After a week of horror, one mother makes a plea.

Dear World,

I’m giving you an ultimatum. I expect you get many of them. But this one is mine.

I have three kids, you see. Aged three and five and nearly seven. Three tiny parts of a massive world. Three tiny insignificant beings.

But the three most important things to me.

So here is the thing, world. I give you 12 years to sort yourself out. Twelve years to get your shit together.

Because in 12 years my kids will be ready to set sail and explore like millions of Australians have done before them.

My kids will be ready to grab that backpack and head out to see what is before them.

We are an intrepid lot. Australians have always travelled. Weren’t we founded on those who came across the seas to live here?

Our natural curiosity, our friendliness, our adventurous spirit has seen generation after generation of us set out throughout the world.

Nothing stops us. Nothing phases us.

The 10 Australians who lost their lives on 9/11 did not hold us back.

The 88 of us murdered in Bali did not make us insular.

http://ivillageau.s3.amazonaws.com/wp-content/uploads/files/MH-17-tributes-floral.jpg.jpg Tributes to the MH-17 victims.

The one Australian killed and nine injured in the London bombings did not make us stay at home.

And I pray that this latest incident does not turn us inward.

As a country I hope that the images of innocent families murdered above the skies of Ukraine does not shut us down.

But as much as I want us to stand up and say this “will not break us” I am also not sure I want MY children exploring a world where innocent children and nuns and grandfathers fall from the sky as a victim of a war they may not have even heard of.

I don’t want MY children a possible target for a mistaken identity or a deliberate terrorist attack.

I don’t want MY kids to be vulnerable to someone else’s political or religious motives.

I said a silent and selfish thank you last Friday that my children were still young enough to be at home.

That it was not my kids who were about to set off on their big adventure.

I cannot imagine the feelings that parents of young men and women who are traveling must be having. I cannot imagine being a mother at the airport today, tomorrow, next year, bravely wishing my child goodbye and yet struck by a fear I could not voice.

I am in awe of the parents whose children are overseas who would be praying at night for the safety of their grown-up children. I cannot imagine how difficult it is.

I am sure that deep down whoever is responsible for these attacks and murders believe hey are doing it for the right reasons.

I hope that deep down these people believe to the very centre of their core that the fight they are fighting is the only true way, that the religion they are willing to sacrifice life for, the political allegiances they are so dedicated to, is the one and only way.

At least I hope their passions run that deep, because all I see is horror and terror and blood and loss.

I don’t want my children to be a part of your fight.

So World, I am giving you 12 years to get it back together. Twelve years to sort it out. Twelve years in which I want to demand no more bloodshed. No more lives lost. I know my three kids are an insignificant part of this world, but this is my plea.

I want to stay proud of a nation of travellers and explorers who embrace every corner of the world. I want to be a global society.

But until you sort your shit out World, my kids aren’t going to be a part of it.

 How are you feeling about your children's safety in the wake of MH17?

Do you hide the horrors of real life from your children?

The hardest part of motherhood is knowing when to let go.