Looking back, so many of the health issues I face today trace back to an irregular postpartum diet, usually made up of leftover yoghurt pouches and Tiny Teddies. Nothing against Tiny Teddies, but there is something seriously wrong with skipping real meals in favour of scraps from your child’s plate, or worse, eating nothing at all.
I stopped breastfeeding because I couldn’t eat enough to keep up my supply while caring for newborn twins, and it’s something I deeply regret not planning for. In hindsight, I would have stocked the freezer, communicated better with my husband, and asked for more help. But back then, a bit of postpartum depression got the better of me, and I was simply too exhausted. Choosing between sleep and cooking a meal? For me, it wasn’t really a choice.
Now, I passionately tell every expecting mother to cook and freeze!
I won’t call myself an experienced mother (still very much learning on the job), but I do have lived experience. Raising little ones close in age brings a particular kind of stress which includes constant tantrums, clashing needs, and a house that’s loud in every corner. Somehow, they all seem to need you at the exact same time. Add the pressures of modern life, and it can be overwhelming. You’ve probably seen those reels with the caption, “Trying to tell my nervous system I’m not being chased by a bear, it’s just my toddler.” It makes me laugh because honestly, that’s exactly how it feels.
The energy it takes to care for children has to come from somewhere. If it’s not coming from real nourishment, it’s being stolen from your body’s reserves. Your nervous system, already on high alert, can’t afford the extra strain.
During pregnancy, your baby draws on your body’s vitamin and mineral stores to grow and thrive. After birth, those stores need replenishing, not just for recovery, but to meet the daily demands of motherhood. Without proper nutrition, you’re running on empty. And you feel it. And in turn, your children feel it too.
Taking care of yourself isn’t indulgent, it’s essential. We gave our babies everything during pregnancy. And now, every single day, we pour out energy, patience, and love. To keep showing up, we have to refill the tank.
That can look like a solo day out, catching up with friends, buying clothes that actually fit your post-baby body, or finally getting some good quality sleep. But aside from rest, which we know is scarce in early years, real nourishment is foundational. Everything else gets easier when your body is working with you, not against you.
My advice to you is eat, eat, EAT. Eat to sustain, eat for pleasure, eat for fuel. Eat well, eat healthy, and eat so the 3pm hump doesn’t feel so bumpy.
I’m teaching my girls that all food is good food in moderation. All food is energy, your body just processes it differently, and your insides prefer the healthy stuff. While I’m teaching them, I’m reminding myself. Sometimes a bowl of mi-goreng gives you just enough energy to push through. It’s about balance.
I can’t offer you a babysitter or a new wardrobe, but I can offer you encouragement, one of my favourite slow cooker recipes, and the mineral supplement brand I love.
Get the slow cooker out, throw in some veggies and protein, and eat your food while it’s still warm. Build it into your routine however you can.
Here’s my go-to recipe: any meat cut with a bone, chicken drumsticks, osso bucco, or beef bones with a bit of meat left on. Add onions, garlic, olive oil, herbs, carrots, and boiling water. Let the slow cooker do the rest. You can add any veggies you have, then finish with potatoes or stellini pasta at the end. It becomes a kind of pasta soup, hearty, healthy, and simple. The stovetop works too, just keep the heat low. It’s ready when the meat falls off the bone.
The older I get, the more I realise I only have one body. I can’t trade it in. My kids need me. My family needs me. And I need me.
If I Could Go Back in Time, I’d Say No
If I could go back, I’d say no to all the offers of old toys. Not a rude no because it’s a lovely gesture, just a gentle, boundaries-in-place kind of no. Maybe I’d pick one item from ten, and practice toy rotation on the spot: one new thing in, one old thing out.
I love toys. Honestly, I think I love them more than my children do. That velcro-slice fruit set from Kmart? Pure joy. But the dream becomes a nightmare when it’s time to clean it all up. Don’t get me started on Barbies. My cousins and I shared one Ken doll growing up, and I still don’t know why we only had one. I should ask my Auntie.
Businesses have done a superb job monetising both motherhood and childhood. Every week there’s a new “must-have” product that promises to make our lives easier or raise a baby genius. Sometimes, a product genuinely makes a difference however most of the time it's just another thing to trip over. Another item to clean, store, or feel guilty for not using enough.
Mothers are one of the most vulnerable consumer groups out there. We want everything for our children, and businesses know it. They know we’ll stay up late researching the “best” of everything, the most educational toy, the safest cup, the softest organic swaddle, the walker that helps them walk a whole two weeks earlier. They market directly to our worry, our guilt, and our deep love. And it works.
I realise now (probably a few thousand dollars too late) that young kids don’t need much. Sticks, mud, and stones? That’s play. It’s free, sensory, and creative. It’s child-led play, exactly what we search for in the perfect toy.
I’m not talking minimalism, that’s unrealistic with kids. I just mean less. Less clutter, less stress, and more of what we actually use and love. The toys they really play with. The clothes that actually fit. The rooms that let you breathe, not resent.
I’m not anti-toy. I still love that velcro set. But I’m trying to reframe how I think about them. Toys are modern. For most of human history, kids played with what they could find, imagine, and make. They still can. We just have to let them.
More things mean more responsibility. More clothes? More laundry. More toys? More mess, more storage, more mental load. Ask yourself, why am I cleaning two kitchens?
Instead of buying new, plan a trip to the op-shop. Let your child choose something weird and wonderful. It’s cheaper, sustainable, and fun. And when you do buy new, let your money vote for the kind of world you want to raise kids in. Support small business. Choose thoughtful products made by parents who get it.
This window when our children are little is short. Ask any mum with school-aged kids or teens. And while I don’t want to hear “little people, little problems” when I’m struggling, I can admit there’s some truth to it. These early years are tough, the sleep deprivation, the clinginess, the tantrums but they’re also a chance to shape the rhythm of our home.
I’ve taken that as a challenge, to enjoy these years and gently set boundaries now that will carry us into the older years with more connection, not less. To teach respect, patience, and joy early, so when the world gets louder, we already have a foundation of trust.
They don’t care about brands or labels. They don’t need the latest tech. They just want us. Us, a stick, and maybe a puddle.
Actually, that reminds me of a product I do love. RainKoat, a Tasmanian brand, makes waterproof overalls so kids can slide in mud and grass without ruining their clothes. They’re not lined, so you’ll want layers underneath on cold days, but they’re brilliant for spring and autumn outdoor play. Here’s the link: https://www.rainkoat.com.au/collections/overalls.
Let’s not burn through patience and money trying to create playroom catalogues. Let’s save it for the years ahead, when their interests deepen and their needs grow. Right now, simplicity is enough.
Less isn’t just easier, it’s better. One thing I’d tell my younger mum self to give them fewer things, and more of you. It’s not the stuff they remember. It’s the love, the laughter, and the time together.
Start Early on Screen Time
We all do it. The iPad at the café. Bluey so we can cook dinner. Screens are part of parenting now, and pretending otherwise helps no one. When you’re spending hard-earned money eating out, you deserve to enjoy that meal calmly. And sometimes, that requires an iPad.
We don’t have the village, no Grandma reading stories while we fold laundry. Screens help. They keep kids still, quiet, and entertained, so we can get important things done.
But many of us feel the guilt. The worry. That little voice that wonders if we’re relying on them too much.
If you’re thinking about it, congratulations because you’re a good parent. That concern is proof you care. You’re doing a great job.
I don’t believe screens are the enemy. But mindless, unlimited screen time? That’s different. The best thing we can do is guide our kids through it, not pretend it doesn’t exist.
Even toddlers can understand, “Screens are fun, but too much makes our brain tired and our body still.” Explain when screens are helpful (calling Grandma, learning something), and when they’re just passive.
Setting limits doesn’t have to be rigid. You don’t need a spreadsheet. Just a rhythm that works for your family.
Visual cues help. A timer or sand hourglass makes the transition neutral. It’s not just you saying no, it’s the timer. My mum suggested this, and I like her thinking.
When you say no, follow it with a yes. “No iPad right now, but you can help me stir the pancake mix.” It’s not about banning screens, it’s about making them part of a balanced routine.
In our house, the kids watch ABC in the mornings before school, no YouTube. It gives me time to make lunches and get everyone ready. After school, they get an hour of screen time while I prep dinner. That’s when I allow YouTube, but I watch closely. I’ve seen some scary content, even in kids’ sections.
On weekends, I try to skip screens during the day, but in the early evening we watch a movie with snacks. It feels nostalgic, like sharing the magic of Blockbuster Friday’s as a kid, even if we’re just streaming.
Start small. Be consistent. And don’t forget, you’re doing a great job.
I hope these tips give you something to walk away with, whether an idea to do it differently, a recipe to cook for dinner, or just a moment to hear a story from another mum in the same boat as you.