The “C” Word

WARNING: I am about to say a dirty word. CELLULITE. I’ve been reading a lot about body positivity the past couple weeks. I have been thinking about how to model healthy confidence for my daughter as she grows up in the face of ever increasingly unrealistic and fake body standards forced upon us by the beauty…

Depression

Depression is an evil sneak thief. It’s tricksy. It creeps into the dark cracks of my subconscious and wedges them open. It’s like being tangled up in a sopping wet blanket. It clings and sticks but I’m just too tired to try to throw it off, even if I could find where it ends and I begin. Depression is the boulder…

Time Wasted

It’s 8pm, and I’m tired. The kitchen is a mess, the front room a disaster. I forgot to wash the bedsheets and my Engineering  homework is due. But here I am, sitting in a dark room with a squirming baby, who is protesting at the thought of being put to bed. It’s already past bedtime, but…

Grabby Peanut Butter Hands

It was after breakfast this morning that I looked over at baby and her path of destruction that suddenly remembered what it was I wanted to blog about last week. Baby had just cruised over to the one of the side tables next to her father, pulled the protective film off of his new work laptop…

Confession Thursday. I Hate Running. (and why kettlebells are awesome)

I realise that I’m blogging to a potential readership that has no idea who I am or what I’m like, but if you DID, you’d know how much I loath jogging, and how deep this hatred runs. (unintentional pun) Running. Sprinting. Shuffling along at a speed slightly faster than a brisk walk. It’s all so detestable to…

An Intermission

Yeah, so, I’ve been trying to compose a new post for weeks now. Something always seems to get in my way. The baby is going through her 7th leap (mommies and daddies, check out the Wonder Weeks app. It has helped me maintain sanity through trying times) and she wants to be PHYSICALLY ON TOP…

The Wooden Giraffe

It started this morning after breakfast. Wait. That’s not quite right. It really started at 2am. After he’d been kicked in the face for an hour or so, I took the ridiculously awake baby from my poor husband and fed her. It’s not like this is unusual in and of itself. I mean, night feeds…