Perfect hair? Size 6 jeans? Organic purées in the freezer? That glamorous supermum may seem to have it all sorted – but don’t be fooled. Here’s why we’d much rather be slummy than yummy, says Sharon Wright.
We’ve all been there. You’re sitting at the coffee morning, trying to grab a mouthful of Bourbon biscuit and jiggle your crotchety little one, when your heart sinks. Here she comes – the yummy mummy. And you know that very soon you will be feeling like a hopeless failure.
You can’t ignore the fact she’s already back in her pre-baby jeans (white, naturally) while you’re still in your pregnancy leggings. Then she’s off, steering the conversation round to her many mothering triumphs before whipping out mushed organic superfoods for her offspring, who’s also dripping with designer labels.
When you become a mum they seem to be everywhere, the seemingly perfect parents who have turned having a baby into a sort of competition. One where they win every round and you’re just muddling through, doing the best you can.
Well, newsflash! You’re actually doing a brilliant job and, when you think about it properly, you really wouldn’t want to be a yummy mummy. Here’s why:
Bumper star
It starts at antenatal class. It’s a wonder she’s there, given she clearly knows it all already. While you and your partner perch on the plastic chairs feeling a mixture of excitement and nerves about what’s in store, YM exudes a superior air of having it all sussed.
She likes to argue with the midwife leading the class and quote things she’s read on the internet or been told by her yoga teacher as if they’re gospel. And when you get to the bit about pain-relief options she makes it very clear she won’t be having any.
Truth is, YM has just as many butterflies about labour as you do, she just can’t admit it. But while she’s determined to have a birth plan set in stone, you’re sensibly making sure you’re well-informed enough to make choices.
And you know full well that giving birth ain’t a competition.
Tall stories
Then there’s the birth. YM’s was, of course, a model of natural perfection. She made it through without so much as a Junior Aspirin and had such a perfect water birth there were tears of admiration in the midwife’s eyes and talk of turning it into a training film.
Unlike you, YM had no headless chicken moments when her hubby realised she was in labour. She didn’t grab both his ears to explain quite forcefully that she’d changed her mind about an epidural. She didn’t overdo it on the gas and air and have a snotty, snorty laughing fit. Well, so she says…
But there’s no right or wrong way to have a baby – only your own way. And trust us, absolutely everyone has a few funny/bonkers/icky moments along with the thrilling, joyful ones.
Class war
YMs don’t waste a single second in signing up their little ones for every baby class going. If they’re not at baby yoga, it’s baby music club. And don’t forget baby swimming, baby massage, baby art, baby, well, everything. You can’t start too early, they say darkly, with a demanding timetable of improving classes.
Once YM gets into her stride you start feeling a bit panicky that your child’s life will be ruined if he can’t bash out a tune on a tambourine by six months. Because guess what? Turns out YM’s little one is an absolute genius! Isn’t that just smashing!
You’re a nice person, so of course you smile and nod when you’re presented with the ‘evidence’. But you’re a bit more relaxed about your tot’s artistic and athletic skills. You understand the real purpose of baby clubs is to give mums somewhere to go for a bit of a natter and a cup of tea. If Junior does turn out to be the next Picasso, well, that’s just a bonus.
Hey, good-looking
But worse than the holier-than-thou, locally-sourced, organic baby food; worse than insisting she only plays Baby Mozart in the car and worse than the fact her tot is already signed up to no fewer than five baby modelling agencies, is the YM’s sickening ability to look absolutely fabulous whenever you see her.
It’s hard to take your eyes off her post-baby belly, thinking, ‘Where? Oh where has it gone?’ Your own mummy muffin top looks like it’s here to stay and you’re still in your old pregnancy faithfuls because they’re the quickest thing to hand when the baby’s crying.
You can’t understand how YM shoehorns hair, make-up and the gym into the exhausting round of looking after a little one. And it’s sometimes a while before YM lets slip that she has a live-in nanny to ‘help out’ with the baby. Help out? A whole other grown-up to help look after the baby? No wonder YM has time to spend on her looks. You’d be grateful just for the chance to go to the loo by yourself.
Funny mummy
Of course, YMs like to be one of the girls. But the pretend problems supposedly ruining their lives make you feel even worse than the bare-faced showing off.
‘Oh, Jasper’s slept through the night since day one, so I have to wake him up to change his nappy, worse luck!’ Then she smiles smugly as you grapple for words to explain how zombied you feel after your sixth sleepless night this week. Or: ‘Imogen’s crawling already! It’s exhausting! I wish she was a bit lazier, like your Sam.’
The problem with YM’s obsession with being the first and best with every milestone is there’s no space for just enjoying your baby. The truth is, being a mum is wonderful but it’s hard work and anyone busting a gut to pretend it’s not isn’t being very honest.
YMs are just giving themselves a tension headache under their perfectly styled dos. Because even if you are wearing odd socks, haven’t shaved your legs since September and have bits of puréed banana in your eyebrows because you forgot to put the lid on the blender, when your baby looks at you, all she sees is the very best mummy in the whole wide world.
Sharon Wright, Mum & Baby magazine
The Daily Waffle 