Why Mother Hen?


Writing Prompt: How did you get your name?

This is a question posed the other day by my blogbuddy Eli over at Coach Daddy, (He’s great! If you aren’t following him, why not, I ask you? Sports, parenting, humour and heart all in one place!)

It occurrred to me then that many of you new followers may be wondering the same thing. I mean, it is kind of a goofy name… But there are quite a number of you out there who have not yet seen pctures of my chickens or had the privilege of being personally mothered by me. My desire to mother any and everyone is both a blessing and a curse… don’t worry, my friends. Your day will come… 🙂

The genesis of my blog is, like a lot of things about me, kind of weird. And random. Also, a bit awkward.

It all started when I decided after a long boycott of social media, to get hooked up on facebook. Well, no ACTUAL hooking up occurred, but that is just a term I can’t seem to stop using in spite of its rather unsavoury connotations. Bear with me. I’m old, ok? Anyway, when we relocated back to England after a 4 year break back in the States, I decided that facebook was becoming something of a necessity to keep in touch with my family and friends back there. Honestly, without facebook, my family does not communicate. LIke, at all.

Phone calls? De passe. Email? Yesterday’s news. Actual conversation does take place occasionally, but only when everybody is in the same place at the same time, and in a family of 6 plus my half brothers and 5 step siblings, that is pretty much never.

But I digress.

So I entered the dark waters of the facebook world out of necessity, and quickly fell in love with this whizzy new gadget for keeping tabs on everyone. In spite of my clear mandate to “friend” only family and close friends, the lines quickly got blurred and before I knew it, I had a couple hundred people looking at my stuff and commenting, etc. I was a proper liking and commenting machine for about 3 months, until I decided I hated facebook and shut it down.

Guess how often I heard from my family during this one month haitus?facebok-memes

*cue crickets*

Yep, you guessed it. Never.

So I reopened my account (like most people do), then shut it down a month later, reopened it again I don’t know how many times. Like it or not, facebook was here to stay.

And then the writing began. My posts, generally 3 or 4 lines tops, began to get longer… and longer… and longer. I was embarrassingly verbose, like a kid set loose in a dictionary store. Have a look at my facebook masterpiece regarding the wonders of British plumbing in Ode de Toilet, reproduced here as a post in May. I’m sure you will understand why my children were mortified… hahaha! Poor things – fancy having a mother like me!

My comments were not much better. If something lent itself to a humorous writing op, I would just go for it, no holds barred. I wrote hilarious essays on everything from cheesecake recipes to the history of the Jewish nation in facebook comments. Naturally, they were wholly unappreciated. I would get snarky comments from people like, “Ugh… longest. answer. ever.” I soon realized that, unlike me, facebookers do not read actual paragraphs. They like 2 types of post:: Cat memes, and videos. Any text longer than 2 lines is lost on them.

At some point, I began writing a series of “Diary” entries about life here among the chickens, and life in England in general and signing them Mother Hen. It didn’t take long to figure out I was going to need to get a blog going just so I didn’t lose all 200 of my facebook friends… because, well, facebook. If you’re not friended there, you have no friends… (Ha!) No, seriously. I was driving everyone crazy apart from my mom and about 20 loyal readers who kept encouraging me to write, write, write… (you know who you are!)

In honour of my 9-month blogversary, I thought I would regale you with a little blast from the past, and proof positive that I NEEDED to get a blog. If only to keep from annoying my meme-loving facebook family!

So, without further ado, here is my very first facebook Diary entry:


Y’all know I love you when I’ll appear on camera sans makeup. No seriously. This is proper love. No woman in her right mind does this. Which actually explains a lot…

Dear Diary #1, Let me preface this rant with a disclaimer: I love living here in England. I really do. But there are days, and this is one, when cottage life can become somewhat claustrophobic. My living room is about 10 x 11 and contains the most massive American sofa (don’t ask – long story), plus an exercise bike, 2 chairs and a large coffee table, a bookcase, a fireplace, 2 coal hods, a wood basket, 2 quilts, 2 cats and a partridge in a pear tree.   Do the math. We have a narrow, hoarder-sized path about 12 inches wide in which to navigate, and trust me, people, I do NOT hoard. I am seriously unsentimental. I AM, however, clumsy on occasion, and between the feet of the exercise bike and the legs of the coffee table, no toe on my foot is safe, and I have a fairly permanent bruise on each shin.

Every doorway has an actual door on it, including the hallway, which may in itself not sound like a problem; but between furniture and few places to store things, it gets tight. Hoovering today was a proper chore with a 6 foot cord (WHY??? WHY SO SHORT?????) that I had to unplug and replug 50 times, in between maneuvering around furniture and – well, STUFF.

Now, factor into this equation my age. I’m 48 and married to a man whose core body temperature is about 10 degrees too low. He likes it warm in here. No, not warm; he likes it HOT. He’s like a rattlesnake basking on a doorstep, the hotter the better. I, on the other hand, run to the warm side, as most women my age do. I can’t tolerate sleeves of any kind in this house, so I live in string vests, much to the dismay of my postman. My husband, on the other hand, sleeps in a hoodie and track bottoms under a 6-inch feather duvet, (??????) but that is another story.

So now that my carpets are cleaned, I am set to tackle the ironing pile in a HOT living room that I have had to reconfigure in order to set up my ironing board… *sigh*

Your Seriously Ruffled,

Mother Hen

facebook meme:

Photos taken with my chicken diva, Dusty Dustball Orpington, my hand raised chick. Isn’t she gorgeous?

Now, the ball is in your court, my friends! How did you get your names? Is there a fun story behind it? Mine was kind of lame, I know, so surely you can do better… Humour me – it IS my blogversary, after all!

© motherhendiaries 2014, all rights reserved

Categories: blogging

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34 replies »

  1. First of all, I can’t follow the wonderful Coach Daddy just yet because clicking your link simply graces my screen with a lovely 404 error Page Not Found message which really is just as boring to read as it appears to be. Second of all, you are far too talented an individual to be wasting yourself on Farcebook, a venue that I departed from approx. 2 years ago, when they changed their fine print to allow themselves to use your web-cam without getting your permission first. Not nice. Third, my site name is nowhere near as interesting as yours, relating directly to my city of residence, thus Vancouver Visions . But I thank you for the opportunity to say all that, and to shamelessly plug my site, and to help you celebrate your Blogoversery. Now I’m off to find a “working” link to Mr. Coach Daddy’s amazing site. (I’m very glad you chose to Blog. Facebook’s loss is our gain : )


  2. The shots of you and the chickens are awesome. I think you look lovely sans makeup! Good luck with the space and heating challenges. Finally experiencing the mini hell of menopause symptoms over here and I feel like a Superhero. I can fire up my insides just by getting a little worked up. Hmmmmm…maybe I could work this to my own advantage. lol

    Liked by 1 person

    • Haha! Thanks… I do love my girls! 🙂 No point in blowing expensive cosmetics on them – all I have to do is smell like the dinner wagon and they love me anyway… 🙂 As for the misery of menopause, I am glad to know you are considering turning it to your advantage. Me? I finally went to the doc last week and was put on some very low dose venlofaxine which has worked wonders! I get the occasional warm moment, but nothing like it was, and best of all, I am able to SLEEP again! I feel like a new woman already! xx


  3. Had to chuckle about the menopause talk! I remember when and can empathize. Glad the med is working for you Dorreen! Happy Blogversary! In honor of that I’d like to nominate you for a Sisters of the World Bloggers Award! I know how busy you are and I know what you’re going to say already! But…consider at least looking at the nominees and their blog sites. There are some incredible “young” bloggers out there in the Land of Blog. Ages start at 14! I think a sisterhood of all age bloggers is a good thing, and you are Mother Hen! You can find out more about this award here:

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Thanks for the shout-out! Coach Daddy began as part of a parenting website where I used to blog. My tagline was “because coachin’ and daddyin’ come from the same damn place.” For more of their lives than not, I’ve been coach and daddy to my three girls, and it’s changed my life.

    Next season will be the first I don’t coach any of my girls. It’s sad and strange. But, I feel like the coach part and the daddy part are so mixed up that it’d be like trying to separate mixed playdoh colors to change the blog title now!

    Glad to know your story, too, Dorreen.


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