From chomping on discarded raisins to chowing down regurgitated Marmite sandwiches, Wry Mummy writes that motherhood has turned her into a human dustbin
"Sometimes, there just isn't a bin around when you need one. Like when your child wants to spit something out. We were on our way to the car yesterday when my youngest decided he didn't like Smarties after all, and spat all seven of them out into my swiftly-proffered hand. There they lay, their now-softened, not-as-bright-as-in-my-day shells in a pool of sugary drool that was starting to drip through my fingers. I did the only thing I could do in the circumstances. Reader, I ate them."
Cancer is not a war, and to speak of it in such terms denigrates its seriousness - we need to use more honest language, writes Stella Duffy
"There was no battle, there was a disease. She was not a warrior, she was a person. When we talk about cancer in the language of war, when we anthropomorphize cancer, when we make it other than the self, we damage anyone who is living alongside someone living with or dying of cancer, and we damage those of us with cancer most of all."
It's easy to feel envious of other people's perfect lives on Instagram - here, Brummy Mummy of 2 lays bare the reality
"Life is not like our Instagram feed. On mine, you will see the cracks with the odd tantruming boy or weeping girl. And occasionally I post a messy room or a grumpy face. But generally? My life on Instagram is a sham.
Here, I'll show you the reality - the perfect lo-fi, brightened, sharpened, staged version versus the real #nofilter version. And there really is no filter."
My partner is not asking for your approval, but she deserves your respect, writes the author of a guest post for Delusions of Candour
"Stop and think for a moment, you two gentlemen who laughed at us as we were minding our own business. Stop and think how comfortable you would feel stepping out of your front door in a dress, make-up and heels. Can you even begin to imagine how crushing it must feel, having tried so hard to look passable, having found the courage to face complete strangers dressed in a way that makes you feel both vulnerable and conspicuous, to be laughed at in public by fellow adults?"
There's nothing like a pot of curdled dairy to make a bad day good - until you realise your yoghurts aren't quite as luxurious as the adverts suggest, writes Make Me an Earth Mother
"Maybe I should be eating it with my eyes closed, in the back of cabs, like Nicole Scherzinger? Extra ecstasy points for getting a blob on my nose if we stop unexpectedly. Or perhaps I should make like Amanda Holden and serve my yoghurt with a side order of half-naked man. I just love how Danone are subverting age-old gender roles by enslaving men in this ad. So post-modern."