So here’s the thing. I may or may not have written a post about how it’s really not very nice to judge other mums. “We’re all just trying our best”, I sweetly offered up. It was supposed to be a cool salve to the burning cheeks of mortified mothers holding tantruming toddlers in grocery stores everywhere. That article may or may not have prompted a few discussions about how we can all help each other out. Give mums a break, and all. Lovely people responded with lovely comments, and I was SO proud of all of us mums… lifting each other up, loving ourselves for our flaws…
I have a confession to make.
Sometimes I think REALLY TERRIBLE THINGS about other mums. Mean, spiteful, hateful, “I hope your future baby has colic and you end up wearing schleppy mum clothes and driving carpool with cheerios stuck to the bottom of your slippers” type of thoughts. There. I said it.
I’m so sorry. I do feel strongly about not judging other mums. I do think that we should shower each other in flowery goodness.
Most of the time. Except for right this moment.
How ’bout I just go for it, and hope that you don’t hate me in the morning?
Today Max and I were
squabbling enjoying lunch together at the local coffee shop. A pregnant woman (who looked very cute in her trendy maternity clothes) was quietly sipping her decaf latte, enjoying her time by herself, when Max decided to climb on the back of the booth and reach over to the light switch. And turn the lights off in the entire cafe. Repeatedly. Until I hissed “If you turn the lights off again we WILL LEAVE. Do you understand?? I am NOT kidding.” And she glared at me. And did one of those “quiet clucks” with her mouth. Clearly her imaginary mothering was WAY better than mine. Until I pathetically offered up my very best developmentally-appropriate Mummy response of ”Max honey, we need to leave the lights on so that our friends in the cafe can see. They need to see to eat their lunch sweetie.” And I packed up our food to go, and we walked ran out the door as she pretended not to watch us. So here’s a few hints for you Peaceful Decaf Pregnant Lady:
1. Enjoy that leisurely cup of coffee. It may be the last one you ever have…I mean, the last one you’ll ever enjoy without having to stop your kid from dumping blueberries all over the floor of the restaurant, because he wants to watch them roooooolllll. And then when you go to throw them all away in the bin across the room, he yells “But I waaaaant the bue-bewwies!” And then he crawls underneath the table and eats the lonely one that got away…..before you can stop him….while proudly exclaiming “Look mummy! I a puppy!” Savor that foamy cup of young 20-something identity, lady. In about a month, you won’t even remember this life.
2. Oh and guess what? Your precious new baby won’t sleep. Your baby will probably NEVER sleep. You will never have a leisurely Sunday morning AGAIN. So stop spouting off your theories about The Happiest Baby on The Block and how you plan on sleep training/cry it out/gentle sleep learning. It’s a book. And we used it to prop up one end of Max’s crib. And even that didn’t work. None of it will work. Babies, by nature, don’t always sleep. Because they’re little. And hungry. And can’t talk. You can’t train it out of ‘em. And maybe, if you’re lucky, your baby won’t sleep until sometime during their first year of PRESCHOOL. Why? As Max would say “BECAUSE”. (I love the mums on my favourite attachment parenting hippie crunchy mummy forum. They put up with my recent vent about how formula doesn’t always help babies sleep through the night. And then I offered up to them that I sometimes feel compelled to yell at brand new mums who are crying over their 6 week old non-sleeping babies “They’re not SUPPOSED to sleep at this age! And they may NEVER sleep! Hahahahahaha! Welcome to parenthood bitches!!!” Which is really so attachment/loving/hippie crunchy of me, isn’t it?)