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A Questionable Method

On being a woman, and raising teenagers when people still think you are one.

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Posts About Being A Woman. (If you are a man, you can still read these, they may even help).

Morning Glory

Don't worry, I'm not oversharing. It was NOT that kind of morning. For some magical reason we all slept in a little today. ย I was up late last night having heart palpitations because an interview I had givenย with the glorious... Continue Reading →

Two girls walk into a pubย 

I am committing sleep hygiene crime here. I'm writing this post on my phone, lying on my side, illuminated only by the auto brightness setting. I should've just had the warm milk... I may as well write this post in... Continue Reading →

Silent night.

I usually write a post about Christmas at this time. It's usually not really about the joy and the gratitude, but rather the stress and the hostility. But I'm not going to do that this year. This year is going... Continue Reading →

99 bottles of beer on the wall….

One evening after dinner, but before all the kids were down for the night, James and I had a beer. Okay, a bourbon and coke. Okay two. We sat there, and smiled at each other. James looked at his drink,... Continue Reading →

No really, I’m totally qualified..

Well that was a Debbie Downer. Let's be honest though, I knew it would say this. I'm pretty sure I've talked about impostor syndrome in an earlier post but I can't be bothered doing that thing where I look through... Continue Reading →

How to adult (and other fantasies)

All I wanted to be when I was young was a grown-up. It looked like they were having a fundamentally better time. Despite proving myself academically in my latter years, high school and I never had much of a romantic... Continue Reading →

Dirty Expectations.

I imagine it was probably 1988. We were about 7 or 8 at the time. There was a movie that played on television, and all the kids were talking about it. Ok, the girls were. Ok, one of them was.... Continue Reading →

The Orange Shirt of Adulthood.

I have a pretty good arse. It's okay to say it. And, if that sentence makes you uncomfortable, here is a picture of a puppy. You can just stare at that while I keep writing. As a teenager (like, the... Continue Reading →

You are doing great. Please pass the mashed potato.

Do you know which words I can never hear enough of? "Well done, excellent job." Those 4 words serve as a warm blanket wrapped around me on a crapper of a day. Maybe it's that those words soothe my oft-depleted... Continue Reading →

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