Adverse mum wars: who has it the worst?

“Adverse mum wars: who has it the worst?” is a guest post by Alexandra Petersen

Adverse mum wars: who has it the worst?

I’m not much of a mothers group kind of mother, if there even is such a thing, and for others like me, the need for them is increasingly negated by social media and the sense of community so often fostered there.

But in my wide and expansive world view (I lived in Italy as a teenager, so…) there’s been a certain parenting phenomena that’s as puzzling as it is prevalent. Particularly since the parents I communicate with who have children the same age as mine are in as varied states, countries, occupations, religions and cultures as you can imagine. Nonetheless, it’s going on.

And instead of bolstering that sense of community, either virtually or in real life interactions (gasp!) this has the proclivity to jeopardise them.

I should preface this with a story of my friend. She is beautiful, strong and kickass, but she’s getting walloped by life. She had two kids in 20 months, and felt like she needed time for herself, to adult. So; she went back to work but now she’s exhausted. She feels she needs to make their time together count by shuttling the kids around between dancing and swimming and appointments. She’s constantly chasing her tail trying to get on top of the housework, never mind unwind from work. So; her days off aren’t a rest from how hard she’s working. Work is so flat out its no relief from the pressure she feels to being doing and having it all at home, and make it look effortless to boot.

It breaks my heart that she feels like she’s never getting it right. More than that, I don’t know how to help. I’ve tried sympathising, but it just feels trite. I alternate between envy that she’s contributing and getting time alone as an adult, with thinking maybe I’ve got it locked down because I’m at home studying. I’ve also tried coming at it with comparative tales of woe, with my best worst case scenario, and that’s really where the trouble starts. The best of the worst. An inverted mummy war, so to speak.

Comparing children

Any parent who has had a conversation with another parent can surely attest to the inevitability of comparison. When children walk, how many teeth they have, how well they eat, whether they had reflux, and what if it was silent?! All of which is an entirely normal facet of human nature. Usually its sweet, blissful pride, but sometimes it’s a more insidious attempt to one up another mama, perhaps to compensate for the braggers perceived shortcomings.

But the negativity under the surface of this comparison, the one that seeps between the lines of the worst-case scenarios, the best of the worsts, is sinister and jeopardises the comradery we look for in mother’s groups and when discussing the good and bad of our children; the belonging we search for as human beings.

For some reason, if we can’t be the best, we need an explanation, and a good one at that. Parenting seems to have landed on a doozie; we can’t be the best because we’re the worst. Un-diagnosable reflux, never sleeping, always getting into mischief, crying for no apparent reason; all with the overarching premise of relating to one another. The undertone, however, isn’t helping our everyday lives.

The inadvertent focus on this negativity, or counterintuitively, the need to excel, is preventing us being present in our day to day lives and enjoying them, or despairing in them, for exactly what they are; very fleeting moments, infinitesimal blips on the radar of our lives.

The part of Social Media

Benefits aside, social media and the constant concern that the grass is greener or busier, of FOMO and tap for tags!, means this presence is nigh on impossible.

Loathe though I am to jump on the social-media-is-the-scourge-of-our-generation band wagon, it seems partially applicable in this instance. Comparison is both the thief of joy and the source of motivation, fuel on the fire of the intrinsic drive within us to be better and do better. Living in one another’s pockets, so to speak, steroid-ises this experience. It results in us limiting our interactions because of a perceived expectation that may not even exist, and this limitation absolutely inhibits the formation of meaningful and lasting connections. We’re hunting down that validation, insisting on or expecting depth that hasn’t had the chance to develop, either because we need so very much to relate, or because everyone else seems to be doing it and if we miss out, we’re somehow less than.

If we’re joining mother’s groups, and their interwebby ilk, to find like-minded people and connect, for some empathetic voices of reason during one of the most trying seasons of our lifetimes, how can we truly do so, organically and authentically do so, when we’re tethered to this expectation?

I don’t think we can. Truthfully, I don’t mind one whit what your experience is, whether your child is a dream or nightmare, whether life’s a dream or you’d give anything for a reminder of what it was like before, I just want you to be honest. I’d like to hear it if you think I’m full of it, or I need to give myself a break, or my partner is neglected. I’d like to feel comfortable enough to do the same for you.

There aren’t people out there who have it the best, or have it the worst. Our lives and feelings are so relative that the comparison is almost moot. One persons experience most certainly doesn’t invalidate anothers. Because your experience isn’t mine, or anyone else’s business, any more than you make it.

We’re all just looking for ways to connect.

About Alex

You can follow Alex on Instagram here or find her on Facebook as Alexi Bambi.

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