Today I accidently ended up getting annoyed at a friend who posted this link to a mummy blog (and this particular post).
If you take it with a pinch of salt, it’s really rather a sweet blog overall, but this post really bothered me (clearly pregnancy hormones kicking in, or maybe I’m just being tired and unreasonable!).
To give you an exert:
“How I thought my life as a Mum would be:
7 am awake to the sound of birdsong. Apply minimal makeup to glowing skin whilst a bluebird ties a ribbon in my hair, much like Cinderella. Potter in pristine garden/kitchen with a steaming mug (Cath Kidston) of tea whilst chatting about the day with husband and waiting for cherubs to awake.
8am darling children stir and make their way downstairs for a filling and heathy breakfast: either porridge (organic) or toast with jam (both homemade). Smile fondly at family over kitchen table as we enjoy our first meal of the day together.
10.30am meet perfect Zara clad friends for coffee. Impeccably behaved toddler sips babyccinos and reads a book. Baby snoozes peacefully in pram. Natter happily about exciting things like school intake and interior design. Stroll home, pointing out leaves, doggies and friendly passers-by to children.
3pm children simultaneously wake up from nap. Prepare baking activity: Hummingbird Vanilla Cupcakes. Children observe with interest and don’t make any mess. Pop in the oven to eat later with a cup of tea.”
There’s obviously more, but that gives you an idea. I think the reason that this blog bothers me is that it must have been written with a slight pinch of salt for comic effect- haha isn’t it funny how perfect I thought my life would be when I had a couple of smelly, crying babies!
Actually no, it’s not. I get so frustrated when women are depicted as being shallow, stupid and flimsy- it’s the chick-lit version of real life. It doesn’t exist. And what’s worse is when ridiculous representation is made by women themselves. And the absolute crown is when it’s some kind of horrible self-depreciating “aren’t I just a silly little woman” ditty.
No self-respecting woman really thinks that like is all Cath Kidson, coffee with friends and laughing into the breeze. That’s the life that adverts are trying to sell you, not the life that a real person lives. And you can be completely and utterly happy and content in the real world if you stop believing what you’re told is the life you should be living.
Lets take the example of romance. One of the most romantic moments of my life was my wedding night. You probably now think there’s going to be some hideously predictable story of rose, petals, gentle undressing and staring deep into one anothers eyes. Nope- we shared a cheese and pickle sarnie in the jacuzzi bath whilst going “Holy Hell, what was all that about”. And yes, it was beautifully romantic- spending time with the person I love most in the world. Just because it will never be featured on a Lavazza Coffee advert, or a Funkypigeon.com Valentines Day, doesn’t mean it’s any less valid as a wonderful experience.
Why do women do this to themselves? It’s embarrassing and predictable. We are not all Bridget Jones/Carrie Bradshaw/Rachel from Friends. And most of us don’t want to be.
I might have some flimsy ideas of what parenthood will be, which will no doubt be shattered once baby arrives screaming into the world, but I have the forethought and grounding to realise that my breast-feeding, natural-nappy wearing chilled-out earth mother act might fail at the first hurdle, and I’m not stupid enough to think that I have failed at life if I do.
Women: Get a grip.