Teresa Palmer, just days before the birth of her son Bodhi Rain Palmer.

So Teresa Palmerhad a baby. Which is nice.

Babies are Good News, and we all love an announcement, whether it’s on our Facebook feed or the evening news.

We want to know the details. The sex, and the name. But do we want to know how they entered the world?

Teresa obviously thinks so, because she felt the need to add this information to the announcement of the arrival of her baby boy:

“Thank you God for blessing us with the most divine gift of our baby son Bodhi Rain Palmer born safely & naturally.”

“Naturally”. Thanks for that bit of info, Teresa.

Here’s Miranda Kerr in the official announcement of the arrival of her boy Flynn:

“I gave birth to him naturally; without any pain medication and it was a long, arduous and difficult labour.”

Or the always-relatable Gisele Bundchen, who said of the birth of her first child, Benjamin:

“My delivery was in a bath tub, in water. I wanted to have a home birth. I wanted to be very aware and present during the birth… I didn’t want to be drugged up. So I did a lot of preparation, I did yoga and meditation, so I managed to have a very tranquil birth at home.”

And let’s take a moment to savour this next line: “It didn’t hurt in the slightest.”

Really? Not in the slightest?

Let’s be clear: I am not criticising these women, or the way that they gave birth. Like anyone who has been through it, I have ultimate respect for anyone who has lived throughbringing a baby into the world, however it goes down.

Miranda Kerr, pictured here with son Flynn, also posted about her “natural birth”.

But here’s the thing: by choosing to reveal the nature of their births, these women are telling us what they consider to be important. And the fact that they weren’t ‘on drugs‘ and that they were able to delivery vaginally is clearly right up there on the priority list.

Teresa Palmer walks the walk. She co-authors a blog about health and wellness, so it was obviously a big part of her plan to have a ‘natural’ birth, and it’s great that she got live the experience she was hoping for.

But really, what’s a ‘natural’ birth anyway? I assume that what these mums mean is that they didn’t have a c-section. But do you still get to say you had a ‘natural’ birth if you had an episiotomy? An epidural? Ventouse?

Mostly, I just wonder why it matters.

How much do we want to know about other people’s births?

Among my close girlfriends, especially the mothers, all the sharing is required. I remember an early dinner with my mother’s group where we all recounted their birth stories, over wine, with much hilarity, hooting and screeching. It was liberating. Possibly healing. But it’s also why you NEVER want to be seated near a mother’s group in a restaurant.

Other friends of mine put theirbirth stories on Facebook. Of course there should be discussion and sharing around birth stories. It’s a massive event in any woman’s life, and people who are heading towards it need to know that there are many ways to, um, slice that pie.

But let’s lose thecompetition.

I surprised myself, but after my second baby, I didn’t really want to share. Not widely, at least. People who didn’t know me very well asking me for details of my boy’s arrival suddenly felt invasive.

I also think that I’d realised it really wasn’t that interesting.  What had shifted for me in between children was the importance of focusing on the birth.

It doesn’t matter howyour baby gets here. It just matters that it does. Motherhood had taught me that. Birth is not the big bit. Despite how it feels at the time, it’s not the hard part. Really sorry, but that comes afterwards.

This post was first published on our sister site iVillage and has been republished with full permission.

Do you like hearing birth stories? Or are they TMI?

There are many wonderful, challenging, mind-altering things about the first few weeks ofmotherhood. These pictures? Not one of them.

Today I made the acquaintance of a gorgeous young model mum, Silvana Lovin.

And when I say made the acquaintance of, I mean looked at this picture of her on social media.

Silvana is married to Australian tennis player Mark Philippoussis. And this is what she said: ‘Finally found the courage to post this…Me. 2 wks after giving birth!’

Courage? I don’t even have the words. Except maybe….Ugh.

Silvana also shares her ‘secret’ for bouncing back to slim perfection so fast.

She says: “Ladies, I know every body’s different but trust me when I say:- Don’t forget to suck in your postpartum tummy’s! It’s the fastest most natural way to get your tummy back into shape:) I gave myself a few days to recover after birth then started sucking in a little everyday to get my stomach muscles working again- every little bit counts!”

Double ugh.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: Here we go again. Another story bashing gorgeous, healthy celebrities who have made the effort to get off their lazy bums after having a baby and prioritise exercise and diet. Stop shaming thin people, you jealous chubster, and stop encouraging those lazy, flabbymums!

But I’m not bashing Silvana, who is clearly healthy and gorgeous. It’s not her fault that she thinks it’s perfectly normal and ‘courageous’  to look like you never had a baby two weeks after you actually had one. Because that is the lie we’re fed each and every day by the movies we watch, the magazines we read and the billboards we pass on our way to the supermarket, or to pick up our kids from daycare and school.

Caroline Berg Eriksen, footballer’s wife. Four days after birth.

It seems like the only way to be considered to have had a baby the ‘right’ way is to have erased all sign of having carried it from your body as quickly as (super) humanly possible. The same goes for being pregnant. The only way to be considered a gorgeous, glowing pregnant woman is to basically not look pregnant at all.

There is a whole industry that has grown around these fears and expectations. And there are a lot of sort-of famous people happy to snap selfies showing how totally awesome they are at shrinking immediately after popping out their bub. (NB: Not really, really, famous people – because they’ll get paid lots of money for their post-baby body pictures, and they ain’t giving that good stuff away for free on Instagram, hell no).

And it sucks.

Not because mums should be encouraged to sit around eating cake, but because for many women in those first few weeks after giving birth, you are at your very most vulnerable.

Kim Kardashian. Four months after baby.

You feel awash with love and compassion (if you’re lucky) for this tiny little person you’ve created. But you are also completely adrift in a new world where you haven’t yet learned the language and the natives are small and squally.

This is how those first few weeks feel for many women:

I’ve never been so tired. My baby won’t stop crying. Everyone seems to want something from me. The house is a mess. My partner and I have to learn how to relate to each other all over again. My baby won’t sleep. My baby won’t eat. AND I’M FAT.

I had moments after I’d hadmy first baby when I was a goddess who had created life, and I was never going to be fazed by any small problem life threw at me ever again. And then I had moments when I could be brought to my knees by a snapped teabag string.

And, yes, it was hard to get out of the house sometimes, and it was hard to shower and brush my hair. And sometimes I’d look at my stretchmark-striped stomach and have a little cry. Thinking to myself – whose stomach is that, really?

But excuse me while I speak for those of us who weren’t thinking about sucking in our stomachs, or how soon we’d post our first selfie just days after BIRTHING A HUMAN BABY OUT OF OUR BODIES.

Kim Zolciak. Nine days after twins.

We were just trying to function in the new normal. And yes, maybe a flatter tummy might have been better for my self-esteem but right then, I didn’t need any extra pressure to feel shitty about what had just happened to my body. I just needed some support. Support to get through some of the toughest weeks in a woman’s life.

So when you see these selfies, complete with their time-sensitive declarations –  FOUR DAYS. TWO WEEKS. ONE MONTH – just remember, these people have been sucked into a competition that doesn’t actually exist.  If your livelihood does not depend on having a flat stomach, you don’t need to set a foot on this ridiculous starting line.

You just need to keep breathing in and out, feeding your baby and remembering, one day, a Pilates class may be a viable option once more. But not today.

Oh, and it case you’re interested, Silvana and Mark had a baby boy. And he’s doing just fine.

Do you find these selfies inspiring, or demoralising?

Mariah Carey on US Weekly. (Photoshopped image)

This post originally appearedon iVillageand has been republished here with full permission.

The Samsung Galaxy Tab 3 Kids – easily interchangeable from kids mode to standard mode

My family has a tablet device. And we love it. Unfortunately, we love it hard.

I read books on it, work on it, prop it up in thekitchen for recipes, and in the living room to talk to family via Skype. My partner uses it every day to be across the sport and headlines. And then the kids get to it. Let’s not even get into what they’re doing with it, other than that it involves a lot of swipey sticky fingers.

This post is an advertorial sponsored bySamsung Galaxy.

It’s time to face the fact we’re ready to become a two-tablet family, and this time, we need one that’s just for the kids. We’re settling on the Samsung GALAXY Tab 3 Kids, and this is why:

We’re not using our family device for anything ‘adult’, of course, but with the Samsung Kids Tab, there’s a kids’ mode and an adult mode, and the kids mode comes withpre-loaded apps, and a specific Kids Store^# for apps that my four-year-old can play with. It’s designed to help me control her app use and content*. 

Holly’s daughter absolutely loves the haircut app at the moment.

My kids are little, and technology moves fast, but this tablet can grow with my son and daughter. Right now my daughter absolutely loves the haircut app, it’s so easy to use and fun. But she’s also learning how to use the read-along apps, and loves practising counting with it. These apps are fun and educational apps that they can play with now, and move on to more complicated ones they can get into as they get older. My girl is justlearning how to write letters at her preschool, and what she can do on the Kids Tab backs that up. Games all have various levels of difficulty, so my kids can start off with the simple versions, but move on to something more challenging when they’re ready.

It’s not that parents want to be control freaks, we just have to be sometimes. When the tablet is in Kids Mode, I am confident that what the kids are looking at is fine. But better than that, there’s a mode that lets me decide how long they can play with it, with a timer mode that requests a password when it’s over. So I don’t need to stamp my foot and argue with them about it being time for dinner, the tablet stops them playing in plenty of time. This is good for keeping an eye on screen time as well as dinner time. As early childhood researcher and lecturer Dr Kate Highfield of Macquarie University says, “Many parents also find that devices with something to help track or restrict screen time can be helpful, this can act as a reminder for the user to have a balanced diet of play. For example, some tools have an inbuilt timing system (so parents can “set” a time for screen play), after this time the screen locks and requires a password. Even as an adult, this can be helpful as a reminder to get up and stretch!” Amen.

My daughter absolutely loves to play the drama queen. Anything where she can play-act and role play is a big winner. Explain Everything is an app that allows her to record her voice and simple movements on screen, and she loves it. Along with the Creative Corner app that lets her draw and paint with the little stylus pen~(and without any mess), these are probably her favourite things to do, and it’s far from passive play, but really involved, creative fun. And as for reaching new levels ofselfie-expression with the camera, she’s in heaven!

Making learning fun. Perfect for preschool kids.

The trick with anything for preschool kids is that they think they’re having a good time, when really they’re learning something. A-ha! Sneaky. Even something as fun as drawing and creating on the Kids Tab may help them develop skills they need. “Devices that allow children to both use a touch screen or use a stylus can be helpful, this means that young children can engage with the technology using a correct pencil grip,” says Dr Kate Highfield. “This is particularly helpful if the stylus is appropriately sized and robust, so it survives!”

Yes, we can play on the Kids Tab with them, and we do, asthey can learn a lot when you’re guiding them, but once the kids are in bed, the tablet can be switched to a grown-up mode where we can use it like any other tablet. With a Wi-fi connection, we can use it for many of the typical things we’d use our device for, including gmail, YouTube, Google Maps^.

No more scrapping over screens in our house.

Check out some of Holly’s daughter using the family’s Samsung Galaxy

Matilda using her Samsung Galaxy with the stylus

Featuring a colourful rubber bumper, and an intuitive menu with a simple swipe and touch interface,GALAXY Tab 3 Kids is child’s play to use and enjoy. Your kids will love the playful characters, brightly coloured app cards, and fun camera overlay, whilst parental settings assist you to stay in control of app usage and purchases.*#

By switching between Kids mode and the standard GALAXY Tab 3 interface, GALAXY Tab 3 Kids suddenly becomes great fun for adults! Use it like an ordinary tablet to write emails, organise your calendar, or surf the web.^

# Internet connection required. In-app purchases may be required for full functionality. Data subscription and other charges may apply.

^ Internet connection required. Data, subscription and other charges may apply.

* If Wi-Fi or internet access is enabled, adult supervision is recommended in Kids Mode.

~Carry case with stylus pen sold separately.

“Don’t worry mum, I’ve done it”

I’m always trying to cram bits of learning into my little girl’s head without her realising it’s going in. And I’ve struck gold.

It took my daughter all of 30 seconds to get to grips with her latest piece of technology to come into our home. I can only imagine how dumb she’s going to make me feel by the timeshe’s in high school.

“I’ll turn it on for you in a minute,” I yell from the kitchen (there’s a lot of yelling from the kitchen in my house), but she’s all over it. “Don’t worry mum, I’ve done it,” she yells back.

Argh, wait for me, I think, used to her playing with an adult tablet that can go anywhere, but by the time I get to the living room, and to her side, she’s busily driving her Toca Train on her Samsung GALAXY Tab 3 Kids.

Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by Samsung. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100 per cent authentic and written in their own words.

Story Cloud on the Samsung Galaxy Tab 3 kids.

My daughter’s four and at preschool. She’slearning letter and number recognition at the moment and she’s going pretty well. But there are kids who are doing better. “Amy can write her name,” Matilda tells me. I resist the urge to point out that A-M-Y is much easier to spell than M-A-T-I-L-D-A, because, of course, I don’t want to be THAT mother. But yes, we’re doing a little bit of practice at home now. Not that I’m worried about it. Oh no.

But she’s little, so nothing can feel like a lesson or you’ll lose her quicker than a puppy in a ball pit. So playing with her tablet using a reading game where you are working with picture-word recognition works really well for her, as does the farm yard number game where she’s having such a good time poking all the little animals that she doesn’t even realise she’s counting*.

Nothing makes me feel more like mother of the year than feeling like I’ve just ‘played’ with my daughter for 30 minutes but really I’ve been sneaking information into her busy little head. Every mother’s dream, right there.

‘Can you go and get me FIVE lemons please’ – Holly sneaking in important information where she can.

I do it all the time when we’re out somewhere. Tediously counting everything we see – “Can you go and get me FIVE lemons please?” or sneaking in important information wherever I can manage (“Did you know, M, that one of the reasons the ocean’s blue is because it’s reflecting the sky?” Um, thanks mum, not that I asked.)

So using ‘quiet time’ to get her to play and learn on her tablet is right up my alley.

One of Matilda’s favourite books on her tablet is ‘Silly Squirrel’. It’s about Sid the squirrel as he goes about his daily life making friends, collecting food and dealing with the seasons*. Matilda likes to use the audio narrator but hopefully one day she will read it out loud instead. As each page progresses, Matilda can see and/or hear a bit more about Sid – and he and the other characters are animated when she touches them. There are also simple puzzles to do such as ‘match the words with the pictures’ where a word appears like ‘tree’ and that has to be matched with the picture of a tree. Numerical puzzles such as ‘how many squirrels’ helps Matilda recognise numbers. After each puzzle or two, another part of Sid’s story is revealed.

Fun? Learning? Both. Win-win.

* In-app purchases may be required for full functionality. Data and other charges may apply. If Wi-Fi or internet access is enabled, adult supervision is recommended in Kids Mode. 

Here’s some other sneaky ways to get some extra learning in each day…

Counting games while baking: 1 egg, 2 cups of flour..

Featuring a colourful rubber bumper and an intuitive menu with a simple swipe and touch interface, GALAXY Tab 3 Kids is child’s play to use and enjoy. Your kids will love the playful characters, brightly coloured app cards, and fun camera overlay, whilst parental settings assist you to stay in control of app usage and purchases.*#

By switching between Kids mode and the standard GALAXY Tab 3 interface, GALAXY Tab 3 Kids suddenly becomes great fun for adults! Use it like an ordinary tablet to write emails, organise your calendar or surf the web.^

# Internet connection required. In-app purchases may be required for full functionality. Data subscription and other charges may apply.

^ Internet connection required. Data, subscription and other charges may apply.

* If Wi-Fi or internet access is enabled, adult supervision is recommended in Kids Mode.

~Carry case with stylus pen sold separately.

Holly’s daughter likes to cut hair.. on her tablet of course.

This morning, my daughter had turned away from watching morning cartoons to cut someone’s hair. She’s four. No, she hadn’t attacked her little brother with the clippers, she was fully immersed in the very simple and funny hair-cutting and styling game on herSamsung GALAXY Tab 3 Kids.

From the moment my two kids could hold things in their hands and look, they’ve graduated towards screens. My phone, the TV, the home computer, our tablet. We love to use them, they love to use them.

But why all the drama aroundscreen time? Screens are part of all of our lives now, and with a balanced approach, and the right devices in our house and in our kids’ hands, it’s something we can strike off the list of what to worry about. I wish I could say the same for the kids eating their vegetables.

My kids’ enthusiasm for screens isn’t going anywhere, and my need to entertain my kids isn’t going anywhere. And what’s more, as my kids grow, devices are going to become a significant part of their experiences. So, I’ve decided to stop panicking and start looking at the best way to get a positive outcome from a realistic part of our lives.

Just as an FYI, you should know that this post is sponsored by Samsung Galaxy. But all opinions expressed by the author are 100 per cent authentic and written in their own words.

I’ve learned the following four things:

Holly doesn’t mind her children having screen time along with all other manner of entertainment they indulge in everyday, like craft.

If I can (and do) approve of what my child is looking at on whatever screen they’re looking at, then I have no problem with my children having screen time along with all other manner of entertainment they indulge in on any given day.We read books, we watch a bit of TV, we draw and paint and run around outside, and we play on screen devices some of the time too. It’s fine. Breathe.

As early childhood researcher and lecturer Dr Kate Highfield of Macquarie University says, “The trick here is to consider balance – media use and time on tablet devices isn’t bad, but it should be just one part of a child’s day and should not mean that your child isn’t reading great books, communicating with friends, building, playing outside and the like!”

I do not know a single small child who is locked in their house to play with a tablet all day. Kids want to run and jump and climb and play, and given the opportunity, will do just that all day long. But unless you happen to live in a safely enclosed adventure playground, it’s just not realistic that your child is never going to need entertaining indoors. My four-year-old needs quiet time after acrazy morning of swimming, play dates and digging holes at the beach. She needs time where she’s calm and engaged, and sometimes that time is me sitting with her playing a counting game on her tablet, or her drawing a picture or taking photos with it.

Her tablet has a handy inbuilt timer mode that helps me to limit her screen time, so as long as I’m happy with what she’s watching or doing, I have no problem with that quiet time involving a screen, which leads me to…

My kids used to love watching theirfavourite kids and cartoon songs on YouTube. But if I turn away from the screen to attend to real life for a few seconds, a couple of wrong clicks can send them in a worrying direction. Having a tablet that you can preload with kids-only entertainment can help you to manage this. Some tablets have a kids’ mode and an adult mode and you can switch between the two. When my kids are in kids’ mode, I have confidence that they’re playing smart games*. And I can play alongside. As Kate Highfield says, “We need to consider the quality of the media and apps young children are engaging with. To this end, I suggest parents are present in the ‘digital playground’, at times co-playing with their child so they understand what they’re doing and are able to be part of their digital world. While I’m not suggesting parents should co-play every game, they should be aware of what their child has on their device so they can check that their child is playing with apps that they feel are appropriate to their family.” And when they’re off to bed, I can switch it to adult mode. Bonus.

Matilda has been creating some amazing hair dos

Along with theamazing hair-dos she’s currently creating, my girl is as proud of art and photos she’s created on a tablet as she is of the ones that are curling at the edges on every wall in our home. Kate says about drawing apps: “It’s a really simple drawing tool for young children. These apps allow children to create their own content and take pictures of it to see later. It is a nice way of painting without the mess.” No mess? I’m in.

Basically, in my opinion, kids need a wide variety of education and entertainment to be well-rounded, healthy people. There is no one productive activity that is going to bring their lives crashing down around their ears. They need a bit of everything – outdoor play, quiet time, educational problem-solving, basic entertainment, directed education.

And so I’m throwing out the guilt and embracing knowledge.

* If Wi-Fi or internet access is enabled, adult supervision is recommended in Kids’ Mode.

Here are some more ideas for activities that your kids can balance their screen time with:

Bike riding

Featuring a colourful rubber bumper, and an intuitive menu with a simple swipe and touch interface,GALAXY Tab 3 Kids is child’s play to use and enjoy. Your kids will love the playful characters, brightly coloured app cards, and fun camera overlay, whilst parental settings assist you to stay in control of app usage and purchases.*#

By switching between Kids’ mode and the standard GALAXY Tab 3 interface, GALAXY Tab 3 Kids suddenly becomes great fun for adults! Use it like an ordinary tablet to write emails, organise your calendar or surf the web.^

# Internet connection required. In-app purchases may be required for full functionality. Data subscription and other charges may apply.

^ Internet connection required. Data, subscription and other charges may apply.

* If Wi-Fi or internet access is enabled, adult supervision is recommended in Kids Mode.

~Carry case with stylus pen sold separately.

What happens when you ask your four-year-old to document her weekend with their very own device?

SELFIE: I’m Matilda. And this is my best side.

This is my brother, Billy. He always really, really wants whatever I’m playing with, especially myKids Tab. He can’t have it.

So. On the weekend, we went to the beach. Where I built a sand city and Billy knocked it down. Typical.

Then there was craft. I’m really, really great at craft, especially if Peppa Pig’s involved.

Then Billy tried to get my Tab again.

So we went out to the park, where he only stole one of my other toys. Seriously.Little brothers are so annoying.

But ice cream made it better. Much, much better.

Even mumthought so… And she’s always saying ice cream is bad for you.

But Billy wasn’t allowed one. He had to have a boring fruit block when he got home. Bahaha.

And I went back to playing with my tab, I let Dadtake the pictures for a bit. He thinks he’s a good photographer… it’s best to play along.

Featuring a colourful rubber bumper, and an intuitive menu with a simple swipe and touch interface, GALAXY Tab 3 Kids is child’s play to use and enjoy. Your kids will love the playful characters, brightly coloured app cards, and fun camera overlay, whilst parental settings assist you to stay in control of app usage and purchases.*#

By switching between Kids mode and the standard GALAXY Tab 3 interface, GALAXY Tab 3 Kids suddenly becomes great fun for adults! Use it like an ordinary tablet to write emails, organise your calendar, or surf the web.^

# Internet connection required. In-app purchases may be required for full functionality. Data subscription and other charges may apply.

^ Internet connection required. Data, subscription and other charges may apply.

* If Wi-Fi or internet access is enabled, adult supervision is recommended in Kids Mode.

~Carry case with stylus pen sold separately.

The family I am grateful for today. I’m one seriously lucky mother…

Last night, I got woken up three times before dawn. Because I’m lucky.

This morning, I spent a significant portion of my time trying to get green marker off my white walls. Because I’m lucky.

I repeated the phrase, ‘put your shoes on’ approximately 25 times in the space of half an hour. Because I’m lucky.

I was pushed to the edgeof patience by two tiny dictators who want everything five minutes ago. Because I’m incredibly, mind-bogglingly, odds-defyingly lucky.

Today is a day when mothers are celebrated. Venerated. Held aloft for all to admire. Aren’t we wonderful? Aren’t we selfless? Aren’t we deserving of flowers, and breakfast in bed, and shiny gifts and lunches with views and pampering sessions and compliments?

Yes. Yes, we are. But today, while everyone is telling me I am special, what I’m going to try to remember is that I am fortunate.

Today is difficult for many, many people. It’s difficult for people whose mothers are gone. It’s difficult for people who desperately want to be parents but who aren’t. It’s difficult for people whose own mothers are far from the sainted, supportive stereotype that will be everywhere you look today. And it’s difficult for people who havelost children. Who are mothers, but are missing a person who should be there today.

There’s no holiday for the woman who’s 35 and her partner has just left her. There’s no card for the unspoken misery of miscarriage. There’s no balloon inscribed with the right words for the couple who have just endured another unsuccessful IVF cycle.

Mother’s Day can be hard if you don’t fit the stereotype…

And I, like all the lucky mothers, need to remember that, as I talk about how I need a break, how tired I am, what a tough life I have, how much I need today’s lie-in.

A stressed single mother told my wonderful friend Anne last week that she was “so lucky” that she didn’t have children. That she was so envious of the post-work-out coffee Anne was about to enjoy when she, busy mum, had to dash back to her kids.

I know exactly where that mum’s head was at when those words came out of her mouth. I am as guilty of the flippant motherhood whinge as anybody (perhaps more so) and in that moment, that woman was picturing a world where she didn’t always have to be somewhere else, where the idea of a morning work-out stretching into coffee, into brunch, into a long bath and a good movie on the lounge wasn’t like some sort of sci-fi fantasy.

But those words hit Anne like a punch. Because she doesn’t feel lucky. She desperatelywants to be a parent. She can’t imagine not wanting to go back home to little people who love you, who are happy to see you, who are filling up your life and your home with noise and action and boisterous, messy love.

Many of the women I know who will be celebrating and celebrated today are also the people described above.Motherless mothers,women who have now have families after incredibly difficult journeys and unimaginable losses. We are them.

But gratitude can be the hardest thing to hold on to when life is busy and sleep is scarce and children are being children.

Today, maybe I do deserve a lie-in, but really, I deserve nothing more than what I’ve got and a wake-up call that I am among the most privileged people in the world.

Because if someone is saying “Happy Mother’s Day” to you today, and your child or children are healthy, safe and close by, then you are The Luckiest.

What are you grateful for this Mother’s Day?

Georgie Gardner, this isn’t about you.

You’re gorgeous. A talented journalist who brings charm and intelligence to every screen you’ve graced, all the women I know think you’re marvellous.And so do I.

But when you said this today, it made me sad. Sadder than it should in a rational world…

“I want to announce today that I’m going to be finishing up on The Today Show.

I’ve given this a lot of consideration, obviously, but the time has come. I make this announcement with a very heavy heart because you are my family… but I’m not leaving the Nine network, that’s the good news, I’m still here.

After unwavering support from Tim and my kids, I want to give back to them. I figure I have limited time of Bronte and Angus wanting and needing their mother around, so I want to maximise and cherish these precious years.

We all know on this show the hours are gruelling, you have to be extremely committed, you’re (the Today cast) all family but I feel I actually need to give back to my own family a little bit more so that’s really what I’ve based the decision on.

It’s been the most amazing career highlight but I feel it’s time for Tim and the kids to have present Mummy as opposed to grumpy Mummy.”

I stand up and applaud that, along with women around the country.

But secretly, every time a high-profile mother leaves her high-profile job citing family reasons, I think this: damn. I thought she could do it. I thought she had it sorted. I thought she was managing to pull off what all us working mothers are struggling with.

But you’re not. And that makes me scared, because maybe, just maybe, no-one is.

My job is not as high-profile and demanding as being on live national television every morning.And I do not have to get up at 3.30am. But in that statement this morning, you touched on all my fears:

- My partner does a lot. More than most. More than me.

- My kids don’t see enough of me, and when they do, I can be tired and distracted.

- I am not ‘present’ enough with them. When I am on the phone, on the computer, they immediately find a way to need me desperately and the words, “WAIT! I’ve just got to do this one thing…” do not compute to two preschoolers.

Hello, “grumpy mummy”.

I struggle with those things daily. And I have a well-rehearsed dialogue with myself, like so many other women, that I need to work to be a fulfilled, happy mother. And I need to work to help keep a roof over our heads. And I need to work in a job that I like, that I love, because otherwise, leaving them every day would be truly awful – and jobs like that tend to be the demanding ones.

All those things are true.

But in my mind, I’m working towards some sort of magic moment when all of this will click into place and the perfect balance between work and home will be struck.

Not a “grumpy mum” in sight, right?

I like to think that moment exists. That there are women who are already there. And so I look around for role models. And my eyes land on women like you, Georgie.

And I know that’s not fair. It’s not fair that you – or Melissa Doyle, or Kristina Keneally, or Natasha Stott Despoja, or any other high-profile woman who takes a temporary step away from a demanding job for family reasons –  should have to be the banner-carrier for a nation of working women’s anxiety.

You have no responsibility to anyone other than your family, and I have a responsibility to no-one other than mine.

But this morning, my fellow working mum colleague came in, we talked about your news and she said. ‘We just can’t have it all.’

And every fibre of my being screams against that statement. To me, ‘Having it all’ means having a job and a family. And the majority of women in this country have both those things.

Maybe what we can’t have is the ridiculous expectation that there are people out there who are ‘Having it all’ and doing it perfectly. Because they’re not. You’re not. I’m not.

And truly, I shouldn’t be in the least bit sad that you’re reorganising your work life to make your family’s life better. Because you’re also showing us we can all do that sometimes. That there’s no failure in that.

Seriously. We all get sick of grumpy mum sometimes.

This story originally appeared oniVillage and is republished here with full permission.

Do you secretly think that other mothers have everything all worked out? 

A fun multiple choice for the weekend.

What do you think when you look at this picture?

a) My,motherhood agrees with that lovely Kim Kardashian. Doesn’t she look delightful?

b) Holy cow, they’ve really upped the dress code for mums and bubs’ club.

c) Bbrrrrr, it’s a bit nippy to be out without a vest, isn’t it?

d) I need a good lie down.

I vote D. It must be truly, truly exhausting to be Kim Kardashian.

In this photograph, she is not coming from a photoshoot with Annie Leibowitz, or even going to lunch with Anna Wintour. She’s not going to the Oscars, or trying on a costume for another tasteful flim clip with her husband, Kanye West.

No. Kim is going out for dinner with her sister. Her sister.

And dinner with her sister requires full hair and make-up, yards of Hollywood tape and a great deal of front.

Oh, and a pram. Because Kim is a mum now, and the fact she manages to look like this while still nurturing a small person (North turned one on Sunday), makes me tired, but it got some other people rather excited.

“This photo is proof women can’t have it all,” declared Time.

“Kim is the ultimateYummy Mummy!” yelled the British tabloids.

Kim Kardashian and Kanye’s daughter, North

But really, this photo (and many, many others like it), just tells us that for Kim Kardasian and other young women like her, motherhood (or pregnancy, or age, or time of the month) does not excuse you from being HOT.

Because being hot is still one of the most valuable things that a woman can be.

Now, before anyone thinks I’m taking life lessons from Kimye (ha, if you could see me, typing this in my pyjamas…), I am not.

But KK has 15 million Instagram followers. Think about that. 15 million. That, my friends, is called influence.

Her hotness, matched with a fearsome work ethic and one of the most ruthlessly brilliant managers in the business (her mum), has earned Kim a fortune of $45 million.

Kanye knows his wife is Hot. It’s his favourite thing about her, as illustrated by these amazing quotes:

” I couldn’t be with any girl but Kim, because she’s the girl I look at photos of the most and get turned on the most.” He told journalists this week.

“Y’all acting like this ain’t the most beautiful woman of all time! I’m talkin’, like, arguably of human existence — the top 10 of human existence!” he berated a host on radio last year as Kim nodded blushed beside him.

And at their wedding, he declared his bride “as beautiful as I am talented.”

Indeed, Kanye’s love is as deep as the ocean.

Yes, I know, these are not ‘real’ people. But these powerful, popular-culture figures have a big impact on the way we see women, and mothers, and ourselves.

And I’m exhausted because I wish there was a moment in a woman’s life where being Hot is no longer a relevant measure of her worth. As I peer into the mirror in the morning, wondering what level of industrial filler will hide my dark circles and whether I will be visually acceptable to the world if I don’t straighten my hair, I am measuring myself, even without realising, in the hotness stakes.

Kim Kardashian looking like she’s pushing a pram into Studio 54 is not about me, or you. But her dedication to hotness above all things is as clear a sign as you need that as a culture we still value beauty in women as highly as we ever has. That is, above all else.

And also that, babies or no babies, if you are amulti-millionaire workaholic trophy wife with a perfectionist husband and an reality TV empire to run, yoga pants are not an option.

And for that, I’m glad I’m typing this in bed, in my pyjamas, and nobody cares but me.

Kim on a boat, enjoying the sun, and seated naturally.

Has there been a time in your life where you’ve decided you don’t care how you look any more?

This article was originally posted on iVillage Australia and has been republished here with full permission.

Holly Wainright and her kids.

Cast your mind back tolife before kids.

Did you ever roll your eyes when your boss left at 5pm to pick up her kids and you knew you’d be working til 7pm?

Had you ever done an hour’s work already by the time The Mums arrived at the office?

Did you ever feel like your time – to exercise, to be with friends, to make a decent dinner for your partner – was not seen as as important as your co-worker’s, who just HAD to leave the office at 2.15pm for kindy pick-up?

If you ever felt like that, I have two little words for you: me too.

I was that person. I worked long, long hours for many years, and I viewedThe Working Mums as part-timers who weren’t serious about their careers. I had Working Mum bosses who left the office way before me, and Working Mum colleagues who arrived way after.

Sometimes I felt resentful. But mostly, I just thought they were lightweights. Let them pootle about in their non-committed way, distracted by grocery lists and calls fromday care and taking their kids to doctor’s appointments. Let them do that, I thought. The grown-ups will stay here and work, and get the job done.

What a narrow-minded little fool I was.

Because life happened. And now I have children. Two hilarious, squeezable children who only really want one thing from me. My time. Maybe one other: my attention.

Co-incidentally, I have a job which demands exactly the same things of me; time and attention. But my job also requires a few others, like punctuality. Reasonable thought. Ideas. Some words.

“Did you see that Betty left at 4.30pm? Slack, slack, slack.”

I like to think I still have those things to offer. But then I read this story in the UK’s Telegraph newspaper by Working Mother Antonia Hoyle that made me think I should probably pack up my lunchbox and go on home.

We can’t expect to compete with women who don’t have children, or to perform as well as we did pre-motherhood. It is disingenuous and self-defeating to try. Accepting our limitations is the only way we will keep our careers, our families and our sanity intact.

Antonia (who wrote an excellent story, despite being, you know, a mother) makes a very compelling, and not unfamiliar case for the fact that once we reproduce, we will never be the 100-per-cent committed fembot employees we were before, what with our laser-like focus and our happy desire to work around the clock. If you know any of those.

My first reaction to those words about work were angry. I am still good at my job. I am just as committed, just as focussed, just as competitive, my time management is better, I’m more understanding… and then I stopped, and considered why I was really upset by those words in this story – a story in a newspaper on the other side of the world.

It’s because they are true.

One of the most challenging things about parenthood is learning to accept change. Accepting the fact once the baby cyclone dust settles, nothing looks like it did before. Not your body, not your relationship, not your friendships. Or your work.

If you loved your job before you had children, you will still love it afterwards, but your relationship to it will have changed. It’s not the only measure of your worth to the outside world any more. It’s not the definition of who you are. And with that, like it or not, comes a deep seismic shift in priorities.

I, like many other mums I know, spend a lot of time trying to convince myself and others that I’m handling everything. I can do 15 things at once! I can do my job, and raise my kids, and keep a house in (somewhat) order! I’m not really losing it! My kids are not really cranky and overtired! My partner isn’t really feeling put-upon and exhausted!

But some days, I’m not handling everything. All of those things are true, and I keep juggling, keep trying to convince myself that all the balls will stay in the air, even as they are hurtling at light-speed towards my head.

The moment when everything changes?

So, Antonia was right that you’ll never be the same at work after you have kids. But what she was wrong about was that it’s a competition. Of course you can’t compete with your childless colleagues for hours spent in front of the boss. Because once the stakes are so high that other people’s happiness depend on it, you don’t want to compete in that game. The people whose happiness is at stake are a part of you, they have handprints on your heart – and they’re going to win. Game over.

So it’s not a competition with those old yous, sitting at their desks rolling their eyes at your 5pm Walk Of Shame.

It’s not a competition with your child-free colleagues, who have their own struggles with balancing their personal life with work.

It’s not a competition with the other mothers in your workplace, who may have completely different circumstance to you, – more help, less help, older kids, younger kids, more family support, or less.

And it’s not a competition with yourself. You can’t out-work the old you. Because the old you has gone.

You have changed.

Do you think you are just as good at your job after becoming a mum?

I gotmum-shamed last week.

A work commitment meant I was in a taxi early on a weekday morning. The driver and I were bantering about the World Cup, and I made a crack that maybe, when my son grew up, he’d be the next Tim Cahill. Unlikely. I was making conversation.

“How old’s your son?” the cabby asked.

Holly and her son Billy.

I told him that my little boy is two. His ball skills leave a little to be desired.

“Where is he now? Who’s looking after him?” he asked.

The rest of the ride was, let’s say, a little chilly. Cue a long explanation about how he was home, with my partner, but then he’d be going to FamilyDay Carefor the rest of the day.

I got a grilling about how long he spent there, how many days a week, finishing with the line, “Don’t you really think he’s a bit young to be in Daycare?”

I’d say that taxi drivermum-shamed me. He roundly judged my lifestyle and my choices. It irritated me, but it didn’t ruin my day.

He doesn’t know me or my children, my experiences are far from his, and he’s entitled to his own opinion, even if a better choice would have been to use his inside voice.

So mum-shaming is real. It happens. But do you know who has never mum-shamed me?

Other mums.

Today, headlines were made when Brisbane obstetrician and the former president of the Australian Medical Association Queensland Dr Gino Pecoraro called out ‘mum-shaming’ as ruining the experience ofmodern motherhood.

“I am all for removing the guilt from having babies. We seem hell bent on making women feel guilty about everything to do with having children, leaving it too late, how they conceive, how the baby comes out and then how you feed it, how much time you spend with it.

“It is the most natural thing in life, central to all of us, so why do we keep beating women up about what they do?’’

I could not agree more. But what I object to in the discussions around guiltis the assumption that it’s mothers judging each other. Because in my experience, it is not.

‘Judgement free motherhood’ has taken off on Pinterest.

Grumpy taxi drivers, yes. Strangers in cafes who’ve forgotten or never experienced what it’s like to live a life dominated by the needs of alittle person, yes. A tired and irritated medical professional, even, yes. But not other mothers.

My experience has been entirely the opposite. After I became a mum, I joined a group. And thank God I did. Because I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, and those women kept me sane through the early days of parenthood.

We were diverse. The first time we sat around and shared birth stories – sorry, non-parents, that does happen –  there were tales ofemergency c-sections, scheduled c-sections, women who had had ALL the drugs, women who had had none.

Women who had been in private hospitals, women who had been in the local public. Midwives, doulas, expensive obstetricians. Some mothers were breastfeeding, some bottle feeding, some struggling with either or both.

And I don’t remember any judgement. Not a bit. Just a lot of laughter, tears and support. Some tentative advice offered, notes compared, a ridiculous amount of banana bread consumed.

Other mothers, in all their messy diversity,were the glue that held me together through those tough first months.

Somehow we’ve got to a point where if a woman says her baby sleeps, she’s shaming those whose babies don’t. And if a woman chooses to stay at home, she’s judging a woman who’s in the workforce.There was comparison – how could there not be, when you’re all in the middle of the same profound experience? There was sometimes a little envy. But we were all working from the assumption that everyone was doing their best, and sometimes, it was your turn to just have a really shit week.

But don’t have to give into the illusion that because we’re different to one another – making different choices, dealing with different challenges – that we don’t LIKE one another. That we don’t have one another’s backs.

I choose to reject the notion thatmothers are bitchy and judgmental and are torturing each other with shame.

There is no need to see judgement everywhere you look. Every mother is different.

It is not my experience.  If it is yours, I’m sorry, but there are mean-spirited, closed-minded people of all stripes, and some of them are parents.

I choose not to see judgement everywhere I look. I am not a cake-baking, craft-making kind of mum. When I see a Friend’s Facebook post of her incredible teeny-tiny cupcakes in the shape of racing cars I can choose to feel shame because I have not done the same. Or I can choose to celebrate the fact that she can do that, and that she enjoys doing that for her children, and move on.

When I went back to work when my baby was six months old, I could choose to react to the raised eyebrows of those who didn’t know me, didn’t know my family, or I could just get on with it. Get on with making sure my family was happy, that they were thriving and loved.

I want to hear views on parenthood from all corners. But expressing an opinion about mothering, or sharing a genuine experience that you have had as a parent, is not shaming anyone.

It’s just talking about stuff. Stuff that matters.

And there’s no shame in that.

These mums are putting a stop to mum shaming through ‘Non-judgement parenting’ on Pinterest, take a look how:

Non judgement Mums on Pinterest

This post was originally published on iVillage Australia, but has been republished here with full permission.

Have you ever been mum shamed by someone? Share your experiences below.

You might also like these stories:

Bec: I’ve turned into the type of mother I used to criticise.

An open apology to stay at home mums: I was wrong. 

Apparently this photo is proof that ‘women can’t have it all’

Em was asked: ‘Do your kids even know what you look like anymore?’

‘Be amazed as our keepers hand-feed John, our biggest croc’, promises Shoalhaven Zoo’swebsite‘ Ouch.

I’m very happy to hear that crocodile handler Trent Burton escaped with just a few little “holes” in his hand after he was attacked by one of his giant, scaly charges yesterday.

Burton is a very experienced handler and has been working with the crocs at the zoo on the NSW South Coast for more than 10 years. But surely, no matter how experienced and careful you are, if you dangle food in front of big crocodiles for long enough, one day one of them is going to turn around and bite you on the… hand.

This picture was posted on the Shoalhaven Facebook Page

Here’s the question: Why are two giant crocs being hand-fed in an enclosure at a zoo in 2014? And why are we taking ourkids to see them?

Imagine what it was like for the children who saw Trent Burton being grabbed by the hand by a 3.7-metre crocodile, thrown to the floor and then dragged into the water.

Imagine what is was like when they then saw the clearly-terrified Burton come running out of the water with his bleeding hand, to be rescued and taken away to hospital.

Michelle Brady was there, with her two daughters, and she told Fairfax newspapers today that, “The trainer was feeding him meat and the crocodile took it before the designated area to be fed. The trainer tried to take it out of the crocodile’s mouth and the croc just grabbed his hand and pulled him to the ground and dragged him into the water.”

“Then the trainer got free and got out of the water. He had puncture holes in his hand,” she said.

I totally understand the thrill of having a close encounter with a beast as big as your car. They’re powerful and impressive, and remind us of our place on the food chain. Andkids love them.

But seriously, my kids are amazed enough to see animals up close, they don’t need to see people playing chicken with them, too. They don’t need to see keepers putting their lives at risks to make the animals interesting.

Just throw the damn chickens over the (very sturdy) fence, guys.

This post was originally published oniVillage Australia, but has been republished here with full permission

Would you take your children to see a crocodile show?

“Things used to be so simple. If Bananas In Pyjamas is on, it was time to start tackling mydaughter’s hair.”

I’m sorry. I have no idea what time it is any more.

Things used to be so simple. If Bananas In Pyjamas is on, it was time to start tackling mydaughter’s hair.

If Pepa Pig was on, it was time to get the shoes on, and the bags packed.

And if Ben & Holly’s Little Kingdom was on, we were all late, and the day was going to hell. Damn you, Gaston.

But now, who knows what’s going on? My two little kids certainly don’t.

“But I’ve finished my toast, mum. Why isn’t Bananas on?” My daughter asked this morning.

“Yes. Bananas,” echoes my 2-year-old son.

“Because it’s not on in the morning any more,” I explain, mentally trying to calculate if I should have put my make-up on by now, or if it’s hair time already.

“How do they move it?” My daughter’s voice is getting higher pitched. “And who moves it? HOW CAN THAT HAPPEN?”

“RAT IN A HAT!” shrieks my boy, and throws over his tiny chair in protest. At least, I think it’s a protest, he throws chairs a lot. He’s two.

This is how I find myself trying to explain to a 4-year-old what aTV Network’s head programmer does, at 7.30am, while trying to find shoes under flung furniture.

You see, ABC4Kids has changed its schedule. And it’s messing with our minds.

This is how the decision was announced:

From Monday 7 July ABC TV will be revitalising the channel schedules for ABC4Kids and ABC3.These exciting changes will ensure we deliver the most appropriate programs for 2-14 year olds at the times that best suit them as well as their families, enabling everyone to find their favourite programs easily throughout the day.

It’s anarchy and chaos in Holly’s house right about now.

ARGH! Everybody freak out!

Playschool. Octonauts. In the name of all that is holy, The Wiggles!

For a certain type of parent (parents like me),ABC4Kids is our guilt-free babysitter. Hearty, educational, family fare. No ads for junk food and toys you can’t afford. No scary surprises. Hardly even any American accents (Lazy Town, you are excused, for battling childhood obesity, one star jump at a time).

It makes us feel better about using the TV to entertain the kids while we get on with, you know, life.

In the morning, and yes, a little bit around dinner and bath time, it is the background wallpaper of our lives.

And ours is not the only household struggling with the new world order.

Today News Ltd reported that since the programming changes the ABC4Kids Facebook page has been hijacked by angry parents. 

“What morons do you have working there? If it ain’t broke then don’t fix it! Night-time routine for toddlers completely ruined!” went one typically furious post.

I can only imagine the fear and trepidation with which the ABC undertakes fiddling with the schedule on their children’s network.

They know what parents of small children are like.

Pepa Pig: giving parents around the country a chance to clear up the dinner dishes.

We’re crazy, and we’re as wedded to our routines as our stubborn toddlers are.  And we will come after you if you threaten to make our lives a little harder, even if it’s for three short minutes when we were all expecting Pepa Pig to give us a chance to clear up the dinner dishes.

Look, I’m not one of those crazy romantics who is dreaming that if we all write angry letters to Deidre Brennan – the ABC’s controller of children’s TV – she might suddenly see the sense in shifting In The Night Garden back to a night-time slot (or at least what passes for ‘night’ when you’re two – 6.30pm).

After all, it’s the trippiest TV show ever made and 11.30am is NOT ready for it.

But I’m just warning her: My 4-year-old wants your job.

Because, seriously, I just don’t know who I am any more if Bananas in Pyjamas isn’t on at 7.25am.

This post was originally published oniVillage.com.au, and is republished here with full permission. 

These are some of the best ABC Kids shows through the ages – have we missed any?

Is the new ABC4Kids schedule unpopular in your house?

Holly and her partner Brent

By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT

My partner and I have two children, a mortgage and more than 10 years of history binding us together.

We love each other very much.

We are the focal point of each other’s lives, each the other’s closest friend and ally.

We share everything.His family is my family, my family is his.

But. We are just drifting along on a tide of convenience, biding time until a thoughtless, inevitable break-up, at which point we will just replace each other with someone else – just move some other ‘de-facto’ in.

At least, that’s what the Australian Government thinks.

WhenKevin Andrews, Minister for Social Services said this on the weekend, he belittled the most important relationship in my life.

“What a lot of people do is drift into a relationship. They get together. They like each other. They move in together. And then they try and drift along without making a decision.

“One thing about a marriage is that it publicly denotes commitment on the part of both parties. Whereas in an informal relationship one party may be committed and one may not be.”

And not just mine. With that, around 1.1 million couples in the country had their relationships reduced.

Not everyone wants to get married.

For some of those couples, there’s a “yet” at the end of that sentence. For others, there isn’t.

Because they’ve made a choice to be committed, but not married. They’ve actively decided not to put a ring on it, for a list of reasons as varied as there are types of love.

Kevin Andrews stated

The Minister – who, it should be noted, thinks de-facto is a perfectly acceptable living arrangement forgay couples- believes that making an active choice to be legally bonded to another person is the deciding factor of commitment, the fail-safe cure-all that stops hearts from breaking and families from imploding.

One assumes that the Minister has not seen the divorce statistics.

I know that marriage is incredibly important to many (most) people in our culture. I know that for many (most) of my friends, getting married signifies something momentous. Religious, cultural and family reasons aside, they see marriage – the asking, the doing, the sticking at it – as the big I Choose You.

But here’s the thing, Mr Andrews, I see my de-facto relationship as a big I Choose You every single day. There is no legal imperative for my partner and I to be together. There is no hefty, expensive and stigmatised process to dread should we decide to go our separate ways. We didn’t ask our friends and family to take a weekend and several hundred dollars out of their lives to come and celebrate our union, so there’s no shame or guilt in disappointing them if we split.

Which pretty much means there’s only one reason to stay together – Because we choose to. Every single day.

We choose to stay together when we’re both so giddy with the exhaustion of raising two small kids that we can barely remember each other’s names.

We choose to stay together when tempers are short and memories are long about That Thing You Do that you always do that drives me crazy.

We choose to stay together through stress and illness and argument. Through temptation and trauma.

And yes, people ask us, two respectable-looking people of a grown-up age at preschool pick-up and the swimming pool sidelines and the park birthday parties why we don’t want to get married.

Holly and her family. Just as ‘normal’ as any other.

And I struggle to answer it (because they always ask me, not him). Not because I don’t know, but because it’s a topic so central to how people view love and commitment that anything I say sounds like like a criticism of their choice.

Also. Whatever I said, they wouldn’t believe me. Nobody believes that a woman doesn’t want to get married. The wanting of the ring and the dress and the handsome groom and the ‘sealing the deal’ and the “Call me Mrs so-and so” is etched in every story about every woman from Elisabeth Bennett toCarrie Bradshawto Jennifer Aniston.

But, shoot me. It’s true. I like not being married. I’ve always valued independence. I’ve never felt the need to lock my man down, or to differentiate him from other men I’ve dated, even lived, with. Because showing the world how we feel about each other is not what matters. We show each other, and our children, every day.

And I’m not interested in promising for ever. Anyone can do that (Kim Kardashianhas done that three times already). I’m interested in focussing on today, and the week, and the next month and the year, not til death do us part. It’s the doing that’s the hard part, the living it that matters, not the standing up and saying it.

And there’s one more reason: I loveweddings. Of course I do. I love how they bring loved ones together for a wonderful reason and how giddy and hopeful everyone is on the day. But I know that when the party finishes and you’ve picked the confetti out of your hair and the late check-out’s passed on the hotel suite, you’re going to be someone’s Wife. And ‘Wife’ has never been on the list of words that I wanted next to my name.

Sorry, Mr Andrews, but I get to decide that. And it doesn’t matter if it boggles your narrow mind.

Because to me, and the man I love, it makes perfect sense.

Do you agree with Holly? Is there a huge difference between marriage and de facto?

Gammy and Pipah.

Last night Australia learned that we were wrong.

We were wrong to say that David and Wendy Farnell should have taken baby Gammy home from that chaotic Thai hospital.

They should not have taken their daughter, Pipah, either.

They should not be allowed to raise either of those precious babies, or any others.

Because they are are not fit parents.

Gammy’s story stunned us at a time when the news was filled with so much horror we could barely look.

And now, after last night, we might well wish we hadn’t.

Because after all the hand-wringing over last night’s 60 Minutes interview with David and Wendy Farnell – ‘the most reviled couple in Australia’, accused of abandoning their own baby boy in Thai hospital – the only possible take-home was this:

Two tiny children are in the care of adults who cannot and should not be trusted to look after them.

Today the story has become even more bizarre, with Gammy’s surrogate mother claiming Wendy Farnell might not even be the biological mother of the twins.

But it’s all about last night, when David and Wendy Farnell sat down with a truly fierce Tara Brown this week to tell ‘their side of the story’.

And if they thought that Australia might think more fondly of them after it aired, they are very, very delusional.

Because it was all true.

Gammy’s parents on the 60 MInutes interview.

At first David and Wendy – who claim they desperately wanted a child for eight years, trying IVF many times – tried to deny that they left their baby son behind.

But their own words damned them at every turn, and within minutes of the interview’s start admitted:

What was abundantly clear was that they never wanted to bring this baby home.

The baby whose name they can’t even bring themselves to say. The baby who wasn’t what they ordered. The baby whose very existence made them angry enough to demand a refund from the clinic who made him. The baby whose welfare they didn’t even check in on after his birth.

But the worst part of this story is that this is not the worst part.

The worst part is that this man, David Farnell is a convicted pedophile. A man who pleaded guilty to, and went to prison for, grooming girls as young as 4 and assaulting them repeatedly over a number of years.

What makes someone an unfit parent?

How about abandoning their sick child to die with strangers?

How about being so grossfully negligent that you didn’t even pick up the phone to find out how that child was?

How about being  a convicted sex offender, guilty of child molestation?

Tonight, David Farnell spoke about those charges. He appeared tortured as he claimed he could “never do THIS again,” and spoke about being harassed and threatened in the streets. He seemed to take pride in the fact that everyone knew his past and he still “held his head high” and got on with his life.

He claims that in prison, counselling worked, and that he has worked on himself to become “a good person”, who wouldn’t dream of reoffending, of doing anything inappropriate with his own little daughter, soon to be the same age as those whose childhood he stole.

He was horrified that Tara might suggest otherwise.

But David Farnell is not a good person. Because he left a little sick boy to die alone in a Thai hospital when he and his wife chose to take their daughter home instead. And that is the only reason that we know a convicted pedophile is in possession of a little baby girl in Western Australia.

Because he’s not a good person.

If Farnell had chosen a different wife from the Chinese dating agency where he met Wendy, it’s possible they would have had many more children to add to his three now adult ones, and  of course none of us would know anything about it.

But that’s not what happened. And the world knows about it. And now both little Gammy, and baby Pipah, Australian babies who deserve a safe and loving home, should not be tangled up in the toxic drama of these people’s lives.

Those twins should be together. Those twins should not be anywhere near David Farnell.

If you would like to donate to Baby Gammy, you can do so at theHope for Gammy page.

Want to read more about Gammy? Try these:

The most gut-churning moments in the interview with Gammy’s parents.

News: Baby Gammy’s parents met on a mail-order bride website

What will a crackdown on Thailand’s surrogacy laws mean for the babies who aren’t born yet?

Read more on the Australian couple’s statement here.

Mia Freedman writes: Could this be the real reason why Gammy’s parents abandoned him?

Response from a parent of a child with Down Syndrome: To the Australian couple who abandoned their son with Down syndrome.

Mamamia’s first report on Gammy: The surrogate child an Australian couple didn’t want.

What did you think of the 60 minutes interview?

Ashya and Brett.

By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT

It’s aheartbreaking image. A desperate father wheeling a very sick little boy away from the hospital that saved his life, knowing that they’re not coming back.

The boy, Ashya King, is five, and he has brain cancer. He is being fed through a tube. At the time that his father, Brett, took him from the hospital, the machine that was feeding him was battery-operated, and the battery was running down.

It seemed to be an enormous risk. But Ashya’s family firmly believed that they were only doing what was best for their son. They had been online, and they had researched a treatment that they thought would be better for their boy (read more about thathere) , and when they’d suggested it to Ashya’s doctors, they had been shut down.

So they took him.

They took him with the idea of getting him to a country that would offer him the care he believed Aysha needed. Southampton is a port town, so it wasn’t hard to gather up his six siblings and whisk them all away on a ferry to another place.

Who is to say they were wrong? The British police, clearly, who issued a warrant for the family’s arrest and sparked a man hunt in three countries.

At the time of writing, Ashya’s parents, Brett and Naghemeh King, 45, are under arrest, charged with child neglect. Ashya is back in hospital, in Spain.

Brett and Naghemeh King are currently charged with child neglect.

This is a complex story of conflicting medical advice, parental desperation, religion (the Kings are Jehovah’s Witnesses) and aclash of opinions about an expensive and experimental treatment. A little boy’s life, and a family’s soul, hangs in the balance.

Brett and Naghemeh insist that they did not take a risk with their son’s life, in a video posted onYouTube. Brett, with Aysha lying beside him in a nappy and singlet, shows the machine that Asyha is connected to and says, “There’s been a lot of talk about this machine, as you see it’s all plugged in. We’ve got loads of these feeds, we’ve got iron supplements and Calpol.”

But what it calls into question is who should be ultimately responsible for making decisions about a child’s health? The parents, signing forms and waivers, praying andGoogling by their loved one’s bedside, or highly-trained medical professionals who are realistic about trials, treatments and the economic realities of treating the sick?

I am timid in the face of medical wisdom. I have always placed my absolute trust in doctors. And mostly, mostly, I have been absolutely right to do so.

But I have never paced in the shoes of a parent with a seriously sick child. I have never had to have anyone tell me that there’s nothing more they can do for my babies, or that the one treatment that might ease their suffering will have far reaching side effects that could rob them of their hearing, or sight. So far, I’ve been unimaginably lucky. And as I type that, I reflexively touch wood.

Five-year old Ashya King

Because parents have so much to lose. And we are hard-wired to protect our children from suffering and to fight for the best for them. When the definition of what that means get blurry, when we reach out for answers and come up empty-handed, things get complicated and parents get irrational.

“We pleaded with them (in the Southampton hospital) for proton beam treatment,” says Brett. “They looked at me straight in the face and said with his cancer – which is called medulloblastoma – it would have no benefit whatsoever.”

“I went straight back to my room and looked it up and the American sites and French sites and Switzerland sites where they have proton beam said the opposite, it would be very beneficial for him.”

What will happen to Ashya remains to be seen. His family swear they will not take him back to the UK unless they are promised the therapy they want – although not available in the UK (or Australia), some British patients are funded to travel overseas to receive it – but some things are clear.

There will always be desperate parents willing to risk their own freedom to help their children. We will always be blinded to obstacles by our love for our kids. And there will always be a medical treatment that promises everything, that is just out of reach. And there will always be Dr Google, bringing it all together.

Little Ashya is all all our thoughts tonight.

By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT

There’s a reason that we don’t tell people that we’repregnant until that momentous 12-week scan.

Many of us will lose our baby before we reach that milestone. 80 per cent ofmiscarriageshappen in the first trimester. And one in four pregnancies will end in miscarriage.

But that is exactly why, many argue, we should let go of the 12 weeks of silence tradition. That it’s old-fashioned, unhelpful, and shrouds miscarriage in secrecy.

There are more voices calling for us to tell the world we’re pregnant as soon as we find out. Because we need support, and we need to talk about miscarriage. The argument goes that it is much better to suffer through the loss of a child, if you must, with people around you knowing what you are going through. And it’s about time we stopped whispering about the grief of miscarriage in shadowy secrecy, and pulled it out into the light to be openly discussed.

This is how Jill Duggar announced her pregnancy on social media – after People Magazine – at eight weeks.

Also, keeping a secret has never been harder. Or less respected. We exist in a culture ofsharing everything with everyone, we do not like to hold things in.

And pregnancy is a hard secret to keep. You’re turning down drinks, you’re green around the gills. If you’re unlucky, you’re throwing up and facing each day feeling like you’ve got the worst hangover of your life. But keep smiling, because everything is normal, people.

Keeping up this pretence is a luxury not afforded to the Duchess Of Cambridge. When the world’s lenses are trained on your every move, any cancelled appearance, any doctor’s home visit let the kitten out of the bag, meaning that – just like last time – a very sick, pregnant Kate has had to tell the world her news at eight weeks.

If the unthinkable were to happen, Kate would also have to grieve with the whole world watching. It’s a tough spot to be in.

Reality TV star Jill Duggar – one of the prolificDuggarfamily –  made her pregnancy announcement last month on the cover of People magazine at eight weeks.

The deeply religious Duggar told Page Six that, ““Understanding that the majority of miscarriages happen within the first trimester, and believing that every life is precious no matter how young, we decided to share our joyful news as soon as we could.”

Apparently fewer and fewer women than ever are waiting for the three-month mark, and in the US, at least, it’s being seen as almost quaint to keep your pregnancy secret for that length of time.

The magazine cover that got everyone talking about the timing of Jill’s announcement.

Like many women, I have been on both sides of the statistics at the start of this post. I have two healthy, running, cuddling, grubby kids. But theirs have not been my only pregnancies.

For me, I was happy that only those closest to me knew when I miscarried. I react badly to sympathy from acquaintances, to prying questions, and stalled conversations and sad eyes in the work kitchen.

But now, with distance and two boisterous kids under my belt, I’m happy to share. I see the value in it, in saying, “Yes, that happened to me, too,” and, “Yes, it hurts more than you ever imagined.”

So maybe wisdom and shared experience is telling us that it’s time to throw-out the 12-week rule.

This post was originally published oniVillage.com.au, and is republished here with full permission. 

When did you tell people you were pregnant? Do you see the value in waiting?

By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT

Would you like somenipples with your news?

It’s a question that for more than 40 years, English newspaper readers have answered with a cheery, “yes, please!”

I grew up in a world where it was totally normal for a story about, let’s say,murder, or rape, to sit snugly alongside a full-length shot of a smiling, topless woman on the third page of your daily newspaper. Because I grew up in Britain, where we have this proud tradition called Page 3.

The history of the page 3 girl (worth a watch for the 80s hair and bikini fashion alone).

And now, it seems that tradition is under threat, with the godfather of norks n’ news,Rupert Murdoch, admitting, on Twitter (how modern!) that perhaps Page 3 is a little “old-fashioned”.

Really? You think Mr Murdoch?

The owner of some of the biggest news outlets in the world also suggested that he might instruct his editors to keep the glamour girls – but cover them up a little bit – because “Aren’t beautiful young women more attractive in at least some fashionable clothes? Your opinion please.”

My opinion, (if you’re interested, Sir Rupert) is that even with a smattering of modesty, serving naked women up as purely decorative objects in a mainstream newspaper is never going to be okay.

Think about it. This is not a magazine that men buy specifically to look at breasts, like say, Zoo, or People, or Picture. This is the absolute equivalent of opening the first page of the Daily Telegraph or Herald Sun, and seeing a naked woman beaming out at you, next to a story about air missile strikes in Iraq.

I’ve been railing against Page 3 since I was in school uniform. An earnest little mini-feminist, raised by a mum who disapproved ofBarbies, baby dolls and Brownies, I was never going to be the target audience for the mass-market tabloid The Sun, where Page 3 was born, nor aspire to be a “Page 3 girl”, a well-worn road to notoriety before anyone had even thought of reality TV.

The Sun, 1986. Photo: Reuters.

 The Sun, Page 3 – 2014.

But as a journalism student in London in the 1990s, encouraged by a savvy lecturer who ordered us to read one broadsheet and one tabloid newspaper every single day, I did read The Sun, and all the papers that had followed its lead into publishing nude pics in a bid to grab the “building site” market. And there are many brilliant things about tabloid newspapers. Tabloids break stories, they breed, fearless, relentless journalists, they read the public mood to a tee, and they are most excellent at punny headlines, for starters.

But I could never forgive Page 3.

The girls were terrifyingly young. Younger than ranty student me. Before the early noughties, you only had to be 16 to be a Page 3 girl, and some of papers would even countdown until a girl’s 16th birthday, when her beautiful boobs could be unveiled to the world with impunity.

A “Page 3 girl” is wholesome. And has a lovely, friendly smile. She is always topless. And sometimes, she has also misplaced her knickers. She is generally accompanied by some salient facts about herself.  “Andie (first names only on Page 3, please) is 18. She’s from Bucketsworth and loves Sheffield United, lager-shandies and real men…”

After a poll in the 1990s, they had to be able to prove that their “assets”were real. There was no silicon in The Sun. Not on page 3.

Another example of journalism on page 3.

She was the absolute polar opposite of challenging, or complicated, or hard-to-get. She was (is) just a girl, inviting you to look at her breasts because they’re gorgeous, and don’t all women want you to look at them and assess their attractiveness and make a “harmless” comment about their boob size? Of course they do.

Page 3has seen off many challenges: From female politicians who have been mocked for campaigning to ban it. From the “feminists” Rupert mentions in his Tweets. From celebrity-studded petitions.

And from the now-notorious female editor Rebekkah Brooks, who originally said she didn’t approve of Page 3 on commercial grounds (it puts women off buying the paper), but who later came to embrace it and even celebrate it as an almost feminist choice for the girls who chose to appear.

It’s true, we have Page 3 to thank for Katie Price, (formerly Jordan), who appeared in The Sun on Page 3 many, many times, and is now worth 45 million pounds.

But for every Jordan, there are thousands of girls who just saw Page 3 as a possible ticket out of a boring life, but found themselves right back where they started, only everyone had seen her boobs.

When I read theTweets from Rupert Murdoch, I was shocked. Not because he is admitting that it could be time to move on from naked ladies as mainstream entertainment, but because Page 3 still exists.

I don’t live in Britain any more. I have lived in Australia for almost 20 years. And for all those years, people have enjoyed telling me what a sexist country this is. But we don’t have naked teenagers in our newspapers.

And the idea that in an era when anyone with Wifi can see a naked woman doing pretty much anything you could possibly imagine at the push of a couple of buttons, the notion that there’s still a market for Page 3 is almost quaint. Almost amusing.

Except it’s not. It’s ridiculous. And outdated. It’s damaging. And insulting.

So that’s my opinion, Sir Rupert. Thanks for asking.

By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT

Ah, good morning. Sit down, drink your coffee. Breathe.

How’s your day been? Do you remember a time when all you had to do in the morning was get your sorry arse out of bed, into a shower, and onto the bus?

And then you had children.

And then you went back to work.

And now, 9 o’clock, when you sit down at your desk to start the working day, it suddenlyfeels like 3pm.

There’s nothing special about me, but as a working mum of two kids under five, here’s what I havealready done today. And it’s 8.57:

- I tried to treat my preschooler like a snooze alarm. “Just two more minutes, it’s not 6am, yet.” As she pries my eyes open with her tiny-tiny fingers, and resorts to sitting on my head. The snooze-alarm trick never works. Got up.

- I dressed three different people. This sounds easy. But the only person who’s easy to dress in my house is me. My daughter

My daughter’s daily tutu.

will only wear tutus. My son turns against pants every single morning. And then he turns against T-shirts, and then, mere minutes before we leave the house, he turns against shoes.

Every one of these tiny battles takes willpower, physical strength and iron-clad determination – “You CANNOT go to day care without pants, Billy. You CANNOT.” Billy begs to differ.

- I dealt with three different people’s poo. Yes, one of those people was me, and interaction with faeces was minimal. But sorry, I still wiped three different arses this morning.

- I employed techniques of bribery and corruption. “If you don’t start brushing your teeth NOW, that Elsa doll is going in the bin. IN THE BIN.”

My daughter is wise to me – “I don’t believe you will EVEN do that,” she declares. And she’s right. Do you know what I went through to get that Elsa doll?

- I stripped a wee-soaked bed and did two loads of washing. Is it wrong to want my girl to stay in night pull-ups until she’s 12?

- I made three different breakfasts. One child likes “peanut toast”, one likes cereal. I like Vegemite. Moved on to lunchboxes. Bugger, no yoghurts. Improvised with tin peaches. Think, ‘they’ll never eat that’. Decide it is not my problem.

- I jumped in the shower while the kids ate, and then applied make-up while overseeing breakfast-eating, which devolved into toast-throwing, which devolved into mum-yelling and mascara in the eye.

- I try to scroll through news on my phone while calming escalating tensions over a viewing of Ben And Holly’s Little Kingdom. “I don’t like it!” is the only full sentence my two-year-old knows, and the theme music to B&H is his cue to scream it. Every morning. 100 times. It’s his sister’s favourite show.

- I cleared up the breakfast debris, loaded the dishwasher, turned it on. Sent up a silent prayer of gratitude to the Dishwasher Gods for their innovation and foresight.

Ben and Holly’s Little Kingdom. A controversial choice.

- I rebuilt a plastic dinosaur and retrieved an essential shoe – “I will only wear the greeeeeeeen ooooooones” – from a very far-flung corner of under-the-bed. Had to change.

- I got to the hair-straightener two minutes before my little boy grabbed at the burning hot tongs with his little hands. Winning! Playing  “crocodile” with it the hair iron is ill-advised when it’s been heating up for five minutes.

- I wrangled and wrestled two little people out of the house and hustled them along the short walk to the car, pausing to inspect and collect every single pine cone along the way.

- Managed to cross the road with two kiddie backpacks, my work bag, laptop bag and a two-year-old boy in my arms, and a four-year-old hand’s in mine.

- I dropped off in two different locations, 10 minutes from home and five minutes’ drive apart. Made small talk with two different sets of wondrous child-care professionals, who had already made small talk with 25 parents that day, but managed to look interested in “Matilda didn’t sleep so well, she might pass out on you at morning tea…” all the same.

- I enjoyed sloppy kisses and squeezy goodbye hugs with two different kids. Promises to return and pledges of love immediately cut short by appearance of another little girl in Elsa dress/ a Thomas the Tank Engine train table.

- I fell through the office doors with three minutes to spare before our morning meeting. Didn’t make it in time for the takeaway coffee, and it’s almost bringing me to tears. I tell myself “first-world problems, it’s just coffee”, then want to stab myself with pen.

If this list sounds self-pitying, then please accept my apologies. My life is full and fortunate. And busy. And governed by a loud, ticking clock.

But it’s all good. The day’s only just started. Really?

So, what did you do this morning?

Come andLike Holly on Facebook. She needs some Friends who aren’t two-foot tall.

By HOLLY WAINWRIGHT

Sally Brouwer is amazing. She really is.

Sally is a Brisbane police officer, a personal trainer and a mother-of -three who sits on the board of the Blue Sky Foundation for autistic children.

That’s amazing, right?

And that’s before we even get to her abs, which – credit where credit is due – are also truly amazing. Because, seriously, looking like this takes an enormous amount of discipline and hard physical work, whether you have given birth to no kids, three, or six. So, hats off to you, Sally.

Sally.

But today Sally appeared in theMailOnline with the following headline:

And two weeks ago, another super-fit personal trainer from Sydney appeared in the Daily Telegraph, also taking aim at mums who don’t look like iron women. They used  this headline:

And this, this my friends is where I am callingbullshit. Not on these women and their amazing abs but on the way the media like to pit women’s bodies against one another.

Mothers are being trolled. Presenting these post-child fitness stories as some kind of, “If they can do it, you can do it” us-against-us story, is nonsense.

And every woman who has ever had a child, looked down at her body and gone, “What the?” needs to know that, refuse to give into the “I hate my body” feelings and turn away.

Because these stories only have the power to make those of us whose tummies may be a little more, shall we say, on the mushy side, feel lazy and less-than if we allow them to.

Giselle and the Facebook fit mum Maria King

The sight of Sally Brouer’s rock-hard seven-pack has about as much relevance to my life as Giselle Bunchen’s nude beach yoga poses do to my weekend outing to the beach with my kids. I am proud and happy for Sally, and I am proud and happy for any woman who’s feeling fit and strong and delighted with her body.

But I am also proud and happy for the woman out there who hasn’t managed to get to a gym class since her baby was born, whose breast-feeding regimen has left her craving chocolate biscuits, or who’s running between school and work and has decided that right now, rock-hard abs are not her priority.

She is also worth celebration, which is why you will sometimes see – on this website or others – a collection of photographs depicting “real” women’s bodies. Not because Sally, and Fit Mum, and “NO Excuses Mom” aren’t real, of course they are, but they are held aloft as an ideal that is not accessible to everyone. And is not even desirable for everyone.

Let’s not forget that.

For some women, exercise and body image is a priority. In some cases, it’s their business.  And pretty often, they had a six-pack before children, so they had one to reclaim in the first place. And that is wonderful, and to be celebrated.

Check out one of Sally’s fitness videos here:

For many of the rest of us, we have other priorities.

I like to be fit and strong. I run. But I have two kids, a full-time job and a partner I like to see occasionally, so heading to the gym in the spare half hour I might find after bedtime is not going to happen.

Andthat’s fine, too.

Let’s call this “No excuses” beat-up what it is – trolling.

These women are fabulous. But if seeing images of toned post-baby tummies everywhere you turn is making you feel crappy, click away. They would understand. One person’s excuse is another person’s bloody good reason.