Had a great time talking about Elf on the Shelf, Christmas Traditions, and hiding your inner grinch. Watch the TV1 Breakfast interview right here
No one was more surprised than me when I took up running a few months after baby number 2 was born. I was never…sporty, and spent many a P.E. lesson at school hiding in the loos. Don’t get me wrong, I have the co-ordination of a constipated in-bred labradoodle and will never break any speed records – I’m not a PROPER runner. But I’ve loved the personal satisfaction that has come from running half marathons, and *really* enjoyed the personal satisfaction of swigging wine from a drink bottle post-run in a hotel hot pool with a girlfriend on a running trip we did together. This year, I set myself the lofty goal of running a full marathon. Then life got in the way and I haven’t run for months and months because I’ve been full of excuses: “I’m tired because the kids have been up coughing all night, my running top smells funny, I’m getting used to my new job, the weather is shit, there’s just no time, does my thyroid look especially large to …
Usually I get little girl side-eye, or murmurs of “that’s lots of black” about my workdrobe, but yesterday I finally sussed an outfit that my kids are happy with: See it here on my Facebook page. It totally takes a village to dress a working mother though…the leather jacket is a hand-me-down from my bestie in Melbourne, the skirt was a purchase from #Federation ‘strongly encouraged’ by one of my closest friends who rocks the same adult tutu in another colour, the inspo to try something different outside of my usual cloak of darkness came from my WorkWife who smashes out new looks more often than I change the bath towels (and she took the boomerang video – #workwife is taking over #InstagramHusband ), and bonus confidence shot from my little girls who said “Ooooo, Mummy that looks pretty!”. Can I take a moment to talk about bodysuits though? Of course I can, this is my page. So I wore a bodysuit, which I haven’t done since 1992 when all I wanted from life was a bodysuit and a pair of 501s. I loved …
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).
I’m running a little competition over on the McPikelets Facebook page. If you’d like to win a copy of ‘Music Box 2016’ (a collection of songs from this year’s Children’s Music Awards) then get yourself over to Facebook.com/mcpikelets or click here
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 …
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.