The "I Almost Gave Birth in a Mitsubishi Outlander" Guide to Business & Babies
Let’s be real for a second. Most business blogs are written by people in beige linen suits sitting in minimalist offices. I am currently writing this with a very sweaty four month old basically fused to my chest like a biological backpack, wondering if I can count "wrestling a child into a onesie" as my cardio for 2026.
If you’re wondering how my second foray into motherhood started, let’s just say it was fast. Like, "don't-bother-putting-on-shoes-we’re-having-a-driveway-baby" fast. I moved so quickly I’m pretty sure I broke the sound barrier somewhere near the maitland turn off.
And because the universe loves a theme, he was born on my daughter’s birthday. Exactly seven years apart. I’m now convinced I only have one "ovulation setting" on my internal calendar. It’s efficient, sure, but it means I’m basically doomed to host one giant, expensive birthday party for the rest of my life.
One is a Hobby, Two is a Zoo
Going from one child to two is crazy hell. It’s a tactical ambush. My seven year old is a dream in comparison, but this four month old? He is the CEO of Clingy Corp. If I am not within a 2 centimeter radius of his face, he acts like I’ve abandoned him in the Outback.
Trying to respond to business emails while he’s doing his best "velcro-monkey" impression is an Olympic sport. I just typed "Warm regards" with my left pinky toe. (Okay, not really, but give it a week.)
The Cost of Living (and Why Your Furniture is Trash)
Between the price of lettuce and the fact that I’m currently anticipating 350 units of stock arriving from Indonesia, I’ve become a bit of a stickler for where money goes. Everything is expensive right now. Which is why it absolutely sends me when people buy "placeholder" furniture.
You know the stuff. That flat pack dresser that wobbles if you look at it funny, or the plastic toy bin that shatters the moment a toddler breathes on it. You spend $80, it lasts six months, and then congratulations you’ve just contributed more junk to the local tip.
Stop. Buying. Trash.
If it doesn’t bring you joy (thanks, Marie Kondo, though I doubt you ever had a baby spit up down your back), and if it’s destined for the dump by next Christmas, you’re just renting garbage. I’d rather have one beautiful rattan piece that survives three house moves and a teething baby than five pieces of "fast furniture" that smell like chemicals and despair.
Anyway, What Was I Saying?
Oh right, exhaustion. I’m tired. My brain is about 40% caffeine and 60% "did I remember to shower today or was that yesterday" But hey, the containers land in April, the baby is currently (miraculously) quiet, and I only almost gave birth on the roadside.
In the grand scheme of things, we’re doing great. Now, does anyone know if you can claim "baby-carrying-induced-chiropractor-visits" as a business expense? Asking for a friend.