The Polite Mum’s Ooh

Gemma Barder - 9 Jun 16

There’s an almost inaudible phenomenon that takes place amongst mothers when their children reach toddlerhood.

It’s called the Polite Mum’s Ooh, or ‘PMO’ if you will.

I’ve used it. You’ve used it. You’ve probably heard other mum’s use it. Today, my toddler was on the receiving end of it – and it rocked me to my very core. You see, I always thought I would be the mum dishing out the PMOs, not the mother receiving them.

Let me explain. The PMO can be deployed in a number of situations to convey a dizzying array of emotions. It’s a noise delivered in an octave higher than your standard voice and lasts less than .5 of a second. It’s at its peak when in the company of another mother, especially one we don’t know all that well…

You say: “Ooh…”

You mean: “You’re adorable toddler appears to have just eaten every last raisin out of my equally adorable toddler’s raisin box. No matter. I have another box in my bag. Just making you aware.”

You say: “Ooh…”

You mean: “It looks like little Barnaby has face-planted in a puddle the colour and consistency of chocolate ganache and is headed straight for my daughter bedecked head to toe in Little White Company… if you wouldn’t mind just… you know…”

You say: “Ooh…”

You mean: “I think your daughter has just walloped my little boy and is now grinning at him like she’s just discovered how to turn broccoli into chocolate buttons. He’s crying now and… yep… she’s still smiling and possibly going for the KO.”

That third one? That was my PMO moment today. I recognised it immediately and I felt the shame as keenly as the joy my daughter clearly felt as she smacked the other toddler on the nose with pinpoint accuracy.

I was unprepared. I was with a mother I’ve only just met. We were hoping our little ones would be playmates and now I wouldn’t blame her if she was pre-arranging the restraining order against Tilda ‘Southpaw’ Barder.

If I hadn’t been such a skilled user of the PMO before today I don’t think I would have picked up on it, but there it was. Coupled with a slight, but noticeably protective, move towards her battered son.

The thing is, Matilda’s not a hitter (she bit her cousin once, but that’s another story) and the glee in her eyes gives me sure-fire confidence that she didn’t mean it in an aggressive way. She’s just got an off-the-wall sense of fun (who doesn’t like to put coats on and off 14 times a day just for the hell of it?).

I’ll take your PMO and raise you an MIDHPA

Mum In Denial High-Pitched Apology

I have a feeling I’ll be nailing this one in the years ahead.

Gemma Barder

Freelance writer of books and magazines for small people. Mother of two delightfully dotty daughters.

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