Rachel Smalley made a boob-boo in a national publication. Offence was taken. T-shirts were printed. I wrote an opinion piece about the whole storm in a D-cup, because body shaming is pretty shit, really, and so is brandishing a feminist banner in front of a very un-feminist notion. The fine folk over at The Spinoff decided to run it. Here it is! The Spinoff
I explained the difference between a statement and a question to Tilly, because she was saying “I have to tell you a question!” before every single thing she said. But now she struts around the house shouting, “I need to make a statement!” And it feels like we’re living a preschool version of Law & Order
Me: “What would you like to do this afternoon?”
Tilly: “Let’s do…something DANGEROUS. Wait here, I’ll get my sparkly shoes”
Details of a GoFundMe account for Tilly’s legal fees (and footwear) to follow.
I shall title this photo: “Working From Home With Kids Will Be Easy” and file it under: “Shit I Said Before I Was A Mother And Now Want To Punch Myself In The Face For” (it’s a really large collection).
Amy told me in the car this morning that she never wants to get married. I launched into a lengthy monologue about how we’re fortunate to live in a country where marriage is a choice, so she absolutely never has to get married unless she really wants to. Equality was discussed. Freedom to parent outside the realms of traditional marriage was also covered, as was the freedom to decide never to be a parent. There was a long pause while she took it all in. I took a moment during that pause to marvel at this little girl who so clearly knows her own mind, and to be grateful for the society we live in. I wondered what political or economic topics we should cover on the drive home. I may have teared up a little.
Then: “Yeah, I don’t want to get married because I never want to get my ears pierced. Oh wait, is it earrings you do when you get married, or is it rings on your finger? If it’s rings on your finger then I might. Are we nearly at school? I need to go to the toilet”.
The two year old was devastated I wasn’t taking her with me to a baby shower (because, seriously, unleashing Tornado Tilly in the home of an uninitiated mother-of-twins-to-be just seemed cruel). Luckily the five year old set her straight on how mundane the event would be:
“Tilly, you don’t want to go to a baby shower. It’s just a whole lot of women together, and they help the pregnant lady to have a shower, then they all take turns giving each other showers all afternoon. Bor-ring.”
Great. So then my husband was suddenly interested in coming along, too.
Told Tilly it was time to eat her toast and get out of her pyjamas so we could get going.
“But I can’t have toast and go anywhere!” she shrieked as she pushed her unwashed hair out of her eyes, “I’m still giving my baby a bath and then there’s SO much cleaning to do!” A series of grumbles and frustrated grunts followed.
Isn’t it just so beautiful when you hold a mirror up to your child and see all the best parts of yourself reflecting back? #JustLikeMama
Tilly caught a prawn. She named it “Prawny”. Sad times all round when I broke it to her that prawns are more of a “for a few moments” pet than a “forever” pet.