I was soaking my tired legs in bath when the husband walked in, running clothes in hand. I just finished a 3-hour run and now it’s his turn. The kid is taking an afternoon nap. Feeling particularly naughty, I began doing the best (and most awkward) Playboy poses I could muster, trying to entice him to join me in the tub.
I was pouring out all my motherhood frustrations to my waxer during a session (distracts me from the pain) when she quipped, “Oh but a lot of mothers I know won’t even dare say those things.” And she is right.
Ah baby clothes, the bane of a mother’s existence. You change the entire wardrobe every four months, can’t get the size right, and they are expensive. In my motherhood journey so far, it’s the baby clothes where I had the most doubt. Should I buy it? Am I buying enough? Should I go for practical or pretty?
I'm Dheza, raised in a barrio in the Philippines, immigrated to the Dutch polder and travelling through running. This blog documents my life, to which I would like to look back to with tears and smiles when I am old and unable. Drop me a line email@example.com.