Tag Archives: mblogger

Diary of a Freelance Working Mother: On Busybodies

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working mother , parenting, writer, Catherine BalavageIt was Jean Paul Sartre who said that hell is other people, but he did not get it quite right. What he should have said was that hell is other people and their opinions. Now if they can keep those opinions to themselves then it is happiness all-round. I spend large parts of my day not pointing out to someone how much of a jerk they are. An underrated and valuable skill, but one that seems in short supply when you have a child. I am going to do my best to make sure this weeks column is not an all-out rant, but I am going to put out a plea: please stop telling me how to raise my child.

There is a woman in my local area who seems nice enough, yet since my son was about nine months has asked me almost every single time she has seen me why he is not in nursery. Answer: because he is TWO-YEARS OLD. I have tried to explain to her his age and my personal reasons, but each time I am met with a lecture. Because, god forbid, a woman might want to raise her own child, right? Ditto for the fact I also got a long lecture from her on how my son was too old to be in a pram. ‘You are spoiling him’ she said. Never mind the fact that I am pregnant and he had just turned two, no, make him walk along the busy road and have no rest. That is definitely the answer.

Things like this happen all of the time. Some people will just critique. Ask you if your child can do something (competitive parents, they are just the worst), criticise their clothes/nails/cleanliness/hair, or ask a barrage of questions while pulling faces and making comments. Another bugbear is the busybodies who interfere and always think they know best. It does not matter that their children grew up decades ago and they lived in a separate place than you, they will always know exactly what to do in regards to nurseries and schools, as well as where you should take your child. The passing of time means nothing. Everything they did with their child, you in turn must do, because they know best.

I find with busybodies there is a number of things to do. One is smile and nod. Always best with strangers. The second is smile and say you do not agree, or make a joke of it. The best is to ask them nicely and politely to not interfere. The latter is always better with family. They will not stop if you do not tell them their behaviour is unacceptable. They may not even change then, but, trust me, you will feel better. In the meantime keep your head up, work on your sense of humour as it is the only thing that will get you through, and always stand up for yourself.

Please share any similar experience below, or just add your own comments. I would love to know what you think.

 

Diary of a Freelance Working Mother: Park Life

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A term time break. The summer holidays. This used to mean something when I was in school, but since my son is still in toddlerhood it does not hold the same excitement. I am not saying it has no effect on my life: the toddler groups close or become less frequent. When they are open they are busier than ever. It seems like everyone, apart from our family, has taken August off and is having a wonderful time sunning themselves in an exotic location. Cry. But what really changes during term breaks is that I end up going to the park with my little one. Parks that are busier than ever.

Usually my little one and I are too busy to go to the park. His social life is packed with different events and lessons. From Monkey Music to his toddler groups. But toddlers need to learn, get fresh air, and burn off their energy. Fun for toddlers, but not always for the mama. I usually love taking my son on the swing, and watching him do the assault course. There are a lot of parks near where we live in South-West London, and they all have something different to offer. But the real interesting thing is the people that each park attracts. Some are easy-going with friendly toddlers, others are full of aggressive children and mothers who do not care. General piece of advice to them: it is called parenting, not let-them-do-whatever-they-want-ing. I reckon I could write a book just on the politics of park life.

I recently had a lovely conversation with a little girl about Star Wars, had an aggressive 10-year-old call my two-year-old a ‘s**t f**k’ because he wanted to go on the bus, and strike up a conversation with a friendly Irish mother whose sons toy my son kept trying to steal. It went well until she told me that 5-year-olds are harder work than two-year-olds and then I just wanted to start drinking, everyday.

I have had many great conversations with other mothers and their children. Not every experience has been great however. Where there is all of life that will not happen. Recently it started to rain just as I took my son to the park, we waited under a tree until it passed. Another mother came to the fence near us and started saying how she had lost her phone to a friend, and had left it on the fence. She gave me the eye and I gave the eye back, irritated. She then went all over the park looking for her phone. A while later she came up to me and asked ‘if I had seen a phone’. I told her, no. The rain passed and I took my son into the park for some fun. I looked over at one point to see the mean mother, who had previously been bitching about me to all of her friends, On Her Phone. No apology. Difficult mothers cannot be entirely avoided. Neither can the competitive ones. One mother kept telling me my son was 3 ‘because he looks 3’ It is hard to argue with that kind of logic.

Negative moments aside I now get why I saw so many mother in parks before I become a mother. Some looked exhausted and spaced out, others were on their phones, and some looked happy as they watched their child play. The park allows parents to socialise while the children burn off energy. On a tough day, it takes some of those hours away when they feel endless. So I might see you at the park, but I will make sure it is a friendly one. Feel free to strike up a conversation.

 

On Becoming a Mother When Your Own Mother Lives Far Away

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pregnancyWhile becoming a mother brings on a tsunami of new emotions, becoming a mother when your own mother lives in another country (or kingdom in my case, I live in London, my mother lives in Scotland), adds a tornado to the mix. I remember walking around The Baby Show while heavily pregnant, trying to bury down the melancholy because it seemed that every other woman was there with her mother.

My mother was there for the birth of my son. Not in the room, but she came down for the week. Unfortunately I was in labour for five of those days and she barely got to see her grandson before she had to head back up to Scotland. He was born in April and she didn’t get to see him again until January and is only seeing him again now, in October. It is slim pickings indeed. It hurts as she misses the milestones. It hurts that she doesn’t see him on a regular basis, get to cuddle him and breathe him in. We FaceTime and that makes a difference, but as the months go by it just isn’t enough.

It has been hard being without my family a lot in my life, but it is so much worse after you have a child. My brother has childcare whenever he needs it, day or night. My mother saw my nephew grow and become the 5-year-old he is today. I missed seeing my nephew grow up. When I saw him after a 6-months or 12-months gap I would not recognise him at first. Such was the incredulousness of this little boy being the baby that was my nephew. My mother even missed my son’t birthday weekend. We both felt that.

I only saw my mother once when I was pregnant and by that time I was six months gone. I had an awful pregnancy and missed having my family around me. I wish I could take my mother to the park with my son, have lunch with her, see him cuddle her and take her by the hand. It has been almost ten years since I moved to London. I always knew the move was permanent, but I was so young getting married and having children didn’t enter my head. Raising your own family so far away from your own can feel like a stake to the heart. I miss my family everyday, but more than that; I miss them seeing my son grow up. I guess the upside is that when we are with them we make the most of it. It is all the sweeter for being rare. It is a small consolation.

Should People Who Don’t Have Children Be Allowed To Tell You How To Raise Yours?

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Before I was married and had children I would always say that people who weren’t married should not give advice to people who are married, and that people who don’t have children, shouldn’t give advice to people who have children. Now that I am married and I have a child I can tell you that my belief has only hardened. I know that is controversial. I know some of you might want to slap me right now. I am worried that some of you may even thing I am coming across a bit Andrea Leadsom. But this is not a smug parenting thing. It is not an us versus them: it is simply the fact that parenting looks very different from the outside, and that unless you have been in the trenches, you have no idea what it is actually like.

There are some anomalies: live-in nannies, childcare professionals and the like. But if you don’t have extensive childcare experience, and you don’t have any children of your own, then don’t tell me how to raise my child. You would be surprised how much this happens. There is one specific person who criticises or makes a negative comment about my son, and how my husband and I are raising him, every time we see them. It takes everything I have to not point out to this person that they have never been around a child in their life and should therefore STFU. It is not even that this person has a point. Each criticism is something they have to seek and is nonsense: a comment on how our son is dressed etc.

General unsolicited advice is infuriating at the best of times, but when it is people telling you how to parent it is especially annoying. Being a parent is hard. There is no day off, no breaks, and certainly no sick days. I once worked on a film, a West End play and organised the launch party for Frost all in one month. It was brutal and relentless, but it was still nothing compared to parenting. To go back to my point about parenting looking different from the outside; before I had a child I would hear a baby crying, or be in a restaurant wondering why people were just letting their children run around. Now, there are still some days where I think what are you doing? (because I am human), but the thing is, that parent has probably done everything they can to stop the crying baby. The parents in the restaurant are just so tired they can’t move. You don’t know what lead up to that point or what that person is feeling. They are not doing nothing, they have already done what they can.

So don’t tell people what there child should be wearing or eating. Don’t tell them to shut their child up. The child has just as much right to be speaking as you do. Don’t be that person rolling your eyes because there is a baby crying on the bus (like I was!), because until you become a parent, you have no idea how hard it is and if you have one of your own you will feel very guilty indeed.

So should people who don’t have children be allowed to tell you how to raise yours? No. I am trying to swear less now I am a mother so I will use an acronym: that person should STFU.