In an era where so many of us consume far far more than we create… here’s me creating at last.

My writing is like my mind and my life is a mirror reflection of that; I’m obsessed with a million different things, from trying to master a pull up to speaking fluent French; Vipassana meditation to horse-riding; eating whole foods to studying different peoples’ anatomies as I pass them on the street… and that’s the bare tip of my new agey-personality-ice-berg. I so adore each and every one of these topics (and several more besides) that it feels almost impossible to choose one and really focus on it because that means saying no to the rest. So ironically, I end up saying no to all of them.

My point (besides demonstrating that my brain is about as focused as a toddler on sugar) is that I don’t really know what to write about for my blog but I know that I need to write. So if you’ll excuse my lack of focus and direction (gosh darn you Mercury in Gemini!) I’m just going to start writing regularly and leave it up to the Muse as to what ends up coming out.

To finish this rather random and scatter-brained post, let me fill you in on a few similarly random and scatter-brained facts about me:

I’m a Mum of small kids who longs for a clean, tidy home. And when I say I long for it, I mean a few books and empty wrappers on the floor is all it takes before my left eye starts twitching neurotically and I automatically begin tidying up.

This means that I practically stalk my toddler trying to hoover up the trail of cracker and cornflake crumbs she leaves behind her and I have to remind myself regularly how much I love my little boy because, for example, yesterday he literally dumped a box of little lego bits on the floor then, without even looking at them, headed out to the garden to play football. I love him, I mean, I’m that parent who thinks the sun shines out of his and his sisters’ adorable poopy little arses. But by Jeezus, when they destroy the house, all I can think of is how much bett-ahem-different my life was six years ago…

So. That’s Mum life. I also run a business with my husband which is going well yet it’s safe to say I haven’t a bloody clue what I’m doing. And I swing between loving the opportunity for us to be our own bosses and freaking out that I’m making a total mess of it all, my husband doesn’t appreciate me (he does!) and my god, there’s never a real day off. I waitress part-time and while it’s not the dream job for me, at least I can clock out at five and forget about it all until the next shift.

I’m moaning. My life is beautiful and blessed and I am incredibly grateful for what and who I have blah blah blah. Just give me a bloody day off!

I reckon I would sell a kidney at this point (sure isn’t it pure greedy to have two fine healthy ones?!) just to have a little holiday from the daily demands, the frustrations of asking a little human to do something SEVEN times before losing the rag and yelling only to have their sad little face make you feel like the worst person in the world… not to mention the constant scrubbing and hoovering and the never ending fecking laundry.

I only want a small break, now, nothing excessive.

Say… six months?!