Selfish to selfless

This is rated R30. The following contains material that offends my character personally and has the possibility of doing the same to non-mothers. It may be unsuitable for readers who do not have children. Discretion is advised.

Before becoming a mum, I was self serving and self motivated. Aside from my work and Mark, I spent my time and all money on myself. I routinely would buy makeup (because I would use it), a new outfit online for every event I attended (because I wanted to avoid the disaster that was turning up to a different event with the same people in the same dress #shallow) and would shave my legs each week (because I would actually wear outfits exposing more than my ankles).

This approach extended into social interactions and behaviours. I went about my day blissfully unaware of the external happenings around me unless there was some personal benefit. When it came to what I now term “mum protocol”, I couldn’t have been more disconnected. It is with much shame I confess the following:

1. I probably never gave second thought to letting the woman in the supermarket queue go before me despite her clear and desperate attempts to:

A. Amuse her toddler with a packet of chips who was trying to wriggle his legs out of the front of the trolley; 

B. Shush, frantically sway and jiggle every so often her newborn who is in the best hands free set known to a mother (the front pack), terrified that her little one will wake anytime before leaving he premises by car (but normally right before the daunting one handed trolley to coveyerbelt transition).

2. If I was in a standoff with a car sporting a baby on board sticker in the Kmart carpark, I would have driven madly into the carpark before telling myself repeatedly until I believed it that I had been the first to indicate. I would then go an spend hours finding bargains with my hands free, self motivated time before going home to complain to Mark that I spent too much money, it took too long, the queues were too long and that some lady tried to steal my park.

3. If I was seated next to a mother and baby on a plane I would have felt completely short changed (unless I was on Jet Star) and would probably have inquired about the availability of the emergency exit seat.

It goes without saying that these examples make me a worthy candidate for the world’s worst pre-baby human contest 2019 (which isn’t yet but should be a thing). They do not sit well with me in my newly acquired role.

Somewhat (ok actually completely) hypocritically, I now am quick to judge those who dawn my former pre baby persona. “The cheek”, “who does she think she is?”, “a hand would be nice”, “are you kidding me?” and “she has no idea” are the only regular internal thoughts politically correct enough to right on this blog but “f*** me dead” there are so many others. 

However, I know from now being on the receiving end that I am not the only one who conducts myself in the thoughtless fashion I once did. It is those who make life unnecessarily difficult as a mother.

If I can impart any wisdom from my experience pre and post baby to the public it would be:

1. Any help offered by trustworthy looking member of the public to a mother in need is always appreciated. And for the record men, whether the offer is entertained is not the point. 

2. If a mother turns down your assistance, persist once more (but only once because anymore and you become a weirdo/creep/threat #overprotectivemother) because normally the mother needs to overcome her mum pride and chances are she didn’t hear you the first time in the her #hotmess state.

3. Never underestimate how long it can take a mother to get her child or children in an out of a stationary vehicle, or the mental build up required prior to the shopping excursion. The baby on board sticker is not put on the vehicle for a laugh. It one of the very many methods us mother’s use to get as much help as we can from the public.

4. Absolutely never make judgment about a mother and a baby on a plane. Chances are she is as anxious as the pilot would be with a terrorist on board. 

I look back and question how I could have been so naive and thoughtless. My only excuse can be that I had no real reason to think about anyone other than myself prior to Lottie. With Lottie in tow, I have now have no time to think about just myself. Go on, say it. It serves me right.