Living in the Parent Ghetto
Despite my sincere efforts, I have become one of Those Moms Who Only Hang Out With Other Moms
Childless people pretty much disappeared from my life. I’d never have thought that this would happen to me. I didn’t even notice this was the case, until I tried to explain to one of my brothers that everyone else is okay with my kids interrupting our conversations. Only then it struck me, well of course they are. Except for my brothers, everyone I meet regularly has small children too.
I’m still trying to figure out how exactly this happened. I never thought I’d lose some of my old friends when I become a mom. I swore that I wouldn’t let my children become my whole world, that I’d remain an interesting person with so much else to offer. Why should I let go of my hobbies and passions, dreams and ambitious goals, and especially people I love just because I had kids? I knew some moms who did that, and swore I’ll never let myself give up like this.
In the beginning it was pretty easy to keep up with childless friends. A small baby carried around in a stroller doesn’t actually need that much. As long as I was by her side, we could go out to people’s houses and coffee shops, walk around the city, or even visit museums and galleries together. We took our daughter on the first trip in RV when she was just 5 months old, and I remember thinking that traveling with little kids was easy. What’s the problem? You can take them pretty much anywhere!
Both traveling and meeting friends got harder when she was big enough to walk and climb on her own, but still small enough to have no self-preservation instinct. Suddenly I found out that most adult spaces are completely unsuited for an active and curious toddler. Best case scenario, they’d get bored to death and keep interrupting you when you’re trying to catch up with the friend that you hadn’t seen in ages. Worst case, they’ll find a way to keep themselves occupied, by swallowing something that’s not meant to be swallowed, climbing something that shouldn’t be climbed, or throwing something precious and fragile on the floor.
When my daughter was tiny I thought it’s good for children to get a little bit bored, and that we’ve gone crazy trying to keep them entertained all the time. As a kid I remember adults minding their business while we were minding ours, and we never ran out of ideas for what to do. But there’s a huge difference between kids playing at their own home full of toys, or taking them to a park or garden where they can run around shouting and playing with sticks and stones, and going out to a nice restaurant where nothing is safe to be played with and other people expect there won’t be too much noise. If you’re lucky, your littles might sit still and behave for an hour, but you’d better have a plan B just in case.
In theory, kids should be able to sit and listen to adult conversations like we did back in the day. That’s how we learned to socialize, to some degree. But I remember back then I always had my brothers with me, and we’d sneak out of the big room where adults were chatting to play a little bit on the side. Being an only child in a room full of adults talking about something that you don’t understand or care about is nobody’s idea of fun. No wonder my daughter keeps interrupting when brought to a meeting like this.
My brother once pointed out this makes him feel ignored and neglected in our conversation, like the things he were saying didn’t matter to me. That came as a surprise, I thought it was perfectly normal for a child to need their parents every few minutes, and for their parents to respond no matter what else they are doing. At least that’s what all my parent friends did when we met.
I’m lucky that my brother had the courage to point this out to me. I’d never have thought this could be a problem otherwise. It got me wondering how many more people were not having a good time when hanging out with me and my daughter, but instead of telling me about it they just quietly disappeared.
Even if there’s still enthusiasm to meet on all sides, logistics can often get in the way. I got some invitations to amazing events that I had to decline due to the lack of childcare. Other people told me to bring my kids with me if I wanted to, but their parties only started at 8, when I hope to be in the process of putting everyone down to bed. My ideal scenario is to go out and meet people sometime around 10am, but on weekdays everyone is busy at work, and on the weekends they’re sleeping in. And in the rare case that the stars perfectly align and we manage to find a time and place that works for everyone, one of the little people might suddenly get a fever or a stomach bug in the middle of the night and I’d have to cancel last minute again. During winter months this happens more often than not.
Slowly but surely, the only people who stick around are those who understand how it’s like to spend all your days getting asked 300 questions a minute even while you’re talking to somebody else, whose houses are not only childproofed but might even have some toys that your kids are excited to play with, and who’d rather be back home at 8 than get ready to leave around that time. And most importantly, they know that if you cancel the night before for the 6th week in a row because your kid just got sick again, it doesn’t mean that you’re a flake and don’t actually want to see them. They know this is a thing that happens and how much of a challenge it is, because they’ve been there as well.
But to be fair, these are all just surface-level difficulties
Because the main thing is that having children does change you indeed. It would be crazy not to, becoming fully responsible for such a tiny and helpless person simply has to affect your values, priorities, and the whole outlook on life. If you’ve built an identity around being a proud, strong, and independent woman, you might get shocked at how helpless and vulnerable you feel in the first few weeks. You might be wondering if this is how your life is going to look like from now on, or if you’ll ever get your old brain, body, or freedom back. Or you might suddenly feel like things that mattered to you the most don’t seem that important anymore, and begin to question some of your past choices, priorities and beliefs.
I was today years old when I first heard the word matrescence. Just like a teenager doesn’t become an adult overnight but instead has their body, emotions, priorities, and identities slowly transformed over years, growing into a mother is a long and messy process that can make anyone feel lost and confused. We all know adolescence is supposed to feel awkward, and luckily most children can learn one way or another about what to expect. And yet, despite reading so many books and listening to so many podcasts about pregnancy, birth, and raising children, I’d never heard that matrescence is a thing until literally last week. I can only imagine how much easier the first few months of motherhood would have been if I’d learned about it before.
You are never supposed to get your previous self back. Would a teenager who once hit puberty ever get their previous child self? Many of your old skills, interests and passions will come back eventually, integrated into the new incredible person you’ve become in the process. But in the thick of it, as your every assumption and belief is being turned upside down, it’s only natural that you’ll distance yourself from the person you were before, just like teenagers distance themselves from their younger siblings who can’t even fathom what they are going through. You might not even realize you’re doing it. I know I didn’t, only now I can see how hard it’s been for me to relate to the challenges that I’d had before kids.
I must confess, I probably rolled my eyes a few times when some of my friends told me how underslept they were, or how little time they had to themselves. Oh, how I wished to have as little time to myself as someone whose workday ends at 6pm! And yet, this is exactly how I felt like before I had kids, when I had no responsibilities outside of my job. I lived under more pressure than now, most of which I’d created myself. I’m trying to remember what it was exactly that got me feeling this stressed and overwhelmed, but I struggle to put myself in the shoes of the person I was back then. My friends must have noticed this too, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt like I wasn’t taking their problems seriously enough.
But to be fair, finding support for my own problems was not easy either. I felt like everyone thought I was exaggerating, or went completely nuts and let my kid run the show. Because how do you even explain to a sane normal person that there are days when you physically can’t go to the toilet on your own? Where are your boundaries, girl? Why would you let yourself ever get treated like this? I did not feel understood because my problems were so alien to someone who’s never experienced life with a toddler, and their advice fell flat. Despite everyone’s best intentions, supporting each other when only one person transitions into motherhood can be quite a challenge. And so everyone naturally seeks support from someone who understands them best, until suddenly you realize nearly all of your social life recently revolves around kids. Welcome to the parent ghetto.
Children used to be something that simply happened to people
You had little control over it, and there wasn’t much choice to be made. There also weren’t as many options to entertain, educate, express, or reinvent yourself as we have now, some of which might require significant time and energy. Now that having kids is just one choice out of many, more and more people choose to opt out, especially if it stands at odds with something else they would rather do. They feel like raising a baby would mean the end of all things they got to value, whether that’s climbing the corporate ladder, having a vibrant intellectual life, or dancing all night on a beach in Thailand. And to some degree, they are right.
Unless you work outside of home, it’s not easy to stay connected to the regular adult world and all the wonders and opportunities it has on offer. Everything is either for adults only, so in order to go there you need to find someone to take care of your lovely family, or meant for kids specifically, so childless people have no business being there. I understand that taking my 5 month old to a black metal concert might not be the best idea, but there are other places where I’d love to bring him and am not currently allowed to. An ecstatic dance event in my city banned children recently because they “ruin the spiritual vibe”. Every few weeks I get invited to a weekend retreat that asks me to leave my children at home. Saying “you deserve that time to yourself, mama!” is not helpful at all if they leave it up to me to figure out what to do with those kids while I’m basking in the sun during early morning yoga or sipping ceremonial cacao.
So as a mom of little ones you end up spending most of your time in places created with them in mind, playgrounds, indoor playrooms, animations, picnics, Gordon’s music classes, or interactive museums. I can’t believe how many options we have now compared to what was available when I was a kid, especially if we can afford spending money. My daughter loves her swimming and judo classes, and is always ready to hit the dancefloor at the mini disco. The only thing that’s missing is, well, all the adults who aren’t parents of the other kids.
I know accommodating for children isn’t easy, especially if the organizer doesn’t have any of their own. Just saying they are invited is not enough if there is stuff they could easily break or hurt themselves with. They might need a trained caregiver, an entertainment program, or special play equipment. At the minimum they will need a babyproofed space and some other kids, but too many of them running freely might be too much chaos to someone who’s not used to their presence. My amazing yoga teacher is a mom too, and we both brought our daughters to several retreats, but even she confessed that more than 4 children are too hard for her to manage. She had to focus on teaching yoga, that’s what everyone came for after all.
Once again, I must admit my childhood church had this figured out pretty well. Children were a given there, and warmly welcomed, even if they “ruined the vibe”. Only a few services were designed for them specifically, but nobody questioned their right to be there, to ask questions, to get involved. I’m still yet to find a single spiritual group or event that treats them as seriously as this.
I didn’t know any children when I was in my early twenties, and now I’m beginning to understand how exactly this happened. They are simply not invited to most of the things adults do. And even if they are, bringing them there might be too much of a hassle for tired parents if they know there will be no other kids to play with and they’ll have to have an eye on them constantly. I stubbornly keep bringing my children to weddings and funerals because I believe it’s good for them (and everyone else around), but the logistics of it can be quite exhausting. For the last wedding party, just getting ready to go out took us almost 3 hours. I know the party itself would be easier if there were other children there, but I can’t blame their parents who chose to take a break.
Is there any hope to get out of the parent bubble?
One thing, for sure, is time. Babies only remain babies for so long, and by the time they’re in school they should be able to eat out in a nice restaurant without breaking a fancy vase or their leg. At some point most moms get back to paid work in one form or another, which is probably the surest way to stay in touch with the adult world.
But in the meantime, I can see more and more things specifically addressed at new moms rather than their kids. I’m incredibly lucky to have found a personal trainer who’s taking care of my baby while I’m lifting weights. A mom club in my neighborhood offers activities for kids 2 and older while their moms do pilates, dance workouts, or yoga. If they have smaller babies, they can bring them to many classes there too. There’s a group in my city that organizes baby-friendly tours of museums, galleries, and exhibitions every Thursday. I also recently joined a mom choir in our local culture center where we learn to sing in harmony while our little ones crawl around.
This might not seem like a lot, given that childless people don’t attend stuff like this. But if I don’t need to worry about childcare while I work out or do yoga, I’m more likely to find it for a rock concert or karaoke. And even more importantly, I will have something going on in my life that other people can relate to, something that does not revolve around my kids, whether that’s an exhibition I saw or a song I learned with the choir. Some of my reluctance to reach out to old childless friends could be out of fear that I’ll have nothing relatable to tell them, that they won’t find me interesting anymore.
There is also, of course, the internet. When used wisely, it’s still the easiest way to have conversations with people, learn new things, and stay up to date with old interests. I’m not sure if I’d ever notice I live in a parent ghetto if I hadn’t taken an extended break from Twitter again. I have many childless friends there that I chat with regularly, and so I always felt like I’m surrounded by people like them in my day to day. Online friends can’t be a part of my kids’ lives, but that doesn’t mean they can’t be a part of mine.
Another thing we would all benefit from is a widespread understanding of matrescence and all the changes going on in a new mom’s mind, body, and psyche. It’s only normal that she feels like she had the rug pulled from under her feet, it’s only normal she feels like her old friends are talking in some alien language, or has no idea who she is anymore. Knowing this can help both the mom and other people around her navigate this process gently.
And while there might be some details that her old friends couldn’t possibly fathom, everyone has some experience in becoming a new person. Everyone knows how it’s like to doubt themselves, mourn a part of themselves that they’ve lost, or struggle to imagine a new way forward within the current constraints. Even if you hadn’t experienced this particular kind of transition, seeing it through this lens can definitely help you relate to a new mom in her most confusing days.
mmm thanks for publishing and writing this '
i am a childless person and i've felt moved to spend time with new mothers in my extended family - and their kids '
part of this feels like it's bc many of my ancestors lived in avuncular families (basically children were taken care of by their matrilineal uncles moreso than their fathers) '
but yeh, in general what i'm taking away from it is the extent to which our societies have been structured around the labor of childless people and giving those people reasons to continue laboring ' and the extent to which they've retracted from being structured around parents and children and old people '
Thank you so much for this! As someone without children, it's really, really helpful to have a window into your world. I realise how insensitive I have been, simply because I had no idea. I look forward to being much more inclusive and welcoming!