What kind of fuckery is this?

I have been trying to be a better person. I suppose that was precipitated by being pregnant with my son, and learning a little bit about Buddhism. I guess I am still on a bit of a personal quest to have right thoughts and actions. So you'll forgive me this lapse. I'm tired and the kids are driving me a bit nuts. I am not the Dalai Lama, you know.
Since I started writing this blog, I realised I have a public (well, sort of public, given that I only have one follower - hi SJ) forum where I can tell the people who've fucked me over to, well, fuck off with cherries on top.
So, here goes (I might only get on to one at at time, but I might get on a roll of hating, so you never know):
The person really getting my goat is a former friend from uni. The thing that annoys me most is that I was too gutless at the time to just tell her to fuck off then. I'd like to tell her to fuck off now too, but somehow, I don't feel I will be building my pagodas to nirvana by doing that. Plus I will look petty and spastic and everyone will see me for the insecure nutjob I am.
She used to tell a mutual friend that she was anal for washing her bed sheets regularly. I should have said then that it's just disgusting to be an ugly fat moll who has such a sense of entitlement that she can pass judgement on others and tell them how to live their life. (I'm pretty sure she's still fat, so that's something).
Once she told me not to be uptight about using my stereo for a party because I was worried it would get broken. She said "it won't get hurt" in the most patronising tone, and guess what, it got broken. I guess when mummy and daddy sort everything out for you, you probably don't need to worry about such trivia.
Another time I wrote and told her how badly I was suffering from depression, because I thought I could rely on her to help me at least by listening. She never even called.
She also felt it necessary to get on her high moral horse and cast the first stone to save the finer feelings of someone she cared little about knowing full well she would end our friendship.
I don't know what pisses me off more about it; her treachery or the fact that my friendship didn't mean anything to her at all and I got played.
It was more than 10 years ago and I'm still haven't really reconciled it with myself. Why do I hang onto so much anger about it?
Not a very good Buddhist. Ohm.

Feminism: 2009 style? I bloody well hope not.

I was walking my dog today and I heard on the radio a song by Mahalia (daughter of Jimmy) Barnes. The song was called How Strong is a Woman, with the following lyric:

"I had a mind to join the women's liberation/ that was before I had the touch of love's sweet sensation."
Now if it takes all my strength to make my man feel tall/ Then I'd rather be weak in love than have no love at all."

Hey, awesome way to pay tribute to all the sisters who helped you take for granted that you're a young independent woman with your own career, Mahalia.

So, by rights, being married and having two children, I probably should have given my husband my drivers licence and the bank details and just be lying on the floor so people can wipe their feet on me in the manner of a door mat in order to make sure my husband doesn't feel I'm getting too jolly big for my boots.

I can't believe a young woman in 2009 would admit to thinking such a thing, much less writing it down. God, what's going on?

If you expect equal rights for men and women (and I suspect Mahalia wouldn't like to have her right to vote taken away on account of her sex, or her drivers licence, or her right to work) then you are a feminist. Why are women scared of calling themselves a feminist when that's really what most of us are? Feminism and a fulfilling relationship with a man are not mutually exclusive.

Fucktards who judge others and say stupid stuff generally

OK, I don't like writing all in capitals, it really goes against the sub editor in me, but THIS MADE ME REALLY ANGRY.

(Actually, it also makes me angry that the SMH covered this. Why give this retard oxygen?)

This guy tried to blame the fires on the decriminalisation of abortion in Victoria.

This is so all sorts of wrong, I just don't know where to begin.

A general theme and hatred of mine is the speed with which people judge others and decide their own world view is the one everyone else should live by.

What I'd love is for people like this mentalist to see that his house is in order in terms of his actions on his values and ethics. Does he help people in need like the amazing work of the Salvation Army in counselling prisoners convicted of the most heinous crimes? Does he feed the homeless and all comers without judgment and moral high handedness? How about trying to be an actual Christian, it would really help.

I don't know anyone who has gone through the horrendous experience of an abortion without doing the most serious soul searching just about anyone can do and being permantly affected by the experience - myself included.

No-one has an abortion without a heavy heart and a lot of misgivings. How dare someone impose their religious beliefs on anyone who makes this decision. How can someone else decide this is right or wrong for this person? Interesting too how often men are outspoken on the issue.

There are very few things (well, actually, it's a growing list as I get older and crankier) which make me as furious as the mealy mouthed protestors outside abortion clinics. I often wonder if these people with their little foetus dolls have a clear conscience about all of the decisions and choices they have made in their lives?

If you're passionately against abortion, then let your intellect and passion make a sound argument against it. And by all means, don't have one.

But how about you stop wasting your time by terrorising people in what is their darkest hours and abide by a real Christian moral code. Let he who is without sin cast the first stone, anyone? That's John 8:7 by the way, Pastor Danny Nalliah, are you familiar with it?

I don't know why I am surprised by this, and I don't even know if I should be disappointed by it. But why is Barack Obama judged on what he does and his wife is judged on what she wears? This story in the New York Times is being cute and using political language to describe the "bi-partisan" support she received for her sartorial choices during her husband's inauguration.
The same happened for Therese Rein when Kevin Rudd was elected Prime Minister here. Therese (and I love, love, love you for keeping your name) copped a drubbing for fashion choices. Never mind that she is in her own right a very successful business woman (who earns much more than her husband) and is an accomplished person and mother. The only thing people seem to care to have an opinion about is if she's chosen the right colour.
There's nothing wrong with enjoying fashion and getting gussied up, but do people need to take it so seriously.
I would so love someone (and another first lady fashion plate who probably has the chutzpah to do it is Carla Bruni-Sarkozy) to turn up to one of these official engagements in a potato sack. Now that would be something to talk about.

To love, honour and lose your identity

For Christmas, we received several Christmas cards addressed to Mr & Mrs My Husband's Surname. Only trouble is, they're his parents, not us, because I didn't change my name when we got married.
For me, in my career which I had been cultivating as me for more than 10 years, I felt it made no sense to change my name. Not to mention the fact that I feel very strongly that getting married is a partnership, not a melding of one individual into another.
When I mooted the idea with my husband (a long time before we even got to the idea of marriage), he was vaguely offended by it (despite his protestations). He's a modern guy, not a sexist bone in his body and yet this idea was confronting to him. I suggested he change his name to mine, which he found down right preposterous and I said to him "now you know how I feel!".
Obviously I got my way or we would have remained unmarried, I can assure you.
It felt to me natural that in the wake of the third wave of feminism I, and probably most of my peers, would keep their names if and when we tied the knot.
So imagine my surprise when I have found myself in a minority of married friends who have kept their names.
Why have they changed their names, I wonder. I try not to judge, but I can't help but feel it's a really dumb thing to do. My friends who have changed their names are smart, independent, career orientated, educated women. So why do they feel as though their identity isn't as important as their husbands'?
I know they probably don't think about it in those terms, but it is something that really puzzles me and I find quite anti feminist.
I've got a lot more to write about this subject, but I have to go and be a modern housewife now, so I will pick up this thread later.

Hey fatty boomsticks, why haven't you lost all your baby weight in a month?

I don't know about you, but I saw this on the Sydney Morning Herald website the other day and it made me want to throw my computer out the window.

The story is about how Naomi Watts miraculously lost all her baby weight in a month. What a thing to aspire to. I don't blame Watts for saying she lost the weight through breast feeding.

Good for her, it works for some people. BUT WHY IS THIS REPORTED ON???? IN THE SYDNEY MORNING HERALD no less.

I don't know why I am surprised. The SMH website is a different beast to the old timey broadsheet people read for actual news.

Here are the things I think are wrong with this:

1. It's not a story, much less something you flag on the home page of a NEWS site.

2. It's wonderful that 40-year-old Watts had a healthy baby and looks fantastic, but she probably has help with her kids and is able to rest much more than a normal woman who has just had a baby. Normal women need to remember not to compare themselves with people who have the luxury of nannies and a good night's sleep and a team of professionals assisting them with nutrition and dieting.

3. Someone like Watts, whether she likes it or admits it or not, trades on her looks, and as such investing her not inconsiderable income in its upkeep is something the rest of us don't need to do, or simply can't afford to do in the same way. It really irks me the way people always report on how amazing Elle McPherson looks. Well d'uh, she maintains her chassis like someone who drives for a living would maintain theirs. Only she has millions to maintain it with, unlike those people who drive for a living.

4. What if breast feeding didn't work for you. So while you and the breastfeeding Nazis are beating you up about poisoning your baby with formula, you can add being fat to your list of sins.

Measuring yourself against these standards in unrealistic. I am susceptible to it as anyone else, and it makes me cranky. So let's all just STOP IT, shall we?

Eat good food, rest as much as you can, enjoy your children, be a good person and give yourself a break.

Diaries of a yummy mummy.

Hello, this is my first go at the narcissistic world of blogging.

I hope someone, anyone, enjoys reading this, and if not, at least it's cheap therapy for me.

The Modern Housewife's Companion is about my experience as a young mum in Australia in 2009. Obviously my experience is just that, mine, but I have to believe there are other people who share some of these experiences.

It's about how when you've been immersed in a career where you're "someone" and you suddenly become an anonymous "mum".

It's about the terror of making the wrong decision as a parent.

It's about being judged by your peers and anyone else who wants to put their two bob's worth in about how you're doing things.

It's about how our society pays lip service to motherhood and won't put its money where its mouth is.

It's about the enormous guilt you feel when your children don't bring you the complete and utter fulfilment you're always promised.

And it's about the pressure you put on yourself to be that yummy mummy (and I hope you appreciate the irony in the title of this post), who bounces back, does a million things, balances career with family, earns good money, has a great figure, a wonderful husband and a mind-blowing sex life.

So, in short, it's about me having a rant.