Dear Mr Latham

Dear Mr Latham,

I only knew of you as 'second best' to our past Prime Minister, John Howard. I have no interest in politics - I'm pretty blind to the happenings in Parliament - and I like it that way. You caught my eye a few years back when you weren't afraid of showing your inner bitch with fellow politicians, calling them names and acting all gangsta-like with Mr Howard. You had me back then at 'arselicker' and calling them 'a conga line of suckholes'. You won my vote.

But then you had to go firing off your ignorant, sexist and uneducated mouth and belittle the women of Australia (sorry, no - not just Australia - the world) with your malignant and antiquated comments about mothers with a mental illness. What an awesome role model you must be to your sons.

I didn't choose to have depression, or anxiety, or psychosis. I haven't made it up to avoid the responsibilities of motherhood. Before having my first child nearly 15 years ago, the signs were there. Circumstances, combined with the chemical imbalance in my brain, led to my illness. I didn't ask for this. I didn't give myself a mental illness or three for the fun of it. Or for the attention. Or for the periodical feelings that make me question my need to breathe.

Did you choose to become a prick, Mr Latham, or did it just come naturally? Maybe it came to you as naturally as motherhood should come to every woman? There's yet to be a medication to treat being a bastard. I know, I checked. However, antidepressants might help you. How about some anti-psychotic medications to relieve you of your sense of grandeur and misogyny?

Your article (which I will call Mark's Guide to Raising Women In The 1950s: A Dickhead's Perspective) must make your mum proud. You suggest that women who need 'neurological assistance' in order to raise children is sad. You suggest that women 'like this' should not have children, and that these children will suffer knowing they were the reason behind their mother's 'pill-popping'. I know I do not and will not stand alone when I say to you that my 'pill-popping' bad habit is the reason why my children still have a mother today.

I have to admit Mr Latham, that I was doing really well before reading your article. I have learned to manage my illness well after 14 years, to know the warning signs, to put in place strategies I have worked hard at to cope with the everyday demands of being a stay at home mum of five kids with a husband who works very long hours. But today, I took your words to heart. You made me feel sick and selfish and guilty for wanting to have children even though I knew I wasn't well. You made me question whether I should return to the workplace. You made me feel wrong for wanting some time away from my children for me. And you are actually right about one of the comments you made - I did choose to have my children. I knew I may have difficult times ahead raising them with this illness, just like thousands of others with their own challenging medical (non-mental) issues. 

I'm damn proud of my children. Damn proud of myself for staying at home and raising them the best I can. And I'll be damn proud of them when they grow up better off for having been taught that mental illness should not be feared nor condemned. That everyone has a story. That with society's support and less people like you in the public eye spewing your offensive and damaging opinions, more people like me will find their voice to shout from the rooftops "I'm crazy and perfectly normal!"

Mr Latham, I'm not angered by reading your comments. I'm disheartened and sad. It's not us mums with mental illnesses who should feel ashamed, but you.

Yours in craziness,

Cut My Milk

To all the mums

I was reading a parenting magazine recently and an article in there made me feel like a rotten mum. It was about how television might not actually be that bad for your kids. It suggested that by the time 4pm rolls around and your four year old's micro-nap is over, a program or two is certainly ok, providing it is an educationally based program with the learning objectives clearly described. I've always thought my children's education through TV has been quite thorough and well rounded. From about 7:30am, the girls have their lessons in Spanish (Dora, The Explorer), mathematics (Team Umizoomi), social skills and listening (Max and Ruby), time management (Tickety Toc), social studies (Bubble Guppies), animal welfare and environmental studies (Go Diego, Go), music (Hi5) and patience and tolerance (having to watch Teletubbies because Baby Scarlett likes it). Then it's bed time. Meals are somewhere in between. But I can tell you they're not organic. Or should even be called 'meals'. They get exercise going to the cupboard for snacks and through fighting each other.

Actually, it wasn't just one article. Everywhere I turn, I feel as though I have, or am in the process of, letting my kids down in the parenting stakes. Too much sugar, not enough water, too much television, not enough exploration of nature. Not fully toilet trained at 3 and a half? What the? Still has a dummy? Are you kidding me? Bad. Bad Mummy.

I know I'm not the only mum, or dad for that matter, who often feels quite inadequate as a parent. Unrealistic expectations are placed on all of us at some point during our parenting journey. Those who are doing it alone, those who put their kids in full-time childcare, those who put their kids in too many extracurricular activities. Hell - even those without kids are being judged about why they don't/won't/can't go down the parenting path. No one can win and there will always be someone who will question what you do as a parent. However, we can only do what we can do. It's time we stopped judging and rating each other on our ability to raise our kids. Are you with me??

I would have loved this piece back when I became a first time mum. And a second time mum. Even a third and fourth time mum. I'm glad I have come across this gem now though, with my fifth child, to reassure me that I am, in fact, a good mum after all.

I wish I knew who wrote this. I would love to give him or her the recognition they deserve. 

I am a good mum.

Mental

To celebrate Mental Health Day yesterday I went out with my kids. We didn't go far. They're mental.

I find the biggest challenge living with a mental illness is living with a mental illness. 

I was diagnosed with severe postnatal depression when Campbell was born 12 years ago and with postpartum psychosis, much like schizophrenia, when Ella was born a year and a half later. It will surprise you to learn that when the twins arrived I was the sanest I've ever been. At least while they couldn't walk and talk. Now that they can walk fast and talk back, and I have my new little gummy bear permanently attached to my left hip, the world has again become mental.

I joined a mother's group when Cam was but a wee ball of butter and was told to put on a smile, get over it and don't go telling people I had a problem. These were mums who loved being a mum, thought breast feeding was the only way you'd bond with your baby and who swore they would never give their child dairy, gluten, egg, artificial colours, sugar and flavour. I hated being a mum, bottle fed my baby and gave him his first Happy Meal at 10 months of age (don't judge me, he was a hungry baby). Campbell loves his mummy.

Feeling under stress and overwhelmed with the whole mother deal lately, I booked the hotel where all seven of us will be staying on our Queensland holiday in a few weeks time. Each year, when my husband takes a couple of weeks off work, we head off on a family holiday to unwind, recharge and make some wonderful family memories. A few years ago, when the Wonder Twins were 15 months old, we loaded up the Grand Carnival and headed off on the three day trek across the Nullabor to visit family in Perth.

We stopped for a much needed brew in Glenelg, SA.
Lily wasn't driving.

A couple of thousand kilometres later, and after a brilliant time spent with my aunt, uncle and cousins, we set off home to Melbourne vowing we would never speak of the holiday again.

Traveling to Perth

Traveling from Perth

But now, in the hazy memory of that long, long, long drive across Australia with young kids, we've decided to play in the enormous theme park that is Queensland. I can't wait to walk around them with Scarlett and overtired overstimulated twins for 4 days. 

Unwound and recharged? Pffft. 

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