Those Mommy Wars...

(Let's get this out of the way, I was this mom too, once upon a time...)

Do you know what my absolute favorite phrase to google, on any given day, is?  Mommy wars.  Every once in a while, after a brush with another parent of a child near the age of one of my monsters darling daughters, at the park or at the school, chatting nonchalantly...and then it happens.  You know.  At first, it's rather innocuous, something I'm not prepared to defend myself on because my choices are my own and yours are your own, "Oh you had a homebirth?  That would never have worked for me, you see, because I was brought back from the brink of death no less than five times," and ok, whatever brings our beautiful babies into the world is just fine.  But then further down the rabbit hole we go...

She's sitting at four months! (For two seconds while I aim the camera just perfectly and snap a picture for evidence before she tumbles forward, that is)

"Oh, little Sally started solids at two months because she needed extra fuel for all that crawling she was starting to do!"

I did that.  I won't lie.  With the first, it's such a (wrongly so) pressure filled arena of bloodshed and tears.  New mom, prove yourself via gladiator-grade progeny!  If your five month old isn't reciting soliloquies at the dinner table, well then you aren't feeding her the proper balance of macro nutrients and your parenting skills are obviously lackluster.    Every little thing becomes fodder for the "My mothering is superior" cannon, no lines are drawn, all is fair in this war.

Tender age of 6 and she can already style her own hair.  Future famous hairstylist!

Baby is combining consonants and vowels whilst babbling?  "She's talking!"

Baby flipped while you shifted your weight in bed and created a downhill gradient?  "She rolls all over the place!"

Baby's step reflex still present?  "He's already trying to walk!  I just know he'll skip crawling!"

Today I look back on me with A and I can do no more than chuckle.  Surely her reciting her ABC's as fast as she could at age 2.5 meant she recognized her letters.  And surely memorizing the Hot Dog book means she is reading.  Duh.  By the time N came around I'd throw in a bit about the things they couldn't do along with what they could.  With W, I'm no less than thrilled with the little lump that is content to lay there and smile up at me with her entire little self; mediocrity is so insanely beautiful.

With the first, we exemplify the progress and mums the word on whatever little Jack or Julie isn't doing.  And what a disservice to moms everywhere.  I'm sure this isn't a phenomenon solely applicable to first-time parents.  As I said, the urge probably sticks around as long as you feel under enough pressure to produce super offspring.  It's sad and a testimony to the damage we're causing to the self-esteem of parents and kids alike, that we will turn even weeks-old babies into contestants to participate in this largely imaginary competition.

That's right, smiling at three days old!  She's a genius!

And I am positive that given a supportive and safe, secure environment, most parents (first, second, sixth, eleventh child alike) might feel more at ease sharing failures just as often as all things marvelous.  We're entitled to brag about everything they can do; the problem seems to creep in when we're not left room to relate to other parents about levels our children haven't reached yet and maybe did so much later than their peers.

She might've talked early, but she didn't walk until 15 months and  forget running.

It's exhausting, isn't it?  This feeling of constantly needing to one up the mom or dad beside us.  Time spent embellishing and preening when we could be enjoying those little things they do; not one thing they do is insignificant, from their own unique senses of humor, their athletic leanings (or not!) all the way to their academic achievements.

In the meantime, I'm making it a habit to respond to any challenges to a mommy-duel with some excellent "My-child-can"'s.  Things like...

"W totally drooled in my mouth, like, five times today.  She's got super strength parotid salivary glands and perfect aim!"

"N?  Oh she can fart on command.  Word."

"Shoulda seen my big girl A today, tried making her own breakfast and ended up coating my microwave with oatmeal and my stove with brown sugar.  Such a whiz in the kitchen, amirite?"