When I first moved into the suburb I now live in with my family, I was single. Back then, I couldn't help but notice the neat little row of shops a stone's throw from my apartment, two of them devoted to children's designer clothing, another two, displaying drapey, kaftan-esque dresses, perfect for the lactating mother. I noticed, too, the strollers and the prams.
But that was to be expected, my suburb was near the beach, in Sydney's east, making it the perfect place to settle down.
A solid decade later, what was once a couple of shops devoted to mothers has become a cottage industry. There are baby designer stores galore, and the number of designer mummy stores have doubled.
These are joined by a beautician, or medi-spa, on every corner - offering not just eyebrow treatments, but face lifts and micro needling. Five - I'm serious - five corner stores have been replaced by skin clinics. I've counted and there are four within a two-kilometre radius of my home.
Naturally, there is the usual over-supply of cafes. One at the end of every street, and all of them offering babycinos and toddler-sized green smoothies. And nuzzled in next to the cafes are hair salons, each one offering a dizzying array of treatments and champagne, and at Christmas, there's the little parties.
These are not marketed to men.
If the gentrification of a suburb involves pushing out poor people to make way for middle-class families and their white-bread tastes, then my suburb did not simply gentrify, it gentrified in a very specific way.
It "mumified". And with two children of my own now, I can't say I'm upset.
Gone is the trophy store and the humble bakery. The old nick-nack shop is but a distant memory. Everything is now geared toward my demographic, which is to say, everything is geared toward upwardly mobile mothers, the Yummy Mummies, who like their almond latte with a teeny tiny cupcake on the side; something for Lala to nibble on before her child-led play at the local day care centre, which will happily nurture her obvious giftedness for the medium fee of $175 a day.
According to a report published in The Australian Financial Review in October last year, the eastern suburbs of Sydney boasted a median house price that was twice the Sydney median. McGrath eastern suburbs specialist Ben Collier said that the reason has to do with lifestyle, explaining that the eastern suburbs have it all, while still remaining close to the city.
"[They have] the beachside, the parkside and the harbourside. And mixed in all that are the best schools in the country."
Ah yes, the schools. As any helicopter parent knows, you've got to be in the right catchment, so your babe can go to the right educational facility. Then she can go on to the right high school, get the highest possible ATAR and go on to lead a wildly successful life (presumably in the same suburb you raised her).
Since 2010, Australia's birthrate has been on the increase, especially when it comes to older parents. In 2015, the suburbs where the most babies were born were mostly in the south-west of Sydney, except for that one tiny little enclave right in the east (near where I live), where over 400 little ones were born.
Those little ones are toddlers now and the three new day care centres that have set themselves up in Randwick, Clovelly and Coogee, have probably flung open their doors to receive them. Meanwhile, their mothers can busy themselves on their days off by popping in for a face refresh or keratin hair treatment.
Like I said, I'm not upset about this; although I'm nostalgic for the days when my little suburb was just a broken down pub, a lonely beach and a low-ceiling florist.
Back then it felt like I was on the cusp of something, and now, these days, with every single shop, child-proof playground and artisanal bakery catering for my every need I no longer feel edgy; I feel pegged.
