I hate fellow moms…they are so bitchy and annoying and I don’t want to talk about leaking breasts or nighttime meltdowns

FROM swapping stories about late-night feeding dramas to helping identify mysterious rashes, a tribe of ready-made mummies can be an invaluable lifeline.

But for some, the prospect of making new adult friends can be daunting — especially when they’re already feeling exhausted and overwhelmed.

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Jayne Cherrington-Cook, 50, is a website editor and lives in Bexley, Kent, with her civil servant husband Russell, 54, and son Milo, 13.

She deliberately avoided socializing with other new mothers after Milo was born.

Here, she explains why women need to behave more like men. . . hang out with friends who like to laugh and don’t want to talk about leaking breasts or late-night meltdowns.

When I got pregnant at 36, pushing a tiny human out of my privates was the only thing on my radar.

Making new companion mummies was not a priority.

For me, prenatal classes had no appeal.

I would rather have a root canal without anesthesia than have one.

Losing my pelvic floor was one thing, but losing my identity was another – and I was determined that wouldn’t happen to me when I became a mother.

However, the newborn fog finally lifted and a new pressure arose – the expectation of joining the legendary world of mummy friends.

Full of good intentions, my health visitor encouraged these groups, citing the benefits for both my son’s development and my own well-being, especially given the prospect of post-baby blues.

Reluctantly, I took Milo to his first baby sensory class.

Looking back, I wonder how and why I had this ridiculous idea that I would make friends.

Little humans wavering between napping and crying isn’t exactly conducive to forming a girl gang.

Totally numbing

It felt so unnatural and forced.

And trust me, it’s impossible to bond when you’re trying to get a four-month-old to paint (yes, paint).

The other moms seemed “nice,” but I didn’t get along with any of them.

As for the baby talk, it was totally mind-numbing.

I longed for adult conversations that didn’t revolve around teething problems or what was in my baby’s diaper.

Those first few days of motherhood were really quite boring and I longed to free myself from conversations about sharing B&M bargain tips or complaining about our other halves not doing their bit.

Relief washed over me when I returned to work after seven months of maternity leave.

The joy of interacting with people who didn’t even know I was a mother – because I didn’t shout about it like some do – was pure bliss.

Lunch breaks became a haven for sharing thoughts and laughter with women I really wanted to be with.

Real conversations have also replaced competitive parenting.

I had no interest in little Jimmy’s reading ability at 18 months and was so sleep deprived that I grew tired of listening to parents who were clearly living up to their children’s achievements.

School days are a social minefield and I soon felt like I was back in the classroom

Jayne

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been very proud of my son, but why do mothers feel the need to brag?

Someone could very casually boast, “I have plenty of diapers to spare, if anyone wants, because I have now potty trained my daughter.”

I wouldn’t have minded, but the daughter in question was one of them. . . Who has the time or energy at that age?

When my son started elementary school, there was a glimmer of hope in his friendships with his mother.

You spend so much time on delivery and pickup, I thought it would be nice to be able to spend the time having interesting conversations and I tried my best not to disengage.

But school times are a social minefield and I soon felt like I was back in the classroom.

The parental cliques made me feel like a shy 13-year-old again.

I didn’t dress like other moms, who wore workout clothes and skinny jeans.

I love fashion and thought nothing of going to school in high-waisted flared pants and a leopard-print jacket, or maxi-skirts with retro sneakers.

I once heard someone whisper, “What is she wearing?”

Because I was self-employed as a website editor, I didn’t fit in with the stay-at-home brigade or the group of full-time working moms.

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I welcomed the days when something happened at work and I could send my son to extracurricular activities, which meant I had to dodge the dreaded pick-up.

The children’s birthday parties were another nightmare.

Two hours of endless chatting with the other moms felt like an eternity, while the noisy, chaotic environment didn’t sit well with my autistic son, who often had trouble participating, wore noise-cancelling headphones, or simply clung to me for the time being. all.

When Milo was about six years old, I tried again to open my mind to having mothers as companions.

I thought it would be good for my son as I could organize playdates and I also hoped to meet a local friend.

I even gave mommy nights a try. I started to like some of the other mothers, until one of them cornered me and criticized my parenting, saying I was doing everything wrong.

Honesty has always been my golden rule, especially when raising an autistic child.

Everyone just winging it

But this mother thought I shouldn’t be so open about it with other people, and in particular with my son.

She believed that I should have hidden his autism from him, that somehow knowing how his brain works would not benefit him.

I mean, who does that?

We’re all just winging it, doing the best we can.

I didn’t like who I was around these women.

I constantly felt nervous and defensive.

I longed to hang out with my real friends, the ones who knew the real me and understood that I was striving to give my son the best life he could have.

I welcomed high school with open arms.

Milo was on his way to independence and the dreaded school race became a chore.

Some might say it’s me and ask, “What’s her problem?”

But a study gives me comfort.

You Can Survive This Parenting Game Without a Mom Tribe

Jayne

According to research carried out in the USA, friendships during the early stages of child-rearing are good for children’s brains, but – note – these friendships can be made with anyone, not just other mothers.

Researchers believe this happens because strong friendships provide support to mothers, allowing them to share the parenting burden and lessen their mental burden.

This, in turn, has a positive impact on your children’s well-being.

Strong friendships are key, regardless of whether your friends are also parents, so why is there so much pressure on women to find new partners as soon as they give birth?

Contrary to popular belief, you can survive this child-rearing game without a mother tribe.

Yes, some of my closest friends are parents too, but we knew each other before we were kids (before we were kids) and we rarely talk about our kids.

I advise any new mother to think more like a man.

They don’t have specific fathers, just other guys they like to spend time with.

So surround yourself with people who make you laugh, who celebrate your individuality, and who understand that your leaking boobs and encyclopedic knowledge of Paw Patrol are just a small part of your life.

Your sanity (and your social life) will thank you for it.