I offer thee a Period Pack. May it improve your hormonal state and my life expectancy.

Period Pack: An offering to the female of the species at her most volatile time. Period packs are, usually, gifted by the male to subdue the females aggressive, emotional and unstable behaviour at the onset of menses. Well received packs typically contain chocolate, puddings, cake, wine and/or relaxation aids such as bath bombs.

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The REAL holiday essentials for traveling with kids. Oh, I forgot to add ducktape.

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.

I will do anything for love, but I won’t share that!

I’ll share many things with my partner. We share life, the usual stuff, sharing a bed, sharing raising a child, sharing chores (unevenly), sharing the occasional breakdown when you just can’t take anymore of being an adult, sharing the burden of people constantly questioning our relationship status – ‘are you getting married?’, we share the eye rolls, the moans, the good, the bad and the ugly. I’m talking the real ugly, the shiting on the bed having a baby ugly. To be fair, I don’t remember doing it, so did it really happen?

I want to believe

I want to believe I am the best thing since sliced bread.

I want to believe every heart felt word or encouragement from my partner’s mouth.

I want to believe I am the best mum for my daughter.

I want to believe what my daughter so freely shows, that I am her idol.

I want to believe I am the mum that she sees.

But I don’t believe it. I know me better than that and I believe I am toxic to my child.

Isn’t that fucked up?

Im 30 and I like it

Well, like is a bit of a strong word. But what really are your options for turning the dreaded 3.0? Like my dad says ‘you can like it or lump it’. I’m going to tolerate it. I swore to myself that I wasn’t going to be one of those club 30 people, those people that fester on their age, believing the end is nigh, dooms day is fast approaching after the turn 29, the last year of their twenties. I promised myself 30 would just be a number, nothing important, just another orbit around the sun I have endured enjoyed.