The shit we do as parents…


I was always pretty crap at sleep schedules. Except for my firstborn; I followed the manual for that one by the book.

Not now.

Now we break all the rules. And I don’t care. Cos I love my babies. They need me, so I’m there.

They still climb into bed in the middle of the night and instead of yelling at them to go back to their own beds, I move over and spoon them.

Trying to put them back into their dark, lonely rooms is too much for some little ones, and keeping them on a schedule was just too draining for all of us.

And now that we’ve embraced our little monkeys, cherishing every last chubby cuddle, we haven’t been happier. Both us and them.

And so this is how I am currently putting my girls to bed.

Yes they both have to be holding me – equally. To do this I put a mattress on the floor and they snuggle up to my feet.

They both go straight to sleep while I listen to YouTube and watch their little faces float into dream land.

If you’re a schedule mum who now just kisses your kids goodnight and walks out, I applaud you! And wish I could have got my kids to do that! But if your kids fall asleep on the couch or holding a leg or a boob then that’s amazing too!!

We all roll differently. Just do you!


I want to talk about anxiety. Mine, and yours.

Story from Constance Hall by Penny Shipway

When I was in high school, my friend was hospitalised.

When I saw my beautiful friend, her anorexia had changed her to barely recognisable. It was the first time I had a close encounter with someone currently having severe, obvious anxiety. But it wasn’t long before we were both in stitches from giggling. We sat on her hospital bed asking spirits on the Ouija board if we’d ever marry Luke Perry, like for reals.

And little did I know that when I moved towns a few years later I would have my own experience with anxiety and depression, which still haunts me to this day.



I had a dream


I had a dream last night. I dreamed about a place in the local community; just a clearing of grass (this one was in front of a few shops and overlooking an AFL field) with a coffee stand, a few barrels of hay and a cheery Reverend who just wanted to listen. A place where you could go, grab a warm drink and talk to people. A place where people of all size, age and colour were welcome to come and share what was going on in their day. What’s on their mind. With suicide one of the leading killers in Australia, why aren’t there cosy places of refuge like these all around town? Where mums who have just had babies can push their prams up and talk to other sleep-deprived parents? Where old people who may have become isolated from society for whatever reason can come out into the sunshine for a biscuit and a chat. To play with the little kids. To hold a chubby hand. Shed a tear about their life experiences. A place to share. Wouldn’t it be amazing if we all could have that coffee stand, a cheery Reverend, or better still – a sprinkling of volunteers or counsellors – and a few barrels of hay in every town? It doesn’t seem like much to ask. I will be sending an email to my local councillor about the possibilities of something like this and perhaps you can to? Have a great day guys xx
Pic credit:

I have a YouTube channel!

Hi beauties!

I am glad to announce I now have my own YouTube channel where you can come and watch daily (or sometimes weekly!) vlogs about my crazy life of chronic pain, anxiety and parenting! If you want to come and have a whinge or learn something about these crippling invisible illnesses I would love you to come along with my on my journey! If you have a YouTube channel of your own make a comment on one of my videos saying you found me via my blog and I will follow you straight back. Can’t wait to stat chatting to you all on such a fun platform where I hope to be TRUE, RAW, HONEST with a splash of HILARITY! After all a good belly laugh is the best medicine of all xx

Here it is!



It’s time to normalise mental health

In grade nine my mother received a phone call to say my best friend was in hospital suffering from anorexia.

I had no idea what that even meant, but by the tone of everyone’s voice I knew it was something serious and that it was my duty to go and cheer her up.

So when Mum said it was time to go I quickly grabbed a pillow case and filled it with random things from my bedroom like pens/paper, chocolates, TV Hits magazines, a Luke Perry poster. Oh, and a ouija board – you know, in case we wanted to call up the dead.

We thought we had a chance with Dylan McKay, OK?

Continue reading “It’s time to normalise mental health”

You can’t write a script for empathy

By Penny Shipway

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Me with my support team

Do you remember when Sudafed contained pseudoephedrine and anyone who dared ask for it had to produce a driver’s licence?

Even my mother who wears pressed shirts and a full face of make-up every day would get drilled by the pharmacist with a raised eyebrow.

A friend actually told me you can still get the “real” Sudafed but it takes a script from the doctor and you have to pick it up the next day – probably with an Armaguard truck and two guards.

It’s true that getting over-the-counter pharmaceuticals can be an awkward task.

But imagine what it’s like trying to get the really strong stuff – weekly. After five years.

Let’s call it “pain shaming”.

Continue reading “You can’t write a script for empathy”