Living a Charmed Life

A few weeks back, my mother's group decided that we should all get out of the house and do a lunch at the new Tapas & Wine Bar in the Town Centre. At this long awaited lunch, one of the mums mentioned that she had been sharing her lunch plans with her husband that morning when he had laughed and made a joke about her 'living a charmed life'. As I sat absorbing this, I felt grateful that my husband had never tried to be quite so hilarious. Perhaps I'm not the right audience for these "oh so funny" comments. Any digs about my easy day would result in a swapsies situation where I would quite happily head off to work and allow my husband a go at living the good life.

I looked around at the seven tired faces before me and doubted very much that any of them felt that they were living a charmed life. Half of the women are still getting up to their babies multiple times during the night. A few have babies that will not sleep at all during the day. All of us have sore backs and shoulders from endless carrying, changing and breastfeeding. Most of us have frightening amounts of hair loss and no opportunity to vacuum it up. Charmed life? Please. These aren't bored, rich women, filling their days with expensive boozy lunches and shopping, these are new mums who spend what little free time they have, googling baby issues and doing their pelvic floor exercises so that they don't wee themselves every time they sneeze.

My morning leading up to the lunch was something out of a Stephen King novel. No one told me that at six months my son would completely change personalities and decide that he cannot play, sleep or fill his nappy without being held while he does it. It had taken me almost 1.5 hours of patting, rocking, shushing, cuddling and finally feeding before I could get him to sleep for his nap. By the time he fell asleep it was time for me to leave so I considered not going as there was no way in hell I was going to wake him. Luckily for me (note the sarcasm) he only slept for 25 minutes, so I decided to show up very late instead.

At the mention of lunch, I'm sure our husbands imagine seven fresh faced women, dressed in their best, clucking over their babies and sharing recipes (I admit, their was one discussion about lamb shanks), but the reality of a lunch involving seven new mothers and seven young babies is that there was at least one unsettled baby the entire time. Just when one was finally asleep in their pram, another would start with the I'm hungry/tired/simply bored routine. No one wants to be the table annoying the rest of the patrons with noisy children and prams blocking every possible exit, but that was us. We tried hard to read the elegant paper menus without the babies tearing them up, and we all mentally frowned at the prices and tried not to let it show on our faces. A lunch with the girls is not without guilty spending, after all, we are the ones that are no longer contributing financially to the household. Losing an entire income sure makes this charmed life difficult.

This was not a lunch for women living a charmed life. It was a lunch for a group mothers trying to do something normal and understanding that they will pay for it later with an overtired child. It was a lunch to break up the long, lonely week at home where housework is a luxury, not a given. The lunch was to remind ourselves that their are other food options besides toast and long life soup. It was a chance to put on nice (pre-baby) clothes even if they immediately get dirtied up by dribble and sticky hands. To be clear, husbands, a charmed life would be a fancy restaurant with no thought of the cost. A charmed life would be babies at home with the nanny and a guilt free glass of wine without timing breastfeeds. My idea of a charmed life has a housekeeper to take care of the constant washing and endless dishes and perhaps a husband who is capable of putting a dirty spoon in the dishwasher.

Maybe next time boys, thoughts to yourselves.

The Big Easy?

'There is one thing nobody warned me about when I became a mother: what a breeze it would be'. This quote is from Jacinta's Tynon's article which appeared in an August edition of Sunday Life. The article was smugly entitled, The Big Easy. For the lucky few that missed it, I'm going to take you to the darkside for just a few moments. I have mixed feelings about this article and they range from a reluctant understanding of some points, to wanting to ram her repeatedly with my shopping trolley if I should ever have the pleasure of running into her at the supermarket. The article was always going to create some controversy (perhaps that was its purpose) but I really believe it was irresponsible and potentially did a lot of damage to new Mums who aren't finding it a 'cinch'. I could forgive Jacinta if the article had been a point of view piece, but it wasn't. It was an attack on new mothers who are already riddled with self doubt and guilt about the job they are doing. Even if that wasn't the intention.

Tynon's comparison of today's Mums to our Mothers/Grandmothers is ridiculous. 'I do think we could learn a thing or two from our mothers and grandmothers. You never heard a peep out of them about mucking in to double the kids and double the workload, with no online groceries or disposable nappies'. I believe similar challenges would have existed for our Grandmothers. They may not have had the same opportunities to discuss them opening and honestly, but does this make them better mothers? Do we really want to step back to a time of fake smiles and feelings swept under the carpet? Should we also start sending women with postnatal depression to psychiatric hospitals for shock treatment, like in the good old days? Even our Grandmothers would agree that the expectations of mothers nowadays are different. These high (sometimes unrealistic) expectations mashed together with the increasing isolation and lack of support, mean that you cannot compare being a mother now to 50 years ago.

With regard to the big topic of sleep deprivation, Jacinta states that, 'there is nothing difficult about being up all night with the love of your life'. She describes it as a privilege. To some extent this is true however I have spoken to women who have babies that literally do not sleep at night. A friend of mine was getting up to her crying child every 20 minutes to 1 hour for the first six weeks, and I can promise you she wasn't gushing about what a privilege it was. It was hard, she didn't pretend that it wasn't, and she shouldn't have to. 'Our generation acts as if we deserve a medal', Tynon says. If I thought a medal would have helped my sleep deprived friend, I would have given her one, however I have never met a mother who wants a medal. Some sleep? A shower? An uninterrupted meal? Absolutely.

Some other classic quotes from the article include, 'It’s not like we didn’t know what we were signing up for', 'I can't see what all the fuss is about' and 'Babies don't cry to annoy us. They cry because they are hungry or tired and we are here to solve that.' Who has ever said that babies cry to annoy us? I think every mother understands that a baby cries because of needs. It doesn't make it any easier to listen to hours of heartbreaking tears whilst your trying to figure out what that need is. I agree that most women understand what they are signing up for, but it doesn't make the lack of sleep and bleeding nipples any easier when you are living it. The fuss my dear, is about the overwhelming love you feel for this helpless person. It's about the constant worry for their well being. It's about temporarily losing all the things in your life that make you, you, including the job you have spent your whole life working towards and some of your friends. The fuss is about your perfect child in this sometimes crappy world. What's all the fuss about? Really?

I hope that the article didn't do the damage I'm imagining. I hope that no new Mums read it and began to doubt themselves because they don't feel the same. I also hope that Jacinta's toddler years bring her back to the real world where motherhood has its rewards, and challenges. Perhaps baby number two will put a stop to her reckless mummy brags. Feeling overwhelmed doesn't mean that we love our children any less, so lets not feel guilty for recognising the hard parts.