Coffee, sex & parenthood
The title says it all.
Hello friends, Before I begin, I have had many new faces here after my "Look dad, I'm a paid writer" post a couple of weeks ago.
I want to acknowledge that by being new here, and not having been connected to me for years on other platforms, that some of my content may surprise you. I absolutely write for the mothers, the makers and the mystics. I weave the worlds of soulful business, creativity, teaching through lived experience, and I also write for myself. I enjoy the process of unpacking real life experiences and storytelling them into art in one way or another. So today’s piece may be a bit of a filter for you as to whether you’d like to stay or not.
If you’re new, you’ll just be getting to know my writing style. Honestly, so am I. Some days it’s clear and simple. Some days I include research and a more in depth approach. Some days I’m teaching, and some days… It can get a little spicy. As much as I’d love for you to enjoy my work, I also know it’s not for everyone so if the following post doesn’t resonate with you, you can choose to stay for my other work, or leave and that is more than ok.
For those who are new and choose to stay… Welcome to my little home here on the internet. I value art. Creatives. Mothers who make. I value intuitive living and being paid for what you make. I write on philosophy, relationships, creativity, the human experience and motherhood. It’s a thriving symposium surrounded by a big community of mothers who learn, contribute, and connect in this space. You are welcome to take a seat, pour some tea and make the time to exist here slowly. x
Coffee, sex and parenthood.
In that order.
I hear him finishing off grinding the coffee in the kitchen.
Did I mention I have broken my coffee fast? It has been 5 months. It was for a bit of a nervous system reset. I think about coffee daily.
But I needed to to feel romantic to me again. Not just a beverage to rely on, but one to enjoy and nourish the spirit. I quit so that I could fall in love with tea and a slower mental pace again. But parent culture, a cup of coffee and a moment of eye contact with the man you once had every waking moment for, now shared between tiny hands and stepping over lego, I actually find incredibly arousing. We’ll unpack that later.
Normally I’m laying here feeding a baby.
This morning,
I’m laying here naked.
I had whispered to him, right after he dropped off our toddler to a little permaculture homeschool, that today was a great day to fuck off the household chaos.
The magnetic building tiles layering the floor. The cushion tower decorated in every toy our three year old owns, that has stayed standing in the living room for four days.
We are forbidden to touch it.
The breakfast crumbs all over the kitchen floor.
Dishes unwashed.
Clothes, everywhere.
I wouldn’t know what’s dirty and what’s clean.
Fuck the mess babe, let’s have coffee
He smiled.
That’s my girl
And leant in for a kiss.
Slowly our lips touched, before he moved down to my neck.
I pulled away.
Hello friends,
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Love Kat