I think we can all agree that the title of this particular blog is significantly less flash than “Sex in the City” but then again, so are our lives. With the movie about to hit cinemas, it is fascinating to reflect that the population of mamas I hang out with (current company included) are mildly obsessed with the show, its characters, and the soon to be movie. Moms groups and mama friends are buzzing with plans about hitting opening night. Facebook even has an application where you can discover which SITC character you are most like. It’s nothing short of a phenomenon.

Last weekend I had a speaking engagement at the Ontario Camping Association spring training session. One of my Mabel colleagues joined me. On the drive home from Toronto, she found herself bombarded with questions. You see, she is an early thirty-something single who has an apartment, is an artist, dates cute boys, has friends, and is completely accountable to herself. I had forgotten what a woman does when she doesn’t have to go home and fix the disasters that occurred in her absence. I was hungry to be reminded. So the question period began:
“what are you doing this afternoon? Oh, you might go to the park and read? What will you read…..then you might go shopping? Where do you shop? What will you buy? What is cool to wear this spring? Do you have plans for this Saturday night? Are you going out with a cute boy? Will you kiss him? Will you want him to call you tomorrow?”

Needless to say, my kind Mabel friend looked at me like I’m the idiot I so clearly am. She explained that Sex in the City is largely fictional and that just because you have the opportunity to go out all the time, you don’t actually do it. She gently reminded me to go home and enjoy my afternoon at the park, to deal with the mess, and to give the kids a cuddle from her.

So in my best Carrie Bradshaw column impersonation:

“In a world of modern women debating whether they’d rather have husbands or hot dates, Blahniks or babies, parties or playdates, manicures or mini-vans, has the time come for us all to recognize that each of us has a beautiful lawn where the grass is indeed a lovely shade of green?”

I recently wrote a little piece about an annual weekend I do with my old girlfriends – most of whom I started Mabel’s Labels with! Really, you’d think we have enough quality time together! When I say the word “weekend” I use the term very loosely. I usually rock up on Saturday night, then take off before noon on Sunday. BUT, it is a night away so I’m not complaining.
That weekend is just around the corner so I thought I’d post the article. I’m thinking that a few of you will be able to relate.

Momma Talk

My ninety-two-year-old grandmother has given birth to a lot of babies. She had babies in the 1930s, 40s, 50s, and 60s. She was collecting the baby bonus and old-age pension at the same time. Grandma is as wise as she is old, so when she talks, this humble creator of five babies drops everything and listens.

Grandma thinks women should not gather and talk about their kids. At first I found this to be a very strange perspective. I have five small kids and can turn every conversation into a discussion around their accomplishments, challenges, teachers, activities, poops, pukes, and sleeping patterns. What more is there going on in my life? If not for kiddie-gab, is there much else I can say?

That is precisely her point. I once returned from a weekend away with my longtime girlfriends. You know the kind of gals I’m talking about — the ones who have been around since the beginning of time. They were there holding your hair back while you puked up the peach schnapps you guzzled in the school parking lot before the dance. They remember when you got your driver’s license, cried with you that first time your heart was broken, and would share your single dorm room bed during a weekend visit. These are the gals who were your bridesmaids and actually knew what you were like before you were someone’s momma.

The weekend was geared to be a fantastic catch-up with the old gang and Grandma gave me strict instructions to report back to her with all the gossip and antics the weekend held. However, come Monday morning, the two of us sat with our cups of tea and I delivered a shockingly boring report. I walked away from that weekend knowing that Little Johnny was an exceptional reader and Little Janey is the best player on her soccer team, but didn’t know much else.

Lamenting this, Grandma perked-up and told me it was time to implement “The Rule.”

As a young mother, Grandma occasionally gathered with a group of women. It was one of the very rare occasions they did not have their children with them. She set a rule for the group. No one was permitted to even whisper her child’s name. “The Rule” was complied with and these women enjoyed many years of social gatherings, discussing every topic imaginable — except their kids.

The next year came quickly and our annual weekend together was around the corner. The e-mails started flying — deciding who was driving, who was cooking, who was bringing the wine! Now was the time to suggest “The Rule,” but I was concerned with how it would be received. I was telling people I didn’t want to hear about their kids — the bonus was they didn’t have to hear about mine!

The two childless friends immediately responded to me. I had been elevated to hero status in their eyes. The other e-mails started trickling in. Everyone agreed that it was time for “The Rule” to be passed onto our generation.

No one will dispute that your children are all consuming and have a way of taking over your entire existence. Even my grandmother would readily agree. I once heard someone say having a child is like watching your heart walk around outside of your body. True enough, but every once in a while you need to step back and find that little piece of yourself that sometimes gets lost in the school meetings, hockey practices, and music lesson drop-offs. For this busy momma, it is officially one weekend a year, but I try not to let the lesson of “The Rule” stray too far.

Do you remember the first time you felt it? The mama-guilt? Could have been anything – letting her cry, resenting waking up, really really really wanting to give up nursing and give her a bottle… I remember being overwhelmed with guilty thoughts and thinking ‘why didn’t anyone tell me this?’.

I visited my aunt and new baby cousin this weekend. Baby Syd is very cute and very sweet, but also VERY attached to her mama. At 9 months, she won’t let anyone else hold her, feed her, cuddle her, or look at her! Mama took a few hours off and left Syd with Daddy & Grandma. She admitted that having Syd attached to her 24/7 was getting a little old. She hasn’t been out without her, she misses her friends, she misses her freedom… The moment the words left her lips she was overwhelmed with guilt! Wished she could take the words back… I SO recognized that guilt. That’s the guilt I’m talking about. That’s the guilt they don’t tell you about. It’s OK, I tried to tell her. It’ll get better, I tried to tell her. And that is all true – those feelings will pass. But the one thing that won’t change is that she’ll always feel guilt about every decision she makes and every negative thought she has! Just part of the package, forever & ever.

All of these instincts & common expereiences are hard-wired for a reason, right? What’s the guilt about? Maybe that’s what makes us over-analyse all of our decisions. Maybe that’s why it’s there.