It’s holiday season, which means it’s ‘essentials for traveling with kids’ blog season. I’ve read so many ‘how to travel with kid’ blog posts, and although they are very practical and full of great tips, I think they lack a little something. A little ‘um, I think that’s illegal K’. As a seasoned traveller *ahem multiple trips up north and twice on a plane* I’m going to give you the real holiday essentials for traveling with a child. Continue reading “The REAL holiday essentials for traveling with kids. Oh, I forgot to add ducktape.”
Every now and then, when I have one of my depression roller-coasters, that ultimately end up with me breaking down, crying, frustrated at life, Dave and I always come together. We sit and we talk to each other, trying our best to understand this horrible cloud that has been placed over my head. After the tears, snots and cuddles, my witty humour always comes back out the closet. And the line we always, well I always utter is ‘have kids they said’.
Our life was relatively normal, stress free, non-mental before the birth of Jessica. Still, 2 years down the line we are trying to understand when and what happened to allow my depression to take hold. I have joked on more than one occasion that child birth is ‘traumatic’ and I ‘have post traumatic stress or something’, in fact I’m sure in one of my posts I do say I was traumatized by birth, but in a good way – if there is such a thing. The reason I joke, is that my idea of trauma is enduring a significant, upsetting, fearful, horrendous experience that harms a person, either physically or emotionally, such as rape, robbery, war, assault, experiencing a natural disaster or a car accident. Something that really altered your life, left you in a state of confusion and shock, something that you never want to happen to you again.
That doesn’t include child birth, right?
I have, after over a decade of having a shushmenstrual cycle come to the realisation that woman are just walking baby ovens. Huge, hormonal, sex mad, walking incubators of reproduction. Society would have us think that it’s the men that are the primitive, instinct driven, wilder beast, pouncing at the first sign of flesh. I’m not sure that is entirely true. I’m not suggesting us lady folk are forever on heat, sniffing out the prime willies – Christ on a stick no – I think woman (females, pick the appropriate term please) are unstable beings ruled by their reproductive organs.