What got you talking in 2013

I didn't intend to take a break from blogging. I had every intention to keep on writing through the festive season. I really did. It's just that, life got so busy. Cooking, entertaining, cleaning, recovering by the pool. Repeat. Finding the space and time to write just hasn't been easy. Today I'm getting ready to head down the coast to spend NYE with family friends. It's only the second time since I had kids that we've been invited to someone else's place for new years so I'm excited. I love having people at my home too but sometimes it's nice to be hosted by someone else. 

I've got a couple of blogs brewing for the new year but in the meantime thought I'd put together a list of the ones that got you talking the most in 2013. If you're a new seventies baby [welcome!] this may be a good snapshot for you and if you've been here from the beginning [thank you!] you may remember some of these.

I love hearing from you so if you feel so inclined, please leave me a comment [positive or negative]. You're the second most important person that I'm writing for after all.


The one about my little sister, PIMA...   - this is my opportunity to mentor a young woman in today's world.

The one about the vagina... - guess what? Vaginas are not dirty... despite what marketers will tell you.

The one about my Dad... - sometimes it’s the quiet little memory in the corner, hoping to go unnoticed that, in fact, gets your attention.

The one about the paedophile... - sometimes sick fuckers look like nice guys... and girls.  

The one about my brush with fame... - I could have been Tania Senna. Just sayin'.

The one about obese kids... - what do you do if your kid is allergic to calories?

The one where I give my boys relationship tips... - there's a few mums around that I wish had dished this advice out to their boys. Would've saved me a lot of wasted time.

The one that pissed off a lot of my male readers... - because women can't joke about sex.

The one in which I confess to not liking kids... - judge me if you will. 

The one where I weigh in on breastfeeding in public... - and two of my favourite photos as a mum.

So, that's the top 10 for 2013. Thanks for coming along for the ride... I hope to keep you reading and talking in 2014. 

Happy New Year guys. Stay safe. Stay happy. Love. Be loved. I wish you good times and sleep.

Tan xx

Warring Women versus The Sisterhood

Image source: www.ketzali.com

We are one bitchy, judgemental lot aren’t we?

Every day I read social media updates about mummy wars and women criticising each other for choices made and clothes worn and parenting decisions and food choices. Blogs and articles are constantly being written by women imploring other women to stop judging each other. To give a sister a break. To stop being such bitches. Our own focus on women as crap people is relentless. The negativity that we are imposing on ourselves is endless. It feels like we are all beating the same self-deprecating drum in an effort to show how evolved we are.

And it is true that we are judgemental. Many of us measure our own performance and, sadly, self worth by how we see everyone else is performing or coping or falling apart. It’s not new. We’ve always done it only now, in the information era, everyone knows about it. We used to just bitch behind each other’s backs. Now we post status updates and share articles in a passive aggressive attempt at saying “I’m doing a better job than she is.”

So now that I’ve got that out of the way, let me remind you of something very important about us 'warring women'.

We are a sisterhood. And just like sisters, we are able to bitch and insult and fight and disagree until one of us loses our shit and then we’ve got each other’s back.

Yesterday, I saw three separate women unexpectedly and spontaneously burst in to tears. They all went from smiles to sobs in less than 60 seconds. Each time they were surrounded by women they knew. Each time they succumbed to their emotions because they felt they could. And each time the women in their vicinity moved in with a speed and purpose that only other women understand... because for all our bitchiness and comparisons, we get it. We are all struggling. When we see a sister crumple under her own pressure we are fundamentally compelled to support her. When we see another woman struggle to fight her demons we stand behind her, next to her and many times in front of her. I see women rally for each other all the time. I see it online even more than I see the apparent war of women.

My sisterhood is strong and incredibly valuable to me. It is rich and full of women who represent so many different walks of life. It is diverse in age, culture, politics, religion, sexuality and geography. 

It is my anchor. It is my constant. 

I was raised by a single mum who had an amazing sisterhood. It is in her battlefield that I learnt the lessons of womanhood. It is through her and her friends that I learnt to gather my own army. Watching my mum and her friends navigate life together is where my awe of women began. In fact, from my view point, watching them around the dining room table making cups of tea and smoking cigarettes as they swapped stories and ear-rings, it was almost magical. 

To this day, I find magic in my friendships. My sisters have single-handedly healed gaping holes in my heart. They have saved me a million times from a million different tragedies. They have stood by me through fist fights [real and metaphoric] and I have seen my joy reflected in their eyes and heart  time and time again. I have a friend that calls me crying often and by the end of the conversation, which is sometimes only 5 minutes long, she’s laughing. 

That’s magic. That’s powerful. THAT'S what women do.

And if you’re reading this and thinking to yourself “What are you talking about? I don’t have a sisterhood!” then you’re probably a man OR you haven’t met the right women yet. 

Do not despair, sister. Start close to home and gather your army and in the meantime stick around... 

I’ve always got room for more in mine x

Sister from another mister

I have a little sister. And when I say she’s little I mean she’s 20 years littler than me. I can hear you screaming ‘ACCIDENT!’ but she was planned and the reason is simpler than you may think. My dad died young. My mum remarried. Enter Little Miss PIMA [pain in my arse].

I was the same age as my mum when she had me when Pima was born so my role in her life is one part sister, one part friend and two parts mum. Oh, and twenty seven parts exasperation.

Pima is about to turn 20 which means that as well as having two young sons, I have also spent the last 7 years with a teenage girl under my wing. In my every-day thoughts. Front of mind and under my skin. And I have had the joy of NOT being her mum.

We talk a lot. Sometimes too much. We talk on the phone. We text. We Facebook. We hang out. It’s a relationship high in maintenance, for sure, but rich in reward. Which is not altogether limited to having an amazing, trustworthy and reliable babysitter on hand.

The real reward is in my opportunity to mentor a young woman in today’s world.

It keeps me aware and relevant and stretches my thinking and challenges my knee jerk compulsion to judge. I draw on my own life experiences. My own mistakes. My own successes, fears, dreams and ideals. And from there – I counsel.

Stay at University little sister

No, you cannot have a gap year. No, you cannot defer. No, you cannot change direction mid degree. You will finish. You will pass. You will thank me later.

Stay away from anything you can smoke, little sister

Keep your lungs fresh and your mind healthy. That's all.

Keep your legs crossed, little sister

My generation got all confused about sexual empowerment. We thought it was cool and grown up and enlightened to sleep with who we wanted, when we wanted. We thought it would make us grow and show how liberated we were. We didn’t give enough thought to how that would play out once we actually did meet the ‘love of our life’ or when we became mums or when we joined the parent community of our son’s private catholic school... or so I’ve heard. Anyway, there’s no hurry. Hold off. Don't compromise. Don't believe that 'friends with benefits' is anything other than a crappy Hollywood movie. Wait for a while when you meet someone new. Maybe he's 'the one' in which case you can wait and if he's not, then don't bother. You’ll have plenty of years and plenty of options and just quietly you won’t reach your prime ‘til you’re in your  thirties anyway.

Don’t ink your body yet, little sister

Wait, wait. Wait until you know what you believe in and know who you are. Live in your body a bit longer before you stain it with a cliché that means more to your friends on instagram than you.

Love yourself, little sister

You are bright and gorgeous and smart and honest. You sparkle when you smile and you snort when you laugh. You are healthy. You are a woman. Your body is beautiful. Now. When you were skinnier. When you get fatter. It’s YOUR body. If you love it, taking care of it will be easy. Be comfortable in your gorgeous skin. Be true to your earnest heart. And for fucks sake, pluck your eyebrows.

Be proud to be a woman, little sister

Remember when you were so excited to find your first pubic hair [or was that me?]. It was exciting because it heralded the beginning of your journey into womanhood. Women have pubic hair. Prepubescent girls don’t. Strippers don’t. Sex workers don’t. Real men like their women to look like women. Don’t be sucked into this craze that makes you feel dirty or unclean to look like a woman. I read somewhere that there are some boys of your generation who have never seen a woman with pubic hair and feel ‘repulsed’ at the mere thought of it. Do not date those boys. I will be forced to hold them down and wax their balls and arse myself. Keep your hair down there.

Love your Mum, little sister

I know she’s annoying. I know she doesn’t seem to ‘get it’. I know she doesn’t let you sleep in or have boys in your room or like you drinking. I know. She’s my Mum too. The thing is, when you get older, you’ll realise she was right about sooooo many things. Boys, friends, fashion mistakes, husbands. Your Mum is cool. When she’s not being embarrassing.

Be yourself always, little sister

I know that’s hard. I know you struggle. It comes with the territory. I know you don’t know who you are yet. That’s ok. Be yourself today. And tomorrow be yourself then. If you get confused, come to me. I will remind you of who you are. I will help you see who I see.

Be grateful, little sister

The world does not owe you, despite what your generation thinks. Be grateful for your gifts of health and intellect and freedom and love. Use your gifts to make a difference. To matter. Start with your family. When you’ve got that right, move on to your friends. Once you’ve got the hang of it, the world is yours to make a change. Do not waste your youth and opportunity in a life unlived, unexplored or unappreciated.

Stop using hashtags, little sister

We have a language. It’s called English. Use it. Spell out the words. Use a pen and write the words. Send someone a real card in the mail one day. Words are beautiful. They’re long and descriptive and evoke emotion. Stop abbreviating. It drives me nuts.

Laugh out loud, little sister

Actually live in the moment. You do only live once. Make it worth it. And don’t fuck your life.

Listen to me, little sister

I’ve lived your years. I’ve known your struggles. I recognise your fears. I’ve made [some of] your mistakes. Learn from me. Lean on me. I love you more than you love yourself at the moment. It’s just the way it is with girls. Let me guide you. All I ask in return is that when you become an amazing, love-yourself, authentic woman... you pay it forward.

Oh, and I still need you to babysit.

Love your totes awesome sister and #bff in the whole world,

Tan x