Bookmark this page for all the times you look at the clock and think FML it’s only 2.30 and I will cry if I have to play trains for one more minute.
I couldn’t stop worrying about her hair. We were having some mummy-daughter photos taken, but her hair was a mess. She wouldn’t let me brush it and I didn’t want to have a fight in front of the photographer so I tried really hard to ignore it and hoped the photos turned out ok.
And then I saw the photos. Straight away I realised how stupid I’d been.
She looks incredible. She looks wild and happy. She looks like her. The little girl I want her to be. The little girl I love most of all.
Why would I care so much about her hair? What for? I was so annoyed that I’d even given it a second thought, like what her hair looked like was important at all.
I might be a feminist and I know all the things I’m supposed to say and do to raise my strong girl, but as it turns out, I still have 37 years of cliched expectation to undo in myself. It hurt my heart to think I might be responsible for making her think she needs to be flawless to be accepted.
So I wrote her a letter. To remind her AND myself what really matters.
Do you remember what it was like to be a new mum? REALLY remember?
No really, stop and think. What was it like? And I’m not talking about the cuddles and the baby smell and the cute noises they make and patting nappy bums through terry towelling wondersuits which is officially the snuggliest feeling in the whole world and OMG all babies should be required to wear those things… 😍
The second our kids close their eyes, we forget every dipshit thing they did that day and our brains start flashing their highlight reel at us. Suddenly, they are adorable and funny, and the three cumulative minutes of cute they produced in the previous twelve hours are the only minutes we can remember.
It’s like their Instagram stories flash before our eyes – not the reality shitshow they actually put on.
Mum and dad’s daily shitshow? Oh, we remember every second of that. We get a fun replay in technicolour glory as we kiss our sleeping babes goodnight.
Every scowl, every cross word, every impatient huff… we dwell on every part and our heart aches for how awful we were to those perfect little sleeping darlings.
When they’re born, baby giraffes fall out of mum (6ft drop onto their heads, mind you) hop up on their fresh widdle pins and toddle off like it was no big thing. Within an hour of taking their first gulp of air, they’re taking care of business. Most of the animal kingdom is like this: the babies pop out and off they go, conquering life like pros.
Not human babies of course. Somewhere along the evolutionary process, our babies just gave up on the whole “will to survive” thing. Like, “nah, mum’ll sort that out for me”
Here’s a thing about me: I don’t like video games. No, wait, that’s not entirely true. I spent a sizeable chunk of my teen years with Mario, Luigi and Duck Hunt, and I was unreasonably proud of my Mortal Kombat skills #fatality
But things have changed and honestly, today’s games scare me. Sarge and I decided a while ago that we wouldn’t be encouraging our kids to play video games at all. We wouldn’t be buying a console and we wouldn’t be introducing them to games on the computer or iPad.
Yeah, I know, we sound super fun, but we figured there are better things kids could be doing with their brains than trying to slaughter characters on a screen.
AND YET: here I am, telling you to try the Nintendo Switch #hypocritealert
I know, I know, I don’t know who I am anymore either. But I just didn’t expect a video game system to be so much more than a screen… hear me out.
Yes Canberra. If you automatically think, “BORING!”, chances are you’ve never even been to Canberra, or the last time you were here was for a school excursion in the ’90s.
I was born and raised in Sydney, so I know what it’s like to look down your nose at little old CBR. But I moved here in 2010 and never left because Canberra is actually pretty awesome, especially for families. And if you don’t believe me, why don’t you come and take a look.
Here’s what I’d recommend to anyone popping in to the capital for a weekend escape.
Kick your day off with coffee from the world’s best barista
Parents of small children will want to start their day with a hot, strong, delicious coffee. Get yourself to The Cupping Room because they don’t just serve you coffee, they heal you with coffee, with coffee scented hands in a coffee coloured wonderland run by the greatest coffee man in the world. No, seriously. Owner, Sasa Sestic was crowned the 2015 World Barista Champion. For real.
Ensure children have a solid sleep routine or they’ll become stunted potatoes who’ll never make it past kindergarten but definitely don’t sleep train or they’ll become sociopaths who’ll never establish a human connection.
They must eat vegetables or they’ll get scurvy and die but you mustn’t force feed them or make mealtimes a battleground. Also, you must not feed them anything with sugar but also don’t be one of those mums who forces her kids to eat carrots at birthday parties because everyone hates that kid.