One Mum, Two Kids, Zero Toxic Energy.

If you had told me years ago that I’d one day be raising two beautiful kids on my own, I might’ve panicked. Not because I didn’t think I could do it, but because for most of my life, I’d been sold that the “ideal” family included two parents, white picket fences, and the kind of love that made things feel whole.

But here I am. Single mum. Two kids. No white picket fence, but a home that’s so full of love it bursts at the seams.

And it’s peaceful. That’s the word I keep coming back to.

Peaceful.

Playful.

Loving.

Accepting.

There’s no tension hanging in the air, no walking on eggshells, no co-parenting dramas unfolding in the background. It’s just us. Me and my babies, creating a rhythm that works for us and only us. And the joy that brings? It’s unmatched.

I dreamed of a home like this as a little girl. One where I could exhale. Where laughter echoed louder than yelling. Where love felt soft and steady, not sharp and unpredictable. Where I didn't need to be on guard all the time.

I grew up in a home that was anything but calm. There was chaos. There was conflict. There was a kind of volatility that made safety feel like a luxury rather than a right. But I want to say this clearly - I know my parents did the best they could. They were working with the tools they had at the time. And while my childhood shaped me, it didn’t define the kind of home I would go on to build. I broke this cycle. I couldn't imagine my kids having to grow up that way. I couldn't bear them feeling unsafe in their own home.

I craved safety for most of my life - physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I didn’t realise how much I needed it until I had it. And now? I guard it fiercely. For myself. For my kids. For the kind of generational peace I plan to pass down.

You simply can't put a price on feeling safe and accepted.

Single motherhood has allowed me the freedom to raise my kids on my terms. To follow my instincts. To create a home where feelings are welcome, silliness is encouraged, and love is the baseline - always. And let me tell you... It's awesome. I don't have to run my decisions past anyone. I don't have to give my energy to anyone except my kids.

We are always together. We laugh a lot. We say sorry when we mess up. And we dance in the kitchen like no one’s watching (me especially!). Our little family has each other's backs, and our bond is unbreakable.

We’re not just a family - we’re a team. Best mates. Co-conspirators in all things ridiculous. Sure, I’m the mum, the provider, the one who packs the lunchboxes and remembers the school events (most of the time). But I’m also the one belly-laughing over made-up songs in the kitchen, getting dragged into dance battles in the lounge room, and kicking ass in UNO (no holds barred).

Ours isn’t a conventional household - and thank God for that. We’re a bit chaotic, a bit loud, and absolutely not polished. But what we are is real. This house is full of personality, imagination, and pure joy. We don’t take life too seriously here. Life throws enough curveballs, so we make sure there’s always space for silliness.

And maybe the most beautiful part? Our bond is deep. Like, soul-level deep. Because we’re rarely apart, there’s this unspoken rhythm between us... a kind of emotional shorthand that only comes from knowing each other inside out. We can tell how the other is feeling with a look. We finish each other’s jokes. We miss each other after just a few hours. That’s not just love. That’s connection. That’s the foundation we’ve built everything on.

I used to think family had to look a certain way. But now I know - it just has to feel a certain way. And ours feels like freedom, joy, and unconditional love.

My hope is that one day, when my kids are older, they’ll look back on their childhood and remember how it felt. I hope they remember feeling safe. I hope they remember knowing, without a doubt, that they were enough. That they were loved beyond measure. That home was their soft place to land. Knowing their mother happily gave up everything to make sure they had a childhood that could be remembered fondly.

I used to think being a single mum meant being alone. But the truth is - I’ve never felt more whole.