In a world where everything is content, modern motherhood is no exception.
Whereas pre-internet you needed to wait by your landline to be plugged into the latest school-gate drama, now endless updates on the non-denominational winter fundraiser and ‘is pyjama day today?’ are live-wired to your phone via several WhatsApp groups.
World Book Day politics will go viral by lunchtime (a school letter imploring children not to dress up as a character from The Boy In The Striped Pyjamas was a recent win in my area). And Instagram, of course, is awash with parenting discourse, from mum-fluencers, maternity-campaigners, memes from Motherland, memes about coffee and gin, links to think pieces dismissing mothers who only post about coffee and gin, attachment-parenting pop psychology and artful shots of babies wearing giant bows without irony.
Has your feed morphed into a pastelhued wasteland of baby-milestone oneupmanship, posts about breaking a negative generational cycle and brightly coloured jumpsuits? Are you a TikTok wannabe pleading with your eight-year-old to practise dance trends? Finding yourself down a rabbit hole of the impressively glossy-for-8am mum’s feed? Mulling over a before-and-after reel of you freshly Farrow & Balling little Arlo’s bedroom?
If so, you’re certainly not alone. The ephemera of motherhood creeps up on you. You’ll recall you used to hiss under your breath at people who let their toddlers watch Peppa Pig without headphones on an aeroplane – as you film your child turning the iPad volume up to its limit as they watch Peppa Pig without headphones on a plane, all the way to Greece. You later upload it to your Instagram stories with the line, ‘FML we are now THOSE people.’
Welcome to 21st-century mum life. They say (and when it comes to parenting, ‘they’ say a lot) that it takes a village to raise a child. So, just who are these villagers?
The ride or dies
You might not know it at first playground eyeroll/awkward NCT meet-up, but these are the women who will populate all your best splinter WhatsApp groups. They’ll remind you about Red Nose Day and will happily walk in the rain listening to your every existential mini-crisis. The ones you’ll end up in the local pub with until closing on a school night. They’ll leave food on your doorstep when you’re ill, take your kid at a moment’s notice and will screenshot the best pass-agg action in case you missed it.
Muted the group
These women have at least three kids and have seen it all. Usually found marching down a high street with their pack. In control and not to be messed with. Endlessly useful for answers to the lowdown of school rules and etiquette, which holiday clubs run for a full eight-hour day, who to bribe to get into a Saturday morning swimming class and genius World Book Day ideas (‘let them wear their own clothes and say they’re a muggle’). They reply once a term to the WhatsApp group with a precise ‘I really wouldn’t worry about it, Annie.’
The capture-every-moments
Begins each morning with a ‘but first coffee’ meme before closing the day with a ‘mummy needs wine’ reel. A giant naked black-and-white bump portrait hangs in their hall. They’ve documented their darling’s every key aesthetic moment, fondly recreating the best of Anne Geddes for the infant phase, moving effortlessly into mama-and-me matching looks. Just beware: they will tag you pulling a gormless face behind their sultry blossom selfie.
The WhatsApp Chief Admin
Often spotted in a printed power legging en route to a military fitness class. Prolific on the local Facebook community page and runs the school chat group with terrifying vigour; says they’ll whip up something small for the bake sale, turns up with individual soufflés. Throws elaborate birthday ‘events’ (‘Xerxes is obsessed with cinematography, so we’ve decided to shoot our own short with my brother! You remember he won a BAFTA in 2016?’) with personalised (paper) party bags. Benefits: the cake sale isn’t just repurposed Mr Kipling; your kid gets to go to a birthday extravaganza they will talk about for two years.
Mama loves home
Erstwhile fashion influencer turned modern Martha Stewart, all documented on their Instagram feed. You’ve surreptitiously watched the sponsored wallpapering of each child’s room. Wears a lot of Toast while whipping up homemade fish fingers (‘sustainably farmed!’). Loves a ‘frazzled’ reel of them putting on lipstick while child looks pained in the background. Has invited you for a playdate but you’re slightly terrified that your kid will do something unmentionable to the upholstery.
The unschoolers
Loved lockdown (the detached house, 100ft garden and live-in nanny helped) and never sent the kids back to school. Has turned the local home education Facebook group into a full-time passion project and shares endless links to gentle parenting theories, vegan recipes and petitions about forest schools. Home is a minimal, exposed wood paradise, with no plastic toys and definitely no screen time. Broke once on a drive back from their summer holiday on the Isle of Skye and let the kids have a Happy Meal. When Marlowe comes to play, you serve chicken nuggets and let him play Roblox.