Episodes
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I survived the newborn stage twice and thought I was tough. Then my toddlers turned 18 months and chose violence.
This episode is about the banana meltdowns. The refusing to wear pants. The climbing the bookshelf like a tiny rock climber. The weeing behind the TV. The bolting through car parks like they've been released into the wild.
I made three dinners once. She ate a yogurt pouch and half a cracker.
My youngest ate a leaf. Drank bath water. Tried to take a fork in the bath. And once sat in a bag of flour on the kitchen floor like a little ghost.
I don't give advice. I don't have answers. I'm just a mum who once tried to un-peel a banana while crying.
If your toddler is feral right now and you're hiding in the laundry listening to this — this one's for you. -
My eldest was reading novels at six but couldn't do the climbing wall. My youngest could climb before she could walk but stuggled with her words. Same parents. Same house. Totally different kids. I got so caught up in the comments and the comparisons that I nearly missed how brilliant they both are. Just in their own way. In their own time. This one's about why I stopped measuring my kids against everyone else's and started just letting them be them.
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Missing episodes?
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Remember when you thought your kid just had a cold and then three days later the whole house was dropping like flies? Yeah. This episode is about that. The back-to-back sickness years. The gastro. The hand foot and mouth. The time my toddler sneezed directly into my open mouth. I'm a nurse and I still couldn't keep my kids healthy. If your house currently smells like Vicks and Dettol, this one's for you. It does get better. But first, let me tell you about the time we all had gastro at the same time and nobody could help anyone. Good times. 🤢
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My girls sleep through the night now. They dress themselves. They eat on their own. So why am I more stressed than ever?
Because the worry didn't go away. It just changed shape.
I went from checking if they were breathing to checking if they're okay. Like really okay. The kind of okay you can't measure with a thermometer.
My girls are 5 and 6 and I'm already losing sleep over friendships, mean girls, and the fact that I can't follow them into the playground and fix everything anymore.
This one's honest. Maybe too honest. But if you're a mum lying awake at 2am worrying about stuff that hasn't even happened yet — this one's for you. -
I walked into the lounge and found both my girls on the couch — dead still, mouths open, eyes glazed — watching JJ sing about bath time. Cocomelon. Obviously. And the meltdown when I turned it off is something else entirely. So I did what any normal mum does at 11pm when they can't sleep — I went down a Google rabbit hole. What I found about how the show is actually made (and what it's doing to little brains in the meantime) is the kind of thing I wish someone had told me sooner.
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It's 11:30pm. The kids are asleep. I'm in bed Googling whether my four-year-old should be reading yet, and one article says it's a sign of giftedness while the next one says pushing it causes burnout. So which is it? In this honest, slightly fed-up, very relatable episode, I unpack the modern mum trap — every single choice has a study that says you're right and a study that says you're wrong, and somewhere underneath all that noise is a gut that already knew the answer.
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I need to talk about Off Campus. I have been BURSTING. None of my friends are up to the same episode and I cannot sit with it for one more day. This is the late-night, headphones-in, kids-in-bed episode — a confession about the spicy show that took over my group chat, woke up a part of me I'd forgotten was still in there, and gave me something to actually look forward to after 8pm that wasn't a load of washing.
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I've toilet trained two kids. Two. And I'm not being dramatic when I say it's one of the hardest things I've done as a mum — up there with a newborn, face-up there with sleep regression. Everyone warns you about sleep, the dummy, teething, starting solids. Not one person sat me down and said: Lucy, toilet training will break you just a little bit. This episode is the warning shot, the confession, and the soft permission slip — your kid will get there. On their time. Not the book's time. Not Instagram's time. Their time.
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I had been doom-scrolling at 10pm when I kept seeing one phrase — butter mum. I thought it was about cooking. It wasn't. It was a name for the soft, unbothered, melt-into-summer mum I grew up with — my mum, in the 90s. This episode is the whole reckoning: the list of 40 holiday activities I did three of, the dinosaur sandwich nobody ate, the Bluey guilt, and the phone call to my own mum that flipped the entire thing on its head.
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My four-year-old judged my cooking last night. Out loud. To my face. So this episode is the full nugget-night confession — the 5:30pm chaos, the kids who change their food rules every twenty minutes, the snack-drawer treasure chest, and the guilt that shows up the second the tray hits the oven. Plus, why a good mum is just a mum whose kids ate dinner.
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It's 8:47pm. The kids are asleep — probably. This episode is the full bedtime play-by-play: the stories that don't count, the teaspoon wees, the water that "tastes old," and the philosophical question about fish feelings I got at 8pm on a Tuesday.
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I didn't sign up for this. One toddler dance class to fill a Thursday morning, four years later I'm googling ballet barres at midnight and crying at the end-of-year concert. This is a confession episode about how I accidentally became a dance mum and somehow… kind of love it.
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I stood in my kitchen last week holding a hot coffee. Still hot. And both my girls were playing together. Laughing. Making up games. No one was crying. No one was pulling anyone's hair. No one was screaming "MUUUUM."
And I thought — when did this happen?
Because four years ago? School holidays nearly broke me. A baby and a toddler. Two kids who couldn't play together. Days that dragged on forever. Me on the lounge room floor being the only source of fun in the house.
But now? Now they're 4 and 6. And they actually like each other. They make up games. They giggle at stuff only they understand. They play for ages while I sit down and drink a coffee that's still warm.
The close age gap almost took me out in those early years. But this episode is me saying out loud — it's paying off. And it's really, really good.
This one's for any mum in the thick of it right now. The mum with the toddler. The mum with two little ones who won't play together yet. I'm not here to give advice. I just want you to know — this bit is coming. And it's worth it. -
I am finally saying the thing every mum thinks but nobody admits — I don't enjoy playing imaginative play with my kids. From Barbie marathons to being cast as the sick dog in pretend vet, I unpack the guilt, the generational shift in what we expect of ourselves, and why just watching from the couch is more than enough.
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I was making toast and made the mistake of looking at my phone. And I saw kids. Kids the same age as mine. And I couldn't move. This episode is me trying to say out loud what I think a lot of mums feel but don't know how to say — that weird guilt of watching the world fall apart while you're standing in your safe kitchen. The guilt of caring. The guilt of not doing enough. The guilt of still being okay. I don't have answers. I just needed to talk about it.
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So I watched a reel of a mum doing a full workout, meal prepping 15 organic lunchboxes, and applying a full face of makeup. All before 7am. And I was on the couch in yesterday's shirt eating crust off a tiny plate.
Cool cool cool.
This episode is about that feeling. The one where you know it's just a highlight reel but your brain doesn't care. The one where you feel behind on something you never signed up for.
But here's the twist — I'm also the problem. Because my "real" posts? Four attempts. My "messy" photos? Cropped. My honest caption? Rehearsed twice so it sounded casual.
I cried next to a packet of crackers in the pantry and then filmed content an hour later. Same day. Same me. Different vibe.
This one's a bit funny, a bit brutal, and I don't have a neat ending. Sorry.
Hit play. Send it to a mum who gets it. -
I made four cups of tea a day and drank none of them. I typed "I'm not doing great" and deleted it. I sat on the kitchen floor and realised I hadn't said a full sentence out loud all day.
Then I walked into a room with plastic chairs and bad lighting. And someone said, "I cried in the shower because I dropped a spoon." And I thought… oh. It's not just me.
This one's for the women who texted back fast. Who left coffee on my doorstep. Who sat in the mess with me and didn't try to fix it.
This is my thank you. -
I wasn't going to record this week.
But I watched that Louis Theroux manosphere documentary last night and I haven't been able to think about anything else since.
It was 2am. I was lying in bed feeling sick. Thinking about my girls. Thinking about the boys being fed this stuff right now. Thinking about what happens when those kids grow up and meet each other.
So I got up and recorded this.
This episode is me talking about what I saw. What scared me. What made me angry. And the one thought I can't shake — that my daughters are going to encounter boys who've spent years being told that women are less than. That kindness is weakness. That control is the same thing as strength.
I talk about the moment in the documentary that made me feel physically ill.
I talk about what it's like being a mum of girls right now and feeling like you're building something the internet is designed to tear down.
I talk about mums of boys. Because honestly? I think they're fighting one of the hardest fights going and not enough people are saying that.
I talk about smartphones. When to give them access. Why I think the delay matters more than we realise. And what I'm actually doing with my own kids right now.
I'm not an expert.
I'm not telling anyone how to parent.
I'm just a mum who watched something that frightened her and needed to say it out loud.
This one's raw. It's not polished. It wasn't planned. But I think it might be the most important thing I've recorded so far.
If you watch that documentary and feel something — come find me. I want to hear what you think.
Listen. Share it with a mum who needs it. And if you're lying awake at 2am thinking about this stuff too — you're not alone in that. -
My first 3am Google search as a mum was "will a baby have hiccups forever." I was genuinely concerned she'd be forty. In an office. Still hiccuping. And people would ask if she was okay and she'd say "mum didn't fix it."
It got weirder from there. Poo charts. Cot escape plans. Whether I was holding her too much. Whether she'd be sad if she fell asleep without me.
And then the funny ones ran out. And I ended up where I always end up at 3am — staring at my phone in the dark, asking the same question over and over, just dressed up in different searches.
Are my kids okay? And am I enough to keep them okay?
If your search history looks anything like mine — press play. You're not the only one clocking in at 3am. -
Everyone says "look after yourself, mama." Cool. When? Between the school run and the meltdown or during the 4 minutes I get to pee alone? Let's talk about it.
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