Dear Mum On The Phone,
Thank you for your time – I know you don’t have much of it, so I appreciate you sharing this little scrap of it with me, this tiny window you have stolen for yourself, and get to the point.
I have read a few things recently, things that just haven’t sat right with me. I’m no expert in just leaving things alone when I have an opinion, so I thought I would let it sit here, in good company.
I have read a few throwaway comments like ‘I wish I had time to be faffing about on Instagram!’, and ‘Honestly I just haven’t even thought to pick up my phone recently – I’ve been focused on my children!’
Only they aren’t throwaway, are they? They’re the usual snide, judgemental bullshit that we, as women, and even more as mothers, have come to not only know over the years, but have learnt to smile through while squirming after taking an involuntary sip of that all too familiar cocktail of indignant fury and inevitable guilt.
And the worst part? These comments are usually always from other women. Well, I say usually… always. A whole history of men putting women in their place and we’re finally in a society where we have the right to demand equal status – only to be torn down by our sisters. If we aren’t competing with men, do we really have to compete with each other? Because men aren’t concerned with anything so petty as how much time we’re spending scrolling.
The irony being that those women are always, ALWAYS being hypocritical. They’re still on their phones, applying their makeup, reading books and blogs, scrolling through Pinterest… ‘indulging’ in little things that allows them to keep their sanity. Looking at pretty pictures, reading the honest and inspiring words of others in their season of life, feeling a little less alone and silently comforted by the words of others. Soaking up that glorious feeling of having had a cup of coffee with a friend despite never having left the sofa while the kids play happily at their feet (on the good days, bounce off the walls on the less good days.)
Because how many of us have found a community through here at 2am while sat up feeding a restless baby? Or felt less hopeless in the sea of motherhood after a kind word from a stranger reminding us that we’re doing a good job when nobody else in our lives seems to be noticing our efforts? How many of us have shared tiny, thoughtful details we’re doing to add a little magic to our family’s lives and received a thoughtful message saying it sparked a little inspiration in someone else. How many of us have felt isolated when our bodies were torn apart by whatever kind of birth you had, and felt comforted by another mother talking about it on here? Think of that moment in Sex and The City when Charlotte hid in the larder to have a sob at how relentless motherhood is. Whole generations of women before us had to just survive this season of life, instead of getting to digitally hold hands and pull each other up, acknowledging the shit times and celebrating the wins, together.
Hands up if you have spent ten minutes scrolling through the pictures and words of other mothers on the phone while your children have run around the park – because what are we supposed to do there after they turn 3? Seriously, someone please tell me what my purpose is in that situation other than to kiss grazed knees better and ensure they aren’t stolen – and felt like they’ve actually taken a deep breath and tiny window of time for yourself? Only to look up and notice the judgemental look off the woman who considers herself supermum over there for having the audacity to look at your phone… moment ruined. Back in the messy endless cycle of pressure-martyrdom-resentment-sense of failure-guilt and repeat.
Side note: Don’t worry, she’s been scrolling too – just in secret, because if you don’t post, it doesn’t count… right?
This is me telling you that I know you put your phone down to be present with your children. I know you notice the funny things they say. I know you didn’t ignore their first steps because you were watching a funny reel. I know you read to them at bedtime.
I also know that if you’re connecting with other women over motherhood, you are a good mother – because you care. And that’s always enough.
I also know that some people feel better about themselves when they’ve looked at someone else and decided that they’re doing a better job. It’s playground nonsense all over again.
Of course there’s a world out of our phones, and we all know it’s important to be present in it. It matters that we feel the sun on our skin, notice cloud shapes with the kids, look forward to good food and turn the pages of books. But in 2023, there’s a world in our phones, too – and for some of us, a lot of us, it’s been a lifeline. Valuable connections, comforting conversations and much needed inspiration. Some essential escapism and the understanding that I know has made me a better mother.
I’ve learnt so much through these apps that help us connect. I’ve met wonderful people and had proper conversations without the social awkwardness of baby groups. I’ve been supported in ways I certainly wasn’t when I had my daughter seventeen years ago, crying alone on her nursery floor, feeling like a failure because the sink was full of dishes and she had been screaming for what felt like a month when the rest of the world was asleep.
Scroll away without guilt, my dear internet friend.
Sincerely,
Your Fellow Faffer.
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