Mud, Markets & Mum Life: My Weekend at Tocal

Dear Diary (because sometimes, you just need to let it all out),

This weekend I packed up the car and headed to Tocal Field Days with Luv-A-Bull Pets. It was my first time attending. Three days. One stall. And what felt like a small ocean of mud.

And I mean mud. Thick, soul-sapping, ankle-deep mud that swallowed my table legs, soaked my boots, and had me wondering if this was all one big, bad joke. I stood there early Friday morning in my gumboots, surrounded by puddles, watching my setup slowly sink—and for a few minutes, so did I.

I felt alone. Not just because I was the only one physically standing in that mess, but because my partner was away all weekend. No phone calls. No check-ins. Just out drinking with mates and watching footy while I was knee-deep in the kind of emotional and physical exhaustion that only solo parenting and small business can deliver. It hurt. More than I expected it to. And for a moment, I broke. I honestly wanted to pack it all up and call it quits.

Thankfully Jackie, Rory & Jo were among the stallholders near me and were my people over the weekend. Rory helped me borrow flooring from the food area walkway so customers could walk into my stall without losing a boot, and Jackie? She made me laugh when I wanted to cry. She kept me going when I wanted to give up. She reminded me I wasn’t invisible, and for that, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to thank her enough.

They—and others I met over those three long, muddy days—transformed a nightmare into something beautiful. A community of marketeers who jumped in without hesitation. A reminder that support doesn’t always come from where you expect, but sometimes it shows up exactly when and where you need it.

It was a pet-free event (a cruel twist of fate when you sell dog treats!), so no wiggly bums or drooly kisses to lift my spirits. But instead, I met some truly incredible humans. Customers who shared kind words, told me they’ve followed my journey online, and made me feel like all this effort actually matters. Some bought treats for their pets, others just stayed to chat. Those moments were tiny lifelines I clung to.

Back home, life didn’t pause. With a 6-year-old, a 16-year-old, and a 21-year-old, there’s always something—someone—needing you. My mum and mother-in-law were absolute angels, stepping in so I could be at the event. They kept the house running, kept the kids fed, and held the fort with quiet strength. But every night I came home, I still had to be Mum. Unpack the car. Do the washing. Repack the stock. Recharge devices. Reheat dinner and try not to cry.

No one sees that part.
The moment you sit on the floor and question if any of this is even worth it.
The loneliness of building a dream while feeling like the only one who believes in it.

But I do believe in it. And I’d do it all again (well maybe not Tocal)!
Because even in the mess and the silence and the hard moments where you feel forgotten, something shows up. A kind word. A stranger’s help. A spark of connection that tells you to keep going.

Thank you, Tocal. You tested me. You cracked me open a little. But you also reminded me that I’m not as alone as I feel.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am still trying to wash the mud from my table cloth—and I have about 10 layers of emotional armour—to rebuild.

With love (and mud still stuck to my boots),
Peta