Right. So, I’m not the first of my friends or family to squeeze out a crotchfruit, so I thought that I probably had a pretty good handle on this mom vs. mom bajillion years’ war that constantly rages. I thought I knew what I was in for.
I was mistaken.
For the uninitiated, let me tell you. This mess is brutal. Maybe among close friends and family, you can be safe. I mean, one assumes that the people who love you will be supportive of your parenting decisions (and yes, those start the moment you see the two lines, sometimes before). Everyone else hates you. And I mean that.
Let’s look at some prominent and prevalent examples, shall we?
Exhibit 1: Pregnancy. This seems straightforward, right? Wrong. Everything you do during pregnancy is judged by other people. Me? I’m having these kids out of wedlock. Was that our plan? No. Are we happy? Yes. So, now that your marital status has been judged (and prepare to be hated on by strangers in public even if you are married, but your rings don’t fit anymore), let’s move on to diet. There is really no safe route through this one. No matter what you eat or don’t eat, someone will tell you (or at least think really hard) that you’re doing it wrong. Let’s not forget what you drink, too. Really, water and juice are the only safe bets. Anything that contains bubbles, colors, sugar, artificial sweeteners, artificial flavors, caffeine, or alcohol will get you hanged. And God help you if anyone catches you smoking.
Exhibit 2: Childbirth. Seriously. You’d really think that as long as the end result is a healthy mom and healthy child(ren), no one would really care how you got there. You would, however, be horribly mistaken. Again, no safe option. You squeeze out your kid anywhere other than a hospital (such as a birthing center or even your own home), you’re a damn’ hippie. Although, if you do give birth in a hospital, you’re a slave to the modern commercialism that mainstream medicine has declined into. But, then again, like 98% of women give birth in hospitals, so we can overlook that last one, I guess. So, you’re in the hospital, and you go completely natural and unmedicated after going into labor spontaneously. Congratulations, you sanctimonious granola-cruncher, on your labor that was so much easier than everyone else’s on the planet. Ok, ok, well, you managed without any sort of pain meds, but you were induced, so it’s not like it was real labor anyway. Oh wait, you got an epidural or some other method of pain relief? You poor weak-willed woman. Such a shame you punked out on your own childbirth experience. Your labor didn’t progress/your baby became distressed after God only knows how many hours of contractions so you had to have a C-section, huh? What’s wrong with your body and why did you cave to the doctor’s pressuring? Oh, wait, you wanted the C-section and elected to have it done? How lazy can you be? But the baby was breech, so a C-section was safer. You know they used to do breech extractions all the time, right? Never mind those infant and maternal mortality rates back then…
Exhibit 3: Feeding the baby. I’m not kidding. You decide to exclusively breastfeed and are very successful at it. Congrats on your boobs, I hope you’re happy that you’ve managed to completely exclude your partner in the process of feeding. You decide to breastfeed and you have trouble with it. OMG, you’re starving your baby! And anyway, I formula fed your husband and he turned out just fine. Fine, fine, breastfeeding is harder than you thought, and you’re having supply issues, so you supplement with formula sometimes or you just quit altogether and switch to formula. Way to fail at mothering and taking the easy way out. Well, you were never really all that keen on being a milch cow anyway, so formula all the way. You have fun with your sickly, overweight, stupid baby, okay? So, when are you starting solids, hmm? Are you buying baby food or making it? Are you going organic or will you be poisoning your child with pesticides?
And let’s not get started on what kind of diapers you use, where your child sleeps, what he wears, how you tote him around, if you vaccinate him and when, when and how you potty train him. Sleep training? Discipline?
The list is endless, and according to someone, you are always wrong. Always.
I’ll openly admit that I can be a bit of a hater. The irony is that I’m most intolerant of intolerant people. But really, people, moms, relax. Seriously. You’re not helping anything.