Thoroughly (Post) Modern Mummy - A Yummy Mummy?
I've been following a discussion/debate/slanging match in The Times (UK, not NY or LA) recently about the emergence of the "Yummy Mummy"
Once the name of a breakfast cereal (it is amazing what you can learn from Wikipedia) the phrase yummy mummy has come to describe a glamourous, attractive mother - with a fabulous body and style.
According to Nirpal Dhaliwal these women are "bourgeoius charlatans", with elective caesareans, daytime nannies and night nurses, who dress their kiddies up in designer togs and have lifestyles bankrolled by the husbands. The child is just the lastest middle class fashion accessory. You know Nirpal, you should really try and speak more directly in future - don't beat about the bush so much.
Rosie Millard contends that "today's yummy mummy is simply yesterday's Top Shop girl" - who just wants to still look good, who works long hours and works just as hard as the nanny (who gets the best of their children) and still wipes up the sick. She doesn't see why we mums should "forget about our degrees our MBAs, our mates and our laughs, and stay at home, unseen and uncoiffed, wearing something made of sacking". She also says "Dhaliwal is little more than a lonely, child-free, noise-allergic, grumpy old git." Touche.
Columnist India Knight reckons that the yummy mummy is a myth - or at least confined to the likes of Kate Moss and Elizabeth Hurley or very wealthy bankers wives.
"Everything else is aspiration, self-delusion and pretence — the stuff women use to make themselves feel better, not realising that it’s making them feel worse because it adds another strand of unnecessary competitiveness to the boringly complicated business of being female."
The response to these articles have been passionate and intense - many from women who are either incensed or relieved.
But it certainly got me thinking...
On one level I think - this is ridiculous, raising kids is crazy enough. We've already set ourselves impossible goals to be perfect parents who raise perfect kids, now we need the burden of the quest for the perfect body too?
Why can't our stretch marks and wobbly tummies be our badges of honour, tell the story of our families and the wonderful gifts we have in our kids. Perhaps its a chance to finally see there is more to us than externals, and embrace something deeper, more important.
And how about loving and embracing the choice we made to have kids. OK so we don't sleep so much anymore, and our careers will never be the same, and we may not fit into those jeans again - but we've been part of something phenomenal, bringing a life into the world. And now we have the opportunity to invest in this new life, this new person. Surely that's bigger than an MBA?
But on another level I get it. I like my badges of honour, but I like my old jeans, and couldn't help feeling this sense of achievement, relief when I managed to fit into then again. I stood straighter, smiled broader - instinctively.
I love singing The Wheels on The Bus and Eensy Weensy Spider - for the sheer joy and giddy excitement I see on Tia's beautifully expressive face. But somehow when I hear new music, the kind I love and can drive on the freeway with it blaring - I feel strangely alive somehow.
I love the space I get when I go for a run, when I go for a coffee alone.
I feel honoured to have my kids, but after hours of conversation with a toddler, sometimes I want to talk about politics, or music, or literature (oh the time to read a book!) or dare I say it - clothing, and MAC make up. Because I am a mum, but I am me too.
I don't advocate just farming your kids out to someone else to raise because you can't be bothered - but I did love being in Minneapolis last month without them. Except for the moments when I missed them so desparately that my heart ached.
But I understand that sometimes, just sometimes I miss the old me too, even though I don't want to go back there.
Its this strange thing - I know parenting is all about self- sacrifice. But I get that sometimes as a mum you want a badge of honour for the you you used to be. Maybe for some women a Prada bag helps, who knows. I certainly think mums deserve them, though we might trade it in for a few date nights, and full nights of sleep!
I'm sure the debate/discussion/slanging match will continue.
In the meantime, my little one has just woken up so its time to go...
Anybody else have any thoughts?
Once the name of a breakfast cereal (it is amazing what you can learn from Wikipedia) the phrase yummy mummy has come to describe a glamourous, attractive mother - with a fabulous body and style.
According to Nirpal Dhaliwal these women are "bourgeoius charlatans", with elective caesareans, daytime nannies and night nurses, who dress their kiddies up in designer togs and have lifestyles bankrolled by the husbands. The child is just the lastest middle class fashion accessory. You know Nirpal, you should really try and speak more directly in future - don't beat about the bush so much.
Rosie Millard contends that "today's yummy mummy is simply yesterday's Top Shop girl" - who just wants to still look good, who works long hours and works just as hard as the nanny (who gets the best of their children) and still wipes up the sick. She doesn't see why we mums should "forget about our degrees our MBAs, our mates and our laughs, and stay at home, unseen and uncoiffed, wearing something made of sacking". She also says "Dhaliwal is little more than a lonely, child-free, noise-allergic, grumpy old git." Touche.
Columnist India Knight reckons that the yummy mummy is a myth - or at least confined to the likes of Kate Moss and Elizabeth Hurley or very wealthy bankers wives.
"Everything else is aspiration, self-delusion and pretence — the stuff women use to make themselves feel better, not realising that it’s making them feel worse because it adds another strand of unnecessary competitiveness to the boringly complicated business of being female."
The response to these articles have been passionate and intense - many from women who are either incensed or relieved.
But it certainly got me thinking...
On one level I think - this is ridiculous, raising kids is crazy enough. We've already set ourselves impossible goals to be perfect parents who raise perfect kids, now we need the burden of the quest for the perfect body too?
Why can't our stretch marks and wobbly tummies be our badges of honour, tell the story of our families and the wonderful gifts we have in our kids. Perhaps its a chance to finally see there is more to us than externals, and embrace something deeper, more important.
And how about loving and embracing the choice we made to have kids. OK so we don't sleep so much anymore, and our careers will never be the same, and we may not fit into those jeans again - but we've been part of something phenomenal, bringing a life into the world. And now we have the opportunity to invest in this new life, this new person. Surely that's bigger than an MBA?
But on another level I get it. I like my badges of honour, but I like my old jeans, and couldn't help feeling this sense of achievement, relief when I managed to fit into then again. I stood straighter, smiled broader - instinctively.
I love singing The Wheels on The Bus and Eensy Weensy Spider - for the sheer joy and giddy excitement I see on Tia's beautifully expressive face. But somehow when I hear new music, the kind I love and can drive on the freeway with it blaring - I feel strangely alive somehow.
I love the space I get when I go for a run, when I go for a coffee alone.
I feel honoured to have my kids, but after hours of conversation with a toddler, sometimes I want to talk about politics, or music, or literature (oh the time to read a book!) or dare I say it - clothing, and MAC make up. Because I am a mum, but I am me too.
I don't advocate just farming your kids out to someone else to raise because you can't be bothered - but I did love being in Minneapolis last month without them. Except for the moments when I missed them so desparately that my heart ached.
But I understand that sometimes, just sometimes I miss the old me too, even though I don't want to go back there.
Its this strange thing - I know parenting is all about self- sacrifice. But I get that sometimes as a mum you want a badge of honour for the you you used to be. Maybe for some women a Prada bag helps, who knows. I certainly think mums deserve them, though we might trade it in for a few date nights, and full nights of sleep!
I'm sure the debate/discussion/slanging match will continue.
In the meantime, my little one has just woken up so its time to go...
Anybody else have any thoughts?
Labels: Thoroughly (Post) Modern Mummy
posted by Jo Saxton @ 2:18 PM
3 Comments:
At 10:24 AM,
cliff&suse said…
To be honest jo you said it all! I totally agree, being a mum is great, but boy what i would give right now to have a crazy day out, buy some nice clothes that make me feel thin! And chat away!
At 4:21 PM,
Joy French said…
I say enjoy 'em while they're young, cos' blink, and they'll be big. Now, I am a working girl, with class music on the i-pod, and earl grey pouring from my ears. I can talk about politics and art late into the night, and (most of the time) not get woken up for cuddles or bad dreams BUT having had seven years at home with the small ones, I wouldn't give a day of it back, and now I hanker for qulaity time with play-doh. Enjoy every day of it all!! Now, I can watch quality TV with my boys, and Isaac gets sarcasm, but the days of gap dungarees and waddling toddler bottoms have passed me by...Enjoyed ur post. Joy xx
At 7:51 AM,
Helen said…
I'm totally with you Jo, some days it's wonderful to be at home with Callum, just slobbing in tracky bums and a hoodie, but some days I do want to be able to wear my big earrings without fear of them being grabbed and pulling my ears off, or to be able to wear my old favourite jumpers without having to pull my tummy in and being careful how high I raise my hands in case everyone sees my flab and stretch marks!
Personally I don't feel loads of pressure to look a certain way, maybe that's because I live in Hillsborough and not in Ecclesall Road where I imagine I might feel differently. I do find myself looking at some mums I know though and thinking 'how on earth did they get that figure back?' I'm not sure this is a mum thing though, just a female thing.
I do find it hard sometimes to reconcile the new me with the old me, and although lots of the old me remains, sometimes the new me has to have the final say, which, as you say, is the self-sacrifice of being a mum.
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