Iam the girl who would be voted least likely to engage in any new age, woo-woo journeys of self-discovery which is why my newfound curiosity and eagerness to seek out alternative avenues of self-exploration, has taken even me by surprise....

I was ‘that’ baby that only a mother could love. I was fat and bald with a moon shaped face and a forehead so big that you could project a movie on to it. I was like a baby version of Bert Newton crossed withYoda....

I am in the eye of the perfect Nostalgia Storm. This week marks the last ever first day of school for my youngest kiddy-wink and the start of a long year of ‘lasts.’ On top of that I have begun the horrific task of ruthlessly purging 20 years of accumulated shite in preparation for my impending move....

I’ve concluded that I may not be cut out for close cohabitation any more. It seems that in large doses (and by large I mean anything over 24 hours) … everyone begins to grate on me. Partners, kids, parents, pals … no one is exempt from my irrational irritability....

If gender dysphoria is a thing, then surely age dysphoria can be considered a ‘thing’ too … and I think I may suffer from it. I don’t identify with my chronological age. If you can choose to be gender fluid, then why can’t I be generationally fluid?...

What is it about this period between Christmas and New Year that makes it feel like the Bermuda Triangle of time? (or The Bermuda Time-Jangle). It is literally the longest week of the year. I have no clue what day it is, but wake up thinking it’s Saturday every day. ...

My whirlwind trip to LA last week was more a parental reconnaissance mission than a holiday. The destination wasn’t the draw card and LA won’t be making the cut on my Golden Gap Year itinerary, but we did have a good time and in the process, I made a few observations about Americans and travel in general....

As far as big weeks go … this last one was a doozie. I took a whirlwind trip to LA to visit my eldest kiddy-wink and arrived home in a jetlagged stupor to step straight into the epicenter of hardcore house sale negotiations. But pop the champers people because 24 hours after I touched down the contract was signed and sealed and I’m now feeling fifty shades of mixed emotions....

Call me old fashioned, but I believe naming a small human is right up there with a strong eyebrow shape and good dental hygiene in terms of importance and the consequences of getting (either) wrong are huge. ...

My first Open Home ‘Invasion’ was on Saturday afternoon and I didn’t like it. Not one teeny, tiny bit. Over 100 people traipsed through my home … scrutinizing it’s features and shortcomings and passing judgement accordingly. It feels confronting; as though my private, ‘safe’ space has been violated. Not that I’ve got anything to hide ...