I feel like I have so much going on in my head but no idea how to get it out, let alone how to make sense of it.

I want to talk about how I find six years old the hardest age to deal with. Give me the sleep deprivation of a newborn any day. Six year olds have all these emotions and they can be mean one minute, divine the next, so mature in their rational but still so young and naive.

I want to talk about how I pressed reply instead of forward on an email to a glossy women's magazine editor. How I thought I was forwarding it to my Mum, telling her how excited I was to be having a feature in this magazine despite the fact that I have squashed banana in my carpet and texta drawings on my walls. I ended the email with lots of declarations of love and heaps of kisses. When the email came back from the editor saying that no you don't have to have a lovely home just gorgeous vegies, I almost died. When I finally had enough guts to write back and explain my mistake and tell her how embarrassed I was, I had no idea how to sign off. Regards didn't really work after all that love and kisses.

I want to talk about the washing that is hanging wet on the line where it has hung for the last four days and the fact that the pile of washing on the laundry floor is taller than me.

I want to talk about the fact that I have shopping and cooking and baking to do but my sewing machine is calling to me and its getting harder and harder to ignore her.

I could go on and on but I'm not going to, let's do something a bit fun instead.