Tag Archives: family

Healthy goodie goodie recipes, plus Holsby TV new episode!!!

23 Sep

healthy goodie recipesThe thing about treats is – generally speaking – the more sugar and fat, the more delicious it is.

My weakness is ice cream, amongst others of course because I am a bit of a gluttonous foodie, but ice-cream is my one true love.

Not low-fat ice treats, not fruit based gelato, but I’m talking about the full, extra-goodness-swirled, Monty.

I really truly love it.

It has been said that watching me appreciate my ice cream cone is a crazy sensual experience because of the obscene amount of joy I get from it and the languorous way in which I approach the task. Ice cream must be savoured, never rushed, and certainly not bitten.

I think ice cream can be classified as a goodie (or goodie porn in my case.)

Goodies aren’t bad. Goodies are good.

It’s all about goodie management.

Or goodie wrangling if you prefer.

I’m not going to pretend I’m all holier than thou on the goodie front, au contraire – I’m going to admit freely that I find it easier not to have things in the house that are going to both blow my kilojoule intake sky-high, and send my kids into sugar frenzies, because we are loving on the goodies.

This doesn’t mean no treats, it just means day to day treats are smarter options. The kids don’t know the difference between a sugar laden treat and healthy snack. The options don’t have to be chocolate biscuits versus carrot sticks.

I like to think of myself as the master of illusions; a magician if you will, because my day to day goodies are actually goodie goodies, and not secretly baddies.

My theory is that by offering my kids better choices now, they’ll make better food decisions later. It kinda worked for me because my mum reared me on lentils and celery with cream cheese, and now I’m a celery munchin’ lentil lover.

As long as there’s ice cream for dessert.

I’ve done a ridiculous little experiment to prove that kids make better choices when you give them good options to choose from. Check out our work.


Here are a couple of delicious goodie goodie recipes to bust out for your fam bam if you don’t eat them all first…… you know, if you hypothetically run out of ice-cream.




Healthy goodie recipes


ChocCocoCrunch Balls

What you will need – 

  • 1/2 cup almonds
  • 250g pitted dates
  • 4 tablespoons cocoa
  • 2 tablespoons chia seeds
  • 1 tablespoon coconut oil
  • 1 tablespoon rice malt syrup
  • 1/2 cup puffed brown rice, toasted
  • 2 tablespoon desiccated coconut, plus extra for rolling

What you will need to do – 

Toss all of your ingredients into the food processor and leave it wazzing until it’s really quite smooth and sticking together.

Switch off machine and using teaspoon sized chunks roo into balls before rolling in desiccated coconut.

Store in the fridge.

Healthy goodie recipes

Sugar Free Pepita Anzac Biscuits

What you will need – 

  • 125 g butter
  • 1/2 cup rice malt syrup
  • pinch salt
  • 2 tablespoons boiling water
  • 1 1/2 teaspoon soda bicarb
  • 3/4 cups desiccated coconut.
  • 1 cup rolled oats
  • 1 cup spelt flour 
  • 1/2 cup pepita seeds

What you will need to do –  

Preheat oven to 150C

Place your butter and rice malt syrup into a saucepan over medium heat until it is all melted together and bubbling. Pop your bicarb into the hot water, and when it’s well combined toss it into your butter mix. It will foam up a bit.

Chuck all of your dry ingredients into a bowl and mix well.

Add your butter mix to your dry mix, stirring well to combine.

Spoon tablespoon sized dollops onto a baking tray lined with baking paper and pop into the oven for 15-20 minutes until golden brown. Allow room for spreading.



Cook Once, Feed All COVER_lr

Cook Once, Feed All is about making your life easier whilst preparing nutritious and quick food for your family. Hailed by Mouths of Mums as the ‘must have recipe book for all families’, this book is a collection of family friendly recipes, all accompanied by stories from my life.

To order your hardcopy of Cook Once, Feed All head to the Holsby Shop right now.

If you like what you’re seeing, why not like my Facebook page now?

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How I became a podium dancing alcoholic.

17 Aug
So sweet and innocent. Me at 2. Before clubbing.

So sweet and innocent. Me at 3. Before podium dancing in clubs.

My Dad is in Australia at the moment to do some traveling.

Some months ago he bought a Winnebago that he fondly named Wind Bag and periodically he skips across the ditch and takes off on a road adventure. He’s cool like that.

He stopped a couple of nights at mine on his way to pick up the Wind Bag and told me of his plan to drive from Melbourne through South Australia and up to Alice Springs before heading to Ayers Rock and the Olgas by the end of September. My green eyed monster’s eyes shone like emeralds…. that was one cool mo’fo’ road trip.

I sure would like to do that some time.

… But I have two kids and important routines that must be adhered to or my neurotic sky will fall down. I’m positively tied to all of my responsibilities so I could never to do something so crazy, could I?

The more spiced rum and lime juice we had to drink the more plausible it seemed.

There’s enough sleeping room for everyone. The kids can play outside if the space gets too cramped and there’s a tv for evenings. But the sleeping routine? I don’t know about you but I’m a stickler for it.

Dinner is 5.30

Bath is 6pm.

TV for half an hour at 6.30

Teeth and bed is 7pm

Reading a few books until 7.30 unless I speed read to get the hell out of there because I’ve had enough of them for the day.

I’m flexi within 10 or so minutes of this routine but then I start to get twitchy.

What would happen to this routine if we went on the road, all four of us sharing a living space smaller than my lounge?


Nah, too hard. My control freak couldn’t be bothered.

I asked Mister H if he could take a week off work so I could go on a road trip with my Dad. As amicable as Mister H and I may be I’m well aware that there will not be a lot of weeks in the year during which I can take off sans bambinos, so when Mister H told me to let him know how serious I was and he’d make arrangements I got to thinking if this was my only time off all year is a road trip with my Dad the prime way to spend it?

No offence Dad.

What if I want to go to Bali or Thailand with a friend? Or a lover, heaven forbid (I’ll get laid eventually, right??).

Kids will suck hard on that trip….

What if I want to go on a volunteer trip to a third world country, or trekking up some really ridiculously big hills?

Kids will suck hard on those trips too.

Screw it, I decided. I would go on this cool mo’fo road trip adventure will my Dad, and I will take the kids.

I can relax my regime, the sky will not fall. In fact, it will be good for us all (except maybe Dad whose serenity will be completely screwed, but he’s a good sport.)

I remember a photograph of myself as a child sitting at a table in a restaurant at night on a trip we had to the Canary Islands. I would have been about 3.

I think I was eating a bowl of eating ice-cream and strewn around the table were wine glasses and my Mum was in the picture too but barely. She was at the head of the table which was fading off into black.

During a phone conversation with Mama about the potential trip I mentioned the photo. I mentioned how she used to take us away on jaunty adventures where all of the routines were broken and it was fine, wasn’t it?

Wasn’t it?

And she said, “Darling, after dinner we’d take you into the nightclub and you’d dance with us on the dance floor.”

She back-pedalled saying they didn’t stay out until 2am, and nightclubs there weren’t filled with Class A drugs in those days, but the go-go dancer was out of the cage.

That. Explains. Everything.

How it all began. Note my wine glass and food all over my face.  *not the actual photo I'm referring to in post

How it all began. Note my wine glass and food all over my face.
*not the actual photo I’m referring to in post


Happiest girl in the world.

15 Jul

the holsbysI just got off the phone to renowned Australian anthropologist Dr Stephen Juan (hello shameless name drop).

We’ve spoken a few times of late and we usually speak business for 5 minutes and then spend 40 minutes talking about all things life, love and anthropology (today we also touched on chocolate; you know the big topics).

There are few people that you instantly connect with, but I can safely say I think he’s a truly interesting and remarkable human. I look forward to making up an excuse to contact him again as he’s one of those people that you feel happier for having spoken with them.

That’s a gift.

He was telling me why he feels he’s the happiest guy in the world and in the folds of his tale were numerous wonderful things that had happened to him over the course of his life, and Stephen attributed them to luck. Of course, as an observer, I can see that his hard work, and kind deeds and sunshiny energy has drawn wonderful things his way and it got me to thinking about me…. you know, cos it always comes back to me.

I have had so many fantastic experiences in my life. I have traveled far and wide, and had adventures that many will only ever dream of. It wasn’t a big deal, I just explored with a thirst for adventure and immersed myself in situations. Some were ridiculous, sure, but most were wondrous.

One of the things that Stephen said made him truly happy was thinking about how many people loved him.

Isn’t that cool?

kiki and mamaJust this morning on our way to school D Man was asking me who loved him.

“I do.”

“Who else loves me?”


“And who else loves me?”


“And who else loves me?”


“And who else loves me?”……

This went on until I really couldn’t think of another person who loved him.

Even family members overseas that haven’t seen him since he was a babe.

Even Mr Fluffy Pants who is actually probably ambivalent before D Man gives him breakfast and downright disinterested after.

Anyway, two times in one day is not a coincidence in my book, but a poke in my eye for me to sit quietly for a minute and think about all of the people who love me. I decided I would go beyond the obvious, like people whose butts I wipe, or I cook food for, but into the greater spectrum of people who send good juju my way because they care.

There was actually quite a long mental list, new friends who I’ve met online through this crazy business called blog who actively send me love, old friends who I may not have seen for a while but when we get together the love feels just the same as it always did, and then there are those special people who when they hug me and they beam their love directly into my heart from theirs like a bolt of rose coloured lightning.

Family near and family far, and family not related by blood but because we chose each other, and chose to adopt each other permanently into our lives.

So much lovely love.

If I was to measure my happiness in units of love radiated at me, then I really am very lucky.

I have to say that’s a happy thought.

Someone who loves me dearly, with whom I have had many adventures, and misadventures, with took these beautiful images of us recently. She put a little blog up on her site if you’d like to see the whole series. Check us out here.

Anyway, take a minute to think about who loves you because that shit really warms the cockles of your heart.

Be happy, lovers.

Life is short.

danielle colley


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Mama Bear

4 Jul

mamma bear There are few more influential women in your life than your mum. Whether your relationship is amazing or appalling that single connection can shape so much of who you are.

In this regards, I am blessed.

I know a lot of people think their mum is cool, but they haven’t met my Mum. No matter what hair brained scheme I ever had, my mum always encouraged me to follow my dreams. She told me I could be whatever I wanted to be and not to live small.

I was the kid whose friends wanted to hang with my Mum… in fact, they still do.

The mother of my childhood was a statuesque style queen.

I used to think she was a cross between Annie Lennox and Sheena Easton. She liked cool music, cool clothes, parties, dancing and she had great hair (except for the Laura Ashley period which I’m not allowed to talk about).

As a single mum she’d take me most everywhere with her as a kid and I loved being privy to the adult world, pretending to be asleep at parties but secretly watching the grown ups dancing, smoking, kissing and living it up. As a result I suppose I grew up kind of fast, but I personally think my trajectory in this department was set because of the type of person I am.

I couldn’t wait to be a grown up…. that said, I also slept in my mum’s bed with her for years. Partly because my bedroom was chronically messy, but mostly because I loved spooning up with my Mama in the night and feeling her warmth next to me.

She liked it too.

I guess my growing up process got fast tracked a little when I was about 13 and Mama started getting headaches. Not just any old headaches but real whopper doozies. Her eyesight went blurry and things started getting scary so they did some tests on her.

Initially everyone feared a brain tumour.

She had all the symptoms, but they couldn’t find it so she went from our home in Coffs Harbour to Sydney for more extensive testing.

mum and II was a sensitive kid, hence being a sensitive adult I guess, and I was devastated that I couldn’t make my mum better. I remember holding her hand and massaging her head trying to take her pain away as she lay on the bed in tears.

Alas, I was just a kid, and she had something happening inside her that was beyond our control.

The thing about my mum is she is the most vibrant, fun, and fun loving person I know. She is wise, she is spiritual and there ain’t much that could shock her.

I’ve always been able to tell her all of my sex, drugs and rock’n’roll stories and more that once I’ve heard her say –

Danielle, did you have to tell me that????

But I do. Because I can. And that’s a gift.

I hope one day my kids like me as much as I like my mum. I hope they turn to me when they have sensitive and painful scars to share, or deep fears that they want soothed.

Over the years many of my friends have adopted her as their own, and now the people she lists as her dear friends range from 18 years old to 90. She spans the ages because she is open to everyone- Open minded and open hearted.

She can cook a mean feast and she can drink up a storm and she has so many wonderful qualities that define who she is.

Multiple Sclerosis is not who my mum is. Her illness does not define her. It’s an aspect of her life just as much as all of the wonderful things and she had often said MS has been a teacher that has taught her valuable life lessons.

My mum is fun, and loving, and silly.

My mum is gentle and fierce, and fucking brave.

She is also an unbelievable Nana. She reckons these little stinkers have given her a new lease of life.

If I’m half the women she is when I grow up then I’m gonna be a whole lotta awesome.

mum and I


Thanks for coming to stay with me, Mama. Can you babysit tomorrow?


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Baby nightmares and Spiced Pumpkin Soup

26 Jun

spicy pumpkin soupD Man was a late talker so when he cried out in the night I just had to guess it was a nightmare and rub his nappied butt till he drifted back off to  the Land of Nod.

You can tell by the cry if it’s just a ‘Mama, come give me some sugar’ moment, or a true night terror.

Whenever it was blatantly the latter I’d wonder what it is a toddler has nightmares about?

Not so much mystery with the Kikster. She’s a talker, my girl. I guess some apples fall pur-ty close to the ol’ gnarly motor mouth mama tree.

She has quite a few bad dreams, say, a couple of times a week and they range from calling out things like “go away!” or “stop it!”, and then rolling over, no intervention required, to full blown terror and needing loads of calming, stroking, and cooing.

She dreams of sibling violence which she describes through sobbing tears.

“D Man.(sob) Bit.(sob) My.(sob) Finger.(sob) Go away, D Man!”(sob, sob sob. Coo, coo, coo.)

“D Man. Pushed. My. Back. Kiki fall over.”

Big sobs. Huge.

You know those dreams where you dream your partner has slighted you in some way and you wake up cranky with them?
Sometimes I’m glad she’s trapped behind bars so she can’t commando roll across the hall in her pink flannelette camoflage pj’s,  slip soundlessly into his room and commit acts of revenge unbeknownst to me as I hunker down on the couch with a glass of wine as big as my head and a bowl of ice-cream as big as my arse.

You may think it sounds far fetched (the commando roll, not the size of the wine) but she’s a feisty one and a sleeping sibling is easy pickings.

It’s not all domestic aggression that takes up space in her nocturnal dreamscapes, however. She also gets prehistoric hysteria, or prehysteria.

We spend a lot of time talking, exploring, examining and discussing dinosaurs during waking hours in this house so it’s not a great leap to discover they penetrate her impressionable subconscious.

“Dinosaur. Ate. My. Teddy.”

“Dinosaur. Chasing. Monsters.”

Trying to explain the relationship between extinct dinosaurs and non-existant monsters to a sobbing two year old at  3A.M. is not really worth the effort so we’ve done a spot of bed hopping of late.

I used to be all “Oh no, never let the stinkers into your bed or you’ll never get rid of them” but you know, schnuggling up with a child that’s clinging to you for comfort, drifting off with their feather soft hair tickling your nostrils, waking up with sharp little toenails digging into your cheek, it’s is all part of the gig.

And I kinda like a stolen cuddle.

It’s comforting to wake with a sleepy warm kid because it’s winter and I never think of utilising my hot water bottle. They’ve gotta be good for something, right?

Another way to keep mega warm sans hot water bottles or sproglets is spicy soup.

Not in bed.

That’s weird, unless you’re that way inclined, in which case I recommend a water proof mattress protector because this vibrant soup will stain the crap out of your mattress.

spicy pumpkin soupSpicy Pumpkin Soup

What you will need : 

  • 1 butternut pumpkin, peeled, deseeded and chopped
  • 1 litre chicken or vegetable stock
  • 1 large onion, chopped
  • 3 cm ginger, peeled and chopped
  • 1 carrot, chopped
  • 2 stalks celery, chopped
  • 2 tablespoons curry powder.
  • Fresh coriander, for serving
  • natural yoghurt, for serving

What you will need to do : 

Whack it in a pot minus the coriander and yoghurt.

Simmer till it’s mushy.

Wazz it in the food processor.

Serve it. Sprinkle it with coriander and drizzle it with yoghurt.

You’re welcome.




spicy pumpkin soup



Cook Once, Feed All COVER_lr

Cook Once, Feed All is about making your life easier whilst preparing nutritious and quick food for your family. Hailed by Mouths of Mums as the ‘must have recipe book for all families’, this book is a collection of family friendly recipes, all accompanied by stories from my life.

To order your hardcopy of Cook Once, Feed All head to the Holsby Shop right now.

If you like what you’re reading why not like my Facebook page now or subscribe via email, to be sure to always keep up with the Holsbys.


‘Mama, are you going to die?’…. lessons in death.

27 May
the fam halloween

Could dress ups like these be responsible for his fascination with death??? My bad.

D Man is slightly obsessed with dying at the moment, and when I say slightly I’m playing it down.

Every time his little voice pipes up with another question my mind starts racing because I really don’t know if I’m handling it properly. I mean, I’m being honest about it. That’s what you do with kids, right?


I’m being frank and matter of fact, but whilst not sugar coating it exactly, I’m definitely not discussing childhood illnesses that may cause imminent death, so we’re working with honesty, to a point.

It’s curly questions like these that really make me realise my boy is no longer a baby. His little synapses are processing stuff and putting stuff together and asking some big questions…. ones I’m not totally prepped for. I think when it comes time for sex and wanking conversations, I’ll be all over it, but something about this death chat freaks me a bit. I’m not afraid of death myself, but D Man is getting upset by all of his questions.

I’m really not certain where his new curiosity has sprung from but a typical conversation goes something like this.

‘Mama, am I going to die?’

‘Yes, honey, everyone dies one day, but I hope you’re not going to die for a really long time.’

‘Are you going to die?’

‘I am, but I’m not planning on it until I’m older than Grandpapa.’

(Sorry Dad, somehow you became the benchmark for old age. His great grandparents are simply too old to fathom.)

Often around this mark of the conversation he will start to keen a little, or whimper.

‘I don’t want you to die.’

This is where it gets tricky……because I’m not trained for this conversation, and because I HAVE NO TACT. This part is the part where my mouth goes dry, and my mind races to find the right words to explain that death is a part of life. It’s inevitable, and although it’s sad to lose someone…..then breaking my revery he cries –

‘I don’t want Kiki to die!!!’

I try to gently explain the whole Circle of Life business but we’re not quite up to wrapping our heads around the idea ; we seem to be stuck on the death part.

The biggest thing kids have a hard time understanding, apparently, is the permanence of death. That you no longer eat, or sleep, or breathe. I feel like he gets that though, hence the fear he has of death.

It wouldn’t be so bad if he just asked once or twice, but we’re covering the same territory probably twice a day at the moment. I thought I would turn to my trusty parenting encyclopaedia The Internet, but the first site I came across suggested a good way to broach the subject is when a family pet dies.

Now, I admit wholeheartedly that Mister Pants can be an utter jerk but I don’t think killing him and holding a kitty funeral is the solution here… nor is buying a  stupid fish tank with stupid fish that I’ll be stuck cleaning once a week until I do actually kill the unfortunate creatures who inhabit it.

Surely, that’s more of a lesson in murder than mortality?

Most posts are about teaching a child to cope with grief after loss, or expressing my own sadness at losing a loved one. We haven’t actually lost a loved one, nor a pet, so it’s not like death has knocked on our door with it’s cold and brittle fingers. This inquisitiveness has come out of the blue.

It’s totally normal, I realise, and even covering the same ground many times over is fine, he’s just processing. Apparently I should be encouraging further discussion about it to make sure we’ve really got everything covered off in his brain but I’m just kinda sitting with it and letting him drive this one.

I figure as long as he doesn’t start asking me about my will, I won’t worry that he’s asking about my death.


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Monster Birthdays Are Us.

21 May

Last year at D Man’s 3rd birthday party I organised a game or two prior but I cracked the wine before anyone got there and by the time it was in full swing I was two sheets to the wind and just let it go. The dinosaur archeology sandpit quest went undug, my egg and spoon race went unrun, and basically I failed the party.

I had a great time until my friendly neighbour kindly pointed out to me that it not my party, but my kids, and I should step up my game.

Was she challenging me?

Or just bagging the crap outta me?


But I copped it on the chin and stepped up my game. I made games, wrapped Pass the Parcel, overstuffed and piñata (rookie error. Did you know there was such as thing as too many lollies????) and layered jelly with monsters eyeballs.

I set up a face painting station and I didn’t drink wine until anyone arrived.

Shit, man, I had bunting. My cyber friend Bron from Maxabella Loves swears it ain’t a kid’s party until you have bunting.

I so had this Monster party in the bag, my friends.

In. The. Bag.


My cake was utterly spectacular to look at, but in the name of full disclosure I must shamefacedly admit to a fail. That damned thing was so dense you needed a chainsaw to cut it.

I’m not being modest, it was almost unanimous. It sucked.

holsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster partyholsby monster party

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And then you were 2.

8 May

kiki babyAt kindy the other day one of your teachers asked me if I’d been having any trouble with you, my littlest love.

I responded that I had notices a few changes, that you had indeed been more obstinate, more disobedient than usual, why did she ask?

She told me that you not only blatantly refused to do as you were asked a number of times, but you gave her a filthy death stare as you stood your ground.

I was secretly a little bit proud. It’s hard to be cross with you.

kiki and dexIs this 2, we wonder?

Do we have an entire year of this before the threes take hold?

My love, my dear heart, my sweet little girl, I think this may actually be you. Feisty, determined, fierce.

You are such a headstrong creature that I think perhaps we are destined to years of you blatantly, obstinately disregarding directions and doing whatever the hell you want.

kiki 2You know what?

Maybe if you were my first child I would worry, but as my second, I think ‘you go, girl’. You are so delightful in a myriad of ways that your desire to stand your ground ought to serve you well in time.kiki in bumbo

We will butt heads no doubt, but your soft and loving side will never be buried too far beneath your stubbornness and I think I will always be able to snaffle a schnuggle out of you.

You do love a schnuggle and I love to bury my nose into the soft flesh of your neck and just breathe in the caramel smell of my baby…. even though you’re not quite as sweet smelling as you once were, I’ll always be intoxicated by you.

kiki around 1

You will always be my baby girl, and I will always have your back.

The time has gone fast, my girl. It’s been a wild ride with many changes but it’s passed me by in a flash of firsts.

You were slow to walk.

I imagined you crawling into your first day of high school for a while there, but there you finally stood on your chubby little legs and you wobbled your butt as you took those first uncertain strides. Now you run. You fall a lot so I’m guessing you have your mother’s coordination, but you do so love to run….away from me when I’m trying to get you into the car, or get you dressed.

kiki 2You may have been slow to walk but you are quick to laugh. You think your brother is hilarious, except when you think he’s a pain in the ass. You oscillate about 60/40, I reckon.

You’re generous with your love. Throwing your arms around people, throwing your entire little body at them for a cuddle. Pulling yourself onto laps, locking yourself around legs. You have no shortage of love to give, this much I know.

Today is your 2nd birthday, dear Kikster.

You talk better than many of your peers, and count to 20 but you still pee your pants so we won’t put you down as a prodigy just yet, but know that your Mama thinks you’re the coolest little girl in the world.

kiki at 2Because you’re mine.

And your double dimples simply melt me every. single. time.

Happy birthday, Angel.

Today is your day and we will eat chocolate cake, and drink strawberry smoothies, swing you on the garden swing, go and feed the ducks and paint with bright colours, because these are the things that you enjoy the most, and we shall do them with gusto on your second birthday.

kiki almost 2I love you, Wiggles.


Your Mama.


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The stories of our post-baby flesh.

3 May

I recently received a Facebook ad in my newsfeed for a brilliant new procedure being offered to mums. It was enticingly titled ‘Australia’s First Mummy Makeover Package.’

The makeover consisted of a little tummy tuck for the excess skin where your flesh stretched to accommodate your growing child, some liposuction across your hips where they thickened to help balance your load and post operative pilates to help improve your core.

The accompanying photograph was a flat belly with the tell-tale dashes drawn on to highlight problem areas begging to be cut back into shape.

I’m not anti-surgery. Far from it.

If you truly feel that nipping and/or tucking, lifting, plumping, smoothing or reducing will help you feel better about yourself, help elevate your sexuality, and increase your self-confidence, then go for it with great gusto.

What I am anti, however, is the suggestion that after we grow a human being inside of us for nine months until our skin is positively bursting, stretching and tearing from the inside with that creature of our loins, that the excess stomach skin, added fat and thickened hips are so undesirable that we should cut it out of our very bodies.

It’s insanity.

I feel like the world has gone mad for suggesting such a thing.

We are not meant to look youthful and nubile forever.

Our bodies tell the stories of our lives and we should hold our heads high and own the tales our skin can tell.

Each scar carries a paragraph, each purple or silvery mark like a tiger’s stripes show our journey from child to woman to mother, and we gracefully, graciously head towards the final twilight of our bodies as they eventually fade like flowers.

I was angered by this ad in my feed, and I was disgusted by the use of an image that was obviously ‘aesthetically pleasing‘.

I was moved to create something that highlighted the beauty that is the body that has created another being.

The post-baby body.

Whether your child is 2 weeks, or 20, your body tells the story.

Feeling good about yourself is so important. Feeling strong and healthy in your body and mind is all interconnected, and feeling less desirable after having children is something so many women feel. Less beautiful than the old pre-baby you.

I just want to say ‘Bullshit.’

Confidence is beautiful. Bravery is gorgeous. An ability to laugh at yourself is to die for.

You must remember you made a person.

You are an alchemist.

You are magnificent.


post baby bodypost baby body


post baby body

post baby body

post baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodyHolsbys - post baby bodypost baby body

post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyholsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodypost baby bodyHolsbys post baby bodypost baby bodypost baby body

 A humungous thank you to the beautiful ladies who participated in this post. Your bravery and honesty was both humbling and empowering.

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Never forget the true meaning of Easter….. The Easter Show.

20 Apr

The idea of the Royal Easter Show sends shivers down my spine. Not those exciting anticipatory shivers, but more like the shivers you get just before you pass diarrhoea.

I get that The Show is kinda fun, but it’s just such a ball ache.

It’s the mission to get there, the throngs of bogans, the gaggles upon swarms of other people’s children, the Dagwood Dogs from oily smelling vans, the penned animals in humid tents, exorbitant parking, the waiting – oh, the waiting in lines – and the million dollars you spend in order to have this horrible day out.

I reckon it would be fairly safe to call me the Easter Grinch….. that was until this year. I was pumped.

I admit that I only braved the baby sister lame-o excursion to the Easter Family Show at Fox Studios, but it had everything I described just in smaller, more palatable doses.

In fact, The Grinch had herself bags of fun…. but man, that four hours felt like a 48 hour dance-a-thon. My feet were sore, my back ached, I was covered in a mild layer of dirt, and I had tomato sauce smeared all over me making me look like I’d been to battle.

The kids had a great day though but it’s hard to tell, check out D Man’s head when he’s finally got hold of the first hotdog of his life.

A horse walks into a bar, or what????

the arrival the show


the rides the show

the show

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the lego, the showthe lego the showthe junk food the showjosh and ducks the showthe animals the showthe birds the showthe mice, the showthe love the show

the show bag, the showthe end the show

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