Picnic By The Motorway

Join me for a sandwich

Don’t give a sheet



Her face tells lies


This is going to be a seriously controversial post and I know some of you will think of me differently after reading this, but I really feel that the subject warrants discussion.

I’ve stopped using top sheets on our beds.


Go ahead, judge me. I don’t care because the liberation I’ve experienced since ditching top sheets is totally worth having you all think I’m a vile human being whose children should be taken from her care immediately.

Here’s how it happened. It started with the turn down creases. No matter how hard I tried, I could not prevent or fix the top of the sheet from getting permanent creases and that shit drives me more nuts than it should.

Then there was LV. He was getting tangled in his top sheet, which made him overheat in the night, which in turn flared up his eczema. Plus it was a pain in the ass to make his bed with the sheet yanked out from under the mattress on the wall side – I would actually break out in a sweat pulling his bed out to make it every day.

We ditched his top sheet first, and were all happier for it.

Ours was the next to go. My bedmate gives exactly zero cares about maintaining top sheet coverage while asleep. Joel moves about a lot when he’s snoozing, and the top sheet gets seriously eff-d about. Not his fault of course, I’m not apportioning blame here because the guy’s asleep – it’s not like he means to mess with the top sheet – but the fact is it comes untucked at the sides and at his feet, the turn-down gets turnt up, the whole damn thing gets tangled.

Finally, making the bed just got to be a trial I couldn’t be bothered enduring anymore. Hospital corners, tidy tucking, a permanently creased turn-down… burgh. A few weeks ago it all got a bit much. I had washed the sheets and done that dumbass thing where I just threw them at the bed without actually making it up, got on with my day and then went to call it a night only to find a mess of scrunched up linen piled on the mattress.

It was sleepy time, I was sleepy and I had to make up a giant fecking bed.

That fateful night I made the decision to just put on the fitted sheet (easy) and chuck the duvet over the top (even easier) and that was it. I climbed into my new bedding situation feeling like a second-rate citizen, but when I got up the next morning and just pulled the duvet back over the mattress without faffing about with a top sheet I was all “hallelujah this is the answer to life!”

We have not had a top sheet since, and I’m totally converted. If you’re super grossed out that our bodies touch the duvet cover, don’t panic, we have plain lightweight duvet covers so I just wash them when I launder the sheets and it’s all just a world of amazing that I never realised existed. I have since discovered (through some embarrassing google searches to make sure I wasn’t being completely insane) that top sheets aren’t even a thing in most of Europe. And I like Europe!

Those of you who don’t use top sheets know exactly where I’m coming from with all this, and those of you who are top sheet devotees will think we’re all bonkers and disgusting, but if you’re a little bit tempted to give it a go I’d definitely recommend joining me and most of Europe by throwing that top sheet to the wind. Then enjoy a nice hot cup of tea with the extra time in your day and think aspirational thoughts with the extra space in your brain.

Er, school… what?


Pretty sure his first day at daycare was just yesterday though?


On Friday I picked up school enrolment forms for LV.

I’m having some trouble getting my head around all this because:

a) What the what? How is it I only just brought my tiny little-old-man of a firstborn home from hospital and now he’s off to school next year? All those old ladies who said “he’ll be off to school before you know it” when he was a baby were right. At the time I was all “um, sure old lady, whatevs” – because every day felt like a week back then – but I’m beginning to realise that old ladies know their shit.

b) I’m going to be a school mum. I’m not sure exactly what that entails – aside from a new drop off/pickup point and barking “have you done your homework?” every evening – but it sounds terrifying. I wear trackpants a lot at the moment – will I have to start wearing active wear or jeans for drop off? Should I dress up in an 80’s power suit to make all the other mums think I have a high pressure job so they won’t hit me up to bake shit for school fairs?

I know that LV going to school is definitely more about him than it is about me, but allow me just a moment to freak out about the fact that being a school mum catapults me into a new category of mum-ness that makes me feel a whole lot older and means I’m not so relatable to my mates who are just starting to have kids. Gah, who am I kidding? I already drive a minivan, you don’t get any more school mum than that.

c) How am I supposed to remember the names of all the new kids and parents I’ll encounter as a school mum? Don’t laugh, this is a legitimate concern of mine. I do that thing where I meet someone and I really try hard to lock their name into my memory, but with all the brain-strain I’m filled with self-doubt and I instantly start thinking ‘ Craig? Is it Craig or Greg? Shit. Pretty sure it’s Craig. Wait, no it’s Greg. Craig is the guy who fixed our sink the other day. Or was that Greg? Shit shit shit.’

It’s usually around this point that Craig/Greg says “what do you think?” and of course I haven’t been listening because I’ve been name-panicking, so I’ll say something vague in response and he’ll think my brain is noodles (it is) and that there will be my first impression on this dude, and I will avoid him forevermore because I don’t know if he’s Craig or Greg. Or Geoff.

d) People keep saying I won’t know myself when LV starts school because of all the extra time I’ll have. That would be fab except, hey dudes, he’s currently in daycare four days a week from around 9 till 4, so he’ll actually be doing shorter days at school. And he’ll be bloody tired from all that learning carry-on, which means he’ll be super emotional and tantrumy.

In summary, I’m having some trouble processing this whole LV-going-to-school thing. I’ve got six months to sort my crazy out because he’s not toddling off in an oversized backpack in May. Luckily he’s super pumped about it, so I guess I can just get him to remember everyone’s names.