Diary of a working mum (and accidental boob-flasher).
It’s 5:42am and someone’s crying. Could be the baby. Could be me. Hard to say. I’m a working mum of two. My eldest is eight and very into “being right”; my youngest is eight months and very into chewing electrical cables. I run a music PR agency called Liberty Music PR, which means my days are a mix of press releases, playlists and panic when the baby tries to eat my laptop charger during a call.
This is my first ever column (hi, thanks for having me!), and I thought I’d kick things off with a little reality check.
I love my job. I love my kids. I don’t always love trying to do both at once. There are days when I feel like Superwoman—clients happy, baby napping, big kid doing homework without a protest. And then there are the other days. Like when I answered the door to the postman with my boob still out after breastfeeding. The shame. I didn’t actually notice until an hour later…
But in between the chaos, there are beautiful moments. A cuddle after a long day. A text from an artist saying we changed their career. A cup of coffee and slab of cake in my fav spots across Brighton.
My personal highlight last month was a baby-free night out to see Celeste Barber at Brighton Dome. She was very relatable, she was everything. I laughed until I cried, that also might’ve been speed drinking margaritas, and somehow I ended up in Five Guys at midnight, eating a drunken burger, chatting to randoms with ketchup all down my white jeans. Zero regrets.
Also, hello May, officially my favourite month of the year in Brighton. Brighton is buzzing, and between The Great Escape and trying not to forget the exact Children’s Parade costume for my eight-year-old, I’m surviving on caffeine and vibes.
