Tales from the Wood: As mums, let’s stop measuring ourselves against each other

Tales from the Wood: As mums, let’s stop measuring ourselves against each other

Fiona Green is a features writer


fiona leckerman
Fiona Leckerman

It wasn’t a hard-fought battle, nor was there much of a scuffle, no need to employ a push.

My daughter triumphantly climbed atop the school wall before her brother by yelling stridently and with indomitable conviction: “Ladies first.”

The full force of her voice was enough to deter any other child from overtaking.

With her arms outstretched like soaring eagle’s wings and her chubby chin held high, she walked on. At nearly three, has my daughter got it sussed already?

Not only had she worked out that she is a lady but, more remarkably, she had found no need for anyone to bid her politely first. She only needed herself.

Poised on the starting blocks in this big race called life, my little girl’s confident comment had placed her in the middle lane. However, I can’t help but worry what hurdles she’ll have to face as she sprints forward. She won’t always be first, however loud she shouts; she may not even be second and sometimes she may not even get to compete.

Earlier that day, at a music group and halfway through incy wincy spider, the grandparents next to me struck up a conversation. The usual pleasantries and chitter chatter ensued and while our children were engrossed, they suddenly made a confession. They whispered their dark secret, the retired pair had been called up and reenlisted for childcare duties, and their allotted one day a week was really rather hard work.

Of course they enjoyed it, how lucky they were to bond with their grandchild and watch him grow, but it was a long, tiring day.

I felt guilty for wondering how this full-time working mum found the time to mother her child when she split the childcare of her son three ways. If you extricate financial reward, what else motivates women to make these decisions?

Some mums will divulge it’s harder to stay at home full- time than it is to work and that working reignites a sense of self beyond being a mummy. It begs the question, is there enough time in the day to be both a full-time mother and have a full- time career? And why do we try so very hard to have it all?

Why do we stretch ourselves like taut elastic bands ready to snap, perpetually pinging from one role to the next?

There is no denying and no matter how hard we protest, as women we are designed to have children; should we fulfil our womb’s wishes, our children will always be connected to us via an invisible umbilical cord. And yet we put on our gloves and continue to fight in the ring with society to prove that we can do it all.

And it is not only the men with whom we are sparring; it’s more often other women. A man may not have too much say anymore in whether you work or bring up baby. However, it’s the undercurrent from other women that forces us to question these decisions. It’s the mother who seemingly manages to do it all, work full-time while nurturing her multiple brood that turns to the stay-at-home mum and belittles her with the question: “What do you do all day?” We all feel this fatuous pressure.

A friend recently quit her new job: the workload and hours proved too much, meaning that the time with her child was compromised and, rather than subsist with this compromise, she resigned. She admitted that being unable to commit to both made her feel like a failure.

But is it not the opposite of failure when you are able to break away from the restrictions of social pressure, following instead what is right for you? She is no less worthy because she does not have a paid job than the woman who has the paid job and pays for childcare.

As women and as mothers, we are all doing the best we can; we need to stop measuring ourselves against each other and berating ourselves if we can’t always do everything.

We need to remove the plug momentarily from the pressure cooker and accept that while we must still strive for equality, we do already excel, we’ve just been so busy being busy that we don’t even notice.

Halfway across the wall my daughter wobbled, she reached out her hand and asked me to hold it. She wasn’t pleading with me to walk it for her; she was looking to me for balance.

Maybe she has got it figured out, after all. Ladies first – but we also need to seek balance.

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