Here's a little post about Glen

Have you met Glen? I haven't either, but boy do I like him.  His blog is irreverent and funny and honest (and every now and then he does these weird posts pretending he's some Hollywood wannabe dude called Breeze Van Santo which I totally don't get but read anyway), but that's not why I'm dedicating this post to him.

I've mentioned him before because up until Sunday when Loz joined the gang, Glen has been my only (unrelated) male follower. He comments and everything (his comments are extremely funny. Check out his musings on my love of birds here). I used to wonder why I didn't have many male followers (they are so, so welcome). I'm definitely not a girly girl - I know how to roll my own cigarettes, drink bourbon straight up when the mood catches me and I'm a hell of a pool player after a couple of them bourbons. But really, let's face it, I'm hardly one to shy away from a... delicate subject, am I? I kinda put it aaaall out there. And I do like pretty. A lot.

So, I'm just in love with the fact that this bloke (and he is a BLOKE) would diligently stick with all the posts about female toilet habits and pretty pom-poms and garlands and strutting your stuff and childbirth and breastfeeding and even, god help him, bikini-line waxing. He reads them all. He says they "scare the hell out of him", but he reads them anyway. I like that in a man.

So Glen, I know you're reading this and I just wanted to say, from all of us scary women in Maxabellaland, that we love blokes like you. We really, really do.

Do you have any male followers? Do you also admire men who won't let women's business get in the way of a decent friendship?

[Image blatantly nicked from Glen's Life. He looks a bit psycho, but I'm sure that's just his Halloween face... right Glen? Glen?]

Should more women be working full-time?

I've gotta stop reading the Sydney Morning Herald... or at, the very least, LOML has to stop sending me such thought-provoking articles. Monday it was the redhead thing, yesterday it was the women working part-time thing. Goodbye 'light hearted, easy on the eye' post, heeeeellllo 'WTF?' post.

The article proposes that because more Australian women work part-time, we lag behind the rest of the world in terms of equality on the domestic front. In Denmark (darn those pesky Scandanavian cousins that seem to get everything right!) the women mainly work full-time and both partners share the bulk of domestic responsibility. Here in Australia, with many of us working part-time, we're left picking up the domestic slack as well as beavering away at our working responsibilities. So, they conclude that the less a woman is at work in her job, the more likely she is to be scrubbing the floors or looking after children at home.

Cough. I'm just not sure how working full-time is going to help mothers improve this work-life balance. What did I miss?  I work part-time (4 days per week, Wednesdays at home) so I can spend more time with my children. So, if working part-time means I'm 'working harder' at that, then I'm very happy indeed. And hats off to mothers who take the 'no-time' approach and focus on their home and raising their children. I think the researchers who made some of these conclusions seem to have forgotten that 'childcare' is actually what's involved when you have children. Caring for children is kinda why we had them!! How can going out to work full-time possibly give you more of that sort of quality of life?

Contrary to popular opinion, the self-cleaning house is still a few years away. So doing the chores is part of the 'life' in work / life  balance whether we like it or not. It's the same amount of work involved whether we work full, part or no-time.  And (just quietly as I may get shot for saying this) at my place the reason the woman does the bulk of the housework is because the woman demands the bulk of the standards.

So, how can women working full-time give us more time to spend with our children and enhance our lives exactly? Comparing Australia with other countries and then assuming that work sits outside of cultural differences doesn't help anyone. Why not suggest that everyone starts working part-time instead? Because it there's one thing I agree with the research findings about, it's that both the men and women of Australia could do with a bit of a re-think on the hours they devote to their bosses!

What are your thoughts about all of this? How do you manage work and home - part-time or full-time? Or have you chosen to stop working to focus on home? Did your partner ever consider doing the same? Are you happy with your work /life balance? Will I ever stop asking questions?

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The make up of me

On Friday Carly at We Heart Life wrote an insightful post about why we wear makeup that really hit home for me. You see, I don't really wear it any more. Not when I leave the house, not to most social engagements, not even to work.

There was a time when I wouldn't be caught dead without make up on. From the minute I was allowed to wear mascara to school in Year 9, I would paint and shade my face into a enhanced, better-than-me mask. Going out, I would pile it on. For over 10 years I did a full face of make-up every single day. To hide my freckles, to make my eyes brighter, to puff my lips, to draw on eyebrows, to lift my cheeks. I was a razzle-dazzle beauty queen.

And felt unattractive, uninteresting, unworthy.

I went travelling in my late twenties and packed an overflowing bag of cosmetics into my backpack. Somewhere between Rome and Ravello, I ditched it. I was too busy feeling the sun on my beautiful, fresh, happy face to bother with my mask. I learned not to worry about the pimples and imperfections. I learned not to care about hiding the way I really looked and to just be proud and carefree to be me.

Over the years since then I have worn make up less and less. I still enjoy prettying up for a big night out and I actually love applying makeup and experimenting. For special occasions, it's magical stuff. But, in general, it's rare for me to worry about it.

I imagine some people judge me harshly for being barefaced in public. They may say that I'm unpolished, unprofessional, ungroomed. They may say that I am not a yummy mummy. They may say that I'm unattractive, uninteresting, unworthy.

But I say, I am beautiful, fresh and happy in the naked skin I'm in.



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The Friday Rant: Domestic Thought

I've long given up on equality in the housework stakes. There were a few things working against me:

1. It appears LOML is 10 times more helpful with tsunami-minding than most husbands. So even though I used to go beserk because he was suspiciously absent during housework moments, he would be praised endlessly by women at BBQs. "You do so much to help with the children," they would croon as LOML bounced 25 children on the family trampoline. "I wish my husband did a tenth of what you do," they would beam. So, of course, fearful that LOML would ditch me for a more grateful, more croony woman, I stopped nagging about the housework. Just joking. What really happened was that he decided the most helpful thing to do would be to take the kids to the park and let me slave on with the housework in peace. Which is lovely... but, you know, still slavey.

2. About 12 years ago, I fell for the classic male trick of 'under-cleaning'. As soon as you find yourself frantically cleaning up two minutes after the male cleaner has done his thing, stop immediately. They are doing it on purpose. See, eventually you'll crack and scream "for the love of god, how hard is it to wipe your own feet before you mop the kitchen floor?!" Bang, they've got you. You only need to do this once and you can never, ever take it back. Years and years later they will say "You know I'd love to help you with the cleaning, but you know how you get. Remember that time in 1998? Remember?"

3. My favourite: you're manically flicking about with your dust cloth between folding 10 baskets of clothes (I know, only 10 - it was the 5th wash this week), replacing the 27th texta lid on the 27th naked texta and signing your 8th Family Assistance Office Childcare Tax Benefit form and they swan in and say "oh honey, just leave it". Just leave it? Just. leave. it? For whom, exactly?

Anyway, this rant isn't actually supposed to be about the inequality of housework. It's acutally about a far more insidious domestic imbalance.

Domestic Thought.

The holder of Domestic Thought is almost invariably a woman. And it's killing us slowly.

Tomorrow's yellow t-shirt safety day at school for Maxi-Taxi - note to self: yellow t-shirt. Tomorrow. Child A. Must take $2 fine for imposed mufti. Iron jeans to wear with yellow t-shirt. Ask about safety when child returns from school. Prepare for lecture on how to cross the road safely.

Saturday is X's birthday party - note to self: get present. Not too cheap. Maybe something expensive looking, but on sale. Kid likes Hannah Montana. Don't buy Hannah Montana. Get something educational. Must wrap present. Find card. Get address. Do the RSVP. Check directory to find out where house is. Take Child B to party at 2, picking up X and Y on the way from Z, M's mother will bring Child B home after she drops off R at P and Q at R.

Aunt's birthday coming up. Soccer fundraiser. Need toilet paper. When do classes start? P&C meeting on Tuesday. Take cupcakes to childcare on Monday. Fertilise plants. Check that parenting class for anxious types. Get some string to tie up the orange tree. Picnic for Sunday. RSVP yes to D for BBQ on the 22nd. When should we start toilet training The Badoo? Buy groceries. Get the BrollySheets back to arm ourselves against Maxi-Taxi. Childcare arrangements for term 2 holidays. What's for dinner? Tonight? Tomorrow night? For the next 1,026 nights? Lunch? Breakfast? Snacks?

Think about all the things you think about.

Now think about all the things your man thinks about.

Forget the housework. Domestic Thought is the real inequality!

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I rewound this post on 27.11.10