Can We Talk Shit For a Moment?

I went out to lunch yesterday with a group of my girlfriends. We’ve known each other for close to 20 years and we make an effort to do ladies lunch once or twice a year so we can catch up away from Facebook statuses and generally talk shit.

And yesterday along with a few bottles of Pinot Grigio we talked a lot of shit and discovered that we all have the same amount of shit and pile it up in roughly the same place in our homes. In a place we dubbed the ‘shit bowl’.

The ‘shit bowl’ is the dumping ground where everything life admin goes to get lost. And we all have that place. You probably have that place. Thanks to a recent house move my shit bowl is actually a shit station gloriously spread over an entire kitchen bench. It irks me every time I look at it because I’m an everything-in-its-place kinda gal.

Here’s a photo of my current shit station. Continue reading

Don’t Call Me Baby: A Post About Straight Talk, Death and Vaginas.

Let’s get one thing straight. I am not a cutesy type of gal. I don’t respond well to baby talk, pandering or unnecessary subtleties. Life is short and people often have things far more important to do with their time than decode your quirky take on the English language. Say what you mean and don’t dilly dally. Or use words like “dilly dally” for fuck’s sake!

As someone who likes to use words a lot (and, let’s face it has her own way with words and applies her own rules of grammar), I find I have developed quite the list of words and phrases that just rub me up the wrong way. Here’s some, that when I hear them, make me throw up in my mouth a little: Continue reading

Never Say Never

With a four-and-a-half year old I’m a still novice at this parenting gig but as someone who is prone to reminiscing I reflect often on the past 54 months. Parenting is a steep learning curve that comes with a library of complimentary …I mean CONTRADICTORY…self-help books none of which you have time to absorb or care about because you’re usually too busy planning meals or nursing toddler tantrums or trying to keep some semblance of your pre-parent self alive all the while just hoping for a few extra hours of uninterrupted sleep.

Before I became a mother there were a slew of things that I thought I knew. A plan I thought I’d follow. And a life I thought I’d lead. But when you’re given the job and your new boss is screaming at you for a clean bottom, warm milk or a never-ending cuddle you pretty soon realise that things are never going to be the same again.

And that you should never say never. So here’s seven things that, as a new mother, I was never going to do. Continue reading

Don’t bring me flowers, just empty the dishwasher

Mother’s Day is a bittersweet social religion that I’ve never really fully grasped. In my opinion, it’s a path full of potholes because motherhood is never all sunshine and light. Yes, it’s lovely to be recognised for being an awesome caregiver and an integral part of the family unit but it’s bathed in established criteria for what a mother is and does and should be.

There are so many ways to be a ‘mother’ and while I do enjoy the social niceties of being a traditional Mum, I can’t help but feel for those that want to be mother but can’t (which was very nearly me), those that no longer have their mother at their side (which is me) and for those that fall into a different category altogether like two-Dad families where a day like today can be cause for a quiet retrospective instead of the burst of cheap carnations our world throws up.

So while I’m thinking about all of these things I’m also reflecting on the imbalance that my adult life has become. An imbalance that I’ve let happen, to be fair, because I like my home the way I like my home. It has a sense of order and neatness amongst the chaos of life with a 4-year-old (and a 43-year-old man child!).  Continue reading