Mothers’ Group Disaster
By: Danielle Ridgway
Tags: Motherhood, Parenting, Baby, Children, Pregnancy

Mothers’ Group Disaster

How I tried and failed to ace Mothers’ Group

‘Our kids are 18 now. We all met in mothers’ group.’

‘We do everything together. Camping, birthdays, playdates.’

‘We all live in the same street and our kids go to the same school.’

‘We just lived at each other’s houses and drank wine and had sleep overs.’

I could not WAIT!

I am a woman’s woman and I was itching to get to mother’s group.

All I needed was a baby.

Wait for aaaaages, about a decade.

Then after a while, job done.

So, I turn up to the first meeting and my baby wasn’t playing along. Boo! No matter. A bit of screaming but nothing I couldn’t pretend to ignore and talk over.

Me, 41. The mum next to me, 21.

‘You’re the same age as my mum’, she says happily. Fine by me. Little chat. She was sweet.

On the other side of me, a 28 year old beauty handing out cupcakes. ‘Baking relaxes me’, she said. Um, what? It took all my energy to withhold judgement, but I was actually in awe. Anyway, she was kind.

Another mum with beautiful hair. ‘Your hair looks fabulous’, I said. She informed me that she’d been to the hairdresser that morning and fed the 6 week old baby under the cape. Blimey, is that even allowed? More awe. Quick chat.

Obstetrician mum arrived. Exciting. So how was your birth?, I said. Everyone goes silent. I hadn’t read the code. That is not done here. Back to hair and cupcakes. Obstetrician mum and I have side chat and she tells me all about her birth. Slightly longer chat. Not bad.

I chowed down a cupcake. Because, no breakfast.

My mission for the morning was to actually make it to Mothers’ Group or at least not miss it entirely.

Here’s what was involved:

Packing the nappy bag with a bunch of ‘essentials’ some of which I didn’t know the function off

Engineering nap time as if it was even possible

Checking for poo before wedging little bot into capsule

Driving slowly as considering the sleep I’d had, my concentration was probably equivalent to having drunk 10 beers. Add screaming.

Realising that the baby mirror was skew-whiff and pointing at roof.

Singing loudly to screaming baby having zero impact on baby but soothing me in a tiny way.

Being grateful for ‘baby on board’ sticker. Other drivers should be warned.

Parking strategically so I could open the back door enough to actually retrieve the capsule with baby.

Feeding the parking meter with the 4 coins I could find and hoping for the best

Scraping wet hair back and checking top for large milk stains acquired while driving. Because, screaming.

Struggling with ridiculously heavy capsule wondering if it is the most awkward thing a very tired mum could try to carry.

And I did it. Only 20 minutes late. Boom!

I even managed 4 more meetings at various increments of lateness. The last one arriving as half the mums were leaving.

I gave myself an A for effort and stopped going. All the mums were lovely but was it worth it? No.

Maybe the mum matching criteria of ‘postcode’ and ‘got baby’ wasn’t enough to fulfil my perfect match mothers group dreams. I know the dream is real for so many, probably most but it wasn’t for me.

Luckily, I picked up other mums along the way.

Some I’d known for ages and suddenly understood parts of them I never had before.

New mum friends. Ones I chose because we’d shared something real, over time.

Some existing friends who’d had babies the same year. Booyah!

Neighbours, who share your every day, who you connect to effortlessly.

Bonus: Friends without kids, now valued more than ever before.

Womanhood in all its forms from all directions. Real, strong, connections. Lovely.