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Credit: Pixabay
Credit: Pixabay

ParentsJune 6, 2017

How the ‘Supermum’ narrative is hurting mothers

Credit: Pixabay
Credit: Pixabay

Being called a Supermum is supposed to be a light-hearted compliment, but is it helpful? Clinical psychologist Sarah Bell-Booth isn’t so sure.

The definition of a Supermum seems to include a daunting super long-list of super parent powers.

You must of course be able to adopt and maintain a happy and calm disposition 24/7, seven days a week, 365 days a year with no break.

You’ll always patiently manage difficult child behaviour and give your children your undivided attention every waking moment (and even while you’re asleep).

Are you a top chef who can offer fully nutritional bento box menus every day with home-cooked and baked delicacies that are politely received and enjoyed by your kids? Well, you need to be.

Also, you’ll be an organised event manager who can, at a moment’s notice, deliver a Pinterest-worthy experience of social and stimulating creative activities.

Can you provide your kids with high fashion clothing and the latest toys and gadgets? That’s a must.

Your home will always be spotless and tidy, in fact it should look like you hire an hourly professional cleaner.

How handy that you’re motivated to exercise Every. Single. Day. And you just love to run marathon events in this season’s active wear.

You’ll work in a high powered career to role model success to your children of course. While being an at home parent because you can’t just leave them and work.

All that spare time you have needs to be spent altruistically volunteering for community groups and charities and sitting on the board of your child’s kindy or co-op.

And you’ll do all of this while maintaining a passionate Notebook-inspired romantic relationship with your partner.

Supermum! Easy!

Well-meaning friends, acquaintances, and colleagues often use the Supermum term to praise others who seem to be coping well with the ever-increasing demands of parenthood. However, it can show a lack of understanding about the subtleties of what is really going on behind the scenes.

The comparisons we make are largely based on assumptions made from snapshots. These snapshots can neglect to acknowledge your current internal battles managing your emotions (or your child’s or children’s for that matter) or your hard work and determination. They ignore your inherent personality, temperament and natural talents. They don’t show your engagement in self-care and your physical health status.

These snapshots definitely don’t acknowledge resilience built from past experiences, luck, opportunities and privileges, and your cultural and social support.

If you were called a Supermum it could positively reinforce and motivate you. Or it could overwhelm you.

It might add more pressure on to you to uphold that external perception that you have it all sorted. This may eventually create anxiety as you strive for perfection.

Perfection is unrealistic in any area of life, but it is particularly unrealistic in parenthood which is unpredictable and uncontrollable by nature.

Being called a Supermum may also prevent you from expressing normal negative emotions and asking for support and validation.

There needs to be honesty in these villages of mums, not a hierarchy or competition about who appears to be coping better.

So if you find yourself striving for unrealistic Supermum status, here are some tips:

STOP. Just stop. Stop rushing. Stop excessive multi-tasking. Stop overcommitting to please others. Instead start setting specific and realistic goals.

Ask yourself:

  • Is my goal attainable?
  • Am I basing my self-worth on these achievements?
  • Who am I trying to impress?
  • What is urgent? What can I delay or delegate?

Make a short to-do list, halve it and you might be left with an achievable amount to do. Allow extra time for these tasks. If you find yourself with some extra time on your hands – great! Time for a café or beach break to reward yourself.

Adjust your goals daily or even hourly. Tune into your emotions and energy levels in these regular check-ins. Say no to plans that don’t suit anymore.

Credit: Pixabay

Acknowledge your strengths and limitations and work with them:

Are you a morning person? Go out with your kids when you feel patient. If not, let them play around home or even pop the TV on for a short bit while you grab a cuppa.

Are you creative with messy play at home or should you attend a playgroup which facilitates this?

Are you the best mum you can be after you’ve had some adult stimulation from work and shared the childcare with others?

Remember that meeting your child or children’s needs is often more draining than you recognise.

Take “short & sweet” time away to re-group and re-energise. Relaxation is non-negotiable in parenthood. This can be anything that works for you. It could be exercising, being in nature, listening to music, dancing, reading, social catch ups or pampering.

Celebrating small successes is important. Praise yourself for specific positive behaviours and achievements rather than striving for a vague, over-generalised label like Supermum.

Writing a diary of examples demonstrating you are doing a ‘good/good enough’ job can also give you warm fuzzies and reinforce your efforts.

When praising others, I’m sure they would also prefer meaningful specific observations rather than inferences about their general coping ability.

“I love this yummy cake you brought along today” rather than “I don’t know how you fit in baking so much with the kids and your job – you’re such a Supermum”.

Eeek – so much pressure in one sentence!

You may not be aware of the struggles she had in the process of getting that cake to your place.

Parents are doing their best and kids are well-loved, so let’s be mindful of the dangers of connotations associated with terms like Supermum. While you might be pretty super mum, it’s OK to feel vulnerable when transitioning into that very important parent role. Hopefully these tips help with that.

Dr Sarah Bell-Booth is a mum of three (one girl and twin boys) and a clinical psychologist. She offers evidence-based treatment for parents with anxiety and depression.
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Getty Images

ParentsJune 2, 2017

Emily Writes: Surviving Wine Mum Night

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Getty Images

When mums get a night off, it’s a big deal. Spinoff Parents editor Emily Writes delves deep into the Wine Mum Night phenomenon with an anatomy of a night out without husbands, wives or children.

It’s Wine Mum Night! It’s taken eight weeks to organise this night. Husbands, wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, grandparents, flat-mates – whoever it is, somebody is watching the kids. You worked around birthday parties and sick kids and work, paid and unpaid, appreciated and ignored. The village has stepped in.

It’s a proper night out.

I’m talking the sort of night where when you get home you don’t have to wake up to the kids all night AND you get to sleep in – it feels like you have to make the most of it. It’s your forever night. It has to sustain you for months, maybe even years. Forever.

You need this. You’ve been knee-deep in poo and spew, toilet training, not sleeping ever, cooking, cleaning, dealing with everyone’s crap. You need a break.

Which is why we have Wine Mum Night. And it’s a sight to behold.

Chances are either you don’t drink often because your kids never sleep so you live with what feels like a permanent hangover, or you’ve been pregnant and/or breastfeeding. Which means: Lightweight. So here’s an anatomy of a Wine Mum Night (I know, because I’ve had a few Wine Mum Nights in my time – in fact, though it’s not obvious at all, some of this post is based on my own experiences).

Getty Images: Credit: Henrik Sorensen

5.30pm – Oh the pressure! You can’t wear your maternity leggings. You definitely can’t wear your breastfeeding bra. The kids have long since claimed all of your jewellery and the teething necklace you wear every day looks like anal beads.

But you’re so keen to leave the house and flee your children/responsibilities that you don’t take longer than 15 seconds to get ready. The look you’re going for is Kristen Stewart’s MILF sister, but you look more like your almost 65-year-old uncle who insists he toured with Grateful Dead.

6pm – You meet the girls. You left early to skip bed time routine. If you’d stayed you would have been stuck laying by the cot for two hours and then you’d be too tired to leave the house. This is how you missed Wine Mum Night last time.

6.05pm – You have a moment of silence for your comrades who couldn’t make it because their child got sick, they got caught in the bedtime routine, they fell asleep at 5pm, or their husband is a massive turd and you’re going to spend all night verbally destroying him and plotting how you’re going to split them up.

6.10pm – You all agree that nobody can get drunk because we all have the kids the next day and nobody can cope with hangovers.

6.20pm – Shots of absinthe for everyone.

6.30pm – The Circle of Judgement begins. You plan revenge on one of the kids who is hassling your child at daycare. Insist no baby is ugly before agreeing that yes, that particular baby is unfortunate looking. Eviscerate your boss/partner/frenemy/Karen who stopped us being able to drink at school committee meetings. Her kid was sleeping through the night from six weeks old. What a bitch. She’s lying. Definitely lying. Bitch.

6.31pm – “It’s so bad how mums judge each other! I never judge! We need to always be kind!”

6.45pm – Agree it is boring to talk about our children who we love very much/are driving us to drink. More pinot gris. One friend suggests you all buy drugs and then says JUST JOKING but you know she’s serious.

6.50pm – Everyone is drunk. You took your Spanx off in the bathroom and put them in your handbag.

7pm – Nobody has any money. How does wine cost $15 now? Half of the group is gawking at the group of tradies who just walked in – not because they want to get them into bed, but because they’re thinking they look so tall and will all of our baby boys grow up and become tradies? What will they look like? Will they get married? Will they give us grandchildren???

7.05pm – Everyone compares C-Section scars and loudly talks about their pelvic floor and how many Kegels they can do. You tell the bartender what a mucous plug is.

7.15pm – “I’m so gay” “We know”

7.20pm – Everyone agrees we should all live on a commune together with no men. We can all be sister wives and we’ll raise our children together. There is lots of crying and hugging as we all agree we are best friends forever.

7.30pm – Shall we buy some cigarettes? Oh my god, they literally cost $100 now. Everyone smokes while insisting they don’t smoke.

7.45pm – “YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD MUM LISTEN TO ME YOU ARE SUCH A GOOD MUM”

7.55pm – *Screamed in monotone* A few questions that I need to know, how you could ever hurt me so, I need to know, what I’ve done wrong, and how long, it’s been, going on. Was it that I never paid enough attention? Or did I not, give, enough affection. Not only will your answers keep me safe, but, I’ll know, never to make, the same, mistake, again. Did I, never, treat you right? Did I, always, start the fight? Either way, I’m going, out, of, my mind, all the answers to my questions, I have to find…

8pm – Men are the worst. We should kill them all and rip their still beating hearts from their bodies.

8.01pm – I love my husband/boyfriend too! I don’t know what I’d do without him! OMG I’m going to call him!

8.20pm – IS THAT BEYONCE! OMG I LOVE HER.

8.22pm – It’s not a broken ankle, it’s fine. Wow is that the bone? Hmmm maybe my bones are always a bit pokey-out-of-skinny LOL.

8.30pm – My back has just been really bad because the baby weighs like 18kg now it’s insane??? *pulls out phone* look at these 6000 photos I took this morning. “How old?” Oh he’s 54 months old now.

8.45pm – I’m so tired. I shouldn’t drink anymore.

8.46pm – Just a pinot gris please. No, a bottle.

8.55pm – The bar cuts you off. The bartender tells you that you’ve reminded him he needs to call his mum.

9pm – You need a kebab. You tell the guy making your kebab your birth story.

9.14pm – You fall asleep with one shoe on, cradling a kebab.

9.15pm – You get home.

5am – You wake to the sound of your kids and the worst hangover you’ve ever had in your entire life. Your children reward you for having a night out by screaming at the top of their lungs for two and a half hours straight. One of them climbs into your bed just to piss in it. You go back to sleep in the wee. Your partner comes down every five seconds to ask “Where are the nappies?”

10am – You enter the vortex of hell AKA Chipmunks and eat 10 chicken nuggets then throw up in the ball pit and blame it on a child.

11am – There is no 11am. There is only pain.

Emily Writes is editor of The Spinoff Parents. Her book Rants in the Dark is out now. Buy it here. Follow her on Facebook here.

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