Give Them Their Pace; It’s Not A Rat Race

Have you ever felt super jubilant?

I Have.

Because I liberated myself from the (infamous) rat race.

“If you’re happy and you know it…” I merrily sang, alongside my kiddo.

What I didn’t foresee was that even as I exit one race, I would be unwittingly pulled into another [more dangerous] “A-1” mommy rat race.

Am stumped each time a mommy (usually one that I barely know or one who I’m meeting for the first and presumably the last time) compares her kid/s with mine.

Scenario 1: Along came a SpRider, who sat down beside her, and frightened my child away

Location – Play-zone (Mommy’s breather)

Storyline –

Little one horsing around on the merry-go-round --> Monkeying around on the Ferris wheel --> Goes towards the slides -->

Mommy 1 (m1) walks up to me. Aah, just what I was waiting for. Finally, some adult interaction. So I smile the friendliest sweetest that I can and reciprocate the “Hiii”.

--> Daughter sees bigger child climbing --> Refuses to climb up herself --> Calls out to me --> I help her and get back

m1: So how old is your daughter?

Me:  2 years 3 months

m1: Ohhhh mine is 2 years 5 months 19 days [I forget the hours, minutes and seconds here]

Me: (Smile)

m1: Why is she so scared to climb the steps? You must not assist her. See, I leave my child alone.

m1: And why is she so scared of my daughter? She should learn to play with older kids.

[Ummm, did u mean bigger built rough kid who’s constantly shoving my little one and trying to poke her in the eye? Then that’s self-defense.]

Me: (Forced smile this time) Hmm…

Bumpity bump... Heart-rending wails... Pink-faced m1 runs to daughter...

Scenario 2: All play and no talk makes tot a dull boy

Location - Boarding Gate

Storyline –

Flight delayed --> Kiddo is, hence, Columbus --> Runs back to us intermittently --> Blabbers non-stop about her discoveries

m2: How old is she? [I think I will get her an age tag]

Me: *Repeat mode*

m2: She speaks sentences!! And is she speaking in multiple languages with her daddy and you?

Me: (Secretly feeling mommy glory; but trying a humble...) Yes

m2: My son is nearly 3 years old - he can only manage a few words! And we can’t understand much of what he’s saying and he just won’t say rhymes and… (litany goes on)

Me: (Sympathetic tone) Don’t worry, anyways it’s said that boys talk late. And wait till he’s jabbering (forced laugh)

Me: He communicates what he wants, right?

m2: That he does. But look at your daughter!

m2 hollers out to her truant boy --> boy scurries back --> lovingly blabbers

m2: (Not impressed) Look at that little girl! When will you start speaking properly like her? Learn something from her. (Disinterested look on child’s face)

m2: (Turns to hapless me) Maybe I should take him to a speech therapist? Or a psychologist or psychiatrist or...?

Me: (Muttering a thank you prayer as boarding is announced… and a pitying look towards the boy)

Scenario 3: And though she be but little, she’s fierce - Shakespeare

Location – Restaurant with play area

Storyline –

Kiddo delighted she’s not confined to high chair --> Playing around --> Whoops of delight --> Runs back --> Grabs a bite --> Back to cruising --> (Repeat)

Couple with toddler (adorable chubby cheeks I would have loved to pull) sitting at next table --> Daddy trying best to manage the little man --> Hawk-eyed mommy more interested in the goings-on at our corner

m3: (Leans towards me) Hi

Let me skip the age intro bit here

m3: Oh! She’s a month older to our son.

Me: (Experienced mommy now, hence, fake eagerness) Really!

m3: She is so short for her age! She must be a very fussy eater.

Me: (Umm as far as I can see my child is having whatever is offered to her and yours is throwing tantrums) Not really

m3: Then why is she so short?

Me: (You see good things come in small packages- I smugly thought) *Shrug*

m3: Don’t you give her ample food?

Me: (No, of course I don’t, am Pac-Mom... Chomp chomp chomp) *Blank look*

m3: I give my son 500 ml of milk every day, full-fat is better. Plus…

Me: (I didn’t even absorb the list) *More disinterested look* (discreetly requesting manager to change table)

Scenario 4: Bridge over troubled water

Location – Baby section at neighborhood Departmental store

Storyline –

Me picking up baby soap --> A really harrowed mommy looking for diapers

m4: [Mighty chirpy though] Hey, you also looking for diapers? Me too. Just ran out of stock and can’t find size in the brand I use. Which brand do you use?

Me: (Beware! This mom too eager to start a conversation; but mommy pride gets the better of my senses) Actually, we don’t really use diapers for her anymore.

m4: Wow! How old is she?

Me: (Groan... I trapped myself again) *Repeat mode*

m4: Is she fully potty trained?

Me: *Nod*

m4: And she doesn’t even wet her bed in the night?

Me: (Silly brain doing the ego dance again) Nope

m4: (Glaring at the sweetie-pie) See, she is a whole year younger to you and she doesn’t soil her pants or wet them even. And we have to spend so much picking up diapers for you. Next time you wet your pants, you surely getting a whack!

Child: Quizzical clueless look and then a triumphant grin as she wets her pants and the floor.

Me: (Swift exit before the promised whack)
 

Scenario 5: Mirror Mirror on the wall, who’s the Fairest of them all??

Location - Waiting room, Paediatric ward

Storyline –

m5: You know what, your daughter is anaemic

[Wow that’s quite an eye-opener for us. We just imagined she was fairer-skinned.

And where’s that age question?!]

My Brain: (BEWARE! Free advice gonna be dispensed.) *No response*

m5:  (Undeterred) I have 3 kids, look at them; that’s THE healthy pink glow.

My Brain: *Admiringly (genuine) look at her brood*

m5:  Yours is very pale. And quite thin too.

My Brain: (I would prefer “fair and slender”)

m5: You should start her on iron supplements. And try nutritional supplements like [let me not name the brands here].

My Brain: (Feeling really bad for the ped who spent hours and a whole lot of dough to get her coveted certification. All she needed to do was become mom to >1 “pink” kid.)

m5: (Gosh! This lady doesn’t give up) You should take more care of her. After all a child is very precious.

My Brain: (Thank you for reminding me. And does it matter that I have brought her for routine vaccination and not to treat fever like 2 of your kids?)

m5: She looks very weak

My Brain: (I surrender)

Hey Parents, leave us kids alone…

Had enough?

Well I could go on and on with the list of comparisons that I have heard in 2 years of mommyhood.

Do we really need to undermine another kid or feel miserable about our own?

Do we really need to set high expectations for the tots and for ourselves this early?

And would this stop here? NO. 

Sometimes with a Holier-than-thou triumphant look and sometimes with a dejected one, you will keep comparing food habits and interest in music and sartorial choice and preschool and gadgets and co-curricular activities and… phewww phewww phewwwwww… Let me catch my breath…

Let my child catch her breath... Let your children catch their breath…

Each one of us would surely love to have a super-achieving flawless kid. But wouldn’t it be great if each excelled where their aptitude lies?

While we can surely be their guide, let’s not send them on a relentless pursuit of what WE deem “desirable”.

Fellow mommies and daddies  – let’s hear from you…

Just a little note here – it’s not only the mommies, sometimes a daddy or a grandparent or an aunt or …… ok a “care-taker” of the kiddo has played this comparison game too. 

Oh and I just received this as a forward on a mobile messaging app: