Category Archives: motherhood

It is not who we are…

“Welcome to the end of being alone inside your mind
Tethered to another and you’re worried all the time
You always knew the melody but you never heard it rhyme

She’s fair and she is quiet, Lord, she doesn’t look like me
She made me love the morning, she’s a holiday at sea.
The New York streets are as busy as they always used to be
But I am the mother of Evangeline.

The first things that she took from me were selfishness and sleep
She broke a thousand heirlooms I was never meant to keep
She filled my life with color, cancelled plans and trashed my car
But none of that is ever who we are…”

Loved this playing on my home office juke box, ‘The Mother’ by Brandi Carlile. That line about how our teenage rebellions and angst are not who we are. I so wish that I was a holiday at sea, how beautiful. I was settling little one to sleep last night and trying to remember what the yogi word for easy was, ‘sukha.’ I think it is sukha, that sweet spot. Motherhood is just that, the everyday search and rescue of sukha. Yes please to ease, happiness, bliss and good space!

I went for a sea swim at Port Soif this morning, at high tide. It was f*cking freezing and I hated every minute of it! My toes protested all the way home. Nobody wanted to say hello this morning, or share a smile, or chat either. That made me want to yell ‘f*ck you then!’ but I held it all in. We get so religious about open water swimming and forget that it’s supposed to feel sh*tty for a long time before that sweet sukha vibe takes hold after a complete and absolute surrender into the icy ecstasy of the divine sublime sea. Unless you are reptilian?

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F*ck it! F*ck! F*ck. F*ck. F*ck. F*ckity f*ck!

Guernsey, Sarnia Cherie, gem of the sea, snapped back into a hard and fast lockdown on Saturday 24 January 2021 at Highnoon.

Full lockdown previously came into force on 25th March and ended on 8th April 2020. This also included restricting the community’s movements, closing all non-essential businesses, closing the schools and stopping all non-essential travel.

The mural, sponsored by Soroptimist International Guernsey, is a reimagining of the iconic ‘Rosie the Riveter,’ depicting a frontline healthcare worker in front of a Guernsey flag.

The original was a digital image created by Tom Rowe of Carve-Creative. But on Liberation Day this year, local artists Nina Thomson, Tessa Le Gallez and Luisa de Freitas Alves recreated it as a 4’ x 4’ mural on Vazon headland.

Mother Pukka is campaigning for flexappeal and for businesses to respect and reflect a parent’s role in this ongoing pandemic parenting sh*tstorm. What a sh*tshow. Child and parent centered working guidelines should be commonplace and routine, please.

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Sea swimming and self-harm; the delicious apple bite of a paradigm of existing ecstatically without giving up your naked ambition to feel dead inside, in a fiery way, from time to time.

Sea swimming. It’s good for your health, is it the same as brushing your teeth? It makes you feel good, clean. There are mysterious health benefits, ask any follower of the Hof. You know?

I discovered sea swimming in the postpartum apocalypse of my existence. My shoulders and back were in pieces from holding the feed position with my newborn son 24/7 through the night without stop following an emergency c-section due to eclampsia/pre-eclampsia/whateverthefuckwentwrong. The icy waters of April’s seas embraced me and saved me.

To be at one with the soul numbing and eyeball watering water, you have to let go of every electron of tension in your flesh, muscle and bone. Like motherhood, sea swimming is a surrender. Bathing in mother nature’s ice scream takes practice.

Sea swimming in freezing cold temperatures allows me to safely, peacefully and wholesomely connect with the part of my true self that craves to be annihilated. My self-destruct habit is soothed, nurtured and shushed. I love it!

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Lockdown life, chronicles from Sarnia…

Our little toddler is learning to walk
An early morning swim at Port Soif
A swim at Rousse
A sunrise run to Port Soif

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Lovers of liberty!

I am now 14 days in and have not purchased a single new item of clothing, or a second hand item for that matter.

A strange, perverse freedom has taken over and I no longer trawl through reels and reels of online clothing brands searching for the holiest of holy grail garments that might make me feel better about being a scummy mummy… I do that less, now. A lot. A lot less. I still look but it’s getting better.

I sorted through my wardrobe and imagined all of the outfits I would wear now that I will be wearing the same things all year. Praise be. Blessed be the fruit. I just need to lose the baby weight! It is coming off and sleep is getting better. We co-sleep, keeping the umbilical connection strong as we snuggle or hold hands throughout the night. I just get the feeling that it’s ok that my little one needs comfort and reassurance through the night, for whatever reason. Sarah Ockwell-Smith is my go to guru on all things sleep related. No, I will not let my baby make himself sick by crying it out so that he learns to stop crying. He still has his newborn cries/sounds for hunger – that’s because we have been 100% responsive to his needs and cues since he has been born. I love that. Life will never be the same! I am grateful and thankful for that too.

I hope that I can squeeze more Buti yoga into my life once I have stopped being down with the sickness – fluella benjamin has been in the neighborhood for a while now…

A part of me is still desperate to buy new clothes and get caught by the buzz of wearing something new. The other, deeper part of me feels a renewed sense of grounding down into this year, exploring the parts of me that I wish to expand, and those I wish to release back into the wild.

I am also following my instincts that I am not experiencing postnatal depression. I am feeling trapped and restricted at times and I lash out, I feel anger/hurt/a wound that I cannot reach. I also feel like my hormones are on fire and that I can take action to soothe and settle my flow, my cycle, my fire. Evening Primrose Oil and CBD/Cannabis oil are my go to’s. And exercise, when I am well rested enough to lean into a session fully.


Namaste. x

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Once I am over the flu…

Little one is coming up to 10 months old. In the space around his needs and time we spend nurturing and loving the little lion man, I hope I can find room for more trampolining, Buti Yoga, sea swimming and running alongside water (sea or reservoir).

Yesterday we made it outside for a long walk around the reservoir – I love the area. On reflection, you get all that you need – earth (mud + mulch), air (the wind rips across the sea and through the reservoir valley), fire (a hard, low sun came out and it was glorious), water (sea scapes and the reservoir, and some beautiful streams). Beautiful.

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Coffee, CBD/Cannabis Oil, sea swimming and intermittent fasting.

I would be wrecked without all of the above in various doses depending on the moon cycle. I am a new mother, ever changing, feet firmly rooted in the present, heart on the horizon, teeth in my back pocket, head in the washing up bowl. The sleep regression is breaking me, piece by piece, into hundreds and thousands of pieces. Stop the carousel of motherhood I would like to get off, right?

When he sleeps… I blog! Or I do 8903580393 chores at once.

Guernsey is catching up with the rest of the world and Cannabis oil is available at The Original Alternative, hosted and presented by the extraordinarily talented Karin. Guernsey is very lucky – without the CBD and Cannabis oil I would be a mummy-monster.



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Mother Hooooohd!

Five months and two weeks.

Ever on the road of change.

Ever grounded in the present.

Heart on the horizon.

My undoing.

All of my being.

Ever in awe of all who have mothered before me, all who mother with me and all who will follow.

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