Skip to main content

I had one of those mom-meets-mad-woman moments yesterday...

  You know, one of those moments where mom guilt and other mom judgement meet to sucker punch you in the parental gut while you do your darndest to smile and nod and be graciously ‘grown up’? One of those moments. 

Allow me to elaborate…

There I was chatting away merrily to a mom I hardly know at a birthday party when suddenly it happened – “Oh. Is that how she crawls?” she said. “Um, yeah. We call it a ‘kershuffle’, half crawl, half bum shuffle,” I said. ‘Other mom’ kept quiet for a moment, observed my kershuffler closely, frowned, an uber concerned frown, and said (in a super serious, head mistress meets carb-phobic dietician tone) “You do know how important crawling is, hey? You should really do something about it.”

Um. Yeah. The sarcasm cometh…

Do I know how important crawling is?

No. No. Of course I don’t. I’m totally 100% okay with the fact that my first born, the love of my life, has short-circuited a major developmental milestone and gets judged every time she kershuffles across a kid-friendly restaurant’s play area. In fact, so deep rooted is my first-time-mom negligence that I’ve been giving her cow’s milk since birth ‘cos breastfeeding wrecks your boobs and formula is just so expensive. I mean, seriously. Seriously?!?

I should really do something about it.

Well, yeah, maybe… but making appointments and keeping them? Soooo much admin. I mean, I barely manage to keep my monthly manicure appointment and it’s not like you’ve ever seen a bride kershuffle down an aisle. Now, where’s that bottle of tequila so that I can down it and cross the mid-line driving home?

Right, now that I’ve gotten that rather childish response out of my system, let me explain why I felt the need to write this post… 


Do I know how important crawling is? Yes, I do. My sister is an accomplished, respected paediatric OT. Does the fact that ‘other mom’ felt the need to ask me piss me off in eleven official languages? Yes, yeah, yebo. Why? Well, while I get that the comment probably came from a good place (maybe even a helpful, loving, concerned place) IT IS NOT OKAY to assume that a child is doing something or not doing something because their mom is doing something wrong (insulting) or doesn’t know better (patronising).

In our social circles, the Northern Suburbs bubble, where baby massage classes and sleep consultants are the norm, where Baby Sense is as common a baby shower gift as an amber teething necklace, where ‘to Bumbo or not to Bumbo’ is discussed during gluten-free tea breaks of age appropriate play stimulation workshops…  I’m willing to bet my left, less than perky boob that the mom crossing your path at Papacinos knows just as much as you do and there’s a 99.9% chance that she’s been to the physio/chiro/OT, read the book/s, had the consultant/s in, bought the fancy, schmancy imported what nots and could really, really do with support rather than advice and a pat on the back instead of a kick in the proverbial nuts.

If her baby should be sleeping through by now… She knows.  If her baby should be feeding themselves… She knows. If her baby should be sitting/crawling/standing/walking… She knows. If her baby should have more teeth/less teeth by now… she knows. If her baby should not be kershuffling...

She knows. You really don't need to tell her.

When the ‘other mom’ looked at my kershuffler and judged her, telling me that I should do something about it, I felt a pang. If you’re a mom, you’ll know that pang… that little twist in your heart that hurts like your head after too much wedding reception champers. It’s that pang that simultaneously makes you want to lash out and retreat, to set the record straight and beat yourself up ‘cos having a child is not ‘one plus one equals two’, it’s not do this and get that… it’s unpredictable and messy and blurry and all sorts of what if’s and if only’s and what have I gotten myself into's. 

I know that this has been a long post – an all-over-the-place, emotion-fuelled, soap box peppered rant – which is why I’d like to end it with a story in sharp contrast to the one I started this post with. It’s a short-ish one (insert your sigh of relief here) that speaks for itself…

Back when I was still on maternity leave. Around the 3-month mark. I was in Woolies Nicolway, attempting a grocery shop with Little in a baby carrier. I’d left the pram at home – on purpose (#epicfail) – to give the fancy, schmancy baby sling a go. All was going well until I was precisely halfway through the shop and Little decided to have a full on screaming, yelling, wailing meltdown. Admitting defeat (the toilet paper would have to wait ‘til tomorrow)  I made a beeline for the till and started throwing groceries at the woman manning the checkout like we were highly-skilled, ninja-like Sevens rugby players. Somewhere between my throwing (and ‘Mrs Habana’ catching) the yoghurt – and Aeryn making sounds that I wish only dolphins could hear – I heard ‘Sherinne?’ Hi.’

That voice belonged to a familiar face I’d not seen in a while – a Facebook friend and a fellow new mom. She was a well-heeled angel complete with halo of blonde highlights. She told me I looked great (a welcome lie), looked past the tears and snot to tell me my tiny terror was ‘beautiful’, told me how brave I was to attempt a shop with Little (“I’ve never had the guts to do it with mine. Well done.” she said – and meant it) and then didn’t just offer to help, she started packing my trolley, walked with me to the elevator, reminded me (gently) to pay for parking and escorted us to our car where she proceeded to assist with packing the boot and only left once Little Miss Meltdown was strapped into her car seat and I was baby sling free.

Things she didn’t say –
Is she hungry? Is she tired? Are you crazy? Where’s your pram? Why did you buy that baby carrier?

Things she didn’t do –
Make me feel silly/crazy/sad/fat/inferior/incompetent/embarrassed/judged

The thing she did do –
Help. 

And that, dear readers, is where I shall leave this post. 
Point made (I hope).

Comments

Unknown said…
I get it Shez. 'Suspend judgement' is a golden rule for all counsellors, and should become a how-to chapter in one of those baby text books. Actually. .. perhaps Roxanne Atkinson could include it in her book?
Carla Maherry said…
Each child has its own developmental phase.... seriously? Dagan walked ar 10.5 months, but only spoke at 2.5 years old. He has an amzing vocabulary today and is very eloquent. Tell the cow to get knotted, with a smile and wink (you know, the "northetn suburbs" way).
Carla Maherry said…
Each child has its own developmental phase.... seriously? Dagan walked ar 10.5 months, but only spoke at 2.5 years old. He has an amzing vocabulary today and is very eloquent. Tell the cow to get knotted, with a smile and wink (you know, the "northetn suburbs" way).
Carla Maherry said…
Each child has its own developmental phase.... seriously? Dagan walked ar 10.5 months, but only spoke at 2.5 years old. He has an amzing vocabulary today and is very eloquent. Tell the cow to get knotted, with a smile and wink (you know, the "northern suburbs" way).

Popular posts from this blog

True story

Context: My 18-year-old cousin has just moved in with hubby and I for a couple of months while she finds her feet in Jozi. Just had this exchange with her via Blackberry Messenger... Me: Hey cuz. You home for dinner tonight? Cuz: Going for coffee with [insert potential bf name here] at six so I'll grab a bite to eat while I'm out. But thanks for checking beauty queen [smiley face] Me: Flattery will get you everywhere. Have fun. Cuz: What's flaterry ? (yip, spelt just like that) Me: Please tell me you're kidding?! Cuz: No I'm serious Me: [once I've picked my jaw off the floor in disbelief] To flatter someone is to compliment, say something nice. Flattery is usually used as a tool by someone to get summing. And that's the end of today's English lesson. Cuz: Thanks [smiley face] ha ha [ another smiley face] no one in the office knew what it meant either  Note to the education system – just an idea, but maybe you should let the kids read actual, made of

Abusing plastic to get the 'natural look'

I'm the kinda girl who falls for the 'free gift with purchase' promo every time. Even though I know that I'll never use the (not small enough to be a clutch/ not big enough to be a tote ) silly coloured bag that's free with your purchase of two or more [insert brand here] products one of which must be an (over-priced, you're SO paying for the pacakaging) skincare product scribbled sneakily in small baby pink italic print. I can't resist a freebie and get very agitated when a brand I loyally spend my hard earned moolah on month after month refuses to offer a freebie-type incentive, not even at Christmas... Yip, you read that correctly, not even at Christmas – the time of year that the bigwigs in retail rub their Gucci-wearing paws together in glee as they think of new and improved ways to make you spend your bonus quicker than I can wolf down a cupcake.  I LOVE Bobbi Brown cosmetics... really, discovering the shimmer brick compact and the SPF-15, wa