I began this blog in 2012, a month or two before my first child was born. Like many “mummy bloggers” I started writing because I felt isolated. I completely lost myself to new motherhood, undone by the shock of my new world and rapidly drowning in a sea of everything I didn’t know. So much of what defined who I was – the passions I harboured, the career I’d built for myself, the things I loved to do – they were all buried under a screaming baby, a relentless feeding schedule, a dirty house and a shocking loss of personal freedom. Like so many new mothers, self-doubt crippled me and all that I had previously been was squashed beneath a seven pound baby.
Five years on, the story is a much different one, having reconciled who I am as a mother with who I am as a woman. I now work as a photographer, raising my three babies by the seaside and trying really hard not to spend all our money on cute shoes.
This online space has since grown into something more than an outlet for new motherhood — it’s the place I get a chance to feed the good wolf, where I get to connect with all of you without getting out of my pyjamas, and where I combine my two greatest passions: writing and photography, which without I’d go nuts.
Mary Oliver once said that we have three instructions for living a life: Pay attention. Be astonished. Tell about it. The weaving together of words and images is how I do this, and I do it in this way because it allows me to see beauty in places I’d otherwise miss. This beauty enriches my life, makes me nicer to live with and gives me a greater sense of happiness.
Really though, this is the place I briefly escape the merciless pecking of chickens, namely children and sometimes husbands who can never locate any of their belongings. It’s my red tent. My place just for me.
I live in Shorncliffe with my husband Joel and our two, soon-to-be-three, children, Ella and Billy. I love, in no particular order, Sunday roasts, wearing cute shoes, scouring through thrift shops, planning birthday parties, colourful quilts, fish and chips at our beach, reading in freshly-sheeted beds, wispy ocean hair, and coffee.