Posts Tagged ‘Family’

THE Wait

Wednesday, February 24th, 2010

I hate it. You probably do too. I think I hate the wait more than the requisite pissing on the stick. You know the wait I am talking about. It is the oh-god-I-think-my-life-might-change-in-a-millisecond-once-this-5-minute-wait-is-up wait. If you are a sexually active woman, you have probably experienced this wait at least once. I mean, no contraception is foolproof, right?

Patience really isn’t one of my virtues. Dealing with whatever happens, when it happens I’m great at. It is the damned limbo style wait between the ‘Hmmm something isn’t right here’ feeling and the little blue line appearing, or not, that I don’t cope well with. I find this wait utterly excruciating. I mean I only ever experience this wait IF:

  1. My period is absent
  2. I am feeling ‘off’ AND
  3. My body is doing something else weird like say making my breasts super tender or falling asleep in the middle of the day for no reason at all AND
  4. I have suffered the indignity squatting over the toilet trying to catch my suitably concentrated urine in a cup or on a teeny-tiny super absorbent strip

Worse than the list of crap that actually goes into making you consider the possibility that you might be pregnant (whether this is a shocking surprise or eagerly awaited news) your life flashes before your eyes in those 5 minutes in a way that the potential baby-daddy can never imagine. He doesn’t think about stretch marks and mentally say goodbye to his body ( a survey found that 86% of new mums felt more attractive before pregnancy than after), he doesn’t immediately panic about his career, cringe at the thousands of nappies he might have to change or lament the nights out he will miss and the alcohol he will have to abstain from. His life gets more complicated but, generally, also more respected. Other than the potential changes to his sex life (which I guarantee you he isn’t thinking about yet) he skips out on most of the sacrifice.

Being that I am one child down and one child to go in my childbearing plans, I expect that I will experience this wait again many a time. (A prospect I am only willing to face because I know how amazing motherhood can be.) To those who experience the dreaded wait only to find the test negative, my advice is to have a drink. Have a few actually to wash down the sushi and soft cheese you will be eating before you do something physical like paint-ball or rock-climbing, then have a great nights sleep and a sleep-in followed by a double espresso. You may not know it yet, but you will miss these when the line does go blue.

Lets talk about…Housework

Sunday, February 21st, 2010

Ironic that of all the unspoken ‘women’s business’ to discuss I begin with one of the backbones of the Feminine  Mystique. I can see the eyes roll – she thinks housework is more important to discuss than maternity leave?!? You may think that housework is not a real issue for women these days.  Well, the research says otherwise. Somehow housework as made it onto the list of things that aren’t discussed and our relationship to our domestic chores have gone largely unexamined.

Did you know that in a recent study women responded that 24% of all arguments with their live-in significant other are about housework? Did you know that multiple studies have shown that the level of love, affection and equitable division of household chores is the single best indicator of whether a committed woman will feel satisfied in her relationship?* And after 7 years of marriage those couples with high levels of egalitarianism also had high levels of sexual desire.**

So whilst housework itself might not be important, happy relationships and sexual fulfillment are. As corny as it sounds every new mother knows the easiest way into her pants is by doing the dishes and every smart man knows he has far more chance of a happy woman when he isn’t leaving his shit around and not lifting a finger to help. I am not saying that household chores need to be divided down the middle. I know a lot of households where that simply wouldn’t work. I also know a few women who, by choice or necessity, have help around the house. Ironically, justifying and accepting domestic help was difficult for these women (and not their partner’s).

I know the state of my house, be that immaculate or not, has a direct effect on how I feel about myself as a woman. Crazy I know, but it’s true. I will actually race around and tidy the baby’s toys when I get the call that surprise company will be arriving in 10 minutes, as opposed to putting on makeup. That doesn’t sound right to me, but I just can’t help it. I feel more affection for my partner when he is tidying the kitchen or ironing (and that isn’t just because I ruin everything I iron).

I am not advocating any particular arrangement or judging how anybody keeps their house in order (or not). I just think it is about time that we put housework back on the agenda. So, what is your domestic experience? How have you tackled housework in your life? Do your domestic duties hold you back? Do you feel judged by the state of your house? Are you happily house-proud? Do you judge your girlfriends by how tidy their place is when you drop over? I would love to hear your thoughts.

* ** Sexual Satisfaction in Committed Relationships

The laundry list of unspoken topics

Thursday, February 18th, 2010

By nature these experiences fly in the face of the accepted bounds of womanhood. They aren’t expected of the innocent maiden, the loving wife or the nurturing mother. And let’s face it, society at large still has some difficulty dealing with femininity outside of those roles. These experiences have often been ascribed to the ‘undesirable’ facets of womanhood; the unmarried, the lecherous, the wild and the mysteries of our reproductive organs. In reality making these experiences taboo or unspoken is destructive, riddling our female psyche with guilt, shame, inadequacy and fear.

So in the interest of catharsis, inspired by a few honest and relieving conversations recently with my girlfriends, here are some experiences I think belong in a guide-book for women;

  1. Foreplay isn’t optional.
  2. Masturbation isn’t wrong. Getting to know what feels good is incredibly important.
  3. Using a vibrator too often can actually desensitise you to orgasm with a real penis.
  4. Watching porn isn’t just for guys. Well maybe porn is, erotica isn’t.
  5. Despite the foreplay and knowing what feels good, sometimes your juices simply wont flow. And that’s ok.
  6. You may hate your period, but trust me you will miss it when it is gone.
  7. Breasts can leak. And not only when you are pregnant or breastfeeding.
  8. Rape is never, ever your fault.
  9. Your body and emotions are intricately linked. Emotions (and the hormones they release) change your skin, hair, breasts, vagina and more.
  10. Many women get very amorous during their period.
  11. Just because you are in a relationship doesn’t mean you aren’t attracted to people other than your partner.
  12. As wild as your youth is, you probably wont regret it as you get older.
  13. Women have a ‘hens’ or ‘bachelotette’ party for a reason; it is scary to think of farewelling your singledom and loving only one person forever more.
  14. It takes work to keep the fire alive in a long-term relationship.
  15. Labour can be a sensual experience, some woman reach orgasm giving birth.
  16. Labour involves blood, a number of people looking closely at and physically inspecting your vagina.
  17. Motherhood doesn’t automatically bestow infinite patience.
  18. Bonding isn’t instant. It is a process. Postnatal depression isn’t a choice or your fault.
  19. Breastfeeding isn’t always easy and bottle-feeding isn’t wrong.
  20. Breastfeeding in public is simply feeding a child. Nothing more, nothing less.
  21. Sometime mothers resent, dislike and tire of their children.
  22. Sometimes mothers love one child more than the other/s.
  23. It isn’t easy to consistently put the needs of a child before your own. At times it is soul crushing and gut wrenching.
  24. Peri-menopause typically lasts 7 to 10 years. So can post-menopause. It can be a 15 year ride ladies!
  25. Menopause is supposedly the single day where you haven’t had a period of 12 months.  Sometimes your cycle will resume even after a break of more than a year.
  26. Menopause can actually cause ‘shrinkage’ of the vulvar and vagina, which can lead to painful sex.
  27. The first thing the Dr will ask you when you go to see them about menopause is “tell me about your mother’s experience…” So… go talk to your Mum!
  28. After Menopause your vagina is considered a ‘use it or lose it’ situation. Sex increases blood flow to the area and keeps your vagina healthy, and boots your immune system.

So what have I forgotten? What do you wish was talked about before you discovered it the hard way?? I would love to hear your experience.

Three Reluctant Cinderellas

Friday, February 5th, 2010

I grew up very cynical about love, and men in general I guess. Marriage to me was an outdated institution that held no real meaning or value any more (I mean women can own property now and all). Most people exchange their ‘I do’s’ oblivious to the irony that family or familia originally meant ‘the totality of slaves belonging to any one man’. Without dredging up the old revolutionary rhetoric of my youth it suffices to say that a marriage certificate was never on my to do list.

It seems that about 6 months ago the world turned on it’s axis. And pigs flew. And hell froze over. Cupid took control and wreaked his special kind of havoc in our lives. Not just mine, but the lives of my best friends as well. Under cupid’s rule we were thrust into the center of a delicious kind of chaos that we each dreaded and relish at the same time; Love. Romantic love.

None of us are particularly sappy women. I would happily walk through the valley of death with these two women because I am confident that the three of us would be the baddest crew in the valley. None of us are untouched by tragedy or sacrifice. We don’t play the fool, the damsel or the victim and none of us ever believed the hallmark ideal or in happy endings. But it seems as though we will play Cinderella despite ourselves.

Six months ago I set a wedding date. No need for congratulations, I had already been engaged for over 3 years at that point, I just finally bit the bullet and decided to go through with it. Around the same time one of my best friends walked away from an AMAZING career and chose another path, which has led her though a whirlwind romance with a wonderful man. I mean she has been hired twice, sight unseen, on the strength of her resumé alone and yet has flourished despite her career being demoted in her list of priorities. And just last week my other BFF replaced her 10 year title as ‘Girlfriend’ with the shiny new one ‘Fiance’ despite never expecting to marry her wonderful beau.

I don’t know where cupid is going with all this, and I can’t speak for the others, but I hope that I manage to make my wedding something meaningful to me. Something that reflects my relationship with myself and my partner. I won’t be saying ‘I do’ but instead agreeing to kick his sorry ass when he needs a reality check and promising not to walk away when our ugliness comes out, which it inevitably will in a long-term relationship. I hope in those few minutes before we walk down the aisle (my friends are also bridesmaids, of course) that I don’t feel alien in my Ivory dress and my Cinderella moment, but instead feel the dawning of a new age; where fulfilled women choose evolved relationships with worthy men.

Bleeding Heart

Sunday, January 31st, 2010

I have been called a soft touch more than once. I cannot bear to see harrowed anguish on somebody face, let alone hear it in their voice or cry. Watching someone bleed or writhe in pain draws a physical reaction from me. I cannot help but do something, even if that something is pray.

I have always been this way. I was the toddler who soothed other children at the park, took pity on and played with vagabonds on city benches and who always shared. To this day if I am asked for small change on the street you get no judgement from me but you do get whatever coins I am carrying. I am no fool, but feel that pain, shame and despair should be alleviated if at all possible.

As such motherhood hasn’t been an easy road to walk for me. I am not sure it is for anybody. If compassion isn’t your strong suit, then parenthood will definitely change that. Not a parent? I have heard parenthood described as having your heart outside your body walking around under it’s own steam. From experience its and accurate description. It is as though they are still wired into your nervous system and you actually feel the child’s pain.

Knowing there is nothing you can do, or being intellectually aware that what you are doing is in the child’s best interest, doesn’t make it any easier to hear them crying or calling your name. Yes baby, Mummy is aware it upsets you. And for the record it does make my heart bleed every time you cry. I only hope you feel my love and forgive me one day. Now cuddle teddy and go to sleep.

No right answer

Friday, January 29th, 2010

Life isn’t all rosy. I have front row seats at the moment to some awful melodramas playing out in the lives of my loved ones. Sometimes life is hard. The choices we are forced to make are harder;

How far are you willing to go for family?

How many times can you turn the other cheek?

How long can you keep your head buried in the sand before you are ready to face the fire that is coming close to burning your arse?

When is it advisable to run? How long do you stay away?

How much are you willing to change and sacrifice for love?

When is letting the other go a better option?

When do we decide to stop being victims of our parents and take responsibility for our lives?

How to react when someone changes the rules of the game?

How do you plan when you are on borrowed time?

How do you balance the needs of the other with your own?

How far would you go to protect a loved one?

The more I watch the lives around me the clearer it becomes that no-one has the answer. Everybody’s advice sucks, especially mine. We cannot know how it feels to talk in the shoes of another and we don’t want to know the deepest secrets of their heart. We may not always understand why people do what they do, but that isn’t our role. We are not here to judge, to assess, to evaluate, to blame, to make someone right or wrong. Our concern is to do what we must, as they do what they must. No more and no less. It gets muddy and confused and the lines blur. Nothing much we can do about that. No two will ever see eye to eye, but that doesn’t mean we aren’t in this together. Life doesn’t discriminate.

What I know for sure is that there is no right answer. There is just the choice you make at the time.

Musings on Grace

Monday, January 18th, 2010

I firmly believe that it takes a village to raise a child. In a ‘village’ children grow up at the feet of elders, learning vital lessons. Adults in a ‘village’ mentor and teach adolescents, instructing them in the skills and knowledge that they will need to contribute to the village in adulthood. Sadly I feel that my generation grew up largely without that village. This is not a criticism of our for-mothers; they were focused on creating a society where we (as women) would be valued as equals. It is because of them that we have an opportunity now to instruct the daughters of our new ‘village’ in all the skills of an adult and not just half of them.

As a result of growing up without the village microcosm we are drastically short of role models we can aspire to emulate, again not because our mothers are not ‘role models’ but because our paths are likely to be very different to theirs. Young women are in search of mentors and are coming up short. The ‘self help’ genre is growing exponentially as women reach out for help, desperately craving guidance and support.

I am fortunate in that I have had the loving guidance of mentors throughout my journey thus far. There is no substitute for experience; lessons only become permanent when one has lived them and been transformed by the experience. But the transformation isn’t automatic, the generation of women who repeatedly turn to inappropriate relationships, emotional eating and ‘retail therapy’ are a testament to that. The disconnect is that the skills necessary to courageously face life, walk towards our dreams and learn from adversity were the ones we never learnt at the feet of our elders.

We identify women of grace that we wish to grow like, but lack the vocabulary to identify what it is about their person that we value. The closest words we have to describe what it is we want are; beauty, respect, success and charisma. So we blindly stumble in search of what we think will bring us these; physical ‘perfection’, celebrity and the adoration of men. But we have the cart before the horse. Celebrity (lasting celebrity and not infamy) and adoration are the by-products of a life lived gracefully with purpose.

The deceptive nature of grace is that it ‘appears’ effortless. It seems as though it is a gift bestowed at birth when it is an attitude and a set of skills. Grace is a carriage, a way of being, that has nothing to do with external beauty. Though a graceful woman does possess a ‘glow’ that is often mistaken for, or perceived as beauty. There are guidelines, tools and secrets that graceful women live by and demonstrate, that when applied to our lives, transform them as though they have been bewitched by a fairy godmother’s wand.

This year I am working on embodying grace a little more… what about you?

My peace with discipline

Monday, December 28th, 2009

I have always thought discipline was over rated. Perhaps because I have been surrounded by military men most of my life, I have always seen discipline as soul crushing and authoritarian. My mother taught me to question everything and to rebel if need be. (Funny story; I spoke to my Mum about that advice the other day and she laughed. Apparently she had never said that, but that was the meaning I took from her philosophy of not treading the trodden path. Anyhow…)

Growing up I hated the idea of being a sheep. The thought of just ‘swallowing’ what the authoritarians around me were serving up was horrifying. The irony is that I just ended up following alternative, self-appointed, authority figures instead. The discipline enforced by authority figures really is soul crushing. It makes no difference whether you choose the disciplinarian or not. Discipline enforced externally it is cheap.

Now that I am a parent, I have begun to understand the importance for discipline. No, I am certainly not one of those mothers who you see smacking her child (publically or privately), but my toddler needs a firm word every other minute or so. At 18 months he is already finding and pushing boundaries and I find that he is comfortable when he knows where the line in the sand is.

So, I think I have finally made my peace with discipline. Self discipline is an enriching quality that builds our confidence. It reminds us we are capable of good judgement and committment. It helps us remain strong in the face of uncertainty. Self discipline keeps us true to our inner compass. Genuine authentic external authority is similar. It helps us to develop the capacity for self-discipline and to decide where our own personal boundaries are. But authority and discipline for the sake of it simply crush the soul.

My goal for me is to cultivate my self-discipline by following my better judgement. My goal for my son is to always and only embody authentic discipline for him, and not to crush his burgeoning spirit with unnecessary rules.

How I failed as a liberated woman (Google first and shoot second.)

Monday, December 14th, 2009

I am a strong, independent woman of the 21st century. I am a card-carrying feminist. Don’t believe me? Ask anybody who ever jokingly told me to ‘get back in the kitchen’, or anybody who so much as mumbled a chauvinistic comment around me since I was 5.

Yes, you heard me 5. There is a story my parents enjoy telling of a christmas party that I attended when I was a child. My father was in the Navy and at the time he was working with Navy divers. Now, just to fill you in Navy Divers are crazier than cut snakes. Men only join the clearance diving team if they are over the top mucho wankers with waaaaay more brawn than brains. So back to the christmas party. This diver spilt a beer on me and my pretty party dress. When I asked him to apologise (as would be the civilised thing to do) he made a comment about not apologising to a ‘little girl’. Let’s just say that he didn’t live down the dressing down he received from a 5-year-old ‘little girl’, until he got his new posting.

My history of fearlessness and standing on my own two feet started early, and it only got worse as I got older. In year 6 I was reprimanded for highlighting the plight of women in Saudi Arabia in my turn of show and tell. My show was the book Princess and I read aloud carefully selected excerpts, which the teacher deemed ‘inappropriate’. In year 7 I was sent from the room for asking my religion teacher the position of the Church on teenage prostitution in Australia. And by year 10 I was already a member of a political organisation, only responding to the title ‘comrad’ and espousing a lecture to anybody who greeted me with ‘you’re looking good’ because how fucking sexist is it that the first comment we make to women (not men) is that their physical appearance is pleasing!

Now let us fast forward to the failure my 5-year-old self would have kicked my arse for.  I have never been good with bugs. Or dirt for that matter. I have always been a bit of a girly girl ( no, the irony is not lost on me) and I freaked when there was a hornet, in my living room. In a nano-second I had nothing but adrenalin coursing through my veins. Because this hornet was HUGE! And also, my baby’s Daddy is allergic to wasps and bees. So there is every chance my baby could have an anaphylactic response to a sting AND since we are at home without a car, such a response could be fatal. Or at least this was the train of thought that was on constant loop in my mind. So you understand why my body chose flight over fight.

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This could have been a perfectly respectable Mamma bear protecting baby bear situation, but it quickly degenerated into a farce. I grabbed the baby and my blackberry (the weapon of the 21st century) and ran into the hall trapping the hornet in the living room & kitchen. Then I was afraid it would make a nest for itself in the toys or the couch. Imagining scenes of me returning to the room for food and water, only to be exposed 360 degree to the wrath of the hornet, I opened the door a crack to spy on it. Then I made a few calls for advice. My mother, from whom I inherited my feminism, could do nothing but laugh and tell me to ‘squish it’. Thanks Mum, I hadn’t thought of that. My Nan advised me to hit it with a broom. When I advised her that I didn’t have a broom, she was too busy trying to figure out ‘what kind of woman doesn’t own a broom’? and forgot all about the hornet. My Aunt had no advice at all, but she did decide to buy me a fly swatter for christmas. Woot!

I rallied my courage, donned a long sleeve shirt (in case it tried to sting me as I squished it) and snuck back into the room armed with a shoe. I was sure I could do it. I mean I faced my fear of heights by abseiling, I faced my fear of snakes by petting a python and I managed to make it through labour in a meditative state. I can be both hunter and gatherer. I am woman hear me roar!

Minutes later I ran screaming from the room and called for my partner, in tears, to come home and kill it. Which he did. = Fail.

I learned multiple lessons from this failure:

  1. Australia has Hornets (who knew?) Australian Hornets are non-agressive nectar eating creatures that only sting to paralyse caterpillars to feed their young.
  2. Ignorance is the root of all major fuck-ups. The better you understand your enemy (read situation, person or stinging insect) the more likely you are to find a reasonable solution without degenerating to tantrums or violence. In short Google first, shoot second.



Overwhelm… how I hate thee

Wednesday, December 2nd, 2009

If you are female aged between 21 and 50 I would bet my last TimTam (Amazing Australian biscuit) that you know the feeling well. Overwhelm, yuck!

It usually goes something like this – Work is hectic or the baby is teething, or both. AND you are stressed about one or more of the following; buying a house, planning a wedding, coping with a pregnancy, studying, planning an event, paying the bills, cleaning the house, making it to the gym, navigating family issues, launching your company, keeping in touch with friends and getting more than 5 hours sleep a night.

The more you do the more rest you need and the less time you have to get it. Usual rest periods like the commute or having a coffee we are ‘plugged in’ with the iphone making us contactable and on 24/7.

With the festive season just around the corner, the craziness will only get worse. Much worse. To the usual overwhelm we can add; double the social engagements, hangovers, present shopping, credit card debt, the mad rush at work to get everything done, being short-staffed as people take holidays, the final 4 weeks to achieve our goals for 2009.

Try these this silly season, to reduce stress, keep calm and enjoy your friends and family:

  • Make a list of priorities. Use it to guide which events you attend, who you catch up with and how you spend your time.
  • Instigate a ‘day of rest’ each week. On that evening do only things you really love, that fill you with energy like, bubble baths, movies, a meal in, a slow walk outside etc.
  • Make a christmas list and keep it with you. It will make present shopping easier.
  • Create a christmas budget and stick to it.
  • Have a maintenance weekend in the first weekend of December. Clean the house, get a manicure/pedicure, facial, waxing, haircut etc to prepare you for parties and guests for the rest of the month.
  • Aim for balance on a weekly basis. It may not be possible to go to the gym, work and a function, run errands and spend time with family all in a day. Spread it out.

What do you do to beat overwhelm?