Of all the things that fire me up, and let’s be honest – the list is a long and detailed one – nothing turns me into a pile of simmering rubble like someone insinuating or flat-out accusing me of being a bad mother.
In fact, if I see anyone doing it to any mother, I light up.
How VERY DARE they judge me/her/us. You don’t know how I stayed up late last night, hot-glue-gunning my kid’s Halloween costume. Piss directly off!
You see, I had someone say to me yesterday: “Out again! Do your kids even know what you look like anymore”?
I was at the Melbourne Cup and had also seen that person at Derby Day celebrations, two days earlier. They were referring to that fact and insinuating that I had been partying hard, therefore neglecting my babies.
I should have just laughed it off, I should have just walked away.
I should have, but I didn’t – because fuck them.
I got real close to this person, I was all up in their grill, and violently whispered the following:
“Yes they do, because I look after them by myself. Every day I drive them 45 minutes to and from school, wash their clothes, make all the lunches, dinners and breakfasts. I drive them to their extra curricular activities. I make them costumes, cakes and sometimes they are my only company for days at a time because I don’t have a babysitter. I am with them on my own 24/7. Their father sees them once a fortnight and on long weekends. They are with him now, I get them back tomorrow.”
This woman (who is also a mother of FOUR) slowly backed away from me, both hands raised, assuring me she had just been joking… but the damage had been done.
Upon reflection, I obviously had to think about why her comment had affected me so much. The obvious answer is: I am afraid she was right.
Am I a bad mother for going out and having a good time? Should I have been at home knitting their winter scarves and planning the weeks meals instead of touching Dr Chris Brown inappropriately on the dance floor? (You KNOW I had to throw that one in!)
I saw a mother yelling at her child in the supermarket just this morning. The kid had just wanted to be picked up out of the trolley and given a hug.
My first reaction was to think, ‘bloody hell lady just give him a squeeze and be done with it’ but I caught myself.