When I'm out with the kids someone occasionally asks: "Is that your child?" I like to take the question on notice, until I know why they are asking. I tense up and wait for the inevitable criticism that follows. It is a conditioned response, a kind of stranger danger all mothers know. The impact hurts, but the clever retort comes too late.
I am a regular mother - not perfect, not bad. I have consistently tried, yet nothing I have done in my life has drawn the level of public scrutiny that comes with just being a mother.
I remember the woman who loudly told me on a crowded train that using a baby carrier was "lazy" and bad for my child's back. I remember the man who stopped me in the street to tell me I contributed to the world's overpopulation. I recall the faces of strangers who said my children were too loud, too quiet, too hot, too cold, too fat, too thin, needed a sleep, needed a smack, or needed a dummy. I recall the eyes that have rolled and the groans that escaped at the sight of me in places deemed inappropriate for mothers: on planes, buses, in the city at lunchtime.
As a working mother, people berated me for not being at home. When I stayed home, people looked past me at dinner parties for someone more interesting.
We celebrate Mother's Day publicly, and very commercially. The catalogues stuffing the mailbox herald Mother's Day in just enough shopping time to "show Mum you really care".
But I am not sure society likes who I am: a mother of dependent children. Fluffy slippers and an espresso machine won't help that.
People are quick to tell you, rightly, that mothering is the most important job you can do. Shaping the next generation is not to be taken lightly. If the job is done well, the whole of society reaps the reward. If the job is done badly, the whole of society suffers.
But there are no performance reviews for mothers. Any feedback is held tightly, and is dangerous, as self-doubt is a prominent tenet of mothering and so much of what she hears is negative.
The bar is much lower for fathers. They are lauded for turning up with the kids, often by older women who may not have benefited from such support. A dad at the park, whose charge has a dripping booger while teetering on the precipitous edge of play equipment and "not playing nicely" (a common scenario for any parent), can still command a smile from strangers. Or he gets a cheeky comment about it being a "daddy thing" or, worse, a reference to "babysitting". A mum in this situation invokes ire, or is invisible.
I welcome parenting advice - I look for it everywhere - and I'm not suggesting people should not intervene when a child's safety is in question. But there are ways of imparting knowledge, and then there's mere opinion.
My skills for dealing with infants and toddlers are finely honed, now that I don't have any. There seems to be about a five-year lag between honing such skills and the time when they would have been useful.
I would have done some things differently, but those regrets don't need to play out on the street now. If I find myself criticising a mother (in my mind) with less experience, I try to focus on the good things she is doing and imagining her day. Up since 4am, served meals that ended up on the floor, soothed crying, endured tantrums - and now seeking a brief respite in the outside world. Criticising her, particularly in front of cognisant children, will do nothing but drive her back inside, feeling worse.
There are some standard random acts of kindness towards mothers, such as lifting strollers up stairs and holding open doors, but rare are the random words of praise. People are far more deliberate about going out of their way to criticise.
Thankfully, I remember two contrary incidents. In Canberra, a woman detoured to confront me. I prickled, holding my breath in preparation, but she thanked me for having children and taking the time out to raise them.
Another time, I felt the stare of a businessman on a ferry, and prickled again. He came over to commend me on how I interacted with my children during the journey.
After each encounter I felt elated, more confident and motivated to parent well. If you can admire something a mother is doing, don't hold back, tell her. It's these exchanges rather than criticism that will make a difference. Or a mother's day.
Ainslie MacGibbon is a freelance writer.
This article first appeared in The Sydney Morning Herald opinion page.
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