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  • posts that have *trigger warning* at the beginning may contain sensitive topics-read with caution if you have sensitivities.
  • I invite anyone to give me topics to talk about (the more controversial-the better)

How am I so Lucky?

Its been a long time, I know, I guess I’ve been sleeping well lately, which goes right along with this subject which is how lucky I am.

Obviously I am lucky in the sense that myself and my friends and my family are happy, healthy and live in a safe and clean place- which I am grateful for, and they are things we all know we are “lucky” to have but its not too often front of mind (unless your reading/watching the news, of course….)

But what makes me feel luckier then everyone else? The truly amazing quality of the people in my life. For one, my amazing husband. And he is honestly nothing less then amazing. I always tell him he has it “easy” getting to go to work everyday, and not having the same general children and household responsibilities that I do. But even though I KNOW working is much much easier than staying at home with children, I am still the lucky one. I am lucky because although I’m spending all day cleaning and cooking and looking after the children…. I get to do just that. So many parents don’t get to spend half the amount of time with their children as I do mine. My children do make me want to rip my hair out and throw all their toys away. But I am so lucky I am there to see them tip the clean washing basket out for the 5th time today.

I am lucky because although “what’s mine is yours” is something that goes with getting married and having children. My husband always puts mine and the children’s needs (and WANTS) before his own. I know I contribute a portion of funds to the family, but I know I spend more then my portion and I spend more then I need.  I know I contribute extra in other ways that my husband does not. But at the end of the day, at the end of the week, when you spent 40+ hours at work in the week, its caused a great deal of stress, and taken up so much time and energy- your reward for that is your pay. So when you don’t get to go use your reward how you want- it sucks – hard. I am lucky because although my money gets spent in similar ways to my husband (bills). I get my reward of spending extra time with my children. AND I’ve only spent half the amount of time at work.

The next biggest thing that makes me so lucky is my mother. Only today I was reading an article about the insane cost of childcare (which if you’re a parent-you know all about). I am lucky to have my mother and to have her so willing and so happy to help with babysitting. Without her I wouldn’t be able to work as much as I do, which if I didn’t work as much as I do, the small amount of childcare my children are in, and the expense of it, would make it pointless working at all. I am lucky enough to have a mother that will watch 2 children for several days a week, because of this we are able to have take-away or buy treats for our children- we are able to start saving for house. I know so many people whose parents don’t have the opportunity to help this much with babysitting. I am lucky my mother CAN. I know many people who, even if their  parent had the time- they wouldn’t use it week after week- consistently babysitting. I know most grandparents love babysitting and seeing the grandkids-but I don’t know any- other then my mother who would agree to help as much or as often as she does. I am lucky because my mother never asks for anything in return.

Obviously I am lucky to have all my family and my friends around. And I know they all help out when and where they can. I appreciate everyone in my life. I just literally wanted “the world” how grateful I am for these two glorious people. (and I couldn’t sleep). I know in ten years when the babies are bigger and we own our own home and are truely content with life- It’ll be because of my husband – who is the hardest-worker- who puts his needs last (most of the time) and because both he and my mother give me the opportunity to work hard too, while raising my wonderful terrors.


Different Opinions


Different Opinions 

A difficult time in parenting is when family or even close friends have different way of parenting. The easiest way to get through this to accept everyone has different ways of parenting and to keep your opinions to yourself. Sometimes that’s difficult, when someone’s parenting endangers or hurts the child or when they are doing something that you believe to be harmful.

What makes this more difficult is the internet telling every mother and every father everything their doing wrong. And every doctor having a different opinion on when babies and children should be doing or having certain things.

Generally, I share my opinion and the reasons why I parent the way I do, and leave it at that. There are somethings that aren’t really a matter of opinion. Such as “Does a newborn need a pillow?” NO, they definitely do not, that’s not an opinion, it’s a fact and using a pillow for a newborn can lead to serious consequences. I’m going to discuss a few facts/opinions I find are most commonly argued about by parents. And try, to discuss both sides of the arguments.

A common disagreement within families is when a baby should start solid food and what. Doctors sometimes tell parents to start solids at 4 months, some say 6months. Some say when the child is showing the signs of readiness. Most doctors are not up to with current guidelines, and its likely they haven’t had any further training since med-school, this is not to say they’re wrong, just do your own research and then discuss that research with your doctor. (Don’t just do straight what google says). I hear parents say “I started Jimmy on food at 4 months because the doctor said he wasn’t gaining enough weight, so he needed the extra food”. I also hear parents say “I started Jimmy on food at four months because he was soo big! And the doctor said he needed the extra food”. These sound like valid (although somewhat conflicting) reasons. Some parents tell you about “Open Gut” and the dangers of starting solids before 6 months due to gut immaturity. They argue just because your child is bigger or hungrier does not mean their intestines have developed quicker than average babies. (This theory is still being researched further) And then some parents say “Jimmy was meeting the signs, such as sitting up, watching us eat and trying to grab our food, the doctor said this was the best way to decide when to feed him food”. But again these “signs” are a matter of interpretation. Such as Sitting up – was it unassisted? Watching you eat- don’t babies watch you no matter what you’re doing? I decided to wait until 6 months personally and I’m so glad I did, I do believe in open gut, and it’s also the recommended time to start solids from most Major Health Organizations Worldwide- However I will not tell my friends and family they’re parenting wrong if they start early. That’s their choice. I might share the information with them, but I will not judge them if they choose differently to me.

Smacking. Some say child abuse- some say it’s the best way to teach right from wrong. That “the problem” with society these days are children aren’t being punished like they used too. Some parents say they tried time out and taking toys away and their child just doesn’t learn unless they’re smacked. And “I was smacked and I turned out great”. This is a topic I personally struggle with keeping my opinions to myself on, I believe smacking can be child abuse and it’s at the very least extremely detrimental to the long term emotional development of the child. I’ve read loads of research showing the negative effects and I honestly don’t understand why if you hit another adult its “assault” but if you hit a child its “good parenting”. I understand many parents use it as a last resort and only smack when the child is doing something wrong continuously. I do not judge those who smack their children, and I do not think they abuse their children. I know they’re doing the best they can and they believe they are doing what’s best for the child. But I want to share the research I’ve found about this and help them find other ways to parent. But I don’t, especially with close friends and family, I choose to keep peace and accept people parent differently. I get a lot of shit from friends and family for not smacking. They think I’m raising spoilt brats who won’t respect anyone. But they haven’t seen firsthand, like I have the positive effects stopping smacking has had on my children and my family unit as a whole. They haven’t done the research like I have. I don’t understand why if I can keep my opinions on you smacking your children to myself, why you can’t keep yours about me not smacking my children to yourself.


The last argument I find most common among parents is Vaccines. Whether to Vaccinate or not. I’m not even going to pretend this is an argument. VACCINATE YOUR CHILDREN! There is NO valid argument to not vaccinate (unless medical reasons such as documented reactions and auto-immune diseases). I don’t care if you believe in “natural remedies”, I don’t care if you think they cause fucking autism. I don’t care if the “big scary chemicals” frighten you. If you choose not to vaccinate I do believe you’re a shit parent. And I don’t have a problem telling you so. You’re withholding basic health care from your children because you think you know better than 99.9% of doctors, scientists and researchists in the world! And don’t even start with any “BIG PHARMA” bullshit because if your anti-vaxx you’ve already proven you’re an idiot and I cannot be bothered to argue with you. It’s not an argument. It’s not a personal decision or a “each to their own” situation. Your stupidity in not vaccinating effects not only family and friends, not only your local community, but both your entire country and the entire fucking human race.*

*I will be writing a Venting Blog regarding this at some point-look out for it 🙂

I don’t care if you smack, or start food at 4 months, or if you CIO, or if your child only eats organic food, or you home-school or whatever, if you are doing the BEST you possibly can.


**unless you don’t vaccinate-then you’re parenting poorly because you’re not doing the best you can.




This is my personal experience with breastfeeding and the incredible journey I’ve been on over the last 6 months.

This isn’t one of those ‘fed is best’ posts, nor will I be shitting on any mums at all-whether they formula feed, use donor milk, or breastfeed. It’s not about extended breastfeeding until 4+ years, it’s not about how babes need that first colostrum. It’s not the physical difficulties like a pain and cracked nipples and soaking through your shirt through the night, or engorged breasts feeling like you’ve a couple of boulders strapped to your chest. Which sure, that all fucking sucks but what this is about- is the emotional rollercoaster that you could never be prepared for.

I failed at breastfeeding my first and didn’t really think too much about it, sure I felt I’d let my baby down, but that’s what formula is made for right? It was unbearably painful and he wanted to be fed constantly. When he would cry I would try everything else possible (changing, burping, giving him a bath, just playing with him-everything) before I offered him the breast, I would cry throughout the whole feed, and after 30 or so minutes or as soon as he let go, I’d convince myself he was done- when really it was me that was done. I know now, he was just cluster feeding and I suspect he had a tongue tie, which was why it was so painful, but every mid-wife I saw in hospital had told me he had an excellent latch, and no one had ever mentioned cluster feeding to me. So, I thought the problem was me, that I was doing it wrong and that I wasn’t making enough milk, that my nipples shouldn’t be bleeding. We bought a can of formula and gave him a bottle, he stopped crying and fell asleep peacefully for the first time (in the week and a half) since he’d been born. It didn’t work out so it didn’t, he had formula and he was happy and healthy and that’s all that mattered. And I felt sure in my decision to formula feed. I never breastfed him again.

My last pregnancy I was asked numerous times at mid-wife appointments “do you plan to breast feed”. I always answered with “I want to try, but I couldn’t with my first” and honestly, I expected the same situation – to have babe 2 on formula within weeks. But it was different this time. The first couple of feeds were still painful, but bearable. I had an extended stay in hospital this time (due to unrelated complications) and during my time in hospital I had the wonderful opportunity to speak to a lactation consultant (I highly highly recommend anyone with difficulties breastfeeding to see one) She came and examined my breasts and saw one of my nipples was cracked and slightly bleeding. This wonderful lady hand expressed my breast for me (you can only hand express with colostrum) into a syringe to feed my daughter. So, my nipple could have time to heal before the next feed, without it effecting my milk coming in. She taught me new positions to feed baby in. And by the end of that one day I was good. It only hurt for the first couple of minutes of the feed, and then- NO MORE PAIN! I never believed anyone when I was told breastfeeding can and should be pain free, by 8 weeks there was no pain at all (except when she tried to pull my nipple off :P). I have successfully exclusively breastfed for 6 months.

So, what is the problem with breastfeeding? What I never expected to feel during my breastfeeding journey was guilt. Guilt that I’d failed my older son, that I’d given up too soon. That already my new baby was given an advantage over him. Guilt that I didn’t get to bond with my son the way I was with my daughter through breastfeeding. Guilt over how I essentially had to let my older son fend for himself and play by himself while his sister was cluster feeding. Guilt that my husband couldn’t be as involved with feedings as he was with my first. Guilt whenever I had a coffee or ate something that gave her a tummy ache.

I also never expected to feel the unimaginable feeling of truly being there for your baby and being everything she needs. To feel that if she’s ever upset or tired or in pain, I could make it all better by just lifting my shirt. I never thought I could enjoy breastfeeding this much. Being able to breastfeed my daughter has given me pure joy and just inconceivable bliss.

All these conflicting feelings are enough to give anyone a head spin. But just when I thought I finally had come to terms with the fact – I gave my son the best I could and I’m doing the same with my daughter. I suddenly need to go back to work. I looked everywhere I could for a night job, so I could express a bottle or two during the day and my husband could feed my baby girl at night, she sleeps well so I wouldn’t need much expressed. After being unsuccessful at finding a night role I started looking for part-time, hoping I could stay on top of pumping enough to continue my breastfeeding journey. It was during this job hunt that I was given an opportunity to interview for a really really good position that I never would have considered for myself. The only issue it’s full-time 40+ hours a week. So do I take this opportunity? And risk my breastfeeding journey? Try to keep up with pumping enough to feed my girl? I’ve never responded well to a pump, so it’s unlikely that I would be successful at expressing enough for me to be away from her that much.

As a parent, you always hear – you must look after your interests too. And although I originally wanted part-time, I NEEDED a job. So, I decided I might as well go for the interview and see how it goes. I had my interview today and they called me 3 hours later to ask me if I could go for a trial on Wednesday- I think I got the job!! And I am SO excited and bloody proud of myself for putting myself out there and having a go and FINALLY moving my career FORWARD! But at what cost? I’m going to have to substitute with formula while I’m at work. I’m HOPING I can continue to breastfeed at night-hopefully my supply can handle this.

But now there’s more guilt. That I’m giving up too soon. That breastfeeding is what’s best for my daughter and I’m depriving her of that. And then there’s more guilt and sadness and confusion because formula was “good enough” for my son- why does my daughter deserve “better”? Shouldn’t I give my babies all the same dedication? Am I a horrible mother for taking the job and making a JOB more important than the nutrition of my daughter? Even though the JOB is what’s going to be able to provide nappies and birthday presents and everything else.

So, breastfeeding is always definitely the best for your baby (unless you have conflicting medical issues), best for you as a mother, the easiest way (if you don’t have complications) to feed and truly the most rewarding way to feed – I don’t think you can ever feel you did it “good enough”. Unless you manage to exclusively breastfeed until 6 months, and then continue to breastfeed until baby self-weans (normally age 2-4) – (which I know some people do manage to do-and I applaud you for that) You will always be wondering, whenever you decide to wean whether you could have done more. I am so glad and proud I’ve breastfed my daughter for as long as I have and I wouldn’t change that for the world.

In retrospect to all that’s been said, you could say the same for the whole journey of parenting. You will always be second guessing your decisions and wondering if you could have done anything better for your child. You will never feel like, you’re the parent your awe-inspiring child deserves. But you should know- to all the parents out there- whether your child has just been born or even if they’re about to retire- if you are doing the absolute BEST you can-


THE SUN – a short story.

Hi all,

I know short stories aren’t really typically blog content. But as everyone knows I’m pretty atypical, and today I felt like writing some fiction. Again I would love feedback! so please hit comment and let me know what you think at the end of the post.

This story is VERY loosely based on the story I wrote for my yr 12 QCS test. The subject matter given was “flight”. Obviously I don’t have the story as I handed in- and it was over 6 years ago so I remember very little. But I was so proud of it and I’ve always wanted to try and re-write it. So please ENJOY!

*mild trigger warning

As I awake I shield my eyes against the glare of the fresh sun reflecting on the cars windscreen outside. Today shouldn’t be sunny, today should reflect the mood of today. It should be hot, unbearably hot, humid- with air so thick you can barely breathe, with dark clouds spanning from horizon to horizon trapping in the thick hot air. With a sense that when it storms (which it most certainly will), the sky will crack open with unimaginable force to drench the ground with rain. Rain that will turn to steam when it hits the hot earth and make the air even denser and even more difficult to breathe. Today everyone should feel like they are being suffocated and drowning at the same time.  But instead, the sun is shining brightly and there’s a fresh Autumns breeze in the air.

Why should today be so dreadful? Is it the anniversary of a loved one’s death? Is it my first day at a new job? Is it my birthday or Christmas or some other special day that was ruined some time years ago and now the memory itself is enough to ruin the day for eternity?

No, today is the 2nd of February and it has no significant meaning to me or anyone I know personally. This is the way I feel every morning, and every evening and every minute in between. My only peace I feel is while I lay asleep at night, which is only peaceful due to the strong medications prescribed to me be the cheap doctor down Cinsho Ave. I force myself up with the intention of getting ready for work like any other day. I’m told that I need to follow through with the actions of living like a regular person, to hopefully have a chance of having a “regular” and “happy” life one day (I was told this by some factsheets about depression I found on google).  Entering the bathroom, I feel a stiffness in my shoulder blades, rolling my shoulders it almost feels as though there’s little marbles embedded in my back. I turn in the mirror, trying to see, but nothing is there. Getting undressed and into the shower I conclude I must have slept funny and I don’t give it much further thought.

On the way to work I glare out at the sun as it glares at me, the sun shines happily almost every day, why can’t I be like that? I look out of the bus window and see a sign for the Connemara national park, with a picture of the Moher cliffs jutting out over the sea. The marbles deep under my shoulder blades start to itch and I swear I can feel them growing under my skin, we’re stopped at the bus interchange and I look back and forward between the picture of the cliffs and the sun all while the itching in my back is getting worse. And suddenly its blindingly clear why I am not happy like the sun, and why I never will be. Because I’m not the sun. The sun is all powerful, it gives light to all that nears it. I’m weak and unnoticeable. This moment defined my life, when I made the decision to not have a “regular” day and to give in to the madness I’ve been fighting inside me for too long. As soon as I make the choice I feel the sensation in my back change, it feels like the marbles are growing and my skin is so itchy its almost unbearable. It feels as though it’s going to rip me apart. I run off the bus probably looking like a mad-man but I feel like I’ve never been more sane.  I approach the ticket desk and ask for the next bus to the Moher cliffs. The women behind the counter seems taken back by the emotion behind my request, she advises one leaves in 8mins and sells me a ticket. She asks if she can help me with anything else, but I see the double meaning, she’s worried I’m crazy (I’ve been given that look countless times before). I tell her I’ve never been better, but with a little too much vigour and I think I’ve frightened her. I quickly go wait for the bus before she can make any further assumptions about my current mental state. The 8-minute wait drags and drags. My back still itches and I swear I can feel my shirt stretching around the growing marbles.

Finally, my bus arrives, I hop on and take a seat, I know instantly that the feeling in my back is real- (and not just in my head) and something really is growing out from under my shoulder blades. But they no longer feel like marbles and suddenly I’m worried. Maybe I should go to the doctor? Surely things growing out from your back isn’t a good thing? I think of the feeling I got when I saw the picture of the cliffs and I know that that’s where I need to be today. I’m unsure why or what I’ll do when I get there, and now I’m more scared. I made a reckless decision not following my regular routine. Reckless decisions normally ends with mistakes being made. But although I’m scared and unsure what I’m even doing and although I’m worried about the growths on my back (which are still itching like crazy) I make no attempt to get off the bus nor do I change my mind. It’s a 50min trip to the cliffs from my town, but we’re there in no time.

The bus driver pulls up to the stop and starts explaining where you can attend information tours and where to go from here. But I’m out of my seat and out of the door before he finishes. I see the edge of the cliff about 300m away bordered with a high fence designed to prevent falls and suddenly without warning the itching turns into a white-hot burn and I’m blinded by the pain, I stumble and fall to the ground. I try to stand but my balance is off and I again I fall. People are looking, this time I stay down, to embarrassed to move, but something catches my eye on the ground beside me. It’s my shirt, and its ripped up and on the ground, I remember the shapes on my back and I reach around to see if they’re there as I can no longer feel them. My hand brushes something soft, I again twist to look at my back and I can see why my shirt is lying ripped on the ground. What I see clarifies everything. I get up, this time having no problems with my balance and I start into a sprint. I run as fast as I can straight for the cliffs- I hear people shouting at me and several try and chase me. But they have no chance of catching me- I stare into the sun, high in the sky as I approach the fence line. I jump the fence with uncanny ease and I leap. Leap into nothing as I head for the sun.

I roll my shoulders as I start to fall and I stretch out my newfound accessories. My Wings. My falling slows and now I’m flying, flying high towards the light. I leave the earth behind me and now I have the ability to be equals with the sun at last. I glance behind me and see the mass of grey feathers that have given me my freedom. I look forward into the sun as I fly straight. I leave behind the pathetic choices I made every day before today wishing upon a sun that this day had come sooner. I feel a warmth spread through me like never before. Not a warmth like the suffocating, drowning heat I felt in my old world. A warmth like purpose, like love, like life itself was spreading from the inside of my soul out into the tips of my fingers, toes and my wings. I approach the sun and suddenly I think briefly of Icarus- one who flew too close to the sun and got burnt. But as the warmth becomes stronger, I know that I will not burn, I know this has been inevitable and that every choice I have made through this life had led me to this moment, my moment of sunlight, when I am all that matters and all that is the sun. The heat has lit the furnace that is my destiny and the fire inside me grows, until my fingers, my toes, everything in between and even my newfound wings were gone. I am nothing back warmth and fire and light now. I am the sun.

Attention Seeking Behaviour 101.

*Trigger Warning

Alright- so this keeps me up pretty often and As such its something I have VERY strong opinions about and I’ll probably write about it so much you’ll stop reading.

Way back when, people didn’t talk about mental illness because it made them seem weak.

Now there’s so many more reasons people don’t talk about it. One particular reason that I am HATE is because sometimes when people explain their feelings… sometimes when people seek help…. sometimes when people confide in others…. they get called-


This is a term I passionately hate and I wish the most painful death on it. Even if someone is making up absolute bullshit or whatever- its a sign they need help and they may possibly have a mental illness. If someone is ATTENTION SEEKING they feel like they aren’t getting enough love and attention in whatever aspects of their life they should. AND they feel so desperate for LOVE-AFFECTION-BELONGING that they’re acting the way they are or saying whatever their saying is to get any attention possible. When  you are that lonely and that starved for attention it does not matter to you whether the attention you get is negative or not- its acknowledgement that you are still a person. And THAT is what these people are looking for.

If you think that someone thinking the only way they can get people to notice them is by self harming and then bragging, or making up terrible stories about their life is not a sign of mental illness- you’re an idiot.

If you think when your friend/brother/Auntie or whatever comes to you and tells you that they’re really struggling with everything and that life sucks they’re “just doing it for attention” then you’re a fucking moron.

1.They either are genuinely in need of help and you’ve probably fucked them up even more


And what happens to people suffering depression/bi-polar/anxiety issues when they finally get the courage to ask someone they obviously trust for help and they get dismissed? – you should be able to figure that one out on your own.

“What about the ATTENTION SEEKERS online/in public places?” These are the people who post statuses about how much they hate life. How fucked up everything is. Or go to school or the shops to have a cry/breakdown.

These people feel like they have no one to talk to or ask for help so they’re asking the public! Sure they may be lying on their social media post about how they just got beat up and are now on the streets with nowhere to live. But what sort of absolute turmoil must be going on inside a persons head and emotions for them to put a lie like that out in the public? It’s a cry for help.

Most people have heard this shit before- “yeah yeah its a cry for help-buts it’s so fucking annoying they’re not even that depressed” – If they feel the need to do this shit for attention- they ARE that depressed.

And then there’s the little things. Such as say a friend you know was in a minor car accident. Everyone was ok-just a few dings on the car. Suddenly they’re “too afraid to drive”. you think “she’s just doing it for attention”. If that’s what your friend feels she needs to do to get yours (or anyone else’s) attention-YOU’RE the one that needs to get your shit together and be there for your friend- no it’s not about the accident or about driving. It’s about her not feeling enough attention from you or the people around her and so she uses whatever she can to get extra focus!

Some people will never have enough attention-will always be extra needy- these people are ones that probably were deprived from love, attention and healthy relationships at a young age. And so they will keep being “attention seekers” no matter how much love and attention you give them- this is LOW-SELF-ESTEEM and is a MENTAL ILLNESS! It’s serious shit! These people need strong reliable support networks to change the way they view themselves and life. If you know someone like this and you can’t give them the support they need LONG-TERM – then fuck off.

So why isnt it discussed? Because people are to scared to ask for help or talk about their feelings for fear of being “attention seeking” and being judged! Which is pointless anyway because if you are talking shit for attention-YOU NEED HELP. If you not talking shit for attention and you genuinly have issues? YOU NEED HELP.


*disclaimer or something-again I have no formal education in mental illness, counselling or behavioural science. If YOU DO and you know better- let me know.

(even me writting a blog is attention seeking! Obviously if you feel the need to write a blog-like I do- its because you feel you have important shit to say and no ones fucking listening!)

#firstpost #excusethelanguage #hopeyoulike