Before marriage, before kids, before the daily grind of cleaning and parenting, I lived a life full of odd jobs and adventures. I was a bit of a theatre kid back in the day - singing, dancing, and acting were my passions. School plays were my sanctuary, a place where I could escape into someone else’s story for a little while.

Solitude is something I crave but rarely find. My days are filled with noise - kids bickering, the washing machine humming, notifications pinging, and the constant stream of thoughts racing through my head. Even when the house is quiet, my mind rarely is. There’s always something that needs doing. A spill to mop up. A school email to reply to. Socks to match.

I’ve always been the type to take everything on myself. Whether it’s parenting, housework, or life in general, I have this irrational belief that if I don’t do it, it won’t get done - or it won’t be done “right.” I’ve never been great at asking for help, but lately, I’ve realised that it’s not just hard - it feels impossible.

There’s a kind of work that no one sees. It’s not the kind you can put on a CV, and it doesn’t earn praise or recognition. There’s a lot about parenting that no one tells you. Sure, you expect the sleepless nights, the runny noses, and the occasional tantrums. But what about the never-ending mental checklist? The constant, invisible work that keeps the family running smoothly?

(Still under construction!)