From the moment our children are conceived, the comparisons begin. From your own self analysis: 'Hmmm, I wasn't this nauseous with my first pregnancy",' to the observations from others, "Gee, you're carrying much higher this time" (I'm not sure I want to know how people really know this?!) to the downright specific - 'Wow, our second baby measured so many millimetres from head to rump at the 20 week ultrasound and this one's 3mm bigger'. Wow. Amazing.
We then compare our children's births with our previous births, our mother's birth experiences, and those of our mothers in law, our neighbours, friends, colleagues, even the local fish and chip shop lady. No-one is immune from the discussion, the dissecting of information and the inevitable comparisons. Believe it or not, in a former life I used to be quite slim. This led to everyone I knew being gobsmacked at how big my babies have been. If there was an award for large birth weight babies, (out of the people I personally know), I'd have to be in medal contention. But that's until you compare me (James was my heaviest at 9 pound 10 ounces) with my Grandmother. Compared to her, I've had it easy. Her heaviest baby was 10 pound 4 ounces. And what is this bizarre fascination with other people's babies birth weights anyway? I know if Stu came home from work saying, "Oh, by the way, Steve's wife had the baby" and didn't come forth with weight details, I'd nag him until he found out. Why I have to know the weight of some stranger's baby is beyond explanation, but damn it - it's just not complete news without the weight. Without the weight, we can't compare that baby with every other baby born before it!
Everything can look really good or really bad in life, depending on who you're comparing yourself to.
The baby comparisons definitely don't stop with their birth. We sit at Mum's Group and compare our babies with the others. Which ones are cute, ugly, screamers, good sleepers, good feeders and so on. As the children grow, the comparisons continue. Who's crawling, walking, talking, toilet trained? Who's behaving like a spoiled brat and who's an angel? And so on and so forth...
And just when we think we've had our fill of comparing our children with others, we then move on to larger fry and compare ourselves with our contemporaries, which is fraught with disaster. How come she manages to keep her house looking like it’s from the cover of Home Beautiful, despite having three children to care for and a part time job? How come I am dropping into Coles two minutes before Playgroup starts to buy lamingtons to share, when she manages getting up at 5am to bake home made profiteroles from scratch? How come she looks like a fashion super model and I'm still trying to wipe my daughter's breakfast off my t-shirt? Why is she prettier, thinner, taller, fitter, wealthier and more organised?
Mothers. We are our own worst enemies. Comparing can only lead to heartache can’t it? - Or can it just once in a while leave us feeling good about ourselves, and it's these small little boosts to our egos that keep us analysing.
My oldest is in high school and at parent teacher night recently I overheard the people whose appointment was before us being told that basically their child was a little shithead. Then it was our turn, and the teacher said, "If I had a whole class full of Josh's I'd be a happy woman". I was hoping she was speaking loud enough so that the next people after us could hear. Did you hear that people? I'm doing a great job! Ner Ner, I win. Yeah right, if I had have waited until their appointment I'd probably hear how their child was going to be accelerated to the school's special genius unit and then, by comparison, I’d feel hopeless all over again.
:)
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