There’s a new cool sister on the block and she’s called the ‘anti-mum’.
Have you noticed how many lists talk about the ten signs you’re a ‘rebel mum.’ Or talk about the things ‘real parents do when no one’s looking’. I’m not sure I buy it. Rebellion has always been cool, baby sick and anxiety – not so.
So, I guess I can see where it’s come from, an attempt to park the buggy, pick up a nonchulant air of ‘whatever’ but it’s the undercurrent, the unsaid which speaks volumes. The anti mum has a facade of apologetic’ ‘whoops, I’m a bad mummy’ while really , what it’s saying is: ” Look at me, look at the things I do and my children are still great. I have a cool life with little time for angst and baking. I’m too cool for school and you can join the gang if you like.’
Punctuated with collective titterings at their terribly slummy mummy ways.
If I shove a cheese sarnie and a chocolate biscuit into a packed lunch it’s because I’m so late I may as well stay at home – there’s nothing cool about it.
If I forget to brush Arthur’s teeth one night, I feel bad. There, I’ve said it, I feel bad and will do them extra well in the morning (which in turn will make me late and lead to the cheese and choc lunch – it’s a self-fulfilling prohecy).
The anti-mum wears it as a badge of honour. She’s so cool that undiluted orange juice doesn’t faze her. She laughs in the face of Bento boxes. Too much weak squash and I’m in a parental frenzy.
But does she really exist? I have a sneaking suspicion the anti-mum maybe a little urban myth. It’s like the times you visit for a play date and she says: ” God excuse the house, it’s such a mess.” A little injection of anti-mum. But both of you know she’s been running around like a mad woman shoving things in cupboards. The anti-mum spends a lot of time and energy desperately trying to be carefree -but I bet she’s still scouring Pinterest looking for ‘healthy flapjack’ recipes like the rest of us.
I suspect a little piece of us all are dying to be the anti-mum. To dish out Haribo with gay abandon (while remembering to apply fake tan). Whose children are still fantastic despite our slummy ways.
If my ways ever appear carefree – believe me they are not. If I ever appear slummy, it’s possibly true but not in a cool way – more of a ‘drowning not waving’ kinda way.