Posted on Saturday, September 10, 2016
in Family, Quickie
…since my last confession.
I worked at a boxing match this evening and should probably be flaking on the couch watching television but it suddenly struck me that I should be talking to you instead.
I have thoughts about motherhood, the competitive nature that lies within. The jogging pants, the networking updates declaring achievements of marathon runs, of mummy college graduations and I must admit to feeling a bit inadequate, but that’s my problem, not theirs.
The school car park is where all of this happens. I used to stand amongst the other mummies waiting for our little snot-nosed characters to be released from the guard of their relentless underpaid teachers and we used to make small talk in the meantime. It was nice small talk, but it was superficial which was nice then, but now it’s more cackle than I can handle in my already overcrowded mind and besides, mummy groups are the straightest route into getting roped into things.
Now I sit in my car and pretend to listen to voice mails on my phone while doodling on the back of old diesel receipts, pretending to look busy. I play Candy Crush sometimes while trying very hard to maintain a serious expression. It’s quite sad, but it’s understandable.
Sometimes I do venture out, and hover outside the mummy groups. I laugh awkwardly and venture into their various circles but I don’t belong. I resort to retorts about the weather, I compliment their babes in arms, they compliment mine. Then we all go home.
I wonder sometimes if other mothers feel like me, if they have a boundary, if they’re lonely in spite of loud obvious laughter, in spite of the jogging clothes. Maybe we’re all the same, underneath.