They sang “Andi’s Got Big Buns” to the tune of “Janie’s Got a Gun” from the back of the bus. Shriveling down in my seat, I was a seventh grader at rock bottom. The nursery rhyme had it so wrong. Sticks and could break my bones, but at that point, each word of their newly minted lyrics were daggers piercing deep into my pre-teen heart.
We’ve all been there – either at the giving or receiving end of girl hating. For many, it starts in middle school and extends well into today, as women (either silently or vocally) judge other women for their decisions, unruly children or how many times a week they claim to have sex with their husbands snack choices.
Things I totally judged mothers for before becoming a parent?
- Kids with iPads at a restaurant
- Extended breastfeeding
- Unruly kids on an airplane
- Toddler meltdowns in the grocery checkout
WTH was I thinking? Call me Hester Prynne and stick the big “A” on my dress because, yes, ladies. Before becoming a mother, I was a complete jerk when it came to my assumptions about motherhood. I HAD NO CLUE.
Some psychologists would probably argue that my attitudes about child-rearing stemmed from my own insecurities about becoming a mother (probably true) or was rooted in something from my childhood (not likely), but regardless, I was a jerk. And I still can be a presumptuous jerk in some cases. But I try to limit judging these days like my beer. Sans a good bender here and there, I’ve gotten a lot better about it.
Amy Poehler’s [somewhat] new book Yes, Please has some great advice when it comes to mom hating. Rather than perpetuate negativity, she suggests that when you see someone or hear someone doing something you don’t necessarily agree with, simply think “good for her, not for me.”
Practice it with me now:
Mom A: “I encourage my kids to watch movies 24/7/365.”
You, pondering the prospect of total freedom: “Good for her, not for me.”
Mom A: “I don’t care what my kids eat.”
You, thinking just how many bags of Cheetos your kid would eat in one setting if given the opportunity: “Good for her, not for me.”
Mom A: “I love letting my toddlers ride in the back of our family’s pickup truck on the way to the grocery.”
You, thinking about what you used to do in the back of a pickup truck how unsafe that is: “Good for her, not for me.”
In all seriousness though, we’ve all got our hangups. Amy P’s quip offers a good way to rethink our approach–while the “haters gonna hate, hate, hate…” you/me/we don’t need to be one. Let’s lift one another up and offer support, not tear each other down.
