Important stuff single mothers must do before we die

The items I most want to tick off my chuck it in the bucket list:
1. Find a single 97-year-old billionaire outside a Las Vegas wedding chapel
2. Earn enough money for cask wine, Prozac, Phenergan & 2-minute noodles

3. Post about single motherhood money challenges without being contacted by a self-employed pyramid scheming guru wanting me to invest in their ‘incredible once in lifetime opportunity, don’t miss out, fast-growing’ business
4. Finish a sentence without being interrupted by a chatty child
5. Block well-meaning women on social media whose side career is marketing anti-aging cosmetics, life-changing cleanses and other ‘green’ products of dubious nutritional value
6. Get thrown off a mechanical bull into an enormous foam pit full of cash
7. Strip without grimacing
8. Skydive into a ginormous bucket of French champagne
9. Do a poo in peace in a toilet that has been cleaned by someone else
10. Get ex to pay for kids (dreaming)
11. Dare to live fully while sleeping 16 hours a day in a room with a view
12. Draft legislation to outlaw the word ‘panties’
13. Have a holiday that doesn’t involve child-friendly parks
14. Fly a hot air balloon into a massive pot of gold
15. Children shoplift without getting caught
16. Doze on a beach for 12 months while servants cater to every whim
17. Hear the sound of silence in my head
18. Smile because I’m not worrying about bills I can’t pay

19. Snorkel with old friends in an Olympic-sized pool of gin

20. Outlaw bucket lists


Just for one day

Today I want my loud, laughing dad back from “death’s dateless night,” so we can guffaw, have a whiskey, eat too much food, carry on and argue. We’d have the cricket on and talk about the current parliamentary debacle, the Wallabies, travelling in Europe and the heartbreaking turmoil of the people trapped on Manus and Nauru. My dad would be wearing his heart on his sleeve, we would fight about something important, cry, forget about it an hour later and have another wee dram. I want to talk to my dad about his painful childhood, about growing up without a father, about how lonely he was and give him a huge hug because he survived and created a life for us that he could only dream of as a child growing up hungry.

I inherited your devotion to books, your sense of humour and your belief in the beauty of our fellow humans. It’s been 16 years and I miss you today and every day Jack Ernest. Wish you were here…

“Your love will live in my heart…”