27 reasons women don’t want to have sex

Hey guys.

How many times have you had sex this month? 

Not as many as you would like, I bet.

Well, there’s a reason for that and it’s probably on this list...

1. You don’t pay any attention to our mind’s needs.

Surely by now you know that the best foreplay is that which involves stimulating our mind first. Not sure what that involves? Talking. About stuff that interests us. Not sure what interests us? It's going to be a long time between drinks for you buddy.

2. You don’t make any effort to get us in the mood.

See above

3. You don’t clean up after yourself.

We get sick of doing all the cleaning. Especially cleaning up after you. Pick up after yourself and then maybe you’ll ‘pick up’.

4. We’re tired.

That’s a legitimate reason. Maybe if we didn’t have to do all your fucking washing, we would have more energy.

5. We spend our whole life looking after your kids first, your home second and ourselves last. There’s not a lot left for you.
Yes, it’s in that order. If you want to change it, try helping out at home and there may be something left for you.

6. We’re bored.

Beware the bored woman. We end up online or scrapbooking or eating.

7. We don’t like the way our bodies feel/look.

Our body changed after childbirth and we haven’t reconciled that yet. Or we’ve hit forty and the boobs have hit the floor. Unlike you guys, the way we feel about ourselves affects our libido. Right or wrong, that’s a fact.

8. We really do have a head ache.

Again, legitimate reason. The last thing you want when your head is pounding, is a pounding. Right?

9. We’re scared the kids are going to walk in.

Do I need to explain this?

10. We’re annoyed that you just don’t get it.

The fact that someone has to write a list about all the reasons we don’t want to have sex with you is a turn off.

11. You think your hard dick is our responsibility.

It’s not. You wake up with that thing. Sort it out.

12. You need to have sex to feel loved. We need to feel loved to have sex. STALEMATE

13. We’ve just had a baby.

And there are a hundred reasons that varies from woman to woman. From stitches to c-sections to extra, extra weight, to uncontrollable emotions, to pain, to haemorrhoids, to bleeding. We’ve just had a baby. Give us a break.  

14. We’re breastfeeding.

And suddenly our boobs take on a whole new meaning for us. They’re feeding your baby and that’s not as easy and gorgeous as it looks. Our nipples are cracked and our breasts are sore. They probably leak and we feel very much like a cow. That’s not a fuckable feeling.

15. We don’t want to get pregnant... again.

What’s the ONLY way we know that’s not going to happen?? You got it. Just say ‘no’.

16. Your mother is in the next room.

That’s all.

17. It’s too cold.

18. It’s too hot.

19. We have our period.

That means bleeding and cramps. In the legs, in the back, in the stomach. Very unsexy.

20. We’re just not interested in sex at the moment.

21. We just had sex yesterday.

You want to do it again?

22. We just had sex last week.

You want to do it again?

23. You take too long.

Hurry up. There are kids in the house and your mum’s in the next room and your washing needs to be done.

24. You don’t take long enough.

Is that it? FFS. Give us a minute to get there too.

25. We just got our hair done.

That’s expensive. Don’t mess it up.

26. We resent your freedom.

We’ve had your baby[s] and you remain unchanged. We’re dealing with changed bodies and changed lifestyles. Our emotions are inextricably linked to our children and for some of us that’s a massive adjustment to take on. Some of us are housebound. Some of us are depressed. All of us are tired. You go to work. Talk to grown-ups. Play golf. Ride your bike. Come home and want sex. Ummm... no thanks. Arsehole.

27. You're not Christian Grey. 

Disclaimer #1 – this list is NOT about me and my husband [though I did contribute to it]. It’s a compilation from my friends and their husbands.

Disclaimer #2 – I KNOW this is a generalisation and I KNOW it’s written from a heterosexual, middle-aged, mother's perspective. It’s the only perspective I have.

This list is, by no means, complete... Can you contribute?

My brilliant body and the Stretch-mark Swagger

Do not be fooled by this photo... it's all about the angles and the filter x

I swaggered a little

As I walked to the water’s edge

The sweet sting of the morning sun

On my shoulders

My ponytail tickling the nape of my neck

I readjusted my bikini as I sauntered

Making sure it covered as much breast

As the scant triangles could

Tucking in a few wayward pubes that I missed

In my dry-razor touch up before I left home

Families flanked my sandy path

Mums, dads, babies

Pop-up sun shelters, deck chairs, eskies

I can hear a baby screaming, a young child laughing and a helicopter overhead

I held my head high as I made my way to the shoreline

I looked down at my belly, soft and protruding

So I sucked it in... just a little bit

But then I saw my thighs

Wider than my hips, lined with stretch marks, dimpled with cellulite

And let my breath out

I stood taller as I noticed my varicose vein

Which is more like a rope, snake its way down the length of my left leg

Knowing it will be there as a reminder of my second pregnancy

Until a time in my life that will permit me to have

The 7 days off my feet

Required for the operation to remove it

When I reached the water

And the waves lapped against my calves

I realised I could see my reflection

In the joy of my sons’ faces as they laughed

At my wincing against the cold of the ocean

Through their eyes I see my body

Is soft and warm and strong and protecting

I scowled at my husband as he joked

That I was being precious

And I could see that when he looks at me

He sees a body that created his family

His legacy

A body that has grown with him

A body he still loves

I smiled as I paraded

Proud to be me

In all my womanly glory

And I remembered a time when my body

Was younger

Firmer

Tighter

I remembered when my breasts were higher

And my arse stuck out and the only lines on my thighs

Were tan lines

And for a moment I became sad

Because when my body looked its best

I did not swagger

I did not saunter

I saw no glory

When my body looked its best

I focussed on the faults and trivialised the beauty

I saw only what it wasn’t and failed to see what it was

It’s only now that my body is older

and tired

and loose

and dimpled

and plump

and spotted with age

and striped with stretch marks

and mapped with veins

and creased with laugh lines

I see brilliance

I am woman. Hear me raw.

Today

I am a working mum. My days follow a strict routine which involves ‘just another 10 minutes’ in bed every morning, regardless of what time I wake up. Those 10 minutes feel like those delicious stolen moments with a lover... but better because I’m alone in the bed and I can stretch out and remember my days when I didn’t have ‘a side’. In those 10 minutes I lament the too few hours sleep preceding them and dread the rat-race following them. I mentally check through my wardrobe and decide what I’m going to wear and hope to god that I’ve washed it and if I have, hope that I have hung it up and not left it in the washing basket. It is the only quiet time I will have to myself all day.

There are boys to be dressed and teeth to be brushed. Bags to be packed and lunches to be made. Husbands to send off and make-up to be slapped on. School to be walked to and teachers to touch base with. Meat to defrost and washing to be put on. Emails to answer and coffee to make. Traffic to negotiate and cars to be parked.

Then a day of work which, most days, is good but some days is not.

Followed by errands to be run and calls to be made. Appointments to squeeze in and dinner to be cooked. Washing to be hung out and coffee to make. School to be walked to and bags to unpack. After school snacks to prepare and homework to be helped with. Sports to be driven to and tables to be set. Baths to be run and stories to read. Dishes to be done and washing to put away. Uniforms to lay out and beds to collapse in.

It is gruelling and draining and gratifying and real.

Yesterday

I was a stay at home mum. My days didn’t follow any routine and I was almost totally at the mercy of my sons’ needs. Breastfeeding on demand. Tiptoeing around the house at nap-time. Scraping soggy teething rusks off the carpet. Rinsing off poo on sheets/clothes/cushion covers. Throwing out bibs that had mashed banana on them ‘cause that shit just does not come out in the wash. Toilet training. Manners training. Sleep training. Rich play. Fine motor skill development. Gross motor skill development. Socialisation. 

Some days time would stand still and I would wait, desperately for the husband to come home so I could turn myself off for 10 minutes. Just 10 minutes to not be the one who had to pick up the crying baby. Just 10 minutes to be alone and not feel guilty for the pleasure that would fill my bones to be quiet. And still. Other days time would steal my life away and I would despair that I didn’t have longer to float in the wonder of seeing the world through the new eyes of my baby. I would feel it slip through my fingers as I traced ‘round and round the garden’ on chubby little hands. I would watch it run away as I delighted in seeing those first, wobbly steps. I would look up, after feeling like I had only just sent the husband off to work to see him return and watch my son run to his arms. Happy to see another face. Eager to tell fresh ears about his day. And I would wish for just another 10 minutes to be alone with my boy.

It was exhausting and demanding and rewarding and real.

Long ago

Before I was any kind of mum I was a girl. Those days were all about me. They were about finding my place in the world and deciding where my world was. It was about working and partying and loving and earning and yearning. It was about learning. And the only real way to learn is to fail. So it was about failing too. It was about heartache. It was about self doubt. And it was about wonder. There were no 10 minute increments in those days. Going out for coffee lasted for hours. There was no grocery shopping. If I needed anything, I picked it up on the way home from work. There was only clothes shopping. Phone calls lasted all night on a phone with an extra long cord which would reach all the corners of my unit and never ran out of battery. Friendships were the most important relationships in my world. Other people’s children were to be seen, not heard. Mothers were to be ignored. Boys were to be toyed with. Washing was to be done in the middle of the night and hung out on the backs of chairs. Dancing was to be done. All night.

It was arduous and confronting and fulfilling and real.

Every day

Throughout it all I have been me. I have not always known who I am but I have been defiantly ‘me’ nonetheless. All my life stages are real. All my chapters are fulfilling. All my dreams are valid. All my pains are confronting. Being single and childless was tough. Being a stay at home mum was demanding. Being a working mum is challenging. The next path I travel down will also test me.  Each life stage presents something new to learn and overcome and enjoy. 

My journey is not unique. My lessons are not new. You may relate. You may disagree. You may learn. You may cringe. You may just quietly be thankful that someone else is struggling to get it all right too.

I will laugh. I will sob. I will exalt. I will grieve. I will succeed. I will fail. 

I will live.

It’s my story and I will share.

I am woman. Hear me raw.

30 Lessons in Love

Dear Boys,

because mummy loves you, I'm going to help you out with a few tips. Well, thirty actually. It's not a complete list but it's a good start. You can thank me later xx

1. If she’s just broken up with her ex – stay away for a while. The rebound guy never wins.

2. Be chivalrous

3. If you ask her out – you pay... for everything.

4. If you pick her up, go to the door and knock. Don’t sit in the car and beep.

5. If you drop her off, walk her to the door or front gate. The same goes for when she leaves your place, walk her to the door or the front gate. It's manners.

6. If you love her – tell her. Many times and in many ways. There is no shame in love.

7. If you love someone else – you shouldn’t be with her.

8. If she lives at home, do not call after 9.30pm.

9. If she’s studying – let her. Encourage her even. You may end up spending the rest of your life with her.

10. No really does mean no. All the time. When she’s pissed. When you’re pissed. Even if your hand’s up her top. Or her bra’s undone. Or you’re half way through. You do not have the rights to her because she’s your girlfriend.

11. If she wants to hang out with her girlfriends don't whinge that she'd rather be with them than you. Be thankful that she has her own life and for the time you can hang out with your mates.

12. Don’t be too eager. It’s gross.

13. If you need to cry, that’s ok. Just don’t make it that ugly cry. That’s a huge turn off.

14. Go clothes shopping with her. It’s more fun than you think.

15. Don’t try to be one of the girls. Her friends will think it’s weird. And yuck.

16. Don’t talk to her in a stupid baby voice.

17. If you’re gonna have nicknames for each other, make them G rated. You’d be surprised just how easily they slip out at the worst possible times.

18. Orgasms are a joint venture. You should be aiming for a win/win result.

19. Brush your teeth.

20. Do not expect her to be responsible for contraception. Wear a condom. I’ll buy them for you if I have to. And don’t let me hear that you won’t because it doesn’t feel as good. Know what feels worse? Months WITHOUT having sex because of your BABY. Oh and herpes. If it’s not on, it’s not on.

21. These girls are not options – your friend’s mum. Your friend’s daughter. Your cousin. Your teacher. The emo [too much baggage]. The goth [too black]. The gold digger. Your brother’s girlfriend. The one that’s rude to your mum.

22. Hip Hop music is fun but it ain’t no way to treat yo woman... dawg

23. Don’t fart in front of her. Or on top of her. Or in her face. Or in bed and then put the covers over her head.

24. Don’t say anything if she accidentally farts in front of you. She’s probably DYING inside.

25. Be respectful to her parents. Both of them. Whether they’re still together or not. And DO NOT swear in front of them.

26. If you expect her to play some video game of mass destruction with you then she can expect you to watch a chick flick with her. Do not roll your eyes or sigh or say ‘as if’ or ‘gay’ or spoil it for her. Just hold her hand. It will earn you massive ‘love’ credits.

27. If she’s silly enough to send you nude photos of herself, do not show them to your mates. Even after you’ve split up.

28. Your erection is not her responsibility. Even if she’s responsible for it. Carry a spoon around in your back pocket if you can’t sort yourself out.

29. When she says "It’s not you, it’s me"... agree and move on. She’s probably right.

30. Do not get a tattoo of any girl’s name. Unless her name is ‘Mum’.

DISCLAIMER: where appropriate, please use ‘boy, ‘he’ and ‘him’ in place of ‘girl’, ‘she’ and ‘her’  ;)

So what do you do?

I went out drinking with the girls and met someone new. Yep, that shit still happens and I like that it still happens. Even though I'm not recruiting. My dance card is full, after all, but it's always a pleasure meeting new people. Except that there's always that one question that gets my back up. You know the one. You've heard it. You've asked it. It's not that it's a bad question. It's not offensive and I'm confident it's asked with the kindest of intentions. But it shits me nonetheless. I fantasise my response to that question all the time and next time, dammit, I'm gonna do it. 

It goes something like this...

"Hi Tania, nice to meet you. So what do you do?"

What do you mean, what do I do??

Are you referring to how I spend my days? Because that’s easy.

I have two sons. I play. I teach. I nourish. I discipline. I give in. I despair. I complain. I crave sleep. I cuddle. I clean up. I cook. I clean up again. I shop. I can’t wait for their father to get home. I negotiate. I love. I scowl. I laugh. I learn. I wash. I yell. I listen. I rejoice.

Or are you referring to how I unwind? 

Well, that would be enjoying a glass of wine in the quiet. I read. I watch really bad tv and am addicted to Grey’s Anatomy. I do Facebook. I write. A blog. A journal. An sms to a friend. I drink coffee. I sit by the fire and listen to the rain. I lay in the sun by the pool while the boys try their hardest to splash me with their ‘epic bombs’. 

Sorry... maybe you’re asking about what I do to energise myself? 

I socialise. I talk on the phone. I make skype dates with my interstate friend. I go out drinking with my local friends. I listen to music really loud. I have people over to my home for dinner, drinks, coffee, talking, gossiping, swimming and chats. I create opportunities to laugh.

I dance. 

When I was growing up I had the 'cool mum'. She dressed cool, hung out with cool friends, listened to cool music and was an AWESOME dancer. Mum would often, I mean really often, put the music up really loud and dance around our tiny lounge room. Sometimes she'd get my brother and I to join her, other times we'd just lose her for 3 minutes. Now, as a Mum myself - I get why she did that. It is the one thing that simultaneously relaxes and energises me. When I was growing up, Michael Jackson was black and he ruled our stereo for a while. This definitely IS NOT a Zumba body and I may or may not have done a little bit of a wee when I was dancing around... I am, after all, a 40 YEAR OLD MOTHER OF TWO who never really committed to pelvic floor exercises :-/ 

This is me, tipping my proverbial hat to Mum...

 

Oh no, wait! You must be referring to how I earn money.

I work.

What do YOU do?

10 Parenting Rules – and I broke them all

Confession. 

I was one self-righteous, know-it-all bitch Before Children [BC]. It’s true. I knew it ALL. Anything wrong with a kid? It’s their mum’s fault. Sometimes their dad’s. But mainly mum... because she CHOSE the dad after all. In my, far from humble, opinion parents were entirely responsible for everything their kids did, thought, said and broke. 

And I knew WHY. Those parents didn’t FOLLOW THE RULES. There are rules in parenting that will guarantee a perfect child. Simple rules that I would often remind parents, even when they hadn’t asked, to help them. To guide them. To fix their brat.

Rules I swore to myself I would uphold. As the perfect parent embarking on raising the perfect child. *Insert wild, unhinged laughter here.

#1 - I will not use a dummy

It took me less than a week to let go of that one. Oh sweet, sweet dummy. How I loved the feel of you in my hand as I groped in the bassinet next to the bed under the blanket of darkness in the dead of the night to plug the screaming hole of my first born son. I brought a packet of them to hospital when my second son was born. I BEGGED him to take it. I tried every shape and size, even coating them in breast milk to TRICK HIM INTO SUCKING IT. Be careful what you wish you for. Turns out with number two I WAS the dummy. Take that you pious bitch.

#2 - My child will never sleep in the same bed as me

It's the second night of my life as a new mum and the midwife offers to take my screaming newborn to the nursery with all the other babies so I can get some sleep. 'Ok' I said as I watched her wheel him out of my room, ripping my heart out as she did. He was gone 15 minutes before I went to get him. This is how Mark found me when he got to the hospital in the morning. I promised myself it was just to get us through that one night.

Ahem. You know that feeling when you haven’t slept for 3 months and you’ve got up so many times in the night that you can’t remember putting the baby back to bed... where is the baby?? Did I feed him last time or just change his nappy? Did I feed on both boobs, or the same one twice? Why is he crying? Shhhhhh... rock, rock.... shhhhhhh... rock, rock.... shhhhhh rock, rock. Oh forget it, just lay next to me. THAT was how I broke rule #2 at home. And how, 8 years later, I simply just move over when I hear the sound of my 5 year old’s bare feet padding down the hall to my room in the middle of the night. He’s warm and cuddly. It gets a bit crowded when the 8 year old joins us every now and then, but I don’t turn him away either. Still feeling smug Tan?

#3 - I will not ‘pick my battles’. Every battle is worth it… and they need to learn that I’m the boss

Aahahahahahahaha. Ow, my sides are splitting. Dear BC TAN. You were an idiot. There are sooo many battles that have never been fought, won or lost here. Yes, you can wear your swim rashy on top of your jumper because it matches your rubber boots to the shop. Why not? Yes, you can take every teddy bear you own to bed because they will be sad without you tonight. Of course. No, you don’t have to eat the toast that I accidentally cut into triangles instead of squares. I understand it doesn’t taste the same. Just don’t cross me at bed time. That’s not negotiable. Most of the time.

#4 - I will not use food as currency to bribe my child

Well... what kind of values does that teach? I never understood the power of a promised [insert biscuit/yoghurt squeezy/ice-block/cupcake/smiley-face biscuit here] to ‘encourage’ a wilful kid to do just about anything really. Parenting Tip: carrying around any number of those bribes in your oversized handbag can make or break a public outing.

#5 - I will only feed my child organic, additive-free food

What?? Best intentions and all that.... My kids actually eat well. I’ve been pretty good at keeping their diet healthy. Additive-free is a stretch though and only organic? I’d have to take out a second mortgage to pull that one off. I have fed them McDonalds too. Oh the shame....

#6 - I will limit my child’s television viewing to no more than 30 mins per day

Oh don’t look at me like that. How was I to know that I would do anything to have an uninterrupted telephone conversation or cook dinner without tiny 'helping’ hands or do a poo on my own or just sit and be quiet?? And with the new ABC stations there’s ALL DAY kids shows WITHOUT COMMERCIALS. The cheapest babysitting you’ll ever find. And you get to have a perve-fest on Sportacus. Eye candy eating sports candy... hmmmmm.

#7 - I will not ‘give in’ to my child’s constant nagging for something at the supermarket cash register

Unless I’m on my own with the kids and everyone looking has a grimace/scowl/frown/look of pain or pity on their faces. Oh wait. That’s every time.

#8 - My house will always be spotless… because that’s all I have to do. Look after my child and clean my house. Easy.

Yes, I’m shaking my head in disbelief too. One time while the tv was babysitting so I could enjoy  one of my uninterrupted phone conversations, my, single, super-neat friend said to me “I spent all morning cleaning and my floors are so spotless you could eat off them” I looked around in despair and replied “You could eat off mine too... ‘cause that’s where all the fucking food is”

#9 - I will never yell at my child. Yelling is just a loss of control reserved for incapable mums

Yes. I was deluded. I yell at the tv when someone’s annoying. I yell at bad drivers on the road and cyclists who forget that they’re sharing the road with bad drivers. I yell at my mum, my sister, my brother, my husband. I yell at the PLAYROOM when it’s in a mess. I yell at weeds when I pull them out and the root breaks off and stays in the fucking ground. I yell at my cupboard if I’m out of coffee. How the hell I thought I would EVER not yell at my kids, who drive me insane, still astounds me. I yell. They look alive. I buy myself 2 minutes peace. They go back to whatever it is. It’s a loud, predictable dance.

#10 - My child will not dictate my schedule. They will fit into my life, not the other way around

Oh.. shut up.

Big dreams in little bodies

It's been a big week for the boys.

School's back and that means the return of routine, early morning, get-ready fights, book covering and reunited friends. 

Nathan is doing cricket, tennis and swimming this term. He also starts pre-season soccer training. He just got back from a weekend away, boogie boarding with his best mate at Middleton. I ribbed him when he got home, his hair stiff with salt and sand still in his eyebrows "So, did you get sick of Charlie while you were there?". He looked at me, simultaneously perplexed and disgusted... 

"Mum. He's my best friend. You don't get sick of your best friend". Boom. 

Nathan's not much of a socialiser, unless it involves sport. So this year, again, he has opted to forego a birthday party for a trip to Melbourne to watch his beloved Blues instead. He's heavily campaigning that Charlie goes too. We've got a couple of months to work all that out but Nathan's a planner. He's really keen to start making some connections at the club because he intends to be drafted before he turns 18. Which, of course, means we will need to move to Melbourne. He understands that it could be difficult for Stefan to leave school though, so he's already in discussion with his Aunty Pauline to move in with her until we're ready to follow him over there. Righto. 

Then, over dinner this week, he announced that it was probably time for him to start working in the family business. Which, of course, is our hope too but we were expecting him to finish school first. He made a reasonable case that he could work part-time and even from home if the business would supply him with a lap-top and a phone. He could help pack wine but he doesn't have a forklift licence, so he probably couldn't do that yet. Mark said he's discuss with the board and get back to him. 

Meanwhile Stefan is, as always, travelling to the beat of his own drum. As he sat at the breakfast bar watching me cook dinner this week he asked when I would allow him to get a tattoo. He thought he might like one on his arm to begin with and thinks a dragon might be appropriate. I've always known his penchant for pictures on his skin as he's been doing his own texta tattoos since he was a baby. I was taken aback though, that he is keen on piercings too. He calls them screws. Screws in the skin. Sigh. 

I told him that we would talk about it later which he seemed to accept. His next request was for a blue mohawk. Are you picturing what I am? My beautiful boy with the sides of his head shaved, a bright blue spikey strip down the middle, a dragon sleeve on his arm and screws coming out of his face. 

I wonder if he will still sneak into my bedroom in the morning, hold my face in his hands and kiss me, whispering 'I love you mum' while he thinks I'm sleeping. 

He has no plan to play footy or live in Melbourne with his brother. He talks about having lunch with me at the Eiffel Tower and he fiercely disagrees with Nathan that Psy is the best singer in the world. "Adele has the best voice. Ever. Even better than Michael Jackson. Because he's dead." He told me, on the way home from a trip to the beach where Mark and the boys did some body surfing in the shallows, that he was going to teach his kids to do that too. "When I'm a Tato [dad], I'll stay with them in the water until they know how to do it. They'll love that Mum. They're gonna love me" 

Time has a way of creeping up on you. It can steal your plans and hijack your dreams and slap you in the face with stinging reality.

I'm excited that my boys can see their futures. I'm proud that they're navigating their way through life and setting goals for authentic journeys. It warms my heart that they value good friendships and understand the important things that parents do and see no shame in loving. 

I just wish that time would slow down a little. 

Am I happy that my sons share their dreams and have these conversations with me? Absolutely. 

I just didn't expect them to be 7 and 5 when they did.

When I was a kid

My kids are bored. It's been CRAZY hot and they're on holidays and they are begging me for more time in front of the tv or on the computer which I'm barely resisting. I'm racking my brain for things for them to do and that in itself is pissing me off. I don't remember having daily activities in place for me and my brother growing up. I don't remember that our time was micro-managed by mum or that we felt she was responsible for our fun. 

I DO remember...

Just going outside and playing with the neighbourhood kids. Some you liked. Some you didn't. It wasn't really important. You just hung out. In the street or someone's front yard.

Taping songs off my records and the radio and making compilation tapes which I would play and play and play again. Sometimes if there was a song that I really liked, I would tape it on both sides of the tape [so I didn't have to wait to REWIND the tape to play it again].

Getting up on Sunday morning, well before the parents, and making ourselves a huge cup of 'chocolate poo' [which was about half a tin of Milo each in cold milk, mixed until it was a deep, chocolate, poo brown] and then quietly playing Monopoly for HOURS. Our board still has 'chocolate poo' drip stains on it.

Riding my bike around the streets. No helmet. No parents. Just the sun and the wind and pedal break skids.

Making a slip and slide out of garbage bags, a hose and dishwashing liquid. 

Climbing the street trees in our neighbourhood and eating the fresh, soft almonds.

Watching Video Hits on Saturday morning and memorising the words and the ground-breaking dance moves of The Nolan Sisters.



Going down to The Broadway at Glenelg beach with the family and spending the WHOLE day there in a group that simply expanded as the day went on. There were no cries of "I'm bored" or "Can we go home yet?" or "Can I play on your iPhone?" In fact, we only spoke to the grown-ups to ask for hot chips or a Paddle Pop. Otherwise we were jumping waves, collecting shells, burying each other, building sand castles, playing beach cricket and turning chocolate brown in the Aussie sun.

Walking in a gang to the local playground and spending hours just... playing.

Collecting envelopes from family and neighbours, soaking off the stamps and putting them into the world's most boring Stamp Albums.

My brother, Jason, and I combining his Star Wars figures and my dolls to create elaborate battles.

Racing cars down the hallway.

Concocting horrendous potions from anything we could find outside and then double-daring each other to eat/drink it .... ewwwww!

Going to Marion Swimming Centre and not daring to wee in the pool in case that special stuff they put in the water would put a bright blue ring around your bathers so everyone would know.

What did you get up to when you were a kid?

Attitude of Gratitude

So, on the first day of December this year I committed to having an attitude of gratitude for a month which I would share with my Facebook friends each day. I didn't come up with the idea myself. I was inspired by The Mums Lounge "Attitude of Gratitude Photo Challenge" because I have been feeling more grateful lately and because, to be quite frank, I like that it rhymed.

I started off slow. A quick photo and something small in my day that I was thankful for. But, as all good things do, it gathered a momentum of its own and my thankfulness became more significant. 

My attitude actually changed. 

The commitment I made to having to stop each day and think of something to be grateful for, during a very busy time of the year, became my calm. I discovered that I have so much to be grateful for and that I have fallen into the well-known trap of taking my good fortune for granted. This month has reminded me to be extremely grateful for my journey in life. For the lessons I've learned. For the losses. For the gifts. For the growth. For the pain and for the joy. It's EASY to get caught up in the rat-race of life, particularly at Christmas time. It's soooo busy and everyone seems to want a piece of you and I have MANY times spent almost the entire month complaining. But this year, not so much. This year when I have caught myself whingeing about.... whatever, I have stopped and said 'Lucky you Tan, that there is space in your mind for such a silly complaint'. 'Lucky you that you do not live in fear. Lucky you that you do not live in pain. Lucky you that you do not live with loneliness. Lucky you that you do not live in darkness. Lucky you that you do not live in silence. Lucky you, Tan.'

I had planned to post something to be grateful for every day of December, but I stopped a couple of days ago. Not on purpose. I was running out of hours in my days and telling everyone how grateful I am was the first casualty of tasks I didn't have time for. I have still stopped every day though. Stopped and thought and felt lighter. And now, in the quiet aftermath of a marathon family Christmas lunch, I have stopped to think about what I am thankful for. And of course, on days like today, there is so much. Family. Love. Tradition. Giving. Eating. Playing. Fun. Togetherness. Sharing. It's almost a no-brainer but I have something more [yes more!] to be thankful for.

Attitude of Gratitude - Days 21-25 (!)

I am grateful for my friends who came along for the ride with me. All of my friends but especially the friends who are otherwise quiet on Facebook but have showed their support by 'liking' my post. It kept me honest. When I realised how many people were listening, it encouraged me to actually say something.

I am grateful for the friends [who I do not 'see' socially but with whom I share my Facebook life] that took the time to comment on my posts. Friends like Di, Riannon, Crawford, Monique, Josie, Mia and Mandy. When I realised how many people were touched, it encouraged me to dig deeper.

I am grateful for the friends who made a special effort to tell me how my Attitude of Gratitude posts had inspired them. Friends like Alischa, Isabelle, Kalyna and Isabella. When I realised how many people were inspired, it encouraged me to share more of myself.

I am grateful for my friend Polly who took my proverbial hand and travelled down the road of gratitude with me. When I realised I was not alone, it encouraged me to stay on the road.

I am grateful.

work-life balance, also known as LIFE

Having it all.

Just saying it out aloud makes me tired. Because I am tired. I've just recently gone from full time mum to working mum and I'm exhausted.

I'm new at this work-life balance thing. Well, maybe not. I mean what is work-life balance if not just life itself?

Working outside of the home, even part-time, IS harder than I thought though. It's quite the struggle to be on top of my game at work and at home and the learning curve is steep. I entered into this new life stage with the same arrogance that I did when I became a mum. "Millions of women do this - how hard can it be?"

Well, a bit harder than I thought as it turns out. I think I'm sucking at it.

I'm not good at doing things part-time. During my interview for my new job my boss remarked on the fact that I had spent the last 8 years raising my boys, at home, full-time. "Oh, you're an 'all or nothing' kind of person". Which I guess I am and I'm finding it tough to work out how to be a part-time home maker and a part-time employee. 

My washing is piling up. My filing is piling up. My guilt is piling up.

This is real and can be found on my spare bed.

I've run out of milk, eggs, bread, butter, cereal. I've missed my son reading at assembly. I've spot cleaned uniform shirts that I forgot to wash the night before. I've handed in forms late and I haven't organised a single class get together [shame on you Class Rep].

But it doesn't stop there. Oh no. I've dropped work balls too. Leaving unfinished jobs and missing things that need to be done.

It's become a lesson in humility. A hard lesson but I'm keen to learn. And I'm happy to share what I've learned so far. And this is it.

Having it all is all about perspective.

Here are 13 things I am grateful for when I am really down on myself for not getting the balance right.

1. Working part-time allows me to maintain my personal objective of never having to put the kids into childcare. 

2. Having a 'day off' mid-week really does feel like a 'day off' and I'm grateful for the quiet.

3. After 8 groundhog years I finally have a weekend again!

4. I feel supported by my family to return to work and this validates my choices.

5. I feel appreciated by my colleagues and it feels so good to be recognised by people, who have no affection for me, as someone worthwhile.

6. Earning my own money again is affirming.

7. I like that my boss tells me that I have 'a brain the size of a planet'

8. My boys see that Mum can work out of the home and do 'important stuff' too.

9. I am challenged again and I will always be grateful for any opportunity to learn.

10. When I drop the ball at home someone else picks it up and sometimes that someone is a 7 or 5 year old boy and that makes me so very proud... even if it's not the way I would do it.

This is how boys 'tidy up' the playroom. Just shove it all into the corner.

11. There's nothing quite like enjoying a homemade cafe latte in the quiet of the home you're working to pay off.

12. I now have 'washing days' and 'grocery days' and they are not my everyday.

13. I look forward to coming home and I can see past the mess and know a family committed to life lives here.

I do have it all. 

And I am grateful to know that.

While you were sleeping

Dear Nathan and Stefan,

So much of my life as your mum goes unseen by you, as it should be but, did you know...

Before I put your clothes in the washing machine I check the pockets. I love the treasures I find in there and line them up in the laundry. Sometimes I find money and I steal it back from you.

When I check on you before I go to bed, I tidy up your covers and push the hair away from your brow and kiss your warm face. 

Sometimes I stand outside your bedroom door and listen to you two talk at night before you go to sleep. The sound of you laughing always makes me smile.

When you're upset and I open my arms for you to come for a cuddle, it's because I need it, not you.

I look at you sometimes and see me.

I remember the feel of your milky baby breath on my face and it makes me cry just a little bit.

When you come bursting in through the back door from playing outside screaming and bleeding and I pick you up and say to calm down, everything's going to be ok - I'm talking to my own panicked heart.

My heart nearly bursts out of my chest when I watch you in assembly and play sport and interact with your mates.

I have spent your whole life watching the expressions on your face and that's how I know when something has happened at school, or someone has upset you or something is on your mind without you saying a word.

I keep your notes to Father Christmas.

I have great expectations of you because I can see your enormous capacity to achieve. To succeed. To love and be loved. I will be your most staunch supporter and harshest critic forever.

Sometimes I look at you and I see my dad and that makes me happy. And sad.

You know how I get very mad at you when you argue back and are disprespectful to me? Well, one day I will tell you that I am proud that you know your own mind already and you have the balls and ability to stand up to me. One day.

Seeing you two hang out together as brothers and friends makes me feel good about the choices I've made.

At night, when you're asleep, your dad and I talk about you. We discuss your behaviour that day and what you've got on that week and what we can do together for fun and what lessons we can teach you and how we can be the best parents possible. Sometimes we fight but it's always for the same outcome. You and us as a family.

I brag about you on Facebook.

Your bodies amaze me. I watch them grow strong and see the muscles develop under your brown skin and I can already see the men you're going to be. I know my days of wrapping a towel around you and drying you off after a shower are numbered and that makes me anxious that I'm running out of time.

People will tell you that your mum is your first love but what you may never know is that you two are the greatest loves I have ever known and I will never love anyone or anything as purely as I do you. Until I take my last breath.

Love Mum xx