Another year…wiser?

Today I officially increased my biological age by another year.

Whilst many of my female parenting peers seem to begrudgingly approach this milestone with a thicker layer of face paint or a “greying with dignity” bottle of platinum blonde hair dye, I see it as an opportunity to celebrate yet another year in the wonderful journey that – if you’ve battered your self confidence enough through an addiction to child pop-psychology literature – seems to be about trying to fail less than your parent’s did at raising human offspring.

Unless your talking natural fibres, retro print fabrics or upcycled clothing, I’ve never been much of a Material Girl. So each year, as this fateful day looms, Scott and the kids are forced to get creative . Today was no exception. Let me paint this Dada art picture for you…

A Choc-Pip Muffin inspired breakfast served alongside a bowl of seasonal fruit salad, a pot of the first flush Darjeeling loose leaf tea and a full dose of the usual convivial morning banter…

Choc-Pip Muffins

A card made from the inner pages of a Tip-Shop rescued colouring book with some mindfuless (not a typo) puzzles to complete the next time a telemarketer calls to request “just a couple of minutes of my time” for an important survey…


A surprise gift in the mail from mum: hand made soap and a new shopping bag made from a worn out kids raincoat and…


A plethora of text messages, emails and cards from the many other beautiful people in my life who continue to encourage me to never stop being me.

So I guess you could say that today I really do feel like a goddess: cloaked in the finest denier of love. Smitten.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s