Post 70

Post 70

I love interesting conversations. I had an interesting conversation yesterday with a friend that I don’t see often enough. We spoke deeply and opening about being a woman, wife, and mother. We spoke about family that is not blood but make us feel loved, connected and part of something important. We spoke about what we do for our families and friends. We spoke about dreams that we don’t know we want and being the peacemaker.

As I drove home I was thinking about the conversation. I was thinking about how women are the backbone and guiding force in families. In what ways women are the strength and the peacemakers, times when women placed others before themselves. Women are the cultivators of friendships, relationships and support to family and friends. How a woman’s vibe and energy influences the people around her. Women are the ears, eyes, heart and mind of her tribe.

I spoke about wives and mothers to an elderly Italian lady, and she told me about her 60 years of experience of marriage and child rearing. Go about it quietly darling. My husband thinks that he is the backbone of our family, pffft, I let him think that. Never underestimate the power of seed planting, she told me and patted my hand. I am the one that has made the decisions when it has come to our home, our children and family. But I have done it quietly, this doesn’t mean I haven’t fought and stood my ground, that I haven’t had to be creative, when I want my own way. And men can be stupid. She told me how they are happy in their marriage, comfortable in their finances, how she has a close knit family and friends, how she volunteers, she is active in her community and she can be happy at the end of her life that she has been kind and helpful.

I haven’t been back on social media today, after I got caught up reading one thread this morning, where women were being absolutely vile to each other and tearing each other apart because of the way they voted in the US election. At the end of the day we are all women and this was no way to treat a fellow human. There was one comment about how there will never be world peace now. It made me shrink my mind to my little world. My family and friends the people that are important to me, my work and my home, the things that I enjoy and the dreams that I have. I try to be kind and thoughtful, I make a point of hearing what people are saying. This is where world peace starts – with yourself. I have a key chain on my car keys – Be the change you want to see in the world. Women know how to connect people, build families and communities, women do have influence and will be the change in the world.

End of post 70

I opened bank accounts for boy 1 today. I set strict rules for his finances and he is excited to see his money grow.

Feature photo shows my new hair.

Womens choices – you can do anything but not everything.



It has been brought to my attention that I have chosen quantity over quality.


I am a wife

I am a mother

I have a household to run

I have extended family

I have lots of great friends

I am working two jobs

I am studying

I am trying to write consistently and regularly

I am trying to practice yoga daily

I am trying to be all that I can as a woman.

It would seem that I am spreading myself thin, trying to do everything and only doing a half assed job of it all.   I have had a shitty week, with this dilemma. I have been emotional, angry, ugly, determined, motivated, tired, and defeated. I have wanted to stand out in my yard and scream a big “fuck you” to the world. I also wanted to curl up in a ball on my bed and wail like a baby.

Well isn’t this a first world problem.   All of this choice.

I mean FFS, I physically, emotionally and mentally can’t do it all. I am pissed about it. The guilt of juggling work and wife/mother duties. The selfish me wanting to study and write over putting washing away. Wanting to sleep in my own bed instead of going to work at 11.00pm. But also wanting the money that the night shift brings so I can send my kids to private school. Having a rushed, tired, post night shift wine with a friend, before racing home to cook dinner, while kids are at sports training. I want to be the loving, devoted, kind, caring, attentive mother, that doesn’t screw up her kids. I don’t want them to hate me for my crap choices when they are grown men. I want the nice clean and tidy house with mopped floors and immaculate laundry room. I want it to feel like a home. I want the love and respect of my husband, but want to tell him to bugger off so that I can do it all on my own.

I have probably just pushed back feminism 120 years, with my moaning about choice and having an abundance of it.

So what am I going to do??? Ohhh who knows, keep doing what I am doing. I am about to dash to the grocery shop- because we are out of toilet paper. Perfect example of too much going on to even remember to buy loo paper when I did the groceries. Shit housewife.


I went to the movies on New years day. I thought at the end of Suffragette I would leave the theatre feeling empowered and motivated by the movie that was directed, and written by women. I left feeling grateful, selfish, guilty and in deep thought, with messed up make-up looking like a panda.

Suffragette as defined by the oxford dictionary:

A woman seeking the right to vote through organized protest.

The movie is set in London in 1912. The early years of the feminist movement lead by Emmeline Pankhurst is portrayed and follows one particular foot solider – Maude Watts.

We break windows, we burn things because war’s the only language men listen to.  Cause you’ve beaten us and betrayed us and there’s nothing else left.

The movie portrays wonderfully the fight that ordinary women committed to, working class women with no entitlement, no access to a platform for change. By focusing on the ordinary women who work 14 hour days, by focusing on the wife who dotes and loves her husband and the mother who adores her children, sings them to sleep and showers her babies with love, contemporary women connect with the cause. A fabulous job was done in the depiction of Suffragettes and by baiting the audience with various women but never telling their story, so many more questions and thoughts were raised for me on all of the women. It made me want to learn more about the bigger fight. To learn about the groundswell of ordinary woman that forced change and yet they gained no genuine recognition. Telling the story from the point of view of the foot soldiers, was more powerful for me, than if the story of Emmeline Pankhurst had been told. Emmeline, the powerful woman that had the authorities perplexed, and frustrated at her power and influence over women.

Women, particularly working class women were committed to the cause, losing jobs, losing dignity, losing homes, losing husbands, and losing children. Maude Watts – I’m worth no more, no less than you. We will win. The quiet lady like movement had yielded no results in parliament. So mothers, daughters and rebels went underground. These women fight, they fight dirty – blowing up post boxes, throwing rocks through glass windows in the West End, burning down houses.

Deeds not words (Emmeline Pankhurst) 

The working class women who had no privilege, no money, no rights to their children or any property, endured violent beatings, sexual exploitation, barbaric treatment while incarcerated (being forced feed, with tubes violently shoved down their throats) and putting their bodies on the line.In 1913 at the Epsom Derby,  Emily Davison threw herself in front of the King’s horse and died for her efforts in front of cameras to draw attention to the Suffragette cause.

I felt guilty that I had not respected their desperation and I felt selfish, this consumed me while viewing the violence, abuse, loss, and the deplorable conditions that these women endured. The desperation that the working class women felt,  the need for a change to their stations in life, the realisation that they could have a better existence. Once they realised this, they couldn’t go back, they had to fight frantically for what that they felt was right.  For a woman in 2016, I feel I take the privileges that these woman battled for, for granted. In school, I was never taught that Australia was one of the first countries to grant women the vote in 1895. The girls of my generation were never taught about the fight for the vote,  for higher education, and better working conditions, for divorce and for the fight against sexual exploitation. I felt sad that these women gave so much to the cause, lost so much and the modern woman doesn’t understand and is not educated on the depth of the fight for rights that we take for granted and think that we are entitled to.

My heart ached for these women, because I know for a fact that I would have taken the coward’s way and not fought. I know that I would have been too selfish in wanting to keep my husband, my children. I wouldn’t have the rebel in my veins to fight for change and not only change for my generation but all women.


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