Caitlyn Jenner: A “Real” Woman?

To that bigoted hateful woman ranting to a person about what a ‘real’ woman is, you know NOTHING of her struggles, or of anyone else’s for that matter.

Who appointed you the authority on what makes a real woman? You don’t speak for me, you speak only for your little close-minded self.

Leave Caitlyn Jenner alone!

Reply on point, I love this post!!

The following is a hateful Facebook post I’ve seen making the rounds, with my own rebuttal after it. I realize I’ve posted a lot on Caitlyn Jenner in the last few weeks, but it’s because I am constantly being barraged with this sort of bigoted B.S. nearly every day.  The thought of a transgender individual dealing with what they have to deal with everyday, having to see this woman’s ignorant nonsense when they jump on their Facebook makes me sick to my stomach…

hateful jenner rant

“I’ve heard you say you “identify as a woman”. But I find that highly unlikely and insulting. You see, Mr. Jenner, there is more to being a woman than beautiful gowns and fake boobs. There is more to being a woman than makeup and pretty hair.” – Of course there’s more to being a woman than dresses and makeup.  Caitlyn Jenner never said there wasn’t.  However, there are…

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I have mum guilt.


On Sunday night after dinner I took my children to their dad’s house as he’s having them this week. It’s the new schedule we agreed on (long story I won’t get into).

I stood on the front porch and watched my kids hug their dad they hadn’t seen in a week and we all had a little chat before I got hugs from my babies and went home.

At one point the conversation went like this:

Ex: ‘Aidan, I have a meeting on Tuesday so I can’t take you to your ukulele lesson.’

Aidan, looking at his dad: ‘Maybe Mum could take me?’

Ex: ‘Well, honey, it may just be that when you’re with me and I have a meeting you have to miss out on ukulele.’

Aidan tried to say something else but he got shut down. At no point did the father of my children make eye contact with me. I said nothing, it wasn’t my conversation. I hugged my kids and left.

This morning, I dropped the girls at school and went to find Aidan for a cuddle (I had a bad dream last night, someone made him cry and I woke up needing to hug my little boy).

He asked me if I was taking him to ukulele. I said, ‘No, because dad didn’t ask me to, I’m sorry.’

Now I have guilt.

Mum guilt.

Yes, I want to do what is best for my child but I am done being a doormat for a man who still believes I need a caregiver.

Yes, it’s my child who is suffering in this situation but his father had the perfect opening to ask me to take Aidan to ukulele on Sunday night and he chose NOT to take it. All he had to do was ask and I would have said yes.

But he can’t do that. Because reasons I am not privy to and I won’t pretend to know.

All I know is that he didn’t ask me when he had a chance. He will probably suddenly think to ask when I go to school at 3pm to get the kids but that is way too late. Apparently I don’t deserve the same courtesy than other people.

Now Aidan is sad because he will be missing out on something he loves (just like last year he missed out on soccer practices because his father has a meeting on Tuesday after school and couldn’t be bothered trying to work something out) and I feel horrible.

But I am done offering when he should be asking.

It never really goes away.

I was checking one of the groups I’m a member of on Facebook, a group called “For The Love Of All Things Woolly”. It’s a NZ group for people who enjoy knitting and crocheting and stuff like that.

The poster was asking for patterns, she’s looking to make a baby blanket for her friend who is 17 weeks pregnant and has been told she might lose her baby.

So of course my brain went, “HEY!! REMEMBER WHAT NEXT MONTH IS?”

And now I’m trying not to cry…

It’s been 9 years this year and while I’m ok most of the time, it never really goes away, the grief, the sadness, the overwhelming urge to cry because you heard something or saw something or read something and suddenly it hits you like a ton of bricks again and you’re right there, in that room, with your dead baby…

I’m going to go sit and cuddle with my wife now.

Some writing bug that was. Only NOT.

I haven’t written a word since.

I can’t decide what happens next.

I can’t crochet anything either, end up frogging everything I’ve started.

I did make another flower for my tea cosy on Thursday night but then I ran out of wool so that was that.

It’s 9am and it’s 3.7°C and apparently it ‘feels like -1°C’ and half of the car was covered in ice. Yes, half, because it was parked on the road and the passenger side and back window got the sun early so no ice on there.

You know what else? The kids are back at school today after two weeks of and it’s eerily quiet in the house!!

Time for another cup of tea.

“Positive Attitude” Bullshit: On the dangers of “radical self-love”

Chloe Ann-King

There is an endless supply of people who are ready and willing to inform us about what we are doing wrong, and how we can alter our behaviour so we can get ahead and inject magic and happiness into our lives. Between modern day guru Gala Darling who believes “positive thoughts generate positive realities,” and you can “manifest” your own destiny, to capitalist public thinkers such as Oprah Winfrey telling us positive thinking can help us obtain “the sweet life,” it is easy to get misled into a muddle of mistruths.

A recent blog by Gala is entitled “Happiness is simple: why too many choices make us miserable and 5 ways to improve your life!” Yeah? Nah. Too many choices are not the issue for a huge majority of the political underclass; a lack of choice is exactly the problem. Whether it be lack of choice when it…

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I think I caught some kind of writing bug.

I wrote just under 600 words on Saturday, then my brain decided that was enough. But I have a clear(ish!) idea of what happens between Calleigh and Alyssa next, and then later when Cole arrives at her house.

Yesterday we took the kids to the library for a bit, to get them out of the house, and I wrote about 3 pages in my A5 notebook of my new story about the boarder. Sadly, we didn’t stay long at the library, it closes at 3pm on Sundays and we got there after 2pm…

While my wife was making delicious coconut and spiced roast pumpkin soup for our dinner, I typed up the bits of the boarder story I hadn’t typed up yet (from my crazy writing session when I got the idea a few weeks ago). I changed some things and then I typed up the bits I’d written at the library and then more. Word count for Sunday: 1155.


I know, for some of you who average 10K a way, that seems risible, but it’s a LOT for me (I know, I know, I keep saying that…)

Every little bit helps, right?

Have a lovely Monday/end of Sunday!!

Behold! A crochet post!

I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it but we have joined the knitting (and crochet) group at the public library on the other side of town. We meet there on Wednesday mornings and chat as we knit/crochet. The lady in charge decided that we needed to have a tea cosy exhibition. I was not aware that people still used tea cosies. I have a teapot and never use it… Continue reading