Take Your Two Cents and Shove It!

Since giving birth to Sweetpea, it has never ceased to amaze me the numbers of times that complete strangers feel that they have the right to tell me what I'm doing right or more often wrong in her care and upbringing. It can be something as simple as complimenting me on her outfit or her behaviour. Those are the comments from strangers that I can handle. In fact, if I'm being honest, I welcome those comments. Its positive feedback that I'm doing a good job and that I'm getting it (more often than not) right. But occasionally – more than I care to admit, a total outsider will come up to me and inform me of their completely unsolicited opinions which will be in the negative realm of experience.

Yesterday was a prime example.

The southern states of Australia are experiencing a cold snap of weather that quite honestly, has left most of us bewildered at best, and thoroughly disoriented overall. We have had snow not more than 90 minutes drive from Melbourne, we had hailstones that piled up around the pot plants here and of course, there has been rain, glorious rain and storms (lets not forget that Australia is currently gripped by a drought of 10 years duration and water supplies are in serious shortage). Of course, being that its so damn cold, The Matriarch had an appointment at the diabetes clinic. And it goes without saying, that because she didn’t want to go (“its so boring in the waiting room”) and refuses to drive in adverse weather conditions, it was up to me to take her. Normally her attitude towards her health issues would make me roll my eyes up into the back of my skull in frustration, but that would have been it. But yesterday, on top of that usual frustration level was the cold weather. Its the style of cold that makes one want to curl up in a quilt with a good book or a movie, cuddle a baby girl with her bottle of milk whilst having a steaming hot cup of Dilmah tea and defiantly not going outside where the inhospitable elements leave your skin feeling brittle and raw.

Being such a nasty day, and keeping in mind that Sweetpea had woken up not once, but four times during the night (meaning Mummah had four wake up calls and four breaks in her already hazy sleep patterns) I made the decision that visiting the hospital was going to be the ONLY event of the trip. I'm not sure if its a truth across all hospitals of the western world, but hazarding a guess based on experience in both Australian and Canadian hospitals, they are always over heated, and I assumed that the temperature in the building would be no different yesterday. So I dressed Sweetpea accordingly in clothes that were warm inside a car or a building, but were a tad underdone for the outside. For the short fifteen steps that I had to take Sweetpea and The Matriarch from the under cover sheltered disable person drop off point into the hospital building, I had a quilt to wrap around Sweetpea's body. When they were safely in the warmth, I took the car to the car park and walked the trip back to the entrance (in the rain) alone.

When I got inside The Matriarch had a face on her as black as thunder. Apparently she had been accosted by some old biddy who had taken it upon herself to berate The Matriarch about the fact that Sweetpea didn’t have a hat on. But instead of getting angry with the old crone for being a an interfering busybody, The Matriarch got angry with me. It was, in her opinion, the perfect opportunity to let loose with her inner hostile rage about my parenting choices and mothering abilities. Her motivation was that if outsiders were willing to put in their two cents worth of opinions on Sweetpea's upbringing, then they must have a valid point and I should take keen notice.

I'm pretty much a passive person, not because I don't get angry, but because I prefer to be the person who smooths the waters rather than whip up into a complete storm of negative emotions. Do you remember the part where I wrote that because Sweetpea had a bad night’s sleep I had had a bad night? Smooth waters were not to be found yesterday around my spirit. I flared up at The Matriarch.

“My baby is clean and well cared for. She has baths every night; she has clean bottles and is fed good food everyday. I am a disciplinarian and yet my daughter comes running to me whenever she wants comfort or when she wants to share her laughter. She is in a warm bed every night. She has clean clothes and is never ever left in a dirty nappy. When she was sick and we took her to hospital, the doctors told me what a great job I was doing keeping her well hydrated and clean and free from rashes. She is happy and by your own admission, is advanced in her behaviour and understanding from the other kids you know. So how can you tell me that I'm a bad mother? How dare you even speak the words – you are totally out of line. If you’re pissed off at the old hag who spoke out of turn about Sweetpea’s lack of hat (which she refuses to wear at the best of times!) you should have had a go at her, not me. ”

With that I snatched up my baby and stormed out of the family room. I am so beyond sick to death of strangers (and The Matriarch) feeling that they have a right to talk about anything I do with my child. If I was abusing her I could understand, but I'm not. She is a well cared for child with the biggest issue in her day to day life being told off for taking off her socks when its cold. Ugh! Does any other parent go through this kind of crap? I'm sure (at least I'm comforting myself with the idea of it being true) that I'm not the only one who has felt this way.

If only I had been the one to which the old bag had said something to. On less than four hours sleep I think I could have savaged her but good. So instead of the relief and release of biting the head off that stupid old woman, I am left to sit here in front of my computer and fume as I write out the fact that I'm pissed. Humph. Better stay away from me for the time being, there is a grumpy, confidence shaken Mummah on the loose.