Kasey Edwards is an author and commentator. She has written two volumes of memoir, 30-Something and Over It and 30-Something and the Clock is Ticking. She writes a column for Daily Life.
Now in her forties, Kasey reflects on how being a woman often feels like a test. One she flunks. From her body, to her mothering skills, relationships and career, Kasey has managed to feel guilty about just about everything. And let’s not even mention the epidural, elective caesarean and baby formula.
When Kasey Edwards discovers she’ll be infertile within a year, she is forced to bring the baby issue to the forefront of her mind. In 30-Something and the Clock Is Ticking, she explores what motherhood would mean to her identity, her career, her body, her relationships and her mental health.
Kasey Edwards has everything she’s always wanted: a successful career and the lifestyle and assets to match. But she’s empty and uninspired and doesn’t want to go to work . . . Ever again.
Terrified that she’ll spend the rest of her life wearing pinstripes and pretending to care about ‘adding value’, Kasey embarks on a quest to rediscover passion and purpose in her life and work.
If you have kids, you’ll be familiar with the ‘That’s Not My’ series from Usborne. Now try the adult parody versions: OMG! That’s Not My Husband and OMG! That’s Not My Child.
I was challenged to turn it around in 10 days. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sceptical, but I figured I had nothing to lose.
I feel like I’m constantly defending myself against accusations that I don’t love or don’t deserve my children. Is a man’s love for his children ever questioned when he voices parenting frustration / pursues interests other than his kids / spends time away his from family?
You’d be forgiven for thinking the industry is filled with altruistic types who only have your best interests at heart.
Last year we were told that sitting down in office chairs was the biggest health risk to employees. Not anymore.
The first year it happened I was in shock. Now I’m just pissed off.
Rather than feeling bad about saying “no” to our kids, here’s five reasons why we should feel good about it.
Populist politicians, men’s rights activists, and s–t-stirring columnists are falling over themselves to find a group, any group, to blame for the loss of the days when white men’s identities were fixed and they were guaranteed secure and well-paid jobs for life.
“You’re overweight, borderline obese.”
When my daughter started school I was plunged back into the schoolyard right along with her.
The idea of walking down the aisle to a man who promises to love, honour and cherish you “until death do us part” is so romantic. But it’s not that helpful.
Teaching kids safety and respect isn’t “ruining childhoods”, but doing the opposite may just ruin their adulthoods.
We need to critically examine why it is that we demand perfection from female leaders while the opposite is true for men.
Should that come as a surprise?
As welcome as the denunciations of Trump are, it reveals a depressing truth about powerful white men
I had many expectations when I started watching Channel 10s The Bachelorette. And so far it’s delivered.
The roots of equality are not planted in boardrooms, but in lounge rooms and kitchens and nurseries.
Culturally, we’re obsessed with women suffering as much as possible during childbirth.
In the company of women, there’s more likely to be reciprocity and mutual respect, and a willingness to search for common ground.
Most of the women I know who iron their husband’s shirts aren’t at all pissed off about it. Some see it as their duty, others see it as a free choice.
Parents have been guilted into believing that cramming as much knowledge, skills and experience into our children as early as possible is synonymous with good parenting. On the contrary, over-scheduling kids is a recipe for increasing childhood anxiety.
Alcohol or drinking culture didn’t “make” Brock Turner commit rape. I’ve drunk spirits plenty of times but not once have I accidently stripped someone naked and inserted things into their genitals.