Do you know the single most important thing becoming a mother has taught me? That I don't have all the answers, and, if I don't know what to do with my own kids, I most certainly haven't a clue about anyone else's.
It is so, so easy to be judgemental, it's even rather fun at times. But it's so easy to point the finger and suggest solutions when actually we have no idea what is really going on. We don't know that mother or that child, we have no idea what they've been through, even in the 10 minutes before we started observing them and we have no idea what they'll do once out of our sight.
Velcro Boy threw an almighty tantrum in the doctor's waiting room the other day, I hadn't taken the buggy and he wasn't wearing shoes so he needed to go back in the sling, he disagreed, loudly, for 15 minutes.
15 minutes is a long time when you're sitting on the floor in front of 20 or so onlookers, several of whom were tutting loudly, gasping when VB threw himself on the floor, mentioning buggies and rods in backs etc. etc. I sat with Velcro Boy in my lap as he sobbed and sobbed, broken hearted at being stopped from dashing straight into a busy road and ignored the "wise words" being directed at me. Eventually I suggested we go and buy an apple, and the crying subsided a bit, enough for me to quickly secure him in the sling and beat a hasty retreat anyway! He got an apple from Tesco and carried it carefully all the way home, he'd stopped crying once we were outside anyway but being in the sling meant we could have a cuddle and forget all the sadness. I've no doubt plenty of those onlookers had their own opinions about what I should have done or not done, but frankly, I don't care. He's my lovely, screamy boy and I'll do what I think it is best.
Pre-children, I had so many pre-conceptions about the kind of mother I'd be and what my children would be like. I had romantic notions of sitting in parks reading long novels as my rosy-cheeked baby gurgled contentedly in it's carrycot, and I was going to make jam, lots of it, while my baby dozed happily in it's crib during the day (which I'd forced my mum to hand-paint exactly the right shade of pink, convinced we'd be using it ALL THE TIME - sorry mum!) and I wasn't going to be dictated to by my baby, I was going to sail through the baby days, all perfect make up and smiles.
What actually happened was that when Moobles arrived she was everything we'd dreamed of, the most beautiful, delicate baby anyone had ever seen (honestly!). And she had reflux. She was sick constantly, I had to take at least two changes of clothes for both of us everywhere for about the first year of her life. Forget make-up, I counted myself lucky if I couldn't see the crispy bits in my hair where she'd puked in it. She needed to be upright almost all the time, so spent much of her time in a sling, or on me. She slept in our bed or in my arms and if she cried I comforted her, if she needed feeding I fed her (about every 30 minutes or so for the first few months) and we bumbled along like that. No jam. No books. Definately no make up. It was great, it was not what I'd imagined, but it's what it took to get us all through that first puke-filled year and it worked for our family.
So now, when I see parents dealing with a screaming toddler, I smile and am grateful that today, it's not me! And when I hear expectant parents talk about Moses baskets and cribs I nod, cross my fingers for them and casually mention they might want to check out the co-sleeping guidelines "just in case".
If people ask for my opinion, I give it, and if they give me their opinion on my parenting they'll most certainly get my full reasoning, complete with research and long-winded explanation and probably wish they'd never bothered!
Honestly, life is just to short to worry about what everyone else is doing with their kids. I'm going to carry on doing what works for my family, and if, or when it stops working, I'll do something else!
