It feels like it’s been a minute since I wrote anything mommy-related, but the motherhood chronicles are back, guys. Some big changes have happened — and even more are on the way.
We’ve been going through the motions lately. We moved recently, and I can’t say my daughter has taken it well. It reminds me of her first trip to Zimbabwe. That trip was doomed from the start with our accident, but when I tell y’all that for nearly two weeks straight my girl was borderline inconsolable trying to adjust, I mean it.
Same story here. She’s sleeping poorly, eating poorly, and doesn’t want to be put down. It’s a movie. It’s been a movie. And if I’m being very candid, I haven’t been my best self since we got here either. I’ve been wound up and tense, and I know my girl senses that. I’m trying to mellow out my negative energy — keyword trying. It’s not easy. Survival mode is a mask I wear to get through the day, but having an 11-month-old see right through that has its challenges.
Another thing: I’m coexisting with someone who blatantly disregards my boundaries. On a personal level, I’m used to the disrespect. On a parental level, though? Nothing pisses me off more. Imagine trying to settle your baby down for the night, and someone comes obnoxiously bursting through the door asking if the baby is asleep yet. Or saying they want to introduce your baby to someone. Or early in the morning, after a terrible night’s sleep, someone waking the baby up and claiming she was “already awake.”
Aowa.
Honestly, I feel like I’m living inside a Reddit story. Can I rant? I’m going to rant.
Why do older mothers act like they never lived through the chaos of the first year of a child’s life? It’s so frustrating.
One thing that really grates on me is how older mothers are so quick to offer unsolicited opinions and advice — especially when I’ve seen firsthand how they parented. I don’t want or need third parties raising my daughter. She has her parents for that. Why are you trying to compete with me when it comes to my own child? It’s not only unnecessary — it’s sad and honestly embarrassing to witness. I’m not here to recreate the mistakes of past generations; I’m here to do better. I can’t break generational curses by taking advice from those who perpetuated them. Either respect that, or step aside.
And now I’m dealing with another transition: unsolicited commentary. I’ll be honest — my postpartum anxiety has eased up a lot, but there are still certain moments when someone I don’t know or like holds my baby, and my body just locks up. I won’t relax until she’s either back with me or with one of her trusted adults (her village).
Until she can verbally communicate and articulate herself, we’re a package deal — and I’m watching her like a hawk.
Living with someone who not only disrespects my boundaries but also acts like they’re entitled to my child… whew.
Let’s laugh together, shall we?
At every turn, my parenting is undermined for reasons I don’t even understand. But what can I expect from someone who goes around telling people she was the first and only person to meet my baby — when that’s nowhere near the truth?
For example: My daughter has a daily rhythm based on her energy and needs. Some days she’s clingier or moodier, but routine is important. Yet here comes someone, completely unaware of any of this, telling me to do this and do that — feed her, nurse her — or picking her up during independent playtime and then making snide remarks when my daughter doesn’t want to be put down afterward.
Like, gee, I wonder why.
If you’ve ever spent time with a Velcro baby, you know why independent play is crucial — both for the baby and the caretaker.
Then there was this evening… I was already at my limit for the day. My baby fell off the bed. She doesn’t usually roll off beds anymore — not since she learned how to crawl and sit up by herself. Before she fell, she was in the middle of the bed, and I was about two feet away in the bathroom. I turned around, and she had crept over to the edge, dropped whatever she was playing with, and fell before I could catch her.
I immediately attended to her, obviously — and counted down the seconds before Miss Ma’am burst through the door to play hero. Earlier that day, when my daughter was crying, I had to scold one of her toys (life comes at you fast, don’t question it), and this same woman swooped in again, trying to “rescue” her. Today, I finally had enough and told her to stop and let me console my daughter.
The peace that followed lasted about five seconds.
She started badgering me with questions. I asked her to wait so I could focus on calming my daughter. I didn’t even notice her leave the room — because honestly, I wasn’t thinking about her. But there she was, outside the door, continuing with her questions. If you know me, you know my world stops when my daughter isn’t okay. I don’t want to be spoken to when I’m trying to calm her down; I can’t split my focus. For the third time, I asked her to wait — and told her that her questions were stressing me out because my baby’s cries were getting louder.
She eventually walked away — but not without shouting that I left the baby on the bed, that I “don’t want to be corrected” even when I’m wrong (simply because I asked her to wait!), and that if I wanted to shower, I could’ve just asked her to watch the baby instead of “endangering her.”
But the real kicker?
She said, “You can’t just come here with the baby and keep her to yourself.”
I’m getting mad all over again just writing this.
Has she somehow convinced herself that just because she thinks my baby looks like a doll, she’s actually a doll? An object — not a sentient, feeling human being?
Like I said, my daughter has her trusted adults.
She mean-mugs whoever she wants to, and opens up to those she knows and trusts. Yanking her away from me isn’t going to make you one of her trusted adults. All you’re doing is disrupting her routines.
Yoh.
Two more things happened today that really made it “a day.”
First: In the morning, when my baby was beefing with her toy, the woman rushed in to “save” her, without even understanding why she was crying. And then she asked, “Did mommy beat you?” This is exactly why I say older mothers irritate me sometimes. I don’t care that it’s a “normalized phrase” — I don’t believe in violence against children, and it’s not something I joke about. Twice I asked her not to use that kind of language with my daughter. It’s not that deep to some people, but at the end of the day: respect a parent’s wishes. It’s not that hard.
Second: After the fall, while I was feeding my daughter dinner, she left a couple of spoonfuls unfinished. I knew she was full because I tried a few times to feed her more — no luck. While I was helping my sister out, Miss Ma’am decided to try feeding her the leftovers anyway. My daughter refused, and eventually, she gave up. But then she made a passive-aggressive comment when she saw me throwing out the uneaten food, saying, “Throwing it out while the baby is still eating.”
Cue the eye roll.
At the end of the day, my priority is and always will be my daughter. She deserves a peaceful, stable environment — one where she’s nurtured, not tugged in different directions to satisfy other people’s egos. I’m not here to play tug-of-war over my own child, and I refuse to let anyone treat her like she’s public property just because they feel entitled to her. This season of transition has been rough, but it’s also been clarifying (can you tell my prefrontal cortex is loading?). I know exactly who and what I’m protecting her from, and I’m not apologizing for it. If that makes me the “bad guy” in some people’s eyes, so be it. I’d rather be the villain in someone else’s story than the negligent mother in my daughter’s.
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