Dispatches from a car seat wet with an unknown substance

Dispatches from a car seat wet with an unknown substance

We will get to the dispatches…but first…

I’ve been trying to work out how to say thank you in a way that totally encapsulates the huge and actually quite overwhelming gratitude I feel for you all. When I had to go offline the most beautiful and loving messages started flowing in by email, and then not just by email – by post too.

Beautiful cards, chocolates, and gifts – all from the heart. I have cried a lot in the last few weeks. Really thought – what the fuck am I doing with my life. I’ve missed the community we built together – felt it was unfair to remove that community without warning. Felt guilty. Then felt like I had to do it for my mental health. I’ve gone back and forth about what’s the right thing to do. And I’ve realised there is no right or wrong here.

I’m not sure what to do.

So I’m back on Facebook – in part because I want to have a wine mum night with you. I want to laugh with you. I want to hear the funny things your kids are doing. I want to hold you close when you’re struggling – and for you to do the same for me. I want us to commiserate and celebrate together like we used to. I want us to continue to really hear each other when we talk about how tired we are, how tired feels like walking through sludge, like your eyeballs ache, and you didn’t even know that was a thing. I want us to keep being snarky and hilarious witches who think #WineIsBest and dummies are not tools of Satan. I want us to cackle into the night (but quietly so we don’t wake our babies).

There’s also the not so small matter of – this is how I earn my living, getting you to read The Spinoff Parents (so please like The Spinoff Parents page) and getting you to buy my book.

So for now, I’m back on Facebook.

I have some self-care stuff in place. I have moderators to help. I will be posting less. I am not back on Twitter for now and I’ve left all but one or two Facebook groups. That should help. I know the issue is with me – that I need a thicker skin. But also, I don’t want thick skin. I am a flawed person. I will fuck up. I will apologise. I will be held accountable. And I will cry when I feel hurt. And I can’t fuck up, apologise, and be held accountable if my skin is so thick it won’t let anybody in.

I’m also a better mother for being a squishy soft heart and I am tired of apologising for it so I won’t.

But I am also doing another thing – I am trying to believe all of the kind words in the emails and messages you send me. When you’re a little bit broken it’s easy to believe the mean stuff because it’s what you think about yourself on your awful days. It’s  harder to believe the kind stuff because we are not used to being kind to ourselves. I want my boys to be kind to themselves. I want them to be careful with hearts – starting with their own. I want them to believe me when I say that they have unique gifts that will make the world a better place. Because I truly believe you all have these gifts. I’m working on believing that about myself too.

So I am trying to say thank you in a way that let’s you know that you had my back when I really, really needed someone to have my back.  You pulled me up from a pretty dark place.

You made me feel like I can tell my kids that:

People are good.

It’s really huge that you made me feel that at a time when I wasn’t sure if it was true. So please, I will answer every email, I will get to every message, but until then: please take this post as a thank you for your kindness.Thank you a thousand times.

Life is like a box of chocolates, sometimes you’re like – what the fuck where did all these Turkish Delights and Cherry Ripes come from where are all the crunchies.

Thanks for being the crunchies in my box of terrible metaphors for life. x

Too much kindness…


Overheard on the baby monitor:

Eddie’s dad to Eddie while looking for Eddie’s baby: “Look mate, part of being a dad is not losing your kids. It’s actually probably the most important part of being a dad. It’s actually really the only thing. You need to keep an eye on your kids and make sure they don’t get lost””.


Me: “Eddie! Dan and Libby had their baby!”

Eddie: “I have a baby?”

Me: “Well, no, you know Dan and Libby who came over and Libby had a baby in her tummy? Well the baby is out of her tummy now!”

Eddie: “Can I meet it right now?”

Me: “Well, not right now because your brother is a bit snotty and we don’t want to make the baby sick but maybe Tuesday?”

Eddie: “What kind of baby is it?”

Me: “It’s a boy”

Eddie: “No what kind?”

Me: “I don’t know what you mean?”

Eddie: “Is it like our baby?”

Me: “It’s very small”

Eddie: “But is it lovely like our one? Is it good at cuddling?”

Me: “It is lovely, but it will probably be sleeping”

Eddie: “So is not like our baby at all”


For two nights in a row my boys slept all night in their own beds. And I said to my husband “We’re turning a corner!” and he said:


And I said, “I know. I’m not getting excited. I just mean I think this time might be it”.

And he said: Emily.

For the last week we have been back to 45 minute wake-ups. Last night was two babies in the bed. Crying for no reason – standing by the door. So tired I had three coffees today and cried before 7am. Went outside just to be woken by the cold air. Tonight I had to lay down with him to get him to sleep. It was an almost-hour long extraction to get off the bed and to the door and out again.

This time when my husband said my name it was full of love not warning. We cuddled on the couch. I had a cry. Tomorrow we will turn a corner.


My husband and I were discussing this thing one of our kids is doing that’s an issue. He explained his technique that he’s using to stop the behaviour.

“It doesn’t work at all. But you know, we should keep trying it”.

This feels like our entire parenting philosophy.


This final story is gross but it made me laugh – if you thought the farts in mouths thing was bad, you should just end this post here.

Eddie: “My friend J is my poo friend”

Me: What’s a poo friend?

Eddie: He done a poo in the toilet and then I done a poo on top of his poo! Poo friends!

Oh of course.


Want to win a vasectomy? Yeah you do.