I don’t know if it’s the pandemic, or since I turned 40, but something happened last year where this weird burning rage started in the pit of my stomach. Not like an “ARGH” out-loud-uncontrollable-rage, but sort of a ‘what is THIS?” kind of fury. I realised that the rage, the anger, the fury was a lot to do with ALL the STUFF. All the stuff that we, as mums, juggle, balance, spin in order to manage and cope with family life. My husband is far from shit, but he definitely doesn’t spin the same stuff as I do. His head is not filled with a running commentary of lists and needs and anticipated questions for the whole family. Nor is it assessing risks, needs, desires from and for little people who can’t do it themselves. Not in the same way, anyway.
0 subscriptions will be displayed on your profile (edit)
Skip for now
For your security, we need to re-authenticate you.
Click the link we sent to , or click here to sign in.