Dispatches from the lavender room of zen

Dispatches from the lavender room of zen

My husband has gastro. It was quite the welcome back from Nelson. The Arts Festival was so dreamy – I felt like I was in another world. Then I needed to go back to literal Chunderville.

Luckily my mother-in-law stepped in while I was away and took the boys for the night so my husband could poop forever in peace. I went straight from the airport to her house and we stayed two days while my husband worshipped the porcelain gods at home.

I always stay in the purple room at my mother-in-law’s house. There is dried lavender and it’s zen AF. As soon as I walk in I’m calm. It’s the room equivalent of a lorazepam. The children always sleep better at her house because life is a cosmic joke. They spend their days saying “Thank you Nanna. I love you Nanna. Please can I have Nana”. They are perfect at Nana’s. It’s the Nana-effect. Nanamania.

She says – “time for a bath!” and they hop in the bath. She says “eat up!” and they eat up. It’s magical. She says “time for bed” and I fucking shit you not they just go to bed.

And at first I was like this is proof surely that I am not a good parent. This shows it’s me that’s defective in not being able to get my children to just do what I want them to. It’s all my fault. The guilt. The guilt. But then I go into the lavender room of zen and I’m just like “ah fuck it. It’s fine”.


The Mountain Between Us is perfect. Many hundreds of millions out of ten. They do not eat the dog.


My son’s injustice expressed verbatim in monologue after his brother broke his train track


“You HURT me. You KICKEND in my HEART. You brokened it right open and kickend it so hard I will never stop crying and it cannot ever be fixed.”

“If you do this one more time….I WILL…If you do it just two more times….I WILL I WILL ACTUALLY I WILL…OK just if you do this one hundreden more times I will never be your best friend not ever even when you need a best friend”.

“I will *whispers* hit you in the face *returns to loud ranting* I will TELL ON YOU TO ALL THE ADULTS. I will show my hurted and brokened and kickend heart and how you stoled my feelings! YOU RUIN MY FEELINGS WHEN YOU TOOKED MY TRAIN TRACK”


“SAY SORRY NOW OR-OR-OR I will never let you play in my life if you don’t say sorry today in the day or maybe at night”.

*baby farts*



My son was told “boys don’t cry”. I watched him sniff quickly and then turn around. He hid his face. I went to comfort him and he turned around and roared. He roared and his face was filled with fury. He made his hands into fists. Bit hard onto his lips to stop any tears.

I pulled him into me and his body was all sharp corners, a rod for his back, breathe I said. Cry out your feelings. We all cry. I said. That was very silly for that person to say. I said.He melted into me. A puddle, the sharp corners softened, the rod gone. “Thank you mama” he whispered in my ear. He smiled and pressed his nose to mine. “I feel strong again”.


‘Look Eddie! This is our new prime minister!”

“The Fence Lady! Who will be on the fences now?”


“Her face was on all the fences holding up the fences. You use pictures when you don’t have any wood left. You get the pictures of The Fence Lady from Bunnings”


I feel like this creep is judging me? Every time I skip pages while reading the kids a book he’s there.

If my body is found….and it looks like an accident. Find out where the turtle was. Question the turtle. The turtle did it. That fucking good for nothing turtle.