When YOU need to be mothered – for a change.

In this age of loud (and necessary)…

…feminism, I ask you to get quiet and open your eyes because… walking among us are the faux feminists.

Oh sure, they’ll regale you with endless tales of silly men and their ineptitude, they’ll even ra-ra about absolutely, positively having your back, but when it comes down to it, they’ll revert to husband house rules or worse, play dumb.

In recent months, my world has tilted slightly on its axis a.k.a hitting the pointy end of parenting teens. I’ve cried harder than I did when my father died. It’s been very tough and I’ve never felt so powerless, or alone because…

I’ve been abandoned by the Sisterhood? No. The Motherhood.

This is the group of women I’ve desperately needed when the words, “Have I failed?” threatened to unravel me.

If your once adorable offspring has morphed into an inexplicable manchild or womanchild overnight and now you’re clamouring for the manual that will help you navigate this mindf*ck phase – I need you.

I’m not dismissing the incredible child-free folks who have offered their shoulders for spontaneous sobs. But. The mothers who I thought would reach out have taken one stance.

Heads. Buried. Sand. You know who you are.

And the phenomenal mothers who showed up with love and lattes, you know who you are too.

Am I being too hard? Too needy? Maybe. But this is my Phylosophy and I’ll vent if I want to. Feel free to do the same.