Judgmental parenting – in all its forms

So it seems this Facebook ‘Motherhood Challenge’ thingy has been causing quite a bit of a stir.

Articles in the nationals moaning about the ‘smugness’ of being nominated to post pictures of you and your kids on social media, people dissecting the whole issue on breakfast radio, people who have done it getting upset that others are upset about it.

And so the debate rolls on…

Having not been nominated myself I can only assume I must be slap, bang in the middle of the ‘crappy mum’ camp. Well, tell me something I didn’t already know!

Only joking – I can’t profess to have had majorly strong feelings either way on this one. Apart from noticing none of my FB friends had tagged me, and scanning through the lovely snaps of those that have.

I do understand the dislike of the whole ‘parental club’ thing though. You know what I mean, feeling like you’re included in something (even though you’re not even sure entirely what that is) and so somehow endorsed as a member of the badge-wearing ‘good parenting’ brigade.

Way back when after having Mini-me, like most first-time mums I suppose, I really felt the need to try and slot in with all the other mums I knew.

The fact that I hated, and I mean REALLY hated, breastfeeding worried me stupid for example because others used to wax lyrical about the amazing, natural bonding and sheer joy of it all.

Meanwhile I sat wincing in front of the television desperately trying to distract myself with episodes of Gilmore Girls and wondering just how long this horrendous, un-natural feeling of being a human cow had to continue for.

I was once reduced to tears by someone who thought fit to comment on how putting Peppa Pig on the iPad was probably not the most stimulating dinner accompaniment for my one-year-old.

Now as a part-time working mum of two of course my skin has thickened, my standards have slipped and I’m far more likely to laugh than cry about such things.

I’m a really big fan of sometimes sloppy, honest parenting – and so are most of my friends. So it’s lovely when we all have a good giggle about that morning’s ‘disasters’ at the school gates.

Mini-me’s pants falling round her ankles as we raced into school this morning was today’s… Nothing like a teaching assistant shouting at you about knicker elastic before 9am to make you feel like mother of the year!

But enough about that.

All this social media outrage has got me thinking about whether I myself am guilty of being a judgmental parent. After all it works both ways.

Just because I don’t juice things for my toddler, limit screen time and scour children’s cookbooks and draw up a weekly menu what gives me the right to scoff at those who do?

And I’ve been really horrible about Gwyneth Paltrow in the past but clearly her uber-healthy methods work for her brood… Resisting the urge to say more here…

Anyway that’s what I’m going to take from all this. Trying to just focus on my own family, making any changes that would be good for us, and perhaps not having a little chuckle about people who choose not to own a TV set or decide to home school.

Because that could quite rightly be construed as horribly smug too.

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Smug Mums Incorporated

It’s been a rather stressful few weeks in the Neat Freak house.

A seemingly never-ending bout of illness finally culminated in a spell in hospital for blue-eyed boy, and although everything’s pretty much back to normal now it’s been a case of muddling along as best we can for a while.

My never-ending ‘to do’ list is now the length of a short novel and I’m actually getting genuinely scared of being eaten alive by the laundry pile.

Being a long-time convert to the philosophy that a tidy home equals a calmer, happier person, I think what I find hardest about being a parent – apart from the lack of personal space – is the lack of space in general.

The plethora of ‘toddler tat’ in our lounge often feels like my biggest bugbear, that and how my kids manage to leave their sticky fingerprints and footprints on everything. But hey, it goes with the territory.

What’s harder to admit is that sometimes I find it hard to remain serene in the face of mini-me emptying out every toy she owns. Or that I love the fact that she does cake making and potato printing at nursery so I don’t have to at home.

Personally I think the sanest thing you can do as a mum is to accept the fact that you’ll never be ‘perfect’, try not to feel guilty about the decisions you make and above all never forget to laugh at yourself – whether at home or in public.

After all being a good mum is many things, but it’s certainly not black and white.

So why do the smug mums brigade, Smug Mums Incorporated if you will, seem to feel it’s okay to look down their noses at the rest of us?

You know the type, the ones who wouldn’t know self-deprecation if it bit them on the arse and who recoil in horror at the thought of feeding their offspring anything that’s not locally sourced, organic and prepared from scratch.

Queen of the Smug Mums, or at least the celebrity face of the campaign, has to go to Gwyneth Paltrow, her of Goop, or as I prefer to call it Gloop fame.

You know that lifestyle website with ‘useful’ tips on the perfect capsule collection wardrobe, the importance of owning a black designer jumpsuit and hearty recipes. Chickpea soup anyone?

To be fair Gwyneth herself has waxed lyrical about how we mums don’t cut each other enough slack. But then she always goes and spoils it by dropping clangers such as how office jobs are easier if you’re a mum than being paid millions to make a film. Or how she only allows her children to watch TV if it’s in French or Spanish.

And while describing herself as a ‘working mom’ as she did recently at a political fundraiser – of course we all host these regularly where I’m from – might be technically correct, in reality she presumably has staff and nannies by the dozen on standby.

Oh Gwyneth if only instead of writing about the benefits of juice cleansing on Gloop you could recount that time when you broke wind in a baby sensory class and blamed your unfortunate offspring.

Or when you let your kids have cheese and a bag of maltesers for tea one night because you couldn’t get them to eat anything else.

Or when you stuck them upstairs for some ‘quiet time’ with the iPad so you could indulge in 30 minute’s uninterrupted trash TV.

We’d like you, and the other Smug Mums, so much more…