Anna Spargo-Ryan – Page 26 – Anna Spargo-Ryan

Author: Anna Spargo-Ryan

Good cop, bad cop

Last night we went out for dinner. We just went to the local pub, because that is "easy", and by easy I mean the worst thing you can possibly do. Georgia was fine, albeit a little on the nose. Lily and I had this conversation: ME: Hey


By the way, your kids hate you

Apparently The Mummy Wars aren't taking off in the way the media would like. Maybe these mummies are just continuing to go about their day as though they're not being constantly judged by other women, or even worse, they've gone and spoken to each other

Georgia and the vice-principal

Back in the old days when I was a better parent, I volunteered at my daughter's kindergarten from time to time. I pretended to do things like wipe the tables and put out all the plastic cups, but what I was really doing was helicopter


Becoming Mother

Yesterday, my mum said to my brother and me, "I can't believe I had these lovely children!" and I remarked that maybe she would be used to the idea after thirty years. "I don't think you ever really get used to it," she said. This is


Which day was it?

Was this the day I stopped breastfeeding her and set her up for a lifetime of being the outcome of formula feeding? Was I secretly relieved when the doctor said my medication wasn't compatible with breastfeeding because at least I could get some sleep? Did


Sam “Ramsay Street” Simmons

Here's a sneaky sneak peek at what I've been spending my time working on: That is comedian Sam Simmons and not-real-doctor Alan Fletcher (Karl Kennedy) in the Neighbours cafeteria. We are doing the craziest rubbish. It's the best thing I've ever worked on. It's pretty hard to


the worst

"Mornings are the worst," I say. The whole day stretches ahead with no respite in sight. Just hour after hour of wondering why the phone is silent. Watching the sun rise and fall with no solace in the sound of his voice or a curious text


Must keep typing

I'm typing because everyone knows what will happen if I don't. I'll pick up the damn phone and I'll press the stupid buttons and have a conversation that doesn't fix anything and then cry until I'm ninety. It wouldn't even be the right conversation. My prediction