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Motherhood. Sisterhood

1
I was at the playground today, doing the keeping-tabs-on-your-child-and-pushing-your-napping-baby-in-a-buggy-whilst-trying-to-sustain-an-adult-conversation dance with a friend, as our 3 and 4 year olds rampaged in all directions. It was positive, having fun, a sunny afternoon. Our conversation, albeit in fits and starts as all conversations seem to be nowadays, was a proper catch up delving into how challenging it can all be…how effing hard some days, some times are. How exhaustion/sleep deprivation/vitamin D deficiency/work-life balance can all blend
SelfishMother.com
2
into something resembling postnatal depression, how you need to keep your head bobbing above the surface at all times, or at least, as Dory in Finding Nemo so eloquently put it, Just Keep Swimming.
I was surprised to be attacked. To be approached by another mum and initially assume it was in friendship but belatedly, sleep deprivedly realise some way into the onslaught that it wasn’t. ”…I’m really shocked that you are just standing by watching as your child is being so mean, my daughter just wants to play and he keeps telling her he doesn’t want
SelfishMother.com
3
to play with her. She’s only 3, I can’t believe you’re just watching as he’s doing this, I’m watching you just looking and seeing it happen…”
We had been watching our kids, constantly on the move making sure we could at all times see them…and what we had seen was children running around playing together, perhaps we hadn’t fully noticed the nuance that another child they didn’t know was wanting to join in and they were trying to shake her off, and, yes, telling her that they didn’t want to play with her. That kinda sucks, yeah…but, perhaps
SelfishMother.com
4
highlights the simplicity of children’s interactions, none of the adult social etiquette that gets you stuck with someone you really don’t want to chat to for 2 hours in the kitchen of a house party. Brutal perhaps, hurtful, even, if viewed through the prism of emotionally astute understanding – i.e. not that of a 3 and 4 year old… but is it cause to go in guns blazing to the mother of one of the other children?
Motherhood is really fricking hard sometimes. Some days, an absolute life-affirming wondrous delight. Sailing with a good wind, the sun on
SelfishMother.com
5
your skin, a benevolent force around you. Others…it feels like you mistakenly wandered into a dystopian vision of what your life would be like if the floor were at a permanent upward slant, when your child voices or represents everything that you might ever choose to berate yourself about, your failings and underachievements. You can’t ever know what kind of a day another mum is having, and I’ve always thought that unless there’s some totally unacceptable shit going down, I would never judge another mum. Certainly not for her 4 year old being an
SelfishMother.com
6
idiot, because, come on, every 4 year old has the potential to be an idiot sometimes.
We can nourish and hope to shape and guide, influence and educate our children…but we can’t ever control them or expect them to be polished human beings at all times. So surely there is a knowing look of shared experience of chaperoning slightly bonkers small people around in this world, outwith our control but under our influence – rather than berating fellow mums with what you personally see is their failing. Of course it saddens me to my core that my son decided
SelfishMother.com
7
to unkindly bar another little girl from joining his play today…but, hey that’s kinda what children do occasionally and it’s part of their social learning and development, and they will dish it out and they will take it some days. I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse displayed by other kids, saddened by kids totally unobserved by parents, properly unsupervised, wholly uncared for – or so it appeared to me in that moment. And I’ve probably judged a little bit in my head now and then, silently. And you know what, if I’ve seen scrappy behaviour in soft
SelfishMother.com
8
play where there’s even pushing and shoving proper Lord of the Flies leanings, the lioness in me has taken it up with a gentle or sharp word with the kid in question, rather than attacking their parent. I come from a position of assuming that each parent might be weary and apologetic for their little one’s social brusqueness, not assuming that they are blind to it, or celebrating it in a machiavellian way.
Shouldn’t there be a bit of a code that we’re in this together and a pledge of no judgement taken? That of course none of us wants our child to
SelfishMother.com
9
be unkind, and we’re certainly not advocating it when it happens. What happened to sisterhood? The first thought that came into your head was that I was happily endorsing and encouraging the ”mean behaviour” of my son and not stepping in to intervene. I can assure you mama, I wasn’t. Today has made me feel firmer in my decision not to judge, not to criticise another mother at face value, and to unknowingly shovel on another layer of sea junk through which to just keep swimming. Motherhood, sisterhood.
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- 19 Feb 16

I was at the playground today, doing the keeping-tabs-on-your-child-and-pushing-your-napping-baby-in-a-buggy-whilst-trying-to-sustain-an-adult-conversation dance with a friend, as our 3 and 4 year olds rampaged in all directions. It was positive, having fun, a sunny afternoon. Our conversation, albeit in fits and starts as all conversations seem to be nowadays, was a proper catch up delving into how challenging it can all be…how effing hard some days, some times are. How exhaustion/sleep deprivation/vitamin D deficiency/work-life balance can all blend into something resembling postnatal depression, how you need to keep your head bobbing above the surface at all times, or at least, as Dory in Finding Nemo so eloquently put it, Just Keep Swimming.
I was surprised to be attacked. To be approached by another mum and initially assume it was in friendship but belatedly, sleep deprivedly realise some way into the onslaught that it wasn’t. “…I’m really shocked that you are just standing by watching as your child is being so mean, my daughter just wants to play and he keeps telling her he doesn’t want to play with her. She’s only 3, I can’t believe you’re just watching as he’s doing this, I’m watching you just looking and seeing it happen…”
We had been watching our kids, constantly on the move making sure we could at all times see them…and what we had seen was children running around playing together, perhaps we hadn’t fully noticed the nuance that another child they didn’t know was wanting to join in and they were trying to shake her off, and, yes, telling her that they didn’t want to play with her. That kinda sucks, yeah…but, perhaps highlights the simplicity of children’s interactions, none of the adult social etiquette that gets you stuck with someone you really don’t want to chat to for 2 hours in the kitchen of a house party. Brutal perhaps, hurtful, even, if viewed through the prism of emotionally astute understanding – i.e. not that of a 3 and 4 year old… but is it cause to go in guns blazing to the mother of one of the other children?
Motherhood is really fricking hard sometimes. Some days, an absolute life-affirming wondrous delight. Sailing with a good wind, the sun on your skin, a benevolent force around you. Others…it feels like you mistakenly wandered into a dystopian vision of what your life would be like if the floor were at a permanent upward slant, when your child voices or represents everything that you might ever choose to berate yourself about, your failings and underachievements. You can’t ever know what kind of a day another mum is having, and I’ve always thought that unless there’s some totally unacceptable shit going down, I would never judge another mum. Certainly not for her 4 year old being an idiot, because, come on, every 4 year old has the potential to be an idiot sometimes.
We can nourish and hope to shape and guide, influence and educate our children…but we can’t ever control them or expect them to be polished human beings at all times. So surely there is a knowing look of shared experience of chaperoning slightly bonkers small people around in this world, outwith our control but under our influence – rather than berating fellow mums with what you personally see is their failing. Of course it saddens me to my core that my son decided to unkindly bar another little girl from joining his play today…but, hey that’s kinda what children do occasionally and it’s part of their social learning and development, and they will dish it out and they will take it some days. I’ve seen a hell of a lot worse displayed by other kids, saddened by kids totally unobserved by parents, properly unsupervised, wholly uncared for – or so it appeared to me in that moment. And I’ve probably judged a little bit in my head now and then, silently. And you know what, if I’ve seen scrappy behaviour in soft play where there’s even pushing and shoving proper Lord of the Flies leanings, the lioness in me has taken it up with a gentle or sharp word with the kid in question, rather than attacking their parent. I come from a position of assuming that each parent might be weary and apologetic for their little one’s social brusqueness, not assuming that they are blind to it, or celebrating it in a machiavellian way.
Shouldn’t there be a bit of a code that we’re in this together and a pledge of no judgement taken? That of course none of us wants our child to be unkind, and we’re certainly not advocating it when it happens. What happened to sisterhood? The first thought that came into your head was that I was happily endorsing and encouraging the “mean behaviour” of my son and not stepping in to intervene. I can assure you mama, I wasn’t. Today has made me feel firmer in my decision not to judge, not to criticise another mother at face value, and to unknowingly shovel on another layer of sea junk through which to just keep swimming. Motherhood, sisterhood.

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Anya is a Pilates teacher specialising in bumps and mums, and a pregnancy and wellness author and speaker. She's the author of four books, My Pilates Guru, A Little Course in Pilates, Pregnancy: the Naked Truth, and The Supermum Myth: Overcome anxiety, ditch guilt and embrace imperfection. Her next book, Pilates for Pregnancy, publishes in 2018. Anya blogs at motherswellnesstoolkit.wordpress.com, where you'll find tips and information on everything from pelvic floor recovery to mindfulness and meditation, to help you cope better with motherhood's mayhem. She lives in South east London with her husband and two boys, Maurice, 6, and Freddie, 3, and loves nothing better than a glass of red and a flash of bright lipstick (detracts from a tired eye!).

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