When you go flying face first into a world of all-new tasks, responsibilities and decisions - or, as some people call it, ‘become a parent’- you learn a lot. You also realise a lot. Whoever first made a nappy with an animal face on the front, and its behind on the back, for example, is clearly a genius. So is the person who made baby gates that don’t take three hands and the strength of a rhino to open. Miss Rachel, is, you admit begrudgingly, also pretty damn smart too.
You also realise that there isn’t a single decision you can make that someone won’t disagree with, either with a tut or an almighty Twitter tirade. If you feed your baby formula, someone will inform you that breastmilk is 'better'. If you breastfeed them, someone will comment on how small they are, leaving you wondering if they actually mean underfed and malnourished. The same applies ad infinitum. Are home-schooled children robbed of friends, while those in class neglected of vital one-on-one attention? Are you encouraging free play or just an inattentive parent? And shouldn’t you have dropped the dummy by now, hmm?
When I became a mum in the summer of 2021, I was initially mortified with just how heavy making any choice felt. It was followed by total decision paralysis, where I flitted between viewpoints, trying them all on for size like a sleep-deprived Goldilocks. Then, one day, a friend asked me 'what would you do if no one else was watching, or judging?' It signaled a turning point for me, and gave me clarity at a time when I needed it the most.
I asked myself this question right before I first clipped reins onto my daughter, at around 18-months-old. 'Would I use them if no one was watching?' I considered the facts; she was late to walking, still very unsteady on her feet, and bearing absolutely zero idea of where was safe to walk and where was not. I wanted to use them for my own peace of mind, I felt she would be _safe_r using them, and I decided that was enough for me.
Once we were out, I tried not to imagine disapproval into existence, telling myself any looks were directed towards her mass of lovely curls, which often draw comments from strangers, or the cute butterfly backpack the reins attached too. That day and since, no one has ever said anything to me, but I can’t pretend that I’m not always half-waiting for them too. I’ve practiced my friendly response: 'they’re keeping her safe and she’s happy wearing them' is what I hope I’ll say if I ever need to.
'What would you do if no one was judging your parenting?'
Sharing my opinions is part of my job as a writer, and it’s something I usually enjoy. The idea that someone might read one of my articles and feel that they see themselves, or their own experiences, reflected and validated, gives me the warm and fuzzies. I’m like everyone - I have opinions I feel comfortable with airing and confident in backing (breakfast foods are overrated), and those we do not (nope, i’m not giving an example). On the topic of parenting, the fact that I think your hands should be washed before holding a newborn, that sleep consultants can actually be legit, and that motherhood can be boring, are all topics I’ve written about.
After our first few trips with them, using reins became another, and the article quickly went viral, especially on Facebook, where one post linking to the article, entitled 'Reins aren’t dog leashes for children - they’re a smart way to keep them safe', got 85,000 likes.
Many of the 9,000 comments were in agreement, with mentions of calmer outings for parents, having to yell less, of their value in places like Disney World and Niagara Falls and for grandparents, hearing-impaired children and twins. The phrase 'funny looks' came up time and again.
But not all agreed - 'I think they look terrible', said someone, 'child cruelty!' declared another. 'If you can’t keep up with a running toddler then don’t have kids,' said one man. 'This is what is required when you cannot smack your kids!' said another, rather randomly if you ask me. Friends got in touch too, one telling me that before she became a mum herself she thought they were dehumanising. The thought that anyone could think I was doing that to my daughter stung, but I wasn’t surprised. This was just another parenting decision I’d had to make, and even having read the push-back, I stand by it.
I can’t advocate enough for my fellow parents out there, when these kinds of decisions arise, to ask themselves 'what would I do if no one else were looking?' If you can’t please everyone, and have your child's best interests at heart, you might as well just doing right by yourself. Doing so is incredibly freeing.