Annie Nolan: Sign On Twins VIRAL PHOTO

Going viral.

Annie Nolan, a blogger who is married to AFL player Liam Picken, has posted this photo on social media, with the caption below, and it has been shared over 20,000 times from her page.

I REALLY wanted to leave these signs on the pram today. As a twin mum, you get asked a series of questions/hear a series of statements EVERYTIME you go out. I know most people are coming from a great place and are just curious however many can be quite intrusive and after a while it's just plain exhausting. And since I was heading into the city, I knew the questions would be coming thick and fast... but I chickened out on the train and took them off! 

P.S- it is a joke people 😜

‪#‎twinlyfe‬ ‪#‎twins‬ ‪#‎twinquestions‬ ‪#‎doubletrouble‬ ‪#‎cliches‬ ‪#‎delphiandcheska‬

Since her post has gone viral, she has posted this:

Delphi and Cheska leaving the house for the first time since their 15mins of facebook fame ‪#‎delphiandcheska‬ ‪#‎twins‬

And more recently, Annie posted this:

You know that feeling when a little in-joke between friends turns international? Yeah, nah? Well that is what I am feeling at the moment! Hahahaha. Liam leaves me for 4 days and his kids end up in the British News. Whoops! 

PS- the headline is tad exaggerated probably to encourage people to click on it. I'm not fed up at all! It was a joke gone a little mad. My twins are MY FAVOURITE TOPIC to talk about! 

PPS- The trolls and haters are way more fierce than footy crazies! Haha. Love it 😜

PPPS- Hi lovely English men and women! Thanks for your support. My best friend was born there and her family are from there (Manchester) so thank you for providing me with such a beautiful soul. Lots of love to you all xx

Me? As a twin mum, for a LONG while after I gave birth to my twins I was asked if twins run in my family, which I honestly think that sometimes it was just an alternate way of people asking: did you use IVF? I can hereby publicly acknowledge that no… I did not use IVF. Yes I had sex with my husband to create my twins. See? What does it matter anyway! And ewww, too much information for you, isn't it? Yes, I agree.

Also, when people immediately assume I delivered them via a c-section, I obviously feel the need to clarify: no, it was not a cesarean, yes it was a vaginal birth, yes I was given an epidural, yes I am a champion, and yes, so are all the women who gave birth via c-section. So there. (I DO love the reactions of women when I tell them I pushed two out, though; they are genuinely encouraging and impressed… and yes, I felt like I could conquer the world afterwards).

Did I mind all the questions about my twins themselves? NO, I loved it. I loved telling anyone - friends, colleagues, the checkout assistant, the taxi driver - that I was having twins, and after their birth, I was so proud to talk about them to anyone who would listen. Did I get tired of it? Not really. And no, my twins CAN'T be identical because… they are a boy and a girl.

Do I understand Annie's post? Yes, I do. Because guess what? It's HER experience and hers alone. She adds some humour to it, and is really not hurting anyone. Let's not make it about us, about infertility, about anything other than what was a private post (what's private on social media though? Nothing!) which has now gone viral.

The Top 20 Dilemmas of Being a Modern, Multi-tasking Mum by Anna Abignano

I love this.

My friend Anna is a wonderful human, a top mummy, an exceptional PR person, and… a witty writer!

She sent me this today and I knew I had to share.

So, in the spirit of Mother's Day and all the mothers out there who do a KICK-ARSE job, this is for you too:

The top 20 dilemmas of being a Modern, Multi-tasking Mum 

1. Trying to insert a tampon with acrylic nails.
2. Trying hard not to hit your husband with a hot pan when he asks “What’s for Dinner?”
3. Trying hard not to suffocate your husband with a blanket when he channel surfs while you’re sitting next to him folding washing.
4. Trying not to hit your husband with a tea towel when he is still channel surfing while you are still folding washing.
5. Trying not to get third degree burns while you’re balancing a sick, screaming toddler on your hip the same time as attempting to cook spag bol.
6. Getting carpet burn picking up every single grain of rice your 10-month-old throws on the floor, wishing you had floor boards.
7. Getting splinters from the floor boards picking up every single grain of rice your 10- month-old throws on the floor, wishing you had carpet.
8. Screaming your head off and doing a quick dive toward your toddler when you see blood pouring out of her mouth, only to realise she has strawberries stuck in her teeth.
9. Burning off ten kilos scrubbing Sudocrem out of the carpet.
10. Getting back pain picking up and re-folding the washing your toddler has decided to grab and fling all over the living room floor for fun.
11. Being in total denial at the mouldy smell coming from the load of washing you ran two days ago but are yet to hang up.
12. Skidding on milk that was spilt all over the kitchen floor two days ago, but you haven’t had the time (or the inclination) to mop it up.
13. Trying to remember what a mop looks like.
14. Not allowing your husband to touch your droopy, I’ve-breastfed-three-children boobs, then spending four hours a day researching new boobs online wondering if you can somehow disguise the cost of your new breasts on the joint credit card or somehow convince your Bank Manager for a new boob payment plan.
15. Hiding out in your wardrobe eating an entire block of Cadbury Chocolate Hazelnut. Comforting yourself that it’s ok to do so as it contains nuts, and possibly not good for your kids anyway.
16. Cleaning up so much poo that you’ve awarded nicknames to the different kinds of explosions: “Cadbury chocolate poo”. “I-don’t-feed-him-enough-fibre guilt pellets”. “She’s about to get gastro poo”. “Corn on the cob poo”. “What the f$#@ just happened poo”.
17. Rushing your daughter to emergency because she sustained first-degree burns on the hair straightener you forgot to turn off.
18. Finding yourself humming the tune to “Dorothy the Dinosaur” while you’re in the bathroom getting ready for a girl’s night out. Then getting in the car, looking in the rear-view mirror deciding you look like a Yeti because the last time you plucked your eyebrows was possibly three months ago.
19. Wondering whether to chill the wine at midday.
20. Not allowing your husband to touch your legs during sex because you haven’t bothered to shave or wax them for three months. Wondering if you can donate your leg hair to Carpet Court. 

About the Author: 

Anna Abignano (pronounced “A-bin-yar-no) is a very busy single mum of two gorgeous kids who never make life as a mother dull! She juggles motherhood by running her own freelance PR business, All About PR, and swears that one day she will own shares in a hair-colouring company seeing as a grey hair sprouts at least once a fortnight. Other than that, she has good genes on her side being told she looks 30 instead of 40. She is hoping it’s a compliment rather than a pick-up line, but honestly concludes it must be true as women tell her that, too. She is currently cooking dinner while her kids fight over the iPod.

This post was also posted at Josie's Juice here.

Pat McDermott: 'Family Matters' Book - Interview

One of the Australian Women's Weekly's most adored contributors - 30 years and still going strong! - has released her book called 'Family Matters', based on her three decades of columns for the iconic magazine. Pat McDermott's much-loved 'Family Matters' saga has unfolded on the last page of The Australian Women's Weekly for all these years, much to the delight of dedicated followers. Her hilarious observations on her own family (five kids!) and their dramas, from toilet-training to weddings and beyond (grandchildren!), her long-suffering husband (MOTH, the Man of the House), an endless succession of beloved and badly behaved pets and just about every situation a couple or family can find themselves in, have kept readers amused and entertained every month since 1984.

Now these generations of readers can relive their favourite 'Family Matters' moments and new fans can be charmed by Pat's warm, laugh-out-loud anecdotes and confessions in this book.

This is the perfect book for every imperfect family - a treasure trove of wisdom, love and laughter from one of Australia's most adored chroniclers of family life.

"Children between the ages of twelve and 25 find parents embarrassing 95 per cent of the time. Any younger and they're so uncritical they think you look good in swimmers. Any older and they drop in just long enough to leave their laundry and borrow $50. If you want to embarrass your kids you have to strike when they're teenagers," says Pat.

And here, Pat sits down for Josie's Juice (TwinnieWorld sister site - reproduced her for you, dear readers) to answer questions about family matters, and why family matters.

Interview with Pat McDermott:

You really are an Australian national treasure - do you feel like an Aussie now that you've been here from Canada for all these years? 

      I admit it did take me awhile to find my feet and get used to the summer heat. It seemed that every bit of clothing I had packed was WRONG! But now I’ve been here for 40 years and I cheerfully admit to tearing up when I hear ‘Advance Australia Fair’ ( I really like it!), enjoying a green Christmas and developing a hybrid accent - I use all the right words but probably still sound a little different.  I think having my babies here, going through all their school years, making so many friend along the way has made me a real Aussie. One of my kids is a member of the Australian Defence Forces - and I am very proud of that. It really is possible to love two places and it helps that Canada and Australia are alike in important ways. It’s true…home is where your heart is. My heart and my family is in Australia.

      You have such a huge following as a columnist for AWW - surely this is some kind of publishing record… have you looked into that? 

It has been suggested that 30 years of Family Matters makes me the world’s longest running columnist. However, somewhere in the world there might be another writer bashing away at their keyboard for longer. I don’t like to risk making a grand claim.  I never forget running up with my ticket at a school fundraiser, thinking I had won the raffle with Green B12, only to find the real winner was Yellow B12.  It was a long way back to my table! I will opt for modesty here - but I think deep down…I may be the champ.

What are the systems you had in place to manage the raising of five kids? Some tips and tricks and how you get all those schedules (plus your own) in place. 

Everyone’s family and situation is different. But here are some things that worked for me and still do!

a) A sturdy filing cabinet. We have a red one with five big drawers - one for each child. All their medical records, school reports, most interesting art work, merit awards, ribbons and any other important documents went in their file.  I could put my hands on their vaccination records in 5 seconds flat. No one ever missed a school camp or excursion. It went on to hold passports (GAP years), CV’s, applications, university papers, references and many other important/interesting information.

b) I have a large white board on the wall in my kitchen. ‘If you want to be dropped off or picked up…put it on the board.’ They also listed food or birthday presents to be bought, school concerts, birthday parties, sports days etc. 

c) I have always kept a diary. I carry it everywhere. I learned to do this as a young journalist and I would be lost without it. Every mum should have a diary. It makes life so much easier. 

d) Be organised personally as well as professionally. I remember a teacher telling me he could always tell a kid from a big family - they brought their notes back on time.  Perhaps the more kids you have the more organised you are.  I worked to deadlines in my work life I was used to meeting them elsewhere as well.  I hate missing things or arriving late. I wanted my kids to feel the security of an organised home life. 

e) Buy a collection of good-sized, sturdy plastic bins. I have five with a child’s name on each. This is an updated version of the lovely chests described in the classic ‘Little Women’. One bin per child to be filled with their personal memorabilia. Mine are fully loaded….merit awards, school ties, photos, weird art work, all the lovely stuff from their school years. They don’t want their boxes yet….but they will!

f) Participate. Put your hand up to help with the cake stall, the P&F, the soccer team. When you contribute you learn and grow and I have friends from those days who are still very dear to me and me to them. Your kids will love it and if you do have a criticism or a suggestion it will be much better received if you actually put your shoulder to the wheel as well. PS: put your volunteer experience on your CV.

g) Sort your wardrobe. It’s better to have a small collection of clothes that work that heaps of random stuff on hangers. I want to be able to dress in minutes. I was fanatical about keeping the kids’ clothes in good order and ready to go. Hideous trying to get ready for some function or event and the one thing you (or they) need in the wash. I washed EVERY day for years. I IRONED endlessly while I watched movies at 1am. 

On the whole, the little McDermotts  were in the right place at the right time.  The MOTH?? That’s another story.

      As a grandmother (how many grandkids?), do you impart your tips to your kids?

      

      At this moment I have two little granddaughters.  I am hoping for many, many more!  I follow my late mother-in-law’s advice….zip the lip!  She was a huge support to me over the years but resolutely refused to offer advice. If I asked her for tips or suggestions or just confided a problem I had, she would think quietly, reassure me that all would be well in the end and then, sometimes, gently tell me something that had worked for her.

      Have there been moments when your kids - and even grandkids - have been a little mortified at stories you've recounted?

      I hope not. Perhaps the boys were a little critical at one time or another. Some anecdotes and stories include our own experiences and those of other families and friends.  Sort of a lovely, mushy mix of everyone’s lives.  On occasion, one or the other of my kids would wag a finger at me to say ‘NOT THIS ONE!’ 

      What does MOTH think of all your success? 

      He seems a little bemused. He is a rather quiet, self-contained fellow except when he is telling (and re-telling) very bad ‘DAD’ jokes. He is famous for forgetting punch lines which actually gets him more laughs than his jokes. He thinks I am just a little crazy and over-the-top. Sometimes he winks at the family and blames it all on me being from ‘blizzardly cold Canada.’ 

      How does it feel to have many of your stories now published in a book?

      It’s a lovely feeling to hold a nice, solid, good looking book with your name on the cover. (“Almost as good as a nice cold beer,” says the MOTH.) I have had two other books published some years ago. One of some very early stories and another called Pardon My Parenting - both out of print. But ‘Family Matters’ is by far the best looking and the most comprehensive because it covers many years of columns from older ones to ones just published. Choosing the columns to include was very hard…rather like naming your favourite child….when you love them all the same!  It also makes me feel rather organised to see them all in one place.  I must put a copy in the filing cabinet!

      Pat McDermott is a long-running journalist for The Australian Women's Weekly and author of the weekly column, Family Matters.

Pat McDermott is the author of FAMILY MATTERS, published by Allen & Unwin, RRP $32.99, on sale now

Teachers Chosen At Start of School Year

Something strange happened today during day two of year 1 for my daughter.

Classes and teachers and classrooms were chosen for each of the year 1 students.

But that's not the strange part.

Mums... huddled. And complained. And talked about why THAT teacher was not the best for THEIR child.

I was a little... shocked.

Is this a 'thing'?

Now, granted, I am new to the whole schooling thing. I am into my second year of this with my twins.

But I kinda think that trusting the system, trusting the teachers who have (I would think) met together and discussed each child and where they are best suited, and with which teacher, is the way to go. To embrace what's chosen for your child.

And, here's the bonus... accepting what you have is stress-free!

There's nothing else to 'get', nothing to figure out.

Your child will be fine. You child will excel. Your child will prosper in that class.

As some mums gathered and discussed, I was left without many words. But I did have these to say:

Trust the universe. 

I will say that having a child with special needs changes your mindset on things, especially education, and just how much you can control.

My credo since my son was diagnosed with autism at age 2 is: relinquish control.

My son's school is not the school I chose for him. The Department of Education did, and initially, I was not happy.

It wasn't the school closest to me, it wasn't the school I'd visited a few times, it wasn't the school I had in my head, all pictured 'perfectly'.

Dept of Ed chose THIS school, and after I burst into tears when I read the letter that he was offered a place there (yes, I did - as it was not what I hoped, and while my journey with autism was a few years in, my experience of autism and school was non-existent) my husband assured me to just go with it. Trust it all. It will all work out the way it is meant to.

He was right. This school has ended up being the biggest blessing; the most wonderful mainstream school for my daughter, and the best mainstream school - with an autism support unit - for my son.

I think the 'best teacher' may just well be the very one your child has.

What is your experience of the new year of starting school?

Are you happy with it all? Have you spoken up about making changes? Are do you just let things go as they are and trust it will all work out?

Bad Mum's Club: By Laury Jeanneret

I love guest posts. I mean, you don't want to hear me go on and on all the time about how wonderful motherhood.

Because I don't.

Motherhood... yeah, it's hard work.

And sometimes... I do NOT enjoy.

And so it was really quite fabulous to read my friend Laury's version of motherhood - realistic, hard work, not quite what she expected/prophesised about before she had kids.

It's everything I love about honest mothers who admit that sometimes, you know what... it's just... shite. Read on:

BAD MUM'S CLUB

"I have just spent the morning with my daughter in a children’s play-centre, and whilst there I had an epiphany. I did not like it. Not that I don’t like spending time with my daughter, I do, I love her to bits. It’s just other kids I’m not that keen on. Basically, apart from the fruit of my own womb, and a select few of my friends’ offspring, I do not like children much. There, I said it.

I realise that this is not a very PC view, and certainly not one that any mother should express, but there it is. I’m just not maternal, not really even with my own child, and that has come as a huge shock to me. When I was pregnant I was the most annoyingly blooming mother-to-be in the universe. I developed a major attachment to my bump, documented every stage of my pregnancy, had a cast-iron (or so I thought) log of things I would and wouldn’t do as a parent.

For example, I would never let my child eat McDonalds. I would spend at least 3 hours per day finger painting/potato printing/reading to my child, I would only feed my child organic food, I would not enter her to daycare until she was at least 3 years old, as everything I had read said it was beneficial to have one-to-one contact with the primary caregiver until that age. I would never let my child sleep in my bed, my routines would be cast-iron.

Fast forward three years and my daughter has been in daycare since 15 months, and what’s more she loves it. And so do I. I love the hours of my life that it gives me back, some days I am counting down the minutes till nursery drop-off time. My daughter sleeps in my bed with me, but mainly because I am too exhausted to embark on yet another battle of wills. Plus I need the sleep. So if she sleeps, and I sleep, in my bed, I figure, what the hell, happy baby, happy mother.

I rarely feed my daughter organic food, largely due to the cost, and sometimes, I will confess, if she’s a good girl she’ll get a Happy Meal as a treat. I see absolutely nothing wrong with this. I feel like I am giving my daughter an appreciation of all different types of food, and to be honest, though the moral majority may disagree, it’s just a friggin’ Happy Meal. I’m not feeding her whiskey in her bottle at night. Chill the hell out, I say.

As for the finger painting and potato printing, well what can I say? This caper just don’t come naturally to me. Sometimes I am so disappointed that I have not turned out to be the type of Earth-mother I expected to be. I even bought a Cath Kitson change-bag for God’s sake. But you are who you are, and who I am is the type of mother that adores my child, but also has a strong sense of self that is separate to her. And whilst I love my baby, I don’t always love being a mum.

There, I said it, shoot me. I am a fully paid-up member of what Sophie Heawood described recently as the Bad Mums’ Club. I find finger-painting boring. I can’t abide the mess that potato prints create. But what’s more I find the kind of Middle-Class Mummy kitted out in Kitson an absolute snoozefest. If I have time with my girlfriends I don’t want to spend it talking about whether little Betsy is toilet trained or Casper is eating his carrots yet. I couldn’t give a sh*t to be honest. I can barely muster up the enthusiasm for this stuff with my own child, let alone anyone else’s.

I’m more of the school of thought that if I’m at a party the kids can play together while the parents (supervising them obviously) get to be adults, get drunk, swear and smoke. And yes, I smoke too. Tut tut. More boxes ticked on my Bad Mum rap-sheet. Well you know what, I don’t smoke around my daughter and as long as I’m not sharing my Cutter’s Choice with her and teaching her to roll I don’t feel an ounce of guilt. Back in the old days all the Stepford Mums were on Mogadons and Valiums, so I reckon I’m doing pretty well with the odd fag as opposed to say, a prescription drug problem.

And this is the thing with Middle Class Mummy Syndrome, with their Monsoon clothes and Stokke buggies and organic food, and raised eyebrows at hotpant-wearing Bad Mums like me; they bleat on about how their world’s are child-centric. How everything must be ‘fair trade’ and PC, how we’ve lost our sense of “community”, that mums that aren’t completely obsessed with their offspring should take a leaf out of the books of the women in the Third World – where community is everything, where child-rearing is priority.

Well let me tell you ladies, I have lived in Africa, and the women there ain't that much different to me. You won’t find them sitting around finger painting. You’ll find them out in the fields grafting, going back to work, sometimes days after giving birth. The women in such communities are just like the working class mothers here, they work, usually through necessity, they have no time or use for the luxury of ‘child-centric parenting’. And community is all, but the children fit into the existing communities and learn to become valuable members of it. They do not have their noses wiped at every sniffle by over-zealous mummies with painted on smiles and vacant eyes.

One day our babies grow up and fly the nest and what they leave us with if they have been allowed to dominate that nest is the mother’s total sublimation of self. They leave behind a mummy bird with broken wings, totally unable to fly, or even remember what the wide blue open feels like anymore. A decimated identity is not an easy thing to repair. Me, I have no worries on that score, I’ll still have my hotpants and my Cutter’s Choice, a box of rosé and a foul mouth that could rival any tradesman!

Here’s to all the bad mums out there: Long may they reign!"

What do you think of Laury's piece? Agree? Share your stories below (so Laury and I don't feel so bad).

To read more of Laury's work, go here.