The Good, the Bad, and the Birthday
Co-founder Morag holding her little boy standing in a kitchen
Hi! It’s co-founder Morag here and it’s my milestone birthday this January... but it’s not easy for us January born!

January birthdays are hard. Not because of the weather (although that doesn’t help) but because it feels selfish to expect people to celebrate when they’re so committed to their annual January misery. Everyone’s busy punishing themselves for December—dieting, detoxing, and swearing off booze like they’ve just discovered the concept of guilt.

Meanwhile, I’m over here like, “Hey, want to eat cake and drink bubbles? The audacity!

Let’s talk about the good bits first. In a month of restraint, self-recrimination, and herbal tea, a birthday is pure rebellion.
While the world’s chanting “New Year, New Me,” my birthday gives me full permission to embrace the old me—the one that really loves brownies, cake, and champagne. It’s the perfect excuse to shatter the grey monotony of January with something sweet, indulgent, and utterly Bad Brownie approved.

But the bad?

After the festive season’s indulgence, asking friends and family to rally for another celebration feels like dragging them to a party in purgatory. “Another event? More food? Alcohol?!” they gasp, clutching their green juices. They’re hellbent on their self-imposed misery, and I’m the villain tempting them to abandon ship.

This year, it’s a milestone birthday. A big one.

The kind that makes you reflect (or spiral, depending on your mood). Ignoring it isn’t an option—I’d regret it forever. So, I’m diving headfirst into mischief. Restraint? Not on my watch. There will be brownies, cakes, and mountains of chocolate. I’ll make cake, I’ll buy cake, and I’ll have Bad Brownies for breakfast. Dry January? Not here. My only resolution is to embrace the chaos.

Here’s the kicker: I have a January born toddler. In fact we share a birthday, and honestly, the battle for party supremacy is real.

He wants tigers, trains, and carrot sticks. I want cocktails, chocolate, and maybe a brownie tower that doubles as a centerpiece. He’s all about jumping on the sofa; I’m all about keeping my fizz-filled glass upright. His idea of a perfect day is chaos—turns out, so is mine, just with better snacks.

So here’s to January birthdays: a glorious rebellion against the misery of the month. Cheers to indulgence, celebration, and breaking all the rules. 🎉

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