On the surface, there are two types of writers: Planners and Pantsers (people who fly by the seat of their pants.) Like anything, it’s more complicated than that once you dig in, but they are two nice little boxes with which to catagorise people, and we’re going to run with that for the sake of… View more
Because a penis is basically a magic wand that allows you the freedom to be yourself even after you have mini-mes running around.
“I want to write, but I don’t have time.” We’ve all said it. Maybe even today. “He’s so busy,” and “She doesn’t have time for me,” are two things I hear all the time as my alter ego Miss U, too, and the thing that I tell those couples also applies to writing. We are… View more
I rarely got angry before I had kids. I didn’t shout. I considered myself a very patient down-to-earth person. Well, it’s easy to be all those things when you really only have yourself to look after, you’re sleeping when you need to, eating when you’re hungry and you can walk from one end of your… View more
I write all this stuff about building better relationships with your children, repairing your relationship, fixing your diet, getting back into exercise, making time for spiritual practice and then days like today happen and I wonder if I’m not just a big fucking fraud. Days like today, I fail. I don’t just fall off the… View more
Being a parent means controlling yourself more than it means controlling your child.
The amount of times I’ve sat there feeding or pumping for what feels like hours, my mouth dry and my stomach empty, inventing new creative insults for Dear Hart who hasn’t received my telepathic summons for food and water… save yourself and your marriage and prepare as best you can.
Opening a dialog about breastfeeding, sharing experience and just being real!
Once upon a time I was dating this hairy toad and everyone could see that he was a stinking toad except me, because I was basically Anna from Frozen if she wore jeans and was on Centrelink…
