The Bunless Oven didn’t start from
clarity or courage.
It Started because I completely Unravelled
and Couldn't Put Myself Back Together Again
Motherhood had turned me into someone who poured into every cup but my own. I started to realize how far removed I was from “me”. The kind of disconnect where you’re technically functioning, but only because no one has checked your battery percentage in weeks.
From the outside, I looked steady. Inside,
I was buffering, running on fumes, and pretending it was fine because I believed that I was… until I wasn’t.
The turning point wasn't a breakthrough.
It was a slow, quiet decision to stop abandoning myself every day. I started choosing myself in ways that felt almost insignificant—a pause, a breath, a boundary no one could see—but it began stitching me back to myself.
This wasn't reinvention
It was remembering. Not a dramatic change, just a steady refusal to keep disappearing in plain sight.
The Bunless Oven began as the first place where I didn’t have to perform capability to deserve care. And slowly, that permission became something I could offer outward too.
Motherhood doesn’t come with a manual (if it did, it’d be sticky and half-chewed anyway).
I've learned that motherhood isn't the problem.
The mythology around it is. The endless narrative that a good mother has no edges, no rest, no need. It’s propaganda (with a dash of patriarchy) dressed as purpose.
What I believe is simple: mothers deserve visibility, softness, and a seat at the table that isn’t next to the sink.
This space isn’t for perfect moms. It’s for the ones hiding in the bathroom, scrolling Instagram, whispering, “same.”
This space is a collective sigh, the middle ground between meltdown and meeting the day anyway. It isn’t about fixing or transcending motherhood. It’s about living it. So if you came here looking for perfection, or gentle affirmations about surrender, you’re going to be disappointed. But if you’re here for the mess, the muttering, and the mid-morning existential snacks, then pull up a chair.
My Bucket List
Sticking the kids in homeschool and traveling the world, because life is about experiences.
Write a book (or three).
Host a retreat for moms where no one has to cook, clean, or do bedtime routines.
To feel like ‘me’ again.
A Few Fun Facts
My anxiety-driven OCD has turned me into the queen of organization.
I love a good supernatural or horror film but need to take ashwagandha for weeks afterward to recover from the trauma.
I aspired to become a lawyer for eight years, completed my degree, and then decisively cast it aside in favour of writing and painting at my own leisure.
What's Next?
If this space feels like a soft place to land, the next gentle step is simply to linger. Here are a few places to start:
The Buns & Ovens Blog
The blog is where the real stories live, the messy ones, the honest ones, the ones that finally make you feel like you’re not the only adult holding it together with duct tape.
Stay Close in the Everyday
If you want company in the half-finished coffees, between meltdowns, and the tiny pockets of "okay, I can breathe for a second" that help you keep going, you’ll find it here.
THE KEEPING MUM DIARIES
A soft, fictionalised storytelling newsletter inspired by real moments of motherhood, written so you feel less alone inside your own
Once you’ve taken a moment for yourself, you’ll also find small tools that make the daily load a little lighter.
This is a packing system designed to make your hospital prep stress-free and seamless. Moms have been saving and using it since 2019, and during my website rebuild, I had people texting me frantically, asking where it was. Some even kept their copies from years ago!
Media/Brand Partnerships
The Bunless Oven collaborates with brands who honour mothers as whole people, not marketing demographics.
If your work supports the wellbeing, dignity, or lived experience of mothers, there may be room for us to work together.