TEA AND SYMPATHY

Gathered round the room are representatives from every faction. Some are allies, others are directly in opposition. The issues discussed are some of the most important and complex that anyone can ever expect to deal with. To the outside world the assembled people seem cordial and happy enough in each other’s company, but there are deep passions stirring beneath these apparently calm waters. Is this a meeting of the United Nations?  Some fraught peace process in a war-torn land? A gathering of freedom fighters perhaps? No. This is a Mummy's coffee morning.

I remember when I first got pregnant my mate Mandie sniggered and told me that I would be joining the world of ‘daytime friends’. She refused to elaborate but told me I was in for a surprise. I (and I guess anyone else out there who’s not had the experience) blithely expected these gatherings of mums to be cosy, gossipy, rather bland affairs, with plenty of cake and some cooing over each other’s offspring. I didn’t expect to be competing in the parenting version of The Weakest Link. Your child doesn’t sleep, eat, smile, crawl, walk etc. you are the Weakest Parent – goodbye!

My first experience was as a ‘bump’. This is a term used to describe mums-to-be by my local parenting group. Up until then I had been treated by all of my (childless) friends and (mostly childless) work colleagues as the next best thing to the Madonna, feted and fawned over, with chairs and cold drinks being thrown in my path wherever I went. So, still glowing from this adoration and recently departed from work, I arrived at the door of this woman’s house who was (according to my scrunched up leaflet) having a ‘Bumps and Bundles’ morning at hers. (Bundles are babies by the way, not blankets as I first thought.)

I rang on the door at the appointed time, shed it, looked at me (eight months pregnant) and said ‘Yes?’ What the bloody hell did she think I was there for - to read the meter? So I stammered that I was there for the coffee morning. She moved to the side to let me in without hardly a hello, leaving me feeling like I was on the cadge for a free bourbon and some hot tea to make a change from hanging out at the library with the rest of the tramps. It got worse. Most of the women there clearly knew each other from before and some were already on baby number two. There they all were with all these horrible visions of my future child rushing about the room like dervishes and NOT ONE person spoke to me. I went home in tears.

Things improved a little after I had Oliver when I met a group of girls via the Health Centre. We were all there for a course on How Not To Drop Your Baby or some other such thing and it felt much better to be with people who appeared to be in the same boat as me. We have remained friendly since then and meet regularly. But although we’re in the same boat we each have very different ideas on navigation. I guess that in itself is fine, it’s just the framework within which all of this really important stuff is played out and discussed is ostensibly so inane and innocuous that you can really easily miss the true picture. It’s like walking across a perfectly manicured lawn that’s riddled with mines.

For most (all?) of us, parenting is the most important thing we have ever done and yet nothing in our new environment seems to acknowledge this fact. As far as the rest of the world is concerned we’re at home drinking coffee and blending into each other’s sofas. And we as mums seem to acquiesce to this world view. Yet I have witnessed some of the most stressful and heart wrenching moments at these gatherings. People are sleep deprived, under pressure, facing new challenges daily and having to navigate through all of it for the most part with people they’ve only known since they’ve had their baby.

And don’t kid yourselves that because you’re in it together you’re safe. Didn’t you know parenting is a competition? Are you aware that it is your child and his/her behaviour/achievements that will determine your status in the group? Do you know that people lie about how they are getting on?

For example:

‘Is he sleeping through yet?’
‘Yeah he’s great he goes through from 7.30 till 7.30.’

Translated means:

‘Are you beating me in the sleeping babies competition?’
‘No, because my baby wakes at least once before midnight and once during the night and usually gets up by 5.45 am. I’m totally exhausted but I’m not letting you know that in case you think you’re winning.’

Or:

‘Oh wonderful she’s crawling.’
‘Is she? Oh yes, I guess she’s been doing it a couple of days now.’

Translated means:

‘Damn she’s crawling before mine - at least she’s not as pretty as mine.’
‘I know she crawled at 10 months five days and eleven hours at precisely 4.30 pm, we have a video, photos and I have written in her baby book in my best writing.’

I guess there are two things going on here: first of all we don’t have Mummy’s Groups sold to us as the truly pivotal important first meeting places for parents that they are. I think that this has to change in order to help people make the transition into parenthood more easily and probably goes hand in hand with a change in our status in society as a whole.

Second, not many people feel safe enough in themselves to admit to others how hard it is to get through just one day and night as a mum or dad. These times when we meet should be havens from castigation and competition, they should be supportive and celebratory of all of our children; wakeful or sleeping, easy or hard. And a message to those of you among us (you know who you are) that want to play Ann Robinson to mums already having a hard time: ‘soften up now‘ otherwise the rest of us will continue to smile grimly over our tea cups and have to weep alone at home. Being a parent who admits it's tough makes you the strongest link. Hello!

Quote of the Week

Olly: ‘I need chocolate.’

Me: ‘Why?’

Olly: ‘It makes my tummy smile.’

Juliet Jones lives in domestic chaos with husband Steve, son Oliver (aged 3) and daughter Billie (aged 2) in Hertfordshire.