As I research my new book and chat to other mothers, it’s really clear that we’re missing safe spaces for women to speak honestly about how life feels. Social media can be beneficial but it’s also perpetuated a life of perfection, ease and niceties. Vulnerability isn’t necessarily encouraged, because vulnerability is an honesty that can be quite confronting. I think that’s why writers are turning to platforms like this because the things we want to say (and have to say) can’t fit into an instagram post and we’re not interested in tying them up with a grosgrain bow for aesthetics sake. Perhaps we owe it to ourselves and to our readers to write long form in the hope that it will land in your inbox when you need it most. Personal letters will always be valuable and this is my 2023 version of a little note from me to you.
I’ve been thinking about this while I hunt high and low for the missing navy soccer sock which made its debut at the first soccer game last week. Do you know how many black socks of varying sizes live in my house? Do you know how hard it is to distinguish a lone navy sock from a breeding pile of black socks? Do you know how much I would rather be doing just about anything else? Everyone else has looked, of course, but these things require a mum look because I hunt until it’s actually found. You know very well that I’m ranting while sock hunting because everyone needs to hear how displeased I am. One thing I’m very, very good at is a rant.