A Mommy Makeover? No, thanks.

Two articles in the New York Times this week got me going: Is the 'Mom Job' Really Necessary? and 'Recontouring' and Its Critics.

The first one was forwarded to me from a friend, who thought I might find the article funny and maddening at the same time. Which I did. Obviously, having given birth less than a year ago, my body is still recovering from a c-section, and I suppose I would be considered the target audience for this sort of package: The Mom Job or also known as the mommy makeover. It usually consists of three procedures: a boob job, tummy tuck and some liposuction. Which, apparently, is all it takes to give you back that perky, bouncy prenatal body.

The Anti Yummy Mummy on finding the right baby name

In the last of her weekly Anti Yummy Mummy columns, Camilla Chafer asks what's really in a name?

The bard, as we all know, once wrote 'a rose by any other name would be just as sweet'. It's a nice sentiment but he's not one of the few children in America who have had the misfortune to be named Chlamydia or Ikea by their dimwitted parents. Of course, children landed with such idiotic names are no doubt just as sweet as the rest of their peers (or not, depending on how you prefer to look at it) but surely it's about time there were a few rules in place to prevent such awful atrocities from occurring at the baby registering stage.

Names ebb and flow in popularity and locations, hence an abundance of six year old Archie's in Muswell Hill and Chloe's in, well, everywhere. There are certain types of professions which seem to acquire certain types of names and some names that look incongruous in certain settings. Do you really think Chardonnay-Whitney will rise to become a lawyer? That's not to say we should only pick names from a certain pool, flouting originality along the way, but it's about time parents thought really carefully about how original they are being in lumping a child with a name that may have to last it eighty or ninety years.

The Anti Yummy Mummy and the right sized family?

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer asks is there such a thing as the right sized family?

We have our standard 2.4 children in the West, in China the policy is a solitary one, in some nations, the bigger the family the better. Which nation is right? Which parent has the right amount of off spring - the parents of one? two? three? four or more? It's an interesting question, not least because there isn't a definitive answer.

The Times Alpha Mummy blog addressed the question recently of why all their bloggers had no more than two children and the 20 plus comments had plenty to say on the subject. My favourite comment of which is 'With two [children], you're staff. With three, you're management.' So how do you make sure you've got the right number?

The curse of the pushy parents

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer asks are you a pushy mum if you just want what it best for your child?

We've probably all heard about the pushy parent phenomenon by now. They've been sent up in various novels like The Nanny Diaries and The Ivy Chronicles recently. The children in these books are signed up to every known class on offer from sports, to languages, to crafts and more, anything that will 'enrich' their personal development. Of course, it diesn't end there as the children are crafted in mini adults, ready to embark on their school careers with the money their parents can either afford to throw at them, or scrimp and save to provide them with the same prospects as their peers.

Are these parents pushy or do they merely want the best that they can provide?

Are your parenting skills good enough for anyone?

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer asks does everyone else feel they should interfere with your parenting?

I can honestly say that I can't think of a single person whose parenting skills are so amazing, so utterly perfect, that I would wish to emulate them. No celebrities, no 'ordinary woman on the street' or friends, not a single one. Of course, there are plenty of things that I don't like about the way other people parent, but unless it's dangerous, I'll keep my opinions to myself as a general rule. The problem is, why can't everyone else do that?

Outside interference into your parenting occurs almost from the exact moment that you announce your pregnancy and if you're a first timer, boy, are you in for a minefield of conflicting information from everyone, all of whom believe they are absolutely and utterly right. The first time you'll get it is when everyone compete about how bad their childrens' births were and everyone has to go that little bit grosser, little bit more agonising than their predecessor and then tell you exactly how you should cope during your labour. Once you've got over that, then the real trouble begins.

Junk food jaunts and the healthy eating champions

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer talks chicken nuggets and Yummy Mummy food hell

Like Cate, I don't bother with faddy diets and eat what I like, despite my companion's frequent diets and lusty looks at my food. And now I'm eight months pregnant there's the additional comments 'great, you can eat whatever you like', 'it must be nice eating for two' or 'you're so lucky you don't have to watch your figure.' Actually, I'm eating for me and always have and have never watched my figure which at the moment is just growing outwards from every angle anyway.

When you become a parent though, there's the added problem of not just what you feed yourself, but what you feed your children too. And in the wake of Jamie Oliver's chicken nugget revelations, you sometimes wonder if you are criminal for not preparing every day a fully home cooked meal from your weekly organic box delivery. Personally, I'm much better at cooking take-out than trying to concoct an exciting recipe from celariac and squash.

The Anti Yummy goes pink and blue but sees red

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer thinks about stereotypes and wonders if she should avoid pink and blue altogether?

I've always tried to avoid forcing social stereotypes on the children. By that I mean, I gave my son a barbie doll... which he fed to our dog and she became headless barbie in one swift gnaw, as well as dumper trucks. My daughter subsequently inherited diggers and tractors to play with. Did this blatant attempt at not pushing them into a particular love of 'girls toys' or 'boys toys' do anything whatsoever for their likes and dislikes? Not a jot, I'll tell you, especially as my daughter is now the frilliest, pinkest girl you could meet, albeit one who carries a telescope, wears an eyepatch and likes to be called 'Captain'.

The Anti Yummy Mummy: My multi faith children

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer talks about bringing up children in a multi faith household.

Religious issues have been a popular topic at DollyMix this week. We've seen a video about a women deciding whether or not to wear a headscarf after converting to Islam and our own Alex has written about being Greek Orthodox with a Jewish boyfriend. Now, I'll put in my two pence and talk about my family. My partner is Arab Muslim, emigrating to the UK in his early teens, and I was brought up Christian. We have two children and a third due this summer. Oh, it's fun and games in our house alright...

The Anti Yummy Mummy - the final taboo?

In her weekly column, Camilla Chafer asks why is it so taboo to have a moan about motherhood?

Work - it can have its bad points, so you have a little whinge. Your friends - sometimes aren't that great, you bitch about them. Your boyfriend did something really dumb - you moan about him too and your friends agree. You say motherhood sucks - suddenly, you are a pariah. Why is it then that the one thing it's still slightly taboo to say is that sometimes being a parent just isn't great?

Motherhood or Child Free?

Camilla Chafer explores real parenthood in her weekly column and asks what exactly is the point of the Child Free Brigade?

Ok, the Child Free Brigade don't actually exist (as far as I'm aware) but if all the people who get together to moan about how disgusting children are got together, it would make for a neat title. Now, I don't have anything against people who don't have children. I don't particularly care why they don't want them or why they've never wanted them but you know, it'd be kinda nice if they stopped moaning about kids.

You know the sort already. They aren't childless, they haven't just chosen not to have children, they are the downright rude branch who find children utterly loathsome and seem to take pleasure in insulting the parents and the offspring. They exclaim, 'I hate kids, they are so dirty,' 'kids are so noisy', 'kids are disgusting' or 'kids are so stupid.' Oh please! Since when did anyone emerge from the womb a fully formed human being with intelligent thought processes, manners and abilities. Some people, it can be argued, never get that far in their lifetime!

Manners, children, manners!

Camilla Chafer explores real parenthood in her weekly column and ponders why people are so amazed that her children have manners...

Last week I was stood in a supermarket (hardly the most fascinating thing I know) buying my daughter some new clothes. Fortunately she really liked them and was saying, 'thank you, Mummy' as I paid. The sales assistant looked at her with such an odd expression. 'Did she say thank you?' he asked tentatively and I assured him, yes, she did. 'Wow,' he replied.

It was a rather bizarre exchange. Should one be amazed when a child - even a two year old - is polite and expresses it verbally? Isn't it a natural part of child rearing to instill manners? It seems not, in today's culture.

The Anti Yummy Mummy

Camilla Chafer explores real parenthood in her weekly column and explains why she isn't a card carrying "yummy mummy"...

I'm not a 'yummy mummy'. There, I've said it, it's out in the open. I'd have liked to have been but gosh, isn't it such an effort after scrubbing the kids to transform oneself into a chic, svelte, 'what this old thing I dragged out of the closet' type? I'm afraid after two children (The Boy, 8 and The Girl, 2), I've only just got back in to the practice of having my hair cut on a semi-regular basis and I can't seem to manage the art of pressing my clothes or pulling off that made-up glam mum look at quarter to nine in the morning (with the exception of a liberal dose of my new best friend No7 Instant Radiance Concealer). I'm still rather amazed, after all this time, that anyone else can either.