life

Quit your day job: become an Uber driver.

Sometimes I fantasise about having a career change. Sure, I love teaching and mothering, but occasionally I dream of becoming....... an Uber driver.Why on EARTH?!?!Well, I've been reading a lot about side-hustles lately. I feel my current skill set is perfectly aligned with the job. After all, I practically drive an underage Uber now, only I… Continue reading Quit your day job: become an Uber driver.

life

You don’t know what you don’t know. 

I recently attended a function and was chatting with my good friend Kate about breastfeeding (in particular, the ins and outs of how we were each planning to express/breastfeed/not become breastmilk fountains during work hours). We were both returning to work after periods of maternity leave. We had both exclusively breastfed our babies on demand.… Continue reading You don’t know what you don’t know. 

life · Uncategorized

In space no one can hear you scream. But four other people live in our house, so stop screaming.

It's 2.13 am. The house is silent. Silent that is, except for the angry wails and shouts exploding from my nine month old daughter's nursery. Baby girl is pissed. In fact I'm almost certain when I looked at the monitor screen I saw her give the camera The Ups (does anyone ever call it that… Continue reading In space no one can hear you scream. But four other people live in our house, so stop screaming.

life · Uncategorized

Toddler Haircuts, Necessary Evil?

  Haircut day is the bane of my existence. The stuff nightmares are made of, that humiliating (and deafening) experience involving a wailing toddler sitting atop my knees, his head spinning from side to side Exorcist style, his hands swatting away the stylist’s clippers, his mouth a sticky mess of Mentos and clumped together blonde… Continue reading Toddler Haircuts, Necessary Evil?

life · Uncategorized

Oh no you didn’t, girl! What Rosie did next.

"I think you've got a little something under your eye... is it mascara?" My mum, Treasure, said to me as we sipped the cappuccinos she'd brought over last Saturday afternoon. "Oh, no, Mum", I said, delicately patting the skin under my eye. "Rosie got me". You see, breastfeeding (or cuddling, or holding)  Rosie is like wrestling… Continue reading Oh no you didn’t, girl! What Rosie did next.