On Offspring, breast milk and the end of an era

I used to work for a parenting magazine. The upshot this is that I know a lot about babies for someone who’s never actually owned one. I just thought I would mention this in advance before I start ‘expressing’ opinions about breast pumps. All good? Good.

The Call of the Loon

When I was little, I was afraid of falling asleep.

There were glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, and I’d lie awake staring at them for hours. When my parents bought the house, I had wanted that room (rather than the almost identical one next door) because of the stars. My bed was a bunk bed, with a desk and set of drawers where the bottom bunk should be. If I sat up in bed and stretched my arm to its full length, I could almost touch the stars on my ceiling.

MasterChef: WHHHHHHHHHY?! edition

I love MasterChef. This is not a secret. For a fair portion of the year, my favourite time of day is MasterChef time. The glorious combination of cooking and reality appeals to some fundamental part of my identity as a TV viewer. Gosh darn do I love MasterChef.

So I was even more horrified than the average person to see the new promo. Every time someone mentions it on Twitter, my only response is to desperately tweet WHHHHHHHHHY?! at them in caps. I am distraught. I keep beating my head against things. The security and comfort of MasterChef time is crumbling under my feet.