Crabmommy's Momocrite Diaries: Judging Moms
I'm no stranger to judging other mothers, but I hate it when people judge me. Sound familiar?
Surely I'm not alone when it comes to this installment of the Momocrite Diaries? It seems to me that judgment just comes with the territory as a mother. You can't help it, you don't want it, but it's there, whether lurking deep beneath the surface or spilling out for all the world to see.
In my case, the judging started even before childbirth. As a disciple of a natural birth-oriented childbirth class I had strong opinions on those "unenlightened" women signing up for voluntary epidurals. And as for those women who opt for elective C-sections to avoid pain! Just the thought of such a heinous crime had the Crabmom frothing at the mouth with self-righteous damnation! Don't worry, I wasn't walking around telling off pain-dissing epidural-loving, optional C-section wussy-moms to their faces, but you can bet your bottom dollar Crabmommy was judging them on the inside.
After having Crabkid, however, I took on a more sober-minded view of childbirth. Birth plan? Ha ha. To be frank, even seeing my baby for the first time didn't quite compare with the delicious moment when I was blessed by that wondrous epidural, after a natural labor that didn't go remotely as I'd hoped. You'd think I might have learned my lesson in judgment right there via delivery by glorious C-section. But after judging pain-free birth I found a new target post-partum: natural childbirth. What a bunch of crunchy wackos!
Okay, so I'm exaggerating a little, but you get the picture: I judge others' parenting decisions even as I resent being judged, and even as I think we do too much judging of mothers in our culture. But by judging others we validate our own choices, and if anyone needs self-validation it's we moms. Because when we're not judging others we're judging ourselves, and there's absolutely no sport in that.
I try to temper my judging with knowing that in a matter of months I might change my mind on the very issue I'm hopped up about, but it doesn't stop that judgment juice from coursing through my veins when I see a mom doing something I wouldn't, or-as the case may be-not doing something I would. So when I sleep-trained Crabtot according to the hardcore, elaborate methods of Dr. Marc Weissbluth, I cast a critical eye on those moms who had a looser approach, even as I paid lip service to that whole "every baby is different-do what works for you!" convo we moms get into when we politely discuss matters like sleep training. Now that I don't have an infant, I'm much more tolerant of you co-sleeping, non-scheduling types and can see the value in taking a chill pill on that front. But that's because Crabkid and I have moved on from that stage so I can see it with detachment. Or maybe because having moved on from that stage I'm immune to perceiving what others are doing as an implicit judgment of me and my style of momming.
Since my kid is four, I no longer react (internally) with shock and horror if your infant noshes sugary applesauce or is out at a bar after hours, stashed happily under the table in his car-seat. Considering I now realize there's value in NOT hovering over your toddler at the playground, I won't look down on you if you're not in the sandbox with your tot solving all his sharing problems. And considering my kid only recently gave up her bottle, I'm hardly about to judge you when your three-year-old hasn't parted with her paci. (Beware of hothouse parenting: It's okay to give your kids a little freedom.)
Given all of the above, I should know better than to disapprove of a mom at a restaurant for not scolding her appallingly whiny preschooler. After all I have one of those whiny preschoolers myself. And I should know that it will probably come to bite me in the butt when I next look down upon, say, a Kindergartner's mom who allows her daughter to play with some slutty-looking doll. I should also know better than to judge the mom whose eight-year-old watches reality TV shows about fashion and modeling.
I should know better, yes. Then again, that mom should know better! I mean, come on! How could she allow her kid to talk to her like that? How could she buy that for her child? Who's in charge in that house? What kind of mothering is that?
What about you? Can you relate to the crabby momocrite here? Or do you JUDGE ME FOR JUDGING?
Related: One dad is sick of being judged because other men fail to live up to every day fatherhood standards. Read his open letter to the do-nothing dads out there, and the doormats (that's sometimes you, mommies) who abet him.
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