Tortillas at Midnight

This is something you should read if you've had A Real Day and you need to know that other people have these sorts of Days too. It would have been funny if it wasn't me, so please do laugh at my expense so that at least someone can get some good old joy out of this Tuesday's mishaps. It all started with the wisdom teeth. My husband recently had a less than fun experience getting one wisdom tooth removed with his regular dentist, so an oral surgeon was recommended for the other three because apparently sedation is more pleasant. Today was the day. We drove into the big smoke (a big deal for us #smalltownlife folk) and found the surgeon's office. All was fine. Maya Angelou was still in one piece at this point, as far as I'm aware. When my toddler and I left my husband at the surgery, I figured we could go hang out at Te Papa while we waited. She loves it there and who doesn't enjoy seeing the giant squid? So we got back to the car and it was pouring with rain and ...

Unmartyring: definitely not a real word. But for the sake of my next few rambles - the act of evolving from the martyr within oneself. Removing her from the vessel. Discovering what’s left behind. A whole lot of uncomfortableness. And who knows what else? Anyway, I’m not sure how to even start this. In short, after some very frank conversations I’ve realized that perhaps I might be a bit horribly martyr-y. Even writing that out makes me question it all and feel icky, because surely I’m just a normal mother? But I’m trying to believe that being a mother does not equate to being a martyr, even if it feels like the two are synonymous. Currently, being a martyr is just not working (though really, does it ever work?). It’s not working for me, for my daughter, or for my family. Therefore, I’m on a mission to get her out. I don’t really know how to do this or where to begin, because it feels like such a monumental task and I don’t even know if it’s the right thing to do. Someone important...

There’s nothing more comforting than solidarity from your fellow parents when the going gets tough.  Even more so is when a complete stranger sees that you’re in a Tough Gig and they pass you some of their warmth and “it’ll be okays” in the form of a smile or a word of encouragement or an offer of help. Sure, their perfectly timed generousity or kind smile might be the very thing that tips you over the edge into a Public Cry, but it really is so dang pure. Having someone that you don’t even know simply understand where you are in the moment is so underrated. Humans can be pretty terrible (looking @ u, Trump), but sometimes they can also be wonderful and these are one of those times when you can really see them shine. Especially more so when you’re feeling vulnerable parenting during a tricky situation in plain sight, e.g. amongst your fellow supermarket shoppers. To those kind-hearted, non-judgemental parents in public spaces: you’re all the real MVPs. To these parents who understa...

Last night I had the privilege of reading this post by Emily Writes; a favourite author, advocate, and rebel of mine. And my goodness, her words rang true! When our toddler was about 6 weeks old, we were at one of our first Space sessions where lo and behold she screamed for most of the time. I was trying to hold back the tears as I watched all of my mum friends with their happy babies, seemingly having it all together and knowing what they were doing. I didn’t know why my baby screamed so much and why nothing I did would settle her. After cursing myself for leaving the house and swearing to never go back, I started talking to one of the session coordinators. She told me that she had four kids, much to my absolute horror in that moment. I had no idea how it was even humanly possible to cope with one child, let alone four! I felt as though I would be stuck beneath these tidal waves of desperation and drowning and just wanting it all to end, forever. I asked her how she did it, you know...