We all are guilty of it. ‘I have no village’ is such a common theme in motherhood in the 21st century and it feels it gets further and further away with every new piece of technology thrown at us and the reels of social media showcasing snippets of people’s day parenting (seemingly managing perfectly well with no meltdowns in sight, from child or parent apparently). We are a good few generations into losing our villages now; no more streets of people who know each other, mothers all attending the same antenatal classes who all live within 5 miles of each other or even tiny village schools where there are 20 children who make up Key Stage 1 and 2 (so of course you know every mother, father, aunt, uncle and grandparent). These were once our villages. They’re dissipating. We all know that.

What do I mean when I say a village?

I don’t mean the Oxford Dictionary version of ‘a small community or group of houses in a rural area, larger than a hamlet and usually smaller than a town’. I mean the multigenerational community that supports one another by sharing the good, bad and the ugly.

Our villages have changed, but so has being a villager.

I think whilst we can blame a lot of things from robbing our villages, I fear we are also to blame. We’ve stopped being villagers and putting effort into being the best villagers we can be.

So, what do I even mean by ‘being a villager’?

I mean someone who shows up to things that are important to you, the people who you would be able to rely on through thick and thin and have a really good laugh with along the way. It can be your best friends, acquaintances, family, neighbours, Janet who lives three doors down or the pub quiz club at work. Villagers come in all shapes and sizes. But one thing is key; they are there every time you need them, whether you’d knew you needed them or not.

This isn’t easy to admit - but I expected people to show up for me when I didn’t show up for them.

I was the last of my friends to have a baby, and while I did the ‘congratulations’ coupled with a classic card, flower bouquet and bottle of wine now you can drink *cue party poppers*, I wasn’t a villager. I didn’t check in with them, I didn’t showcase my support in any other way than a text here and there and that fills me with shame. I didn’t show up. Yet I expected someone to. Yep, perhaps I was naive or, brutally, perhaps I was just wasn’t a villager.

In my postpartum phase, I remember sitting in my milk soaked nightie with an industrial size pad on feeling sorry for myself because I was alone. I absolutely did not want hoards of people flooding my house (that would’ve been my worst nightmare) but I wanted someone to show me they cared in literally anyway. I wasn’t fussy. I was, and to be completely honest still am, lonely.

I finally understood.

Not straight away, but maybe 6-7 months postpartum.

To have a village, you must be a villager.

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So!

How am I being a better villager?

My preface with this is that I am on maternity leave and essentially solely care for my two under two alone, so I do not have time or capacity to create elaborate gifts or show up to every event. It just isn’t realistic, and it would probably be reasonably overbearing for whoever I was trying to support. I do what I can, and show up when I can, and if that’s a small thing every few months, at least I am trying.

I bake!

I love baking absolutely everything. I am in the kitchen every single day with my children; it’s such a good creative outlet and great for the kids to be involved with homemade food. So I started baking for other people! When I meet up with people, I bring half a dozen chocolate chip cookies (the other half a dozen is absolutely at home for my family to enjoy, because we love cookies) or a loaf of bread. Baking is so personal and really highlights someone’s day, in my opinion.

I send cards!

For every occasion:

• Birthdays

• Anniversaries

• Children starting a new school year

• Christmas, Easter or cultural celebration

• New house, new car, new job.

I have a stash of beautifully handmade cards sitting my my draw, ready to go. I have calendar events for every one of my friends and set a one week before reminder so I can get that card in the post. Would I love to drop it round? Of course. But I live rurally, popping to one of my friends is often an hour round trip with 2 under 2. That isn’t justifiable. So I post them. I always have stamps. I create adventures for the kids going to the park and finding a post box.

I also think it’s important to note here that it is not embarrassing to ask someone’s birthday or what special events they have coming up. It gives you a chance to celebrate them!

I arrange play dates!

This is easier said than done. Nap times, jobs, events that a person cannot miss all overlap and seem to run at opposite times to you. But still. I do my best. Sometimes that looks like going to a coffee shop with a picnic mat and throwing loads of toys down on the mat for the kids to play with and sometimes I invite them over and just let the kids loose on my land. The key part here is, I initiate them. I don’t wait for someone else to message to ask to meet up, I put in the effort. A simple one? Yep. One we probably could all do better on? Double yep.

I send things that I think they’d like!

I love this one. So simple, so easy, but a way to say “hey I see you, I know you, enjoy!”. This is easy to do when I have the kids too. A song comes on the radio I think my friend would like? I send it to them. Some bizarre trinket dish I have seen in a shop? Take a photo and show them. It’s a little way to show them you think of them often. I don’t know about you, but I love when people send me book recommendations, like are you kidding? You’ve seen a book, read the blurb and thought “Huh, Ella would love this!”. It’s so cute!

Villagers keep showing up, every possible time they can. It’s noticed, it is appreciated so keep showing up. Someone really appreciates it. Villages are not for postpartum, they’re for life, you just have to make the life long commitment to being a villager for that to be true.

I would love to hear what your favourite things are to do to be a villager, no matter how big or small! I love hearing new ways I can try to show up for people, and what works for different friendships and dynamics.

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Hi there! My name is Ella, a twenty-something mother of two, rediscovering herself in motherhood and creating a community where everyone feels they can just be themselves. Motherfolk is for everyone, through all seasons in motherhood. I really appreciate you taking the time to read this article and I would love for you to stick around and build this community with me!

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The book is based about Eva and her journey into adulthood with all of those in her life who fulfil a mothering role in one way or another. It starts when she’s in entrance class of her first school and her teacher read a story depicting different types of mothers as being different colours. For example her mother is pink mother, who is fragile and delicate and a little bit ‘airy fairy’. It is a gorgeous concept of a children’s book, but I believe it was made up as part of the fictional plot! As the book follows Eva we see the impact that different women have on one another and how motherhood takes all sorts of shapes and sizes.

It left me thinking about the women that had had different impact on me throughout my life, some who are profound and everlasting at my own mother and some that perhaps had a relationship with me that they may not even think about anymore. There are women everyone who have had a small piece of me in my life and they have moulded it for the better and created sparks of joy. These women are women who have helped me become a mother to my children and helped me to mother friendships and other sources of love.

There is a key part of this book that tells you that “Love has to be between”. Where you love between one another and choosing to facilitate that love and nurturing it to ensure everything isn’t residing on one person but between those who you do.

I think motherhood appears to us as we grow in varying ways that impact us perhaps more than we think. Our own mothers being the forefront of this; they show us how to (and how not to) mother our own and we have a front seat show. We see the good, the bad and the ugly. The rawest of motherhood. My mother raised me through single motherhood, depression and really tight money troubles and if I’m honest, I absolutely would have done things different but she did everything she thought was right and I couldn’t thank her more. My mother was definitely a Red Mother - passionate, all encompassing, would fight for her children more than anything. She helped me with my first period, with learning to read, sharing her hobbies with me and holding me in heartbreak. She is absolutely a woman who has moulded me.

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I turn to think of the female teachers who had a say in who I am today; they exhibited kindness and wisdoms and although the are paid to teach, they absolutely shaped me more than that and helped me to harness my love of learning.

I’ve had female mentors at work who have told me how to stay safe as a woman at work - we all acknowledge it shouldn’t be like that but it is - and they pass down tricks of the trade that seem to form in nurturing new skill.

I’ve had female friends who, even when they aren’t older than me, still show maternal love by supporting me in my own motherhood, supporting me to go outside through loss and darkness.

Motherhood is the hardest thing I’ve ever done, and I feel I can never get it right. In all the small angry red faces and nappies and lack of sleep I don’t feel I am benefitting anyone. All My Mothers has helped me to explore that perhaps it is the small things that are most important. The hair ruffles, the watching thunderstorms and the baking pancakes while licking the whisk.

My favourite quote from this book is: “It’s so hard being a mother… It’s so hard not being a mother… These two statements are both true, I think.” Isn’t that the most beautiful truth?

Motherhood is of course that direct link between parent and child, whether this is biological or not, but mothering is found in corners and places perhaps we don’t expect it to be in; maybe it is in these moments that we truly experience all elements of motherhood. And where it comes from. That it truly is a village of women.

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Thank you for taking the time to read this small compilation of my thoughts about this book, motherkind has become a place for me to allow my thoughts to grow creatively.

If this is something you enjoyed, perhaps subscribe to hear more of my waffle! I’d love to have you here.

That being said, I strongly believe that even in the chaos of motherhood, fool-proofing your day to try and make it as good as possible is essential. Crafting small moments and joys that you can intertwine into your day to bump the day up on the classic ‘bad to good’ list. I call this my ‘Bad Day Plan’. Things I can turn to in moments of desperation that can whip my day into something that I can pinpoint those moments of joy in.

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So, here are some of my key elements for my ‘Bad Day Plan’:

make a coffee

Oh but not just any coffee, I use my absolute favourite Coffi Lab coffee in my absolute favourite mug and treat myself to chocolate sprinkles on the top to make it that little bit ✨extra✨. Coffee isn’t just the caffeine for me; it’s the ritual and crafting a warm drink that I don’t just guzzle but savour. It reminds me to slow down. My son always gets a frothy milk from the coffee machine too so that he isn’t left out and we have a little coffee date together at our kitchen table.

put on my favourite scents

There is something so romantic and nostalgic to me about a candle flickering away while the day whistles by. Having a scent that I recognise as something I had burning on an amazing day helps me lift my mood. I always try and use natural wax candles with natural scents as artificial scents become a little overwhelming and I do not want to add overwhelm to overwhelm.

a sweet treat

Okay so this one is a preemptive bad day emergency plan. I bake all the time, and cookies are up there with my signature bakes. I adore them. I always freeze 2 or 3 balls of dough so in emergencies like this, I have warm cookies straight from the oven with no prep or mess, but everyone still has the excitement of a cookie. Trés bien.

have my favourite dinner

I would absolutely whip out my favourite dinner (if someone else was around) which is a pearl barely stuffed cabbage leaf situation with a rich tomato sauce and sour cream, absolutely gorgeous. I have River Cottage to thank for that recipe! BUT if I was on my own, I would make a dinner easy to manage with both kids; that usually looks like a Mac & Cheese with garlic bread and tenderstem broccoli! Absolutely solid choices either way.

get outside

Oh even when I don’t want to, parenting outside is vastly easier than parenting inside and that is a hill I will die on. Even on the worst of days, even if there is rain and it is bleak, going outside is part of my emergency tool kit. It resets everyone, children, me and the dogs. Never trust a bad thought inside.

craft

I know it makes mess, I know everyone needs a bath after, I know. But I am a crafty mum, I am a mum who would say ‘I could make that’ a million times before I’d even think about buying it. Crafting gives me joy and love and there is something about crafting with kids that makes it so much more fun. And fun is what I need on those bad days. Grab a box and paint and just go for it! Or abandon the box altogether and we often all sit in our pants and give each other paint tattoos followed by a hot shower to wash it all off. OR, if you’re feeling ‘brave brave’, make some messy play, dye the rice and pasta, blitz Cheerios into sand. Although this takes the prep, crafting with them (or sneaking away for five minutes while they have a directed activity) makes the world of difference.

journal

Give me a pen and paper and I’m golden. My emergency plan always has a couple of minutes to either vent or redirect my pessimism into neutralism or creating a grateful list. Simple. Effective. Bonus points for journalling in my Fin Studios trifold leather journal and my Tom Studios pen. Joy everywhere.

put on my favourite album

I love ‘Halcyon’ by Kingfishr; the music is gorgeous and the harmonies and melodies are delightful. I find have slower and folk-esque songs on when I’m feeling down/angry levels my mood vastly more than one might think, and bonus, my kids’ moods generally match music energies.

These are my fail safe, tried and tested ways to improve my day. They’re not magic, and of course if you have children screaming at you the whole time, burning a candle is not going to help drastically BUT it might make you feel magical while you bite your tongue and tell your toddler to take ‘big breaths’.

Thank you so much for taking the time to read this article. A bad day plan is something I think is so important. What would you include in your bad day plan? Comment below! I’d love to have additions to mine.

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Ella x

I’ve worked in schools, the NHS and my side hustle means I see children every single weekend without fail with their parents. I had a really clear idea on who I wanted to be as a mother, the things I would do and the things I wouldn’t, and yet somehow I’ve become a mother and all of those initial judgements feel like they’re hanging over me every day.

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I don’t know where this idea came from, the good or bad parenting. The good or bad mother. The standards are always preying on the mother - the play dates, the exciting baking and snack ideas - the black-and-white categories that all these little choices that we make throughout the day fit into. And somehow becoming a mother means I have forced myself into these boxes and forced myself to believe that everything is black-and-white when perhaps everything is much more grey.

When I first found out I was pregnant, I didn’t want to be a mother and the fear and overwhelming anxiety consumed me and I physically couldn’t see past my due date. I could never imagine holding my baby or watching them growing into a person and my love of everything I thought I would love was taken from me. I thought I would love being pregnant, I thought I would love the idea of soaking up every single moment my husband held my belly and yet that face stopped me from seeing past anything that could happen past D-Day (or B-day if you find that incredibly humorous like I do).

Straight away, I was in the black. Blacker than black. I didn’t love my child instantaneously like every one says they do. I didn’t love the idea of being a mother anymore and I didn’t love any of the process that it was going to take me together. My child wasn’t even born yet and I had written myself off as a bad mother.

I thought about picking the perfect pram, the perfect car seat, the perfect clothes, the perfect first toys, the perfect blanket that I spent months crocheting, the perfect first baby book. Would these be the things that made me white? Made me a good mother? Deciding between a Mamas & Papas Ocarro or a Out’n’About Nipper?

It took a long time for me to learn to love him, the tiny baby with the chubby arms, the angry red face that screamed. All. The. Time. It took a long time for me to begin to understand the dynamic between mother and child and understand that whoever I was before I would never meet again. And that sorrowfulness put me back in the black again.

He was only a few months old when I found out I was pregnant again, and just like with my first pregnancy my second pregnancy was completely consumed by vomiting. My personal best was 36 times in less than 12 hours, and if I’m perfectly honest, I’m quite proud of that. I was still breastfeeding my son then; being needed by two completely different human beings and feeling overwhelmed under supported figuring out motherhood for two before I’d even figure out motherhood for one. Black, again. I gave myself no grace, no forgiveness and understanding of myself, telling myself that I had failed before I’d really begun.

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My daughter was born the month after my son turned one and then came in an enemy I didn’t know I had. Postpartum rage. The smallest little things meant I lost my temper at the drop of a hat, a spill that wasn’t meant to happen, a dog getting in the way, the weather not being the weather that the stupid weather app had told me it was going to be, the clothing that once fit me two pregnancies before didn’t fit me still. The rage was all consuming. This made me a bad mother, and even now I know that those emotional outbursts are hormonal and completely unpreventable. They’re something that a lot of mothers experience and do I think all of those women are bad mothers? Of course I don’t. So why am I forcing these same standards upon myself?

I’m seven months pastpartum now and things are settling down a lot. I’ve fallen into the role of being a mother, or what I feel the type of mother I could be. But, some days all of those pre-baby judgements are things I still hold myself against. Like “They will only eat super organic, natural earth superfoods” or “No screen time ever” or “Wooden toys over ANYTHING else”. For fuck sake, my son ate dog food today from the cupboard.

I’ve started giving myself some understanding. This understanding has helped me craft a new view of motherhood, one that isn’t black-and-white and one that allows motherhood to live within the grey. I can absolutely let my child have pizza for breakfast, because really all it is, is bread, tomato purée and vegetables on the top. It means he’s eaten enough food, he isn’t going to be a hangry demon toddler, and he’s eating vegetables! I can let my child watch a 25 minute animated film about a dragon learning how to be a dragon so that I can go to the toilet on my own and brush my teeth. It taking three hours just to get out of the door to go to the park doesn’t mean I failed as a mother. It doesn’t mean that I have to put myself in the black box that I have created for myself.

I am going to the park with my two really young children despite the fact it takes me over three hours to get ready to go.

I am able to look after myself with my two really young children despite the fact they need me more than I ever could’ve possibly fathomed.

I am able to put three meals and snacks in front of my two really young children every single day, even if debt hangs over me.

Living in the grey area, gives me grace and flexibility and understanding of myself that being a mother is all about survival while meeting the basic needs of your children, and adding a little bit of magic in every day. The grey area is forgiving it’s kind it’s calm. It has no judgements that force me into boxes that make me decide I am good or I am bad? Every day I wake up and I choose to do my best, and I’m not saying I don’t make bad choices throughout the day, I absolutely lose my temper but those small bad moments do not make me a bad mother.

I quite like the grey area. I think this is a place I can be a mother in.

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2026 is a rollercoaster for my emotions. I’m six months post partum and I am deep into PPA and PPD, it’s been a journey learning how to look after both children equally when they are both so small and need me so much. I’m learning to be a mother and nothing can fully prepare you for this, no book, podcast or even friends and family experience. It is hectic.

I think there’s a pull in difficult times to only rest, and while rest is so important, choosing to sit on the sofa for hours upon hours instead of a hobby or a small moment that would make you feel better isn’t rest. It’s damaging. I cram so much into my day that forgetting to carve out small moments to create magic in my day is vital.

A ritual, as defined by Calm, is ‘a set of intentional, repeatable actions performed with mindfulness and personal meaning’. It is not the same as tying your hair up and always wearing your green slippers to wash up. They’re not always elaborate actions but purposeful moments weaved int your day.

With that in mind, here are my favourite rituals that inspire grounding, improvement to my mental wellbeing and bring me pockets of joy

I started doing ‘morning pages’ 3 months ago, this technique was coined by Julia Cameron in her book ‘The Artist's Way’. Designed to improve anxiety levels and clear cluttered minds, I have turned this into my morning ritual paired with a gorgeous cup of my favourite ground coffee from Coffi Lab. Roasted in the UK, I adore how smooth and warming it feels in the mornings and they support Guide Dogs?! Who couldn’t love that about a coffee brand.

Now I am a chronically depressed and anxious girl who will try anything in order to feel like I am functioning with cohesiveness in life. Turns out, one of the best things I can do is go outside in the morning and just exist. It feels raw to experience insignificance in the universe and it places worries and darkness into perspective and I find that so comforting. It is known that morning sun exposure boosts not only our general mood for the day, but the immune system, encourages better sleep and supports our bodies to have more of that vital vitamin D. I find encompassing this ritual into my mornings (only when it isn’t absolutely dreadful outside) makes me sit on an even keel with the day and if that is all it takes? Why the fuck not?

Rituals look different when you are a mother; the time you try and craft out in your often also involve sticky fingers and little chubby arms reaching to help (or not) in any possible way. The best way I find to face this is with involving them in their own rituals. My two children and I love making bread and we have a steady system that regulates all of us and resets us if things have perhaps gotten a bit heightened. That’s code for when shit has hit the fan. We put a slow album on - I recommend Kingfishr’s ‘Halcyon’ - get our ingredients out and make our bread. It’s great for children because the baking is in small little batches over a few hours and my son loves putting the bread ‘to sleep’ under a tea towel. Perhaps not everyone would consider it a ritual, but it is an intentional process I use to mould the rest of the day into something more calming and purposeful.

Oh! Our favourite bread to make is an Easy Dutch Oven Loaf from ‘3 Doughs 60 Recipes’ by Lacey Ostermann. Beautiful and easy every time.

These are just three of my favourite rituals that I’ve tried and tested, are low maintenance but productive and I’m all about low effort big outcomes. That is exactly what these are. Go and try one perhaps? Do you have a favourite ritual you turn to in order to feel intentional? I’d love to hear it.

Thanks for reading!

Ella x

Oh! And Happy Saturday! If you enjoy this article, please consider subscribing. I’m not even joking when I say I squeal every time.

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I’ve had two children in the space of 14 months, keeping myself busy I know! Both of my pregnancies I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG) and I became a shell of a person. I became just functioning, barely able to shower, never keeping food down, not able to work or meet friends. I lost everything I felt I was as a person. HG affects 1-3% of all pregnancies, and yet there is no cure, no fix. Just “wait until you give birth”.

Oh fuck right off.

But I had to wait. I did wait. I waited and waited and they were right I suppose, it did disappear, both times.

Then came the ‘throw you in the deep end’ type of motherhood. And I have never been a swimmer, let me tell you. I had post-partum depression, post-partum anxiety and, of course, the sheer rage of being post-natal. I was a barrel of laughs.

I lost all sense of who I was. What did I like? What food did I enjoy? Where do I go on a free day? How do I spend my free time? What free time haha?! What are my hobbies? Who am I?

Enter last month. I was feeding my youngest, who will only contact nap attached to my nipple, and after umming and ahhing, I said ‘oh fuck it’, quite literally, and spent a large chunk of my maternity pay on a Kobo Clara Colour. An enormous chunk in fact.

She arrived the next day. I’ve dubbed her a she because I feel only women can have such a massive positive impact on you in such a short space of time. Maybe I should give her a real name? Any suggestions?

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I haven’t read a book in 3 years. The last book being ‘The Mercies’ by Kiran Millwood Hargrave (bloody excellent if you’re interested, power to the women). For some reason, there was a small fire in me that decided I needed to read again, I needed to escape to somewhere else.

So I did.

Do you want to know what I discovered? I discovered myself. I could read whilst breastfeeding, while doing bath time, cooking. I could read when my eldest was independently exploring outside and my youngest is in a sling. My Kobo meant I could have books upon books right in my hand and I didn’t need to turn any physical pages that might be grabbed at, ripped, thrown.

I was suddenly excited about plot lines again, character development, adjectives, metaphors, use of certain punctuation! Yes I’m lame, but I love it. A whole segment of me was being switched back on, finding that old lamp you’d forgotten about in the back of the cupboard and discovering its beauty in glass and warm glow.

I joined Goodreads, compiling lists of books I want to read. I have devoured reviews and created my own moodboards on thoughts and feelings.

I’ve read some beautiful books, including my new favourite ‘Nesting’ by Roisín O’Donnell (a review coming soon). I ached for people who weren’t me, I felt other’s joy and lived vicariously through compelling story telling.

I was alive again.

Now, putting all this down to some e-reader feels ridiculous, I’m sure of it. But without it, I think I’d still be in a depths of depression.

My Kobo has meant I can enjoy a part of myself I thought I’d lost. It has saved part of me I didn’t even know needed saving.

I am enjoying motherhood more because I can escape into fantasy worlds or support a barrister solve a case or fall madly in love with some man that is likely to piss me off 200 pages later. I have a chance to find something only for me.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m still uncovering this new version of myself. But my Kobo has helped peel back a few crusty old layers.

And I couldn’t be more grateful.

A friend asked me the other day if I would recommend my Kobo. I want you to take a guess what I said…

Thank you so much for reading this article. This is quite raw, and almost embarrassing that a piece of tech has helped me this much, but I wanted other mothers to know that maybe this can be their escape too.

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See you in the next chapter.

Ella x