As Gooly’s birthday approaches, I’ve just realised that I’ve been carrying the ‘Mum’ title for almost nine years. Almost two years ago, I became a mum for the second time when Lolly came along. Bringing up an only child was hard work but when the second one innocently ‘invaded’, my life turned topsy-turvy all over again. My day began with the sound of the breast pump and ended with the same sound.
For quite a while, Medela was my faithful companion. It was during these times that I truly realised the importance of having friends. To have someone to talk to, to listen to, to argue, to agree and disagree.
However, not everyone makes a good mummy friend. With our raging hormones – coupled with leaking, delicate breasts – and other world-class issues only mums can understand, choosing the right kind of peers can make the motherhood journey less testy. Otherwise, the two-kg breast pump, which we lug everywhere, comes in really handy as an unsuspecting flying object to those who say, do or even look at us the wrong way.
I’ve systematically divided the people I know from parks and schools – all mummies alike into two groups.
Group A – Mothers who Know-It-All
Group B – Mothers who Don’t Know, Don’t Care
Group A, I find useful. I ask them a lot of questions, such as how to potty-train at the age of two (and later possibly on how to potty-train the mouth at seventeen).
Once, I asked a very enthusiastic mother about the estimated time frame to expect the first molar for my first child. I wasn’t really sure if that tiny white thing was a tooth or some food remnant from the day before. I admitted unabashedly that I didn’t brush his teeth daily. She was apologetic that she has forgotten the details of her daughter’s teeth saga, but promised to get back to me. The next day, at the park, she pulled out a diary of some sort that had a secret compartment. Inside it were little milk teeth and a chart documenting how each pearly white lost its prime position in her daughter’s mouth.
Okay, so the first molar usually appears when the child is sixteen months old or so. That was all I needed to know. The diary bit was impressive but overwhelmingly overloaded with information that I don’t even think my friend’s daughter would want to remember. Or does she? Or maybe it’s the mom who wants to remember? With all due respect, I could never understand the need for that.
Meanwhile, mummies from Group B are a whole different lot. She teaches you to “BIBO” (breath in, breath out). “Relax,” she says, “your child won’t be an instant obese just because he ate a packet of potato chips.” There are mornings when her child wakes up and nonchalantly grabs a can of Coke to drink, I kid you not. The child bears no sign of abnormality in terms of behaviour and intelligence.
Group A makes you strive to be a better mom, albeit with a little pressure. She’s helpful and resourceful. Group B makes you laugh and lets you believe that motherhood can be easy if you let it be.
Now, the following are the kind of mothers whom I stay at least 100Â arms-lengths away:
- Those who insist on using superlatives ‘-est’ in their daily conversation. Clever-est, bright-est, tall-est, cute-est. It’s never your child with these superlatives. It’s theirs, of course.
- Those who give unsolicited advice. “Does he need to see the child psychiatrist?” is one I was offered.
I’m happiest when I hang out with mothers who have a sense of humour. It’s important that they don’t tell me what to do or not to do. Ideally, we share with each other our children’s accomplishments, without sounding like we’re comparing or competing. We laugh at our mishaps or misadventures with the kids minus the judgmental remarks.
Raising kids is hard work, but with some comfort and laughter, the journey will be a lot easier. Hey, I am a mum for nine years already. In retrospect, it was not that difficult becoming a mum for the first time.
It’s getting easier with Lolly turning three soon. I must have chosen the right kind of people to  be friends with. The right kind of people to share the motherhood journey with. I’m blessed to have found them.
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Kiki Quah is a mother of two. ‘Thinking aloud allowed’ is invisibly tattooed on her forehead. Goolypop and Lollypop are her spleen, heart, headache and thus will be mentioned as such sporadically throughout her writing getaways.
