Mummy Olympics

With the mother-of-all-Olympics less than a week away, it’s time to start planning the ‘Mother Olympics’.

Forget Beijing – why not pay tribute to the Herculean effort made by mums around the world simply getting through each day?

We’d have to change the motto from Swifter, Higher, Stronger to Sleepier, Grumpier, but Happier. Aside from that, the events would be much the same.

For the 100 metres hurdles, mums would leap over the sandpit, bikes, diggers and dog poo in a race to the clothes line.

Sure, we don’t all look like Stephanie Rice, but the individual swimming medley is easy pickings for any mum who’s taken little kids to swimming lessons.

There’s our eight-months-pregnant gold medallist in the pool now, throwing an overweight toddler into the air while treading water and singing ‘dingle dangle scarecrow’ word-perfect, in tune and without hyperventilating.

The marathon – well – that’s just an average day in the life of any mother.

This event would undoubtedly be taken out by the Tanzanian who, in training, ran 42 kilometres while in labor, giving birth at the finish line then heading straight back to the fields.

At the other extreme, the 100 metres sprint requires mums to strip, jump in the shower, wash and shampoo in less than 10 seconds, or before the baby starts crying (whichever comes first).

A recent addition to the Olympic schedule is trampoline gymnastics, described on the Beijing Games website as the perfect fusion of athletics and aesthetics.

At the Mother Olympics, the winner must jump in the backyard trampoline for more than three minutes – without leaking. (Obviously women who had caesareans would  carry lead weights as a form of handicap).

As Bruce McAvaney would say, ‘special’.

In a break from tradition, the wrestling would have two components; physical and psychological.

During the first round, the competitor has to wrestle a colicky baby into a nappy then a muslin wrap, before tackling a set of three year old triplets who don’t want to brush their teeth (degree of difficulty: 2.3 and 1.7 respectively).

In the second round, mums have to wrestle with their guilt in areas ranging from child care through to methods of punishment and the length of ‘quality time’.

In line with the crackdown on performance enhancing drugs, Aussie mums would have to abstain from the two-lattes-and-a-piece-of-banana-bread a day which usually gets us through.

I can just hear Norman May yelling ‘gold, gold, gold!’ as mums of the world are finally rewarded for their hard work.

For those who miss out on a podium finish, there’s ample compensation in the form of a smile, a cuddle, and maybe a tiny bit of dribble from their gorgeous kids. V

Tracey Spicer is the mother of three year old Taj and two year old Grace.