Friendship as a parent is often just an exercise in two people planning to catch up, cancelling, forgetting to press send on the next text message and then tagging each other in funny memes on Facebook until you die.
Safe to say, it’s not actually easy maintaining adult friendships through the chaos Continue reading
So far, only a few days out from the end of 2017, my “don’t have an affair with Chris Hemsworth” resolution is going great! And if I could just manage to stop letting my children get in the way of me eating an entire tub of ice cream in one sitting then I may just realise my dream of being crowned the queen of cellulite. #soclose Continue reading
Disclaimer: If you’re part of my family or friends or know me in real life in any capacity, see me at school drop off, might run into me randomly at the supermarket somehow, work with my husband or just generally think I look familiar and you may have met me once, you should probably stop reading this post at this point because it contains more information about my nether regions than you probably need know about. Continue reading
At the risk of offending anyone with a healthy dose of too much information, my husband and I are March breeders.
I don’t know what they’re putting in the water come autumn, but it must be a little shoo-wop shoo-waddy-waddy yippity boom-de-boom, because when we were trying to conceive, before you could say chang-chang Continue reading
1. If I can hear you chew, I have fantasised about your death.
2. Real pain is when you offer someone some of your food to be polite and they actually take it.
3. I don’t call anyone. I’m basically paying $100 a month to decline incoming calls, forget to Continue reading
So, in my day to day life, a lot of my guilt quota is consumed [quite literally] with feeling bad about something I ate.
And occasionally some short lived contrition for being mad at my husband purely because he’s not Harry Styles.
When I have the emotional space for indulging myself in other forms of conscience Continue reading
I’m at that point in life where I consider brushing my hair as making an effort, so you can imagine my ongoing disgruntlement over the fact that I don’t awaken each morning looking like a glowing, charmingly freckled, incredibly wealthy, fresh faced, Blake Lively. Due to unfortunate circumstances known as genetics, my face doesn’t do that. Nor do I wake up Continue reading