Kids or career? The Herald Sun Opinion

I'm a little late in posting this given this piece by Susie O'Brien was actually published Monday, but when given the choice between career or blog, wine or blog and sleep or blog this week, the blog lost.

First up, I actually would like to eat any angry words that I may have spoken out against the Herald Sun recently. Oh OK, perhaps not all of them, any words written by Andrew Bolt are likely to leave a sour taste in your mouth and should therefore not be consumed, even after being processed into a contradictory argument by myself.

Why? Because the Herald Sun employs Susie O'Brien. And lets her write opinions. I may not always agree with her stance on things, but then again I'm equally as likely to argue with people I actually know. Head over to her blog for some really interesting discussions of topical issues (and some random comments by psychopaths, just to remind you that you're still reading the Herald Sun). Did I mention she has a PhD? Not that that fits with my views that I shouldn't be putting labels on people, but hey, contradicting my own arguments is also a specialty.

This week the issue was about how parents define and prioritise their roles while trying to obtain that elusive balance. This seems to be hardest to do while simultaneously being bombarded with messages from all around about how to do x best.

Living in the country, I recently thanked my lucky stars that I live where I do and am removed from the world of high pressure child classes purely designed to make parents even more guilty that they can't afford the time or money to get them there. 

Sometimes just being outside is enough

As it is, I feel guilty at work, that I have left a little part of me crying at the door of childcare (even when I know that it stops the moment I am gone). I feel guilty at home that I haven't done whatever task I was meant to and I feel really guilty about having fun without my little fish in tow.

This isn't helped by the external pressure from people like the one who complained when a colleague was away with a sick child, saying that she needed to decide what she wanted to be - a mum or a doctor. The lack of insight from someone who was obviously sick themselves was disturbing.

On the contrary, it has been really inspiring to enter the world of blogs and have the opportunity to read the stories of some amazing women out there in an encouraging and supportive community rather than the generally negative mainstream media. It really does give you hope that things aren't as bad as they seem!

So is all our guilt self driven or external? Do we really need to define ourselves in neat little boxes such as a "full-time" versus "part-time" parent as if the role itself stops when we walk out the door in to another barricaded section of life?

I have an aim each day to walk out the door and try and enjoy at least some of what I have to do - whether that is work, play or the stolen joy of a few moments of 'me' time - a necessity in order to remember that it is the sum of the parts that makes up the whole. 

As long as I am happy, and the rest of the family is happy, how I introduce myself to you is irrelevant as it is the package rather than the label that is important don't you think?

I know our music tastes might differ, and I could probably get over the premise of her tv show as an organic vegetarian in Spain (well, no, not really, Spain without meat is just a waste), but I can't get to grips with Gwyneth giving parenting advice.


Even her new year's "Clean" diet makes marginally more sense (I'm clutching at straws here. I'm far too hungry for protein shakes).


In a recent interview quoted in my favourite paper (note sarcasm, although the addition of Mia Freedman helps push it a little in the right direction) -  the Herald Sun, Gwynnie was quoted as saying that women who want to have children should seriously consider being stay-at-home mothers. In between visits to the personal trainer no doubt. 

This is definitely how I look  - just like Gwyn - all the time. Really. Complete with smile...

While I admire the fact that her husband has changed his own work schedule to make it family friendly, blanket statements like these don't help those of us who have to try and make work and parenting balance. Really it's hard enough without having celebrities demonstrating how different their lives are to our reality. That is unless any of you have too much money, oodles of time and an extensive staff, in which case, why don't we hang out at your house for a change. I promise H won't make a mess, maybe....

Home for stories before dinner

In my world however, things are a bit unbalanced today. I'm headachy and tired - it appears I can't sleep without interruption! H did survive his time without me with only a few tears as he searched the house for me this morning (yep, my heart broke a little when I heard that), and he has been a little grumpier and clingier than usual this afternoon (the typical - "I love you, no I hate you, actually I'm not sure, so I'll just lie on the floor and kick a bit until you sort it out for me"). I'm hopeful that tomorrow will me give a few more chances for me to win him back over - at least until the next toddler tantrum.

Yep, the press is against me. No Age delivery today at all. Which is a pity as I really have nothing to rant about apart from that. At least not until Gina Rinehart gets a seat on the Fairfax board. That might change things. At least I'm still in the running for mother of the year given that my child isn't actually taking me to court for cash....

Some might claim that the lack of newspaper delivery is possibly related to the fact we failed to change the credit card details over after the little fish stole the card, (I'm waiting for the bill to check for spending sprees at Toyworld), but I choose to believe that the lack of delivery is the result of a personal vendetta. Apart from trying to hold on to its shares, I'm sure that our paper delivery is next on the Fairfax to-do list.

Waiting for Daddy at the gate - Feb 3 - Hands

Daddy's home!

You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little fuzzy this morning. I appear to have been kicked in the head. Possibly by a margarita, or maybe it was the appletini. I'm claiming last night as me doing my bit for the little people. Like the alcohol retailers. I was getting concerned that their Febfast profit margins may be a little lower, so I thought I'd help them out. Selfless of me really, but I couldn't just stand back and drink nothing. Have to love a mothers group catch up that involves just mothers. And food without interruption. Apart from feeling a little (ok a lot) older than the majority of the crowd by the time we left, it was a fantastic night.  I did spend a bit of time alternating between jealousy of the stick-thin girls and wanting to give them some clothes to put on, but in general I was content with my world. I had the perfect day really, with a small sleep in (it's all relative) and time to myself to get the house / my work in order. Just having that time to myself, to let my hair down a little and remember to breathe made me feel a little bit more like me again.

Feb 2 - Words (a wine bottle)

It's not that I'm not me when I'm being a mother, but when my mind is full of work tasks, home tasks and "mum! mum! up! up! up!", you can tend to forget what actually makes you happy in the world. I don't miss the late nights out (only a little) or the music festivals (way too hot to contemplate this summer!), but I miss spontaneity and the option to look at something you want to do and then be able to do it without a military effort of organisation.

It's such a conflict though, cause I miss my little shadow when he isn't there and I'm really not looking forward to leaving him for the night next week. I think until there are more hours in the day or I'm cloned, I'm probably not going to feel balanced, but sometimes all the little pieces of life fit together for a moment or two and they are the ones that you need to seize and remember to enjoy for what they are rather than getting caught up in what they could be.

The last of the summer roses

I feel like I've been back and forward in time over the past day. Time travel really wasn't on the agenda for a short break away, but as usual in my life, my agenda never quite balances with reality.

So, heading in to the sun, down the western highway we went. It was hot enough in the car, and I had no enthusiasm for being outside during our breaks. Initially I thought I was hallucinating in my half drowsy state (this is why I don't do the long drives!) when up popped a stormtrooper! In the middle of desert-like outback, he was quite at home, pushing along his provisions in the heat. I kept expecting to see more pop up in some kind of pre-Australia day takeover of our nation, but my husband brought me back to reality and explained that he was doing it for charity. Turns out he is doing a troopertrek from Perth to Sydney to raise money for the starlight foundation. He's hoping to get to $50 000 and is nearly at his goal with quite a lot more walking to do, so stop by his site if you feel like donating to a fabulous cause.

So now, backwards.....

I promise I'm not referring to Adelaide, or South Australia, both of which I quite like! We did have to go back in time half an hour to get here, but the thought of having half an hour less on Saturday kind of tempers my excitement about the day suddenly having more time in it.

It is more that all my first memories of South Australia are as an eight year old when we came to visit family, and so in a similar way that staying at home with my parents makes me revert to behaving like a teenager, I revert back to wanting to be a child (or possibly behaving like one). I had a pastie with sauce and an egg custard tart from a country bakery (please don't count my calories - the equations will hurt you) and had to have a banana milk to go with them 'cause that is what we did'. I bounced on a see-saw at the playground and will admit to asking more than once "are we nearly there?" - so much more grown up than "are we there yet?" - I promise!

Our motel room took me back in time to the pre-smoking ban as it appears that the room has held on to the aromas of that past endeavour, but in true 60's glam style, it has its own muzak stereo system (I haven't checked to see if it plays "the girl from ipanema"), and it was set up with its own bar, not a mini-bar, but a high bench bar that you felt you should be sipping martinis at. I would have been happier with a low bar and high door handles as Hamster the escape artist saw a chance at freedom and ran for it....

I think the best thing about having kids is the fact that occasionally, (or really quite often, but I was pretending to have some decorum), you get to behave like a child. Uninhibited joy and excitement is underrated in adult life. So today, my plans involve playing on the Milo lawn at the cricket, jumping up and down with anticipation at the zoo (in a quiet restrained manner so as not to scare the animals) and possibly a quiet glass of something cold as the day draws to a close. Ok, so that last activity may not be from my childhood, but being a kid (and a parent) is exhausting and rest is essential!

Happy Australia Day everyone!

The time is coming soon where I will have to leave Hamster at home without me for the night for work. Even though I am certain the separation will be harder on him than on me, it makes you doubt what you are doing, both at home and work.


Ahh... mother guilt - endless!