Joey
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I write in my head every day. I write little thoughts, memories, snippets of life, musings, funny things, heartbreaking ones too. I write them down with all my might, in my head, multiple times a day. And barely any get saved for posterity. They are but ways to cope with life, my own way, writing through it all, even when I can’t. As of a couple of months ago, I have been committing some of these thoughts to paper. Incoherent, written in stolen moments as the kettle boils, or dinner cooks, or on my way to settle a baby calling…
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The juggle is real! SO. VERY. REAL! I’ve read lots about working full time whilst raising children, I’ve spoken to colleagues, and I’m doing it myself just for good measure. The opinion is unanimous – it is a struggle. Some days, my life seems to be an endless list of chores, from laundry to cooking to grocery shopping, before and after a full working day at a fun yet busy job, with a dash of guilt every time I sit on the sofa exhausted after yet another sweet and uber long bedtime and choose to knit instead of tackling the…
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A day after my birthday last year, on the 8th August, I called my Father from the passport queue at Gatwick Airport to say we’d landed. He did not answer. Half an hour later, I got through to my Mother, who was on her way to the hospital where my Father had been taken. Stroke. That was all she knew and that was all she said. And that was the end of life as we knew it. I remember having the baby in the baby carrier, so close to me, and spinning around gently, oh so lost, when busy Gatwick…
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I love my birthday. I love celebrating my birthday. Yet, this year. Every day is hard with grief, I’ll give you that one for free. And then somehow, some days are a tad bit harder. A lot harder. Like birthdays. Yours and theirs. And special days. Last year, on my birthday, we were all there and there was cake, always the same cake, and laughter and that sweet promise of the future ahead that birthdays make you feel. This year, for my birthday, I’m trying to come to terms with loss and an unsurmountable pain that doesn’t get easier as…
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Before I became a parent, I was under the impression illusion babies and young children consistently slept for hours on end during the day, lying down comfortably in their cots or carrycots or prams. Yes, even those children who would not sleep at night, gave their parents the gift of naptime, from where I stood. I was also under the impression that parenthood gave you some sort of access to a secret energy potion like Obelix’s, which allowed parents to run whole profitable businesses exclusively during naptime. Needless to say, I knew nothing (Jon Snow). Spoiler alert, there’s no secret…
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Sometimes you* need a fresh start. A clean fresh start that reminds you of who you are and what your take on life is. A new dawn that makes you feel yourself amidst the loss and the grief and the sleep deprivation. I am happy. First and foremost, I am happy. Happy now too, yes, even in the painful aftermath of forever missing my Dad, but above all, happy in nature. Happy even as tears roll down my face at the memory of what was and the sadness of a whole future of forever missing him. Happy in fresh starts.…
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The mum guilt is real! There’s nothing you do as a parent that couldn’t be done better. By you. And there’s nothing you do as a parent which the alternative for wouldn’t leave you feeling guilty either way. You cannot win as a parent, and that’s just considering your own opinion (let alone the multitude of unsolicited personal views – mental punch!). The other night, after nursery, the toddler wanted to watch some TV and I let him. For 20 minutes, he watched some sweet cartoons in Portuguese (BONUS!) as I cooked a fresh homemade meal (like all our meals…
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