Creating a new business takes time, effort and money. But too often people overlook the one critical element of success – the soul. Hard work without a soul is like a car without a steering wheel, writes Oriane Juncker.
No word of a lie, I sat down 6 times today to write this article. Every single time the words started to flow so did the questions from the kids, and more so the guilt of looking at all the housework that needed to be done.
One of our first vendors in the Spotz Shop is Gill Cameron, an illustrator and mum who lives in Bondi Beach. You may have seen her work on a mural in Bondi, and now you can purchase her prints in our marketplace.
Once you’ve brought the baby home, you have to work out how you’re going to leave the house again. WITH the baby. Things that seemed so simple now seem very complicated when factoring in the tiny tag-along.
While my husband was interstate for work recently, I sent a text to a friend. “Doing this gig alone has given me time to reflect on just how much I don’t enjoy motherhood.” I sent it as a joke, but some of it resonated.
Any woman who holds her newborn child for the first time will be filled with that indescribable awe and wonder that accompanies bringing a child into the world. But if anything can take the shine off this achievement, it’s the way a woman has birthed.
When my first child was born, I spent the first six months of his life walking five feet above the ground. I was elated. Exhausted, emotional and at times, frazzled, but mostly, happy. The arrival of my second child was very different.
Once upon a time, when I was a little girl who had no idea what it was really like to be a mum, I thought four seemed like a good, round number. Of course, life rarely turns out like you planned when you were six years old.
Since my husband started his new career as an engineer, our relationship has felt like we’re two ships passing in the night. He leaves before dawn and returns at 7pm. But his long work hours began to take a toll.
It’s become a sport now, to minutely dissect my every mothering move for faults. Lately, I spend my days adding to the file I keep in my head called “All The Ways I Am Failing At Motherhood.” This file has gotten frighteningly big.
Connect the dots
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