While I was out...

Leopard print for the boy!!!!!!!

So I haven't posted anything for about two fat months but they have not been slow lazy sun and sex fuelled months, believe me.

While I was finishing the practicum placement of my teaching degree in Sydney, which involves me teaching four grades of pimply but rather hilarious teenagers for 80 days full time, ten hours weekly commute, $500pw in childcare and fuel bills, no income, student fees and tiresome hard to communicate with lecturers...the media simply did not let up on mothers and mothers kept on bitching about other mothers!

I felt exhausted just thinking of all the problems mothers are responsible for, including that my daughter turned up to childcare wearing wispy Balinese sundresses in the middle of winter because my husband said she wanted it, and that Sue on Puberty Blues had developed a drinking problem and a nasty habit of teenage sex.

The media was busily keeping tabs on the mothers of the world while I was swotting away. August and September saw Jessica Simpson pilloried for not shedding her baby weight in under six months, Kendra defend her by saying she was focused on her baby and couldn't run due to her large tits anyway, some unfamous British personal trainer given a tongue lashing for telling new mums to get a grip and stop getting so fat, and my favourite Kardashian, Khloe, start fertility treatment. Snooki also happily birthed a baby boy and showed him off in a bassinet replete with leopard print blankets. Awww...a must have for every guido baby.

The shock event of the month was when X grade celebrity Charlotte Dawson tried unsuccessfully to top herself after being urged to do so by several 4chan members on Twitter. I mean, this is someone who makes a living being nasty to vulnerable people, which may explain her fragility of self. A feature quite apparent in her shaky psych ward 60 Minutes interview. If 4chan told me to put my head in an oven I'd chide them for putting me in the same literary league as Sylvia Plath.

And even while I was up to my teeth in lesson plans on medieval Europe, Mussolini, women's lib and federation Australia, I still had time to start yet another novel, this time a fan fiction inspired by yet another sex fuelled debut novel, book several flights, organise my daughter's 2nd birthday party (that's an overstatement as there's nothing to organise, just a box of booze, some fairy bread and turn up at Sydney's Palm Beach next week) and read several interesting books to undermine my cultural values including Sex at Dawn, The Sex Starved Marriage, and Mating in Captivity. Darned good reads I will review shortly.

I have nothing of value to add at this late hour in the day. I think the media sums it up best by saying to mums: "if you can't cope with your kids, why did you have them in the first place? YOU made the lifestyle choice, YOU deal with it!!"

On that note, remind me to write something soon on private school mothers, and on darling Khloe and her imminent baby with Lamar, what a treat that child will be, and so dearly awaited.

Don't Blame Mum

The last dress she ever wore

Another baby has died at the hands of her mother, the very person who is supposed to champion her rights above all else.

Why this keeps happening is anyone's guess, but it is an enduring feature of humankind, and our friends in the animal kingdom, that babies die, sometimes often, and often at the hands of their mum or dad.

The biggest cause in modern Australia is depression. The self loathing some mothers feel when they 'fail' to breastfeed or settle their babies is all consuming. The effects of sleep deprivation, a popular and very successful torture technique, combined with clinical depression can be toxic. I do not want to demonise mothers with depression or even try to imagine the horrific combination of factors that could push you over the edge.

What I want to do is mourn the loss of this little child's life, just a baby girl starting her life. Eighteen months is the most adorable age, when grandmothers come up to your little one in the street and say My Goodness, I just wish they'd stay like this forever! Their eyes sparkle with mischief, their little cheeks dimple and their fat rolls are irresistible as they skip ahead of you, tiny versions of their future selves.

This little eighteen month old was deliberately left by her mother to drown in the one place most toddlers adore, the bath. The image of her scrabbling for air, trying to get out, screaming and finally choking in the bathwater is deeply upsetting. She died alone in her own home. After her death, her little body was dressed in a christening gown and she lay next to her suicidal mother for two days before someone found them, or missed them.

It is this image that speaks to the core of what I am constantly concerned about: the isolation of mothers in our harried society and its lack of support for new mums. If they feel like there aren't a lot of options out there, it's because there honestly isn't.

Baby health centres, playgroups, local libraries, modern hospitals and highly regulated childcare centres are wonderful but many of them could be more accessible to mothers. For my baby's first six weeks, for example, I couldn't walk or drive to the shops so couldn't access my baby health nurse. She was also solidly booked weeks in advance. So I didn't find out my baby was losing weight steadily for two months until she ended up in emergency. Some of the reason she lost weight was my low milk supply, something I wasn't given information about because I did not have any lactation support. The complex list goes on.

Our one playgroup is 30 minutes away. There are no support groups, meals or anything to help a new mum without mobility, unlike the elderly. A lot of what is on offer is expensive. And many in our generation can forget about grandparents: our parents tend to be more interested in their next promotion or trip to Europe than their new grandchild.

It's not just lack of governmental and civic support for mums, it's also our cultural expectations on mums and our opinion that bearing children is a lifestyle choice, like being gay (ha ha ha), choosing solar or driving a BMW. We don't berate car accident victims that they shouldn't have bought a car. We don't even tell lung cancer victims they shouldn't have smoked, or diabetes sufferers they should lay off the sweets. So why we tell mothers they shouldn't have chosen to have children when they hit a rough patch is beyond me.

I think it's the old Women are to Blame acorn. Blame the ladies for men's collective inability to retain self control. Blame the rape victim's dress for the crime. Blame the mother who kills her baby for her isolation and untreated depression. "You chose to have kids, didn't you?" is the one thing most mothers really do not want to hear when they are in trouble.

Not to mention the glaring fact that about half of all babies are unplanned (for more, see contraception failure or heterosexual couples having spontaneous sex) so were not actually conscious decisions or choices. And of the babies that were planned, not all of their parents carefully planned on having a child with autism, with projectile vomiting that lasts for 3 months, who screams ten hours straight every day. No. Not many parents happily make a choice to sign up for that! It's a miracle more babies actually survive babyhood considering the raft of pressures on their new parents, and a glowing reflection on the stamina of parents that more are not relinquished to state care. 

So let's think carefully on what we're expecting of new parents and consider how we might as a society offer more support and relief to new parents and activities for young children.

Women's Work is Not Really Work

I'm sitting this morning with my family day carer "Shazza". She takes care of my 18 month old daughter four days a week while I work and study.

A father dropping his daughter off sighs delightedly as the picture of domesticity presented by Shazza sitting in her lounge room surrounded by small kidlets.

"The women stay home while us men go out to earn the money, hey," he comments. Shazza's husband laughs as the men groan about working out in the rain. And admittedly, I don't know any woman that would put up with working in the rain all day.
But I also don't know any man who would be pleased to stay home, stuck, changing over 30 nappies a day for five under fives, all day every day.

I also don't know any man that would be pleased his partner thought she was earning the money while he provided a support role. Because I know this family, and I know that Shazza's income is their bread and butter. Raking in over $1000 a week, their family relies on her childcare work which involves not just childcare but after hours cleaning, meal preparation, planning, activities, education, client relations and paperwork.

So Shazza, who barely has time to change into her tracksuit every morning before her first little charges run through her door and into her arms, merely laughs graciously at this misinformed comment. But I seethe, throwing the father a dirty look and wonder if we'll ever get to a point where childcare is understood to be one of the most important, or even just the most taxing, jobs in the world.

Here is more reading on how misogyny has become an effortless part of our everyday lexicon.

OK so I'm signing off now because tonight I am completing packing for an extended family wedding in Bali. I have spent the past 10 days caring for a very ill child with hand-foot-mouth disease covered in blisters and waking around the clock. After my husband returned last night from Thailand, I then spent the next hours preparing meals and packing for my daughter so she will be fed and clothed while I'm gone. Husband is staying behind with her as we agreed taking her on another international trip is a touch too close to insanity. And we're not willing to go there again.

More posts from The Nanny's Dead when I return. Hopefully I'll procure a nanny in Bali while I'm there. Actually that's an excellent idea.

Pregnant In Heels

Rosie Pope, WTF?

I watch a lot of television. This only started happening about 18m + 9m ago, when I became less mobile with a placenta and foetus inside me, swollen legs, and climaxing blood pressure making me feel like I weighed over 100 kilos. Oh wait, I did. Then, as is usually the case during a uncomplicated pregnancy, the huge belly transformed ineluctably into an alien baby.

Contrary to my hopes and desires, I became even less mobile, with obesity and major surgery recovery, and a four kilo baby to lug around. Add breastfeeding to the pile and I became a TV addict.

I turned to TV as my lifeline and my connection to the outside world. And baby, did she deliver. I ploughed through the entire 1st, 2nd and 3rd series of Teen Mom and 16 and Pregnant, getting parenting tips and pitfalls from Farrah and Amber, learning how to deflect child service investigators and how to recover from breast enlargement surgery with a two year old. the extra expert support from Dr Drew was invaluable.

I was right there with Bentley's toilet training, Leah's parental separation confusion and Caitlin's "Woops I gave my baby away to a complete stranger and now I'll never see her again". I even got right into the second series featuring the hipster Chelsea, off her face Jenelle, workaholic Kailyn and southern belle of disabled twins Leah before getting a serious case of indigestion.

I then consumed entire series of old faves Californication, Dexter, the new Homeland, Revenge (patriotic to Rabbit Proof Phillip Noyce to the end) and Covert Affairs and ending up with half unfinished True Blood and Pregnant in Heels (PIH).

Pregnant in Heels stopped me in my obese tracks.

WTF is a Maternity Concierge? Who are these women? And where on earth did Rosie Pope, God bless her, pick up that bizarre bastardised accent?

And why does every chick show require a gay, preferably black, trickster?

Before exposure to PIH I thought women who had never cleaned, women who insisted on two nannies per baby and women who swore they would never change their new baby's nappy were urban myths. Or, fantasies. My fantasy, to be precise.

Then, lo and behold, I discover entire neighbourhoods in a small, anthropologically distinct island in the Atlantic are packed with women who never smell or even see their own baby's shit. You should have heard my whining. My husband was ready to pack me off to the meat packers district or Noho in an abattoir refuse box.

We watch reality TV to sneak into other people's lives. But watching PIH I was blasted into several truly bizarre scenarios every episode that made Jersey Shore and Real Housewives look like the nightly news. Or a mild case of chlamydia compared to the major herpes outbreak that was PIH.

Suffice to say, it had me on the edge of my seat and I'd give PIH a rating of 9/10 for pure madness. Only in America? I hope not! Give me two nannies any day!

Let Me Stop Right Here

I don't know why men bother with local girls when they can get everything they ever wished for and more abroad. And there are just so many men in Australia with a heart of gold. So many I married a Canadian. To be fair, she's an excellent writer with evocative descriptions, and with hobbies including collecting photos of herself, life could never be boring! Enjoy:
How are you doing and how is your day going? I am Kay Muna, Am looking for a trustworthy man who believes in true love,I am single never been married before,I am looking for a mature man who can understand life with me .I am 28Years old,5.8ft tall. and 58kg.Blond hair,Blue eye and milky white skin and big natural breasts,I don't smoke and i don't drink alcoholic.I don't have kids. 

I am a happy single lady looking for a wonderful man out there .I am looking to relocate someday.I really need someone to make me believe in the right way of life .I am into music and i do lots of coordinating job with a charity firm down here .

I love doing my best .I am looking forward to meet someone with a heart of gold.I am the open-heated girl who likes to take everything that life can offer but to give in return as well! I am active and enthusiastic, I am cheerful and I treat people just I want them to treat me. I 
am attentive and caring, I need to love and to be loved, to bring my future man happiness and joy. 

I am the open-heated girl who likes to take everything that life can offer but to give in return as well! I am active and enthusiastic, I am cheerful and I treat people just I want them to treat me. I am attentive and caring, I need to love and to be loved, to bring my future man happiness and 
joy. I don't like to sit on one place and I am dreaming of strong and friendly family.I love nature very much and I think that to live surrounded by nature is something wonderful. I enjoy music and dancing. I love to take photos of myself which I collect, let me stop right here.

The Nanny Economy

I've never smiled when my kid wrecks my work

I should elaborate on the title of this blog. For me, The Nanny's Dead, not because I don't want one, not because I killed her, but because in my part of the world they cost $200USD per day. So for now, I spend $80pd on childcare.

If it is true that women are starting to out-earn men, and have out-educated men for over a decade, it might be about time for Australia to admit it needs nannies, and at least extend any childcare benefits to nannies.

Everyone thought it was amazing that we got paid maternity leave a year ago, but the $10,000 payment was not really aimed at high earning women and kind of came about 20 years too late. And was rounded off with a litany of insults against women not staying at home and Doing the Best By Their Children. A lot of people in 2012 Australia think that if a woman chooses to have children she has to pay for them - never mind the benefits of raising children. We might as well import all our food (ala Singapore) and import all our future generations.

Better late than never, but let's really get up to speed. Let's look around to see what the rest of the world are doing. There's Canada's thriving nanny economy, which rewards nannies for three years service with residency. I am quite intimate with this particular quirk as my husband's first wife was a Slovakian who had gained Canadian citizenship after working as a nanny for a few years. That's a pretty cool bonus for the working women of Canada. I understand Switzerland and several other countries have a nanny migration system.

I would love to have a Cambodian or Thai nanny but for me to even consider this I must be prepared to pay a minimum wage of $50,000 a year for her to get a 457 visa to Australia.

Is this not a little ridiculous? There are thousands of women in Australia who really want a nanny but don't have a spare $1000pw lying around and are not sure about the visa issues around employing a backpacker. My understanding is you must ensure she leaves your employ, or the country, after less than 12 months.

Which doesn't give you much time to get to know the Nanny. Which would be particularly unfortunate, points out my husband, if she were a hot Swedish blonde.