On the precipice of sleep, she lay in my arms. Her eyelashes fluttered. So, so close.

I was not in the moment. I was waiting to extricate myself from the moment. Because always, there is something else that needs doing.

I could hear it escalating in the lounge room. A disagreement, a fight. Someone took something, someone didn't let someone do something else. Petty. Bullshit. Nothing.

But everything when you are 3 and 6 years old.

Instinctively, I covered her little ears, tried to nestle her closer into my body to muffle the sound of her brothers.

Just outside the door now, he stood crying.

"Don't you dare open that door, Ziggy."

Don't you fucking dare. 

But it was too late and her eyes flew open, as I knew they would.


Fury. My veins were on fire with it. Already it took so long to get this baby down for a nap each day. And it's not fair, not fair that we live in a small house with a baby who wakes easily. They should be able to play. Or fight. They shouldn't have to tiptoe around at nap time but what is the alternative?

I settled her back on the boob. Another crutch that I fear I may never break free of. And in my head, I punched three perfect holes in the wall.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Three. An arbitrary number with no significance other than it seemed like two would not be enough to diffuse my anger. 

In my mind's eye, I watched the plaster give way to the force of my fist each time, offering the perfect amount of resistance before falling away, crumbling into dust. Satisfying my need to destroy something. To leave an impression.

What other impressions am I leaving? What are the ramifications of marks that can not be seen? These days, these long days wear me down. Metal to metal. I am worn out brakes; shrill, dangerous.

I love them, all three. But some days, I am worn so thin. 

Yesterday the sun rose with an intensity that pushed its way through the blinds and somehow, through me, lighting up dark corners I have been harbouring.  I felt something bloom within. The promise of change. Of seasons. Of days.

On the way to school pick up, I noticed the blossoms on the trees. Sometimes that's enough. 

Hello friends


I’m Angie!  I mum. I write. I wife. My husband would say this is the correct order.  He’s so neeeedy. I live with my family in Melbourne, Australia, where I complain about the weather for 90% of the year – but I can’t imagine living anywhere else. Except maybe in Lake Como, waving to my neighbours George and Amal each morning.

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  1. Robin

    Beautiful! And I can SO relate…though wouldn’t have put it so poetically.

  2. Jane

    Oh Angie, I can totally feel your pain in this post. I too have suffered dreadfully with the winter blues… today the sun is out. I actually put make up on and brushed my hair =)

  3. Sally

    We can do this. Strength in numbers. Those long days at home with kids and non-napping babies are always easier when the sun is out, and the birds are chirping (but not if those fuckers wake the baby – that’s not cool).

  4. Angie

    Random comment this is but try putting a fan on in her room., blocks the noise. I have four kids to of which still sleep plus neighbours barking dogs and the fans drown everything out!! Love your honesty also.. 😉

  5. neatsiep

    So know those days! ! Especially where I’d really like some peace and quiet, and a moment to myself. Have you considered a visit to sleep school? I realise it may not be for you, but my friend who was against controlled crying type approaches took her miss 14months who she rocked to sleep everytime day or night, and the changes were amazing and they’re both now much happier, sleeping through the night! And no controlled crying was used.. x

  6. Madeleine

    Spring around the corner – that can only be good news for you. Winter is my least favourite season – but I’m sending speedy spring vibes your way (even if it comes at my northern-hemisphere-expense).

    I hope you get some peaceful times ahead xx


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