Dear World, I'm A Mom And I Really Don’t Care About What "Kind" Of Mother You Think I Am

Pooja Nair Pooja Nair in Single Women Bad Women on 18 July, 2017

So there are “good” old-fashioned moms, career-oriented “selfish” moms, flat-out “sloppy” moms, “too-busy-to-spend-time-with-kids” moms, so on and so forth. Since the time I became a mother (which was a beautiful experience in itself), I seem to be surrounded by people stocked with such mom labels.

While some of them are hearteningly-worded like “mombies” (a take on zombied sleep-deprived moms who get startled even by a mouse breath), others sound plain horrible. Sample “feminazi”, a term that Mrs. Mira Kapoor cranked out for working moms who apparently treat their kids like puppies (by not spending time with them)! And yes, terms such as “breastfeeding nazi”, “breastapo”, or “milk mafia” also come wrapped up in the siren song of mom life. These actually refer to a bunch of people who don’t like formula milk feeding and think mommy milk is the most nutritional bang for the bucks! Of course, it is one's choice to believe in it or not. But why place bumper-stickers on the ones who do?

They have a term to describe every facet of motherhood these days. For me it all started even before my little one was born. When I announced to the world that I was going to have a baby at 34, I was called too “old” for the whole kit and caboodle of motherhood.

And I wondered if my uterus was growing elderly white hair or if my breasts had shrunk to the size of a pea? Why was I incapable of nurturing a perfectly healthy child?

My first twinges of motherhood nine months later had me shamble about in an aimless way not knowing what to do. In my head, lassoing an enraged bull would have been an easier thing! This gave people an opportunity to crisply outline my condition as being “clueless”. But don’t most of the moms start off as that? I had never changed diapers, never carried babies, and never even spent more than 5 minutes with an infant! Then how in the world, would I start off as an expert from day one?

I remember the 'Mom Fail' series going around that guaranteed to “crack you up and make you feel like a winner”! One of the photos featured a fat bike-riding mom whose bum seemed to be riding pillion instead of the hapless son. Another one showed a mom trying to juggle her twins and failing miserably at it! But hello world, did you not realize that we all fail sometimes! Mishaps do happen! That’s because nobody is perfect and another person’s failure won’t make you a winner! When my kid fell off the bed once, people were quick to put a label of “careless mom” on me. But the same people later confessed in private that their own kids had fallen off the couch multiple times over!

And when finally I got a hang of all things baby, I came to be known as the “know-it-all” mom! This because, I am jitterbugging with frustration and refusing to accept all 1001 opinions on what my baby should be fed and how many times, and if his body needs to be covered or left open, and whether he needs to be in the crib or outside it, or if he needs to squat or stand during his bath time! Then I was also called the “overprotective” mom for baby-proofing my house which I did only to prevent any injury to my kid as he breezily skulks around.

Ever wondered how such throwaway remarks are muttered only when it comes to moms. No one spares their euphemisms on dads who like their female counterparts may also choose to be busy, career-focused, or plain slapdash. So while mommy words are being tossed around or minced in the fray, let me announce it to the world, that I am undeterred by what you think or talk about me.

I may be a scatterbrain mom or a clueless one but I take pride in the fact that my baby loves me the best despite all my shortcomings. Unlike you, he doesn’t judge me or assign an epithet to describe every move of mine. The happy gurgling sounds that he makes when he sees me after a long day at work is enough to drive away all the negativity and slinging verbal jabs that hit my face every now and then.

And when he wraps his little fingers around mine, I know no rule book or labels can raise my kid the way I can.