mothers – Mother, Inc

My kids are better than your kids

April 13, 2009

All mothers love to compare stuff. It’s just in their DNA. It could be something the pregnancy does to your brain during the nine months that makes you go all competitive and crazy, even before the baby is out.

When it comes to finding new stuff to compare, mothers are very creative. It can range from the size of the stomach, the heartbeat of the baby, the weight of the baby and the pregnancy symptoms they get, as if having it worse means you’re somehow a better mother because of the immense sacrifice you’re making.

Some do it subtly.

Mother 1: So which school will you be sending your child to? It’s such a dilemma. I’m considering between Julia Gabriel and Montessori.”

Me (with an obliging smile): I haven’t decided yet, but the public playschool down the road don’t seem so bad.

Mother 1 (affected laughter): Oh, public education! It’s just that some of the kids are a little rowdy, if you know what I mean.

Me: I suppose so.

Methinks: Yes, I know exactly what you mean. And I hope your little brat grows up to be every bit as shallow, self-obsessed and arrogant as you are.

It’s exasperating. I bring my boy for a walk at the mall and I can see mothers eyeing the kind of stroller I have, the clothes Tru’s wearing, the diaper bag I’ve got. And it’s the worst when a whole bunch of competitive mothers gather for a chat. It gets increasingly ludicrous as they go along. Kinda like these mothers on Goodness Gracious Me!

httpv://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3N7F-5zNVFI

I get that it’s a mother’s instinct to be unabashedly proud of their child, and I can’t help glowing when other people fuss over my kid. But there’s a line to be drawn as far as competition goes and it drives me insane when mothers go on and on about how brilliant their little geniuses are. (You know my 3-year-old boy just learnt to operate on his pet dog).

Get a life, woman! I’m sure there’s some kind of medication to curb those illusions you’re having. Or might I suggest a lobotomy.

by Daphne

motherhood

Motherhood 101

February 12, 2009

Lesson 1: Motherhood is a life-changing experience.

From the outside looking in, it didn’t seem so bad. I had diligently pored over the What to Expect series and offered my services as the occasional nanny to overly enthusiastic friends who were more than happy to pass on their little bundles of joy.

Even pregnancy had its perks. I wore the nausea like a badge of honor, and my large-ass stomach was a “get-anything-you-want-card”. No more standing in line or waiting for seats. Sometime in the fourth month, I realized that people are especially nice to pregnant women, and I milked it for all it’s worth. I even mastered a pose which worked like a charm.

Stand with a slight tilt backwards and hold your lower back with one hand. With the other hand, stroke your belly with a circular motion. Complete the look with a “God, my varicose veins are about to explode” expression and voila! Works every single time.

And I was feeling pretty good about my wealth of experience in the kid-raising department. Or so I thought.

I think it really hit me the first night Tru came home. I still felt like a pro in the hospital. For starters, he was sleeping most of the time. In fact, it was harder to wake him up than to get him to sleep. Hah, I should have seen through his sneaky little ways. When he actually did cry, I had a handy little device which summoned help in an instant.

“Nu-urse, I think the baby is hungry/tired/poopy…”

The first night back home, all I wanted to do was to stuff him back right where he came from. I wanted back my summoning powers. Nothing seemed to work, and after 3 solid hours of carrying, rocking and singing, I was about to join in the screaming.

Then all of a sudden, there it was. The sound of silence. Except for the ringing in my ears which didn’t go away for the next 3 months.

Like I said, motherhood is a life-changing experience. And when you’re in it, there’s no turning back, so every day, all that’s left to do is suck it up and keep going.

by Daphne