home diaries
days full of ordinary things
Before I begin, a little note to those of you who are new mothers. I’ve spent the past few years researching and writing a mother-focussed book on postpartum and it will be published mid-2025. Of course, I’ve got so much to tell you about this challenging, discombobulating, milk-hazed season. Instead of spamming my readers here with very specific posts on early motherhood, I’ve created a whole new substack. If you’re interested in receiving a letter from me each Wednesday - sometimes a short check-in note, other times a longer, more informative piece, subscribe to
- it’s reassurance when you need it most.prologue
The days are longer and the sun is inching around the house at a different angle, so by the time lunch is eaten and I’m at my desk again, it’s almost too bright to see the screen. I rearrange the whole loungeroom and move my desk against the wall and next to the built-in bookshelf which makes so much sense. I think: why did it take me two years to work this out?
Now, when I sit and look left, I can see the blossom tree in the neighbours garden and today it is white but the wind is whipping the petals off with ease and they’re falling this way and that. Come Sunday, the whole tree will be green and this tells me that paying attention to these things, even over the course of a week, is worthwhile.
monday
The week starts as it always does: tea, lunchboxes, eggs in the pan. I strip the bed and wash the sheets, sweep the floor and brush knots out of hair. Three children go to school and one stays curled up in the armchair, sniffly and rosy-cheeked.
I sit at my desk, open the laptop, curse all the open tabs. My virtual organisation system is woeful. Must improve.