Deep breath in…
It’s such an insignificant detail but I toyed with where to place that “not” in the title… Kim is [not] completely fine, Kim is completely fine… not, Kim is completely [not] fine. I’ve procrastinated because seeing the words in black and white would make it real.
The other day I snapped at my family. Of course I’m stern at times and have yelled the much-needed, “Stop that! Be careful, that’s dangerous.” But this came from a place of deep-seated anger. I never yell in front of Lily since it’s so traumatic for her but this particular evening, I didn’t care. Ironically, I came home from a day of worrying about my two little girls and was so emotionally drained that all I wanted was some peace and quiet to work through my thoughts. But any mom knows that that is a rare luxury. Ila never wants to be on the couch, instead she explores her newfound freedom by running around, bashing everything in sight. But si…
This is the first blogpost where I’m not sure what the ending will be. Usually, you present an issue and offer a solution. That’s the formula. Struggling to eat well at work? Here are five, healthy 2-minute lunches. Struggling with teething? Here are my 5 top tips. But this is one conundrum I don’t have the answer to. I found a scarlet letter. And I’ve known for a while now, my husband has a lover.
His lover is like any other – a beguiling temptress with a catwalk model smile – intriguing, mysterious, addictive. Every person’s dream. Some days she’s a warm, plush velour couch in a cut-glass windowed hotel that cradles tortured artists in her comforting bosom. Some days she’s a powerful amphetamine promising invincibility, even when you’re on the edge of a precipice. And other days she’s a backstage Hollywood mirror that holds up your flaws in all its illuminated 100-watt stark glory. A fickle rollercoaster of rightful dues and reward. His lover is... work.
I am bei…
Before my eldest, Lily, was born a few friends warned me that some mom groups can become a hub of shaming rather than support. So I didn’t join any. I couldn’t understand that moms who understood the struggles of parenting and how difficult and lonely it can become would resort to mom shaming. Until I became a mom-shamer. 
It was unintentional but since, I've learned that the best of intentions do not really matter – the result is that you’ve hurt someone regardless of your intentions. The damage has been done.
The first time was with a complete stranger – because even though I hadn’t even met her or knew anything about her life, her style of parenting (any style that works for your kids is good by the way!) or her family, I felt it my place to “help”. I had just finished reading an article online of a little boy choking on a grape and how his mother Heimliched it from his throat. As I closed it I saw that a mom had posted a pic of her child…
Jealous (adj) feeling or showing envy of someone or their achievements and advantages.
It’s a feeling we’ve all felt or experienced one time or another in our lives but it’s probably the hardest one to admit to having. It’s riddled with shame and is essentially an admission to coveting another person’s life, and worst of all, an admission of our shortcomings and insecurities. Jealousy suggests, “I believe that the next person is better than I am.” And it’s not an easy realisation to come to, or accept. We jokingly say, #SoJelly but to honestly look a friend or family member in the eye and say, “I’m sorry I reacted that way, I was just jealous,” seldom happens. If ever.
I have never been the type of person to look at another womxn and say, “Look at that sanctimonious vixen. Hate her!” Though I definitely gossip, it’s not something I’ve derived pleasure from or actively sought out. The only time I’ve, admittedly, felt jealousy was when I became a mother.
It was …