Taking junior trackside
Itook my five-month-old daughter to Magic Millions, mingling with racing’s elite, and it looked effortless. I’m not writing this seeking Supermum status, though. Quite the opposite.
I have seen babies at the races before and my first reaction is always brushed with a bit of sadness; “I would never be able to bring my babies somewhere like this”.
I actually said that to a few friends at the Magic Millions Polo a week earlier, while admiring the bravery of an immaculately dressed mother with her perfectly behaved mini who looked equally as stylish.
Let’s be honest, bringing babies anywhere is hard. It’s messy, it’s unpredictable and it’s always potentially a disaster.
Yet on social media, it looks so easy breezy.
I see photos of babies having a great time at weddings, at pool parties, the beach, expensive restaurants, and it just looks … effortless.
Each time my confidence takes a hit, because despite my best efforts not to compare, I do, and I start believing everyone else is doing this mum business better.
I know I’m not alone, so I’m here now to remind you (and me) that Instagram isn’t real life.
If you happened to see my snaps from the Millions with my tiny firecracker Pia, you may have felt the same. We also looked immaculate, matching in white, and while it may have looked effortless, it absolutely wasn’t.
Let me paint the picture I didn’t post. Pia became my plus-one to the rescheduled race day because she is pretty-much stuck to me like velcro. We walked in looking confident but completely on edge. She was overtired and yet to bounce back from a hysterical car trip.
I didn’t even bother bringing the pram because I can count on one hand how many times she’s been in it. She was wearing an adorable flower headband, but also teething and drooling, and when a friendly guest welcomed us at the door she
Long story short, little Pia was a big hit. She had a kip, had a feed, watched the horsies, had a spew (on a guest’s stiletto), and we were off and racing back home before the main event.
bursts into tears. We know all babies cry, but maybe not in this room — a glamorously decked out member’s lounge, overlooking Queensland’s richest race day.
I could feel all eyes on us. We’d just arrived and already I was contemplating leaving. But I played it cool and used the best trick I have, the baby carrier.
I swiftly strapped her to my chest and bounced and bounced and bounced. The combination of the ambient noise in the room, and the alignment of the planets, meant she fell asleep — something I would never bet on, not even at the Magic Millions.
Long story short, little Pia was a big hit. She had a kip, had a feed, watched the horsies, had a spew (on a guest’s stiletto), and we were off and racing back home before the main event. She was the cutest companion and the most volatile, and it was easily my most stressful race day to date. But we did it.
It’s so important we are open about our struggles and anxieties as parents. I’m not saying we need to plaster poonamis and tantrums all over TikTok, but we shouldn’t strive for the illusion of perfection, or believe that is what we are expected to achieve. I know of very confident, capable women who rarely leave the house in fear of being judged for having a cranky, messy baby.
I’ll be the first to throw my hand up to say mum-life is rarely as cute as it looks on my social feeds.
I don’t often think to capture the messy moments, but they happen, very often.
A picture is worth a thousand words, but don’t be fooled by mine. You just read 600 more explaining the real deal that day, and providing a much more accurate portrait of mum-life – which is only ever picture-perfect on Instagram.