. Where are the parents?! Why has an animated sock puppet the size and heft of a guinea pig been left in charge?! There’s a talking rabbit, panda and elephant, but mysteriously a tiny cat that is… just a cat. It’s too much.
      Stephen King should set his next horror novel in the fetid neck folds of Big Baby.
      I would kill for a really crisp Caesar salad that I don’t have to make myself and can eat in a silent room, totally alone. Over four hours.
      Top tips for arguing in code over Big Baby’s head. It’s not enough to be passive-aggressive and speak in the third person about ‘What Daddy’s Done Now’. You have to whisper everything, too.


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