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Rosh Hashanah table, 2022, set up by Richard in our family home. I grew up in Pune, or Poona as it was called back then, amongst the Bene Israel community, where Rosh Hashanah always meant two things: Chik cha halwa, and a new set of clothes for each day of the high holiday. The shopping trip was planned well in advance, a budget set aside for the clothes, and my mother organised the halwa making so precisely that it would all be finished a day before Rosh Hashanah eve. It wa

I'm not a doctor or a mental health expert. I am a mother, though, who has been in the trenches with her one and only child. I still can't even begin to imagine what Lindsay, the mother of those three children, went through for months before she finally broke and did the unspeakable. Here's what really breaks my heart – she wasn't isolated. She had a friend of nearly thirty years she was texting days before, a nanny who called her a loving mother. She had a mother of her own,

It was one of those rare mornings where I was not woken up by my human alarm clock son. I was fast asleep at 7:30 am when a loud knock at the door jolted me awake. It was Michelle, the nursery owner, at the door, for Eli’s pick-up. As usual, as she does every nursery day. Except this particular morning I was very much horizontally unconscious. I remembered having woken up at 6. I had looked at the time and closed my eyes for 5 more minutes of sleep. Famous last words… Gosh, h

Toddlers will humble you when you least expect it. We started the day with Eli’s 27-month health check at our local community health clinic. One of those very normal parenting appointments that somehow still requires the logistical planning of a small military operation:snacks,water bottle,shoes,spare clothes,toys,and mentally preparing yourself to answer questions while your toddler attempts to lick a chair. Afterwards, we went to the play centre. And I enjoyed it. Watchin

The other week, my son came home smelling like a bonfire. His Bluey waterproofs were muddy, his boots coated with a thick layer of mud, his pockets full of little treasures, and his hair carried the smell of campfire smoke long after bedtime. A friend had recommended forest school to me over a year ago, and I don't think I fully realised just how much magic it would hold. At Nestlings Forest School that day, the children had chopped strawberries together, made strawberry jam

“Won’t you come into the garden? I would like my roses to see you.” Richard Brinsley Sheridan (18th century Irish playwright, poet and politician) On Monday I had been rushing around all morning, thinking about too many things at once, carrying that familiar feeling of needing to do everything immediately, pick up all the Lego blocks, an email I should’ve sent yesterday, paperwork piling up, prep lunch soon… Then when I went out to hang up the washing, I noticed the roses in

I’ve been wanting to write my first blog for my wellbeing coaching practice for months. Now that I’ve graduated from my course and finally closed a few big chapters around work, my visa, and the season I was in, the new year feels like the right moment to begin. For the last 5 years life has been asking more of me in quieter, deeper ways. Instead of writing, I found myself just living: tired, grateful, stretched,humbled by the journey. I’m sharing a few things motherhood has