KRISSY MARSH: 'Moolies isn't just fun, it's necessary. Here's why every mum needs to experience it.'

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There is something wonderfully chaotic and deeply comforting about Moolies, and after your child graduates, it seems to arrive right when we need it most.

Milana is my third and last child to graduate. As mothers, we spend almost two decades helping and guiding our children through school — exams, sports days, Mandarin tutorials, HSC meltdowns, endless lunches, pep talks and tears. Then suddenly, the finish line appears, they walk out of their last exam, and we're left standing there thinking: what now?

Listen: Real Housewives of Sydney star Krissy Marsh discusses 'Moolies' on The Quicky. Post continues below.

After years of being locked into a routine that revolved entirely around someone else's timetable, we wake up and realise we're free. I know I've ridden all the ups and downs of my three children's lives that come with reaching the milestone of graduating school. Moolies is a chance to celebrate each other and pat ourselves on the back too. And while that freedom is thrilling, it also comes with a quiet little panic: Where will our friendships go now we're not bound by school ties? Will we lose these women in our lives now school is over?

In a world where we're more digitally connected than ever, we're also frighteningly disconnected from real friendships.

Watch: Redefining friendships instead of ending them. Post continues after video.

That's why Moolies matters. It's a pilgrimage, a reunion, a release and a reminder that our friendships have been the silent scaffolding holding us together — from daycare drop-off all the way to that final moment at the school gates.

These are the women who lent us uniforms, shared carpool duties, swapped lunchbox ideas, sat beside us at speech nights, listened to our late-night rants and talked us through moments of petty schoolyard squabbles. Yet as our children grow up, those routine touchpoints disappear.

Everyone scatters, everyone gets busy, and the casual closeness we once took for granted becomes harder to find. Moolies pulls us all back into the same orbit.

And that orbit began long before we even touched down in Noosa. I boarded my Qantas flight expecting a quiet moment to decompress. Instead, it was the loudest flight of my life.

The plane was absolutely packed with mums heading to Moolies, and the energy was electric. People were talking across aisles, laughing, reconnecting and catching up like it had been days rather than years.

No one was holding back. No one was pretending not to know each other. It felt like stepping back into a proper community — something we rarely get in our busy lives.

Arriving at the hotel was like stepping into a whirlpool of noise and excitement. Bags were everywhere, friends were squealing, phones were buzzing and the bellmen were doing their very best to manage what felt like eighty women checking in at the same time.

It was a scene that could only happen during Moolies — full of joy, chaos and the kind of energy that comes from women who have finally exhaled after the massive journey of getting their children through school.

Image: Supplied.

The first night was surprisingly gentle. We had a lovely dinner at my house after a sunset cruise on the Noosa River. Everyone acts as though Moolies begins with wild scenes on night one, but the truth is that it usually starts slow. And it needs to, because the next morning comes with a non-negotiable tradition for every Moolies mum: the Hell's Gate walk.

The Hell's Gate walk is practically sacred. It doesn't matter how little sleep you got or how late dinner went — you put on your activewear and you join the long, beautiful pilgrimage along that coastline.

This year, I found myself walking with a friend who somehow manages to have ten thousand friends. Every few minutes someone waved, someone called out to her, someone stopped for a hug. It was like walking with a mayor.

But that's exactly what Moolies is. It's social, warm, open and full of women who genuinely want to reconnect.

Image: Supplied.

Somewhere along that walk, I realised how rare this kind of connection has become in the real world. We talk constantly about disappearing community, about everything feeling transactional, about people glued to their phones.

Yet at Moolies, connection is alive and well. Women from dozens of schools come together not to talk about their children — because we hardly mention them — but to talk about what comes next for us.

No one is discussing the HSC. No one is unpacking lost assignments or teenage drama. And absolutely no one is talking about their husbands. The conversations are about our lives, our next steps, our plans for the future and the spark that returns when you're suddenly allowed to think about yourself again.

What career do I want to revisit? What will my weekdays look like now? What routines will I create? And the greatest liberation of all: the simple relief that we will never again pack another school lunch.

There's something extraordinary about being surrounded by women who fully understand the season you're in without needing any explanation. You don't need to justify wanting fun or space or reinvention after dedicating nearly twenty years to raising children.

At Moolies, you can simply exist as yourself — the version you might have forgotten while balancing countless responsibilities.

Image: Supplied.

By the end of the weekend, every mum is a little sun-kissed, a little overtired, slightly hoarse from talking too much but lighter, freer and more energised. Moolies isn't about partying, even though there's certainly some of that. It's about reclaiming a sense of closeness and community in a world that often feels determined to take it away.

It's about celebrating survival, celebrating transition and celebrating the next stage of life. However, I can't write this article without acknowledging the mums who are up here rejoicing but not yet really free and are still in the school system — hats off to them.

And that's why the plane felt like a hen's night and why the hotel lobby looked like a tidal wave. When you gather that many women who have carried that much for that long, the release is powerful.

Moolies isn't just fun — it's necessary. And every year it reminds us that while our children step into their next chapter, we're stepping into ours too.

With no more school lunches — hip hip hooray!

Feature Image: Supplied.