There are lots of different types of Mum. The shouty Mum, the worky Mum, the too-much Mum, the obsessed Mum, the cool Mum, the unconfident Mum, the hippy Mum, the growly Mum, the pretending-to-hold-it-together Mum, the why-am-I-a-mum Mum…they’re all loveable and hateable in their own way. I think I am one part Growly Mum, one part too-much Mum and two parts pretending-to-hold-it-together Mum. The one Mum I am definitely not though, is the Super Enthusiastic Mum.
She is a whole new breed. She makes me feel bad. She makes me feel boring and dull and grey. There is a Super Enthusiastic Mum at nursery who does the same drop off times as me. Around her I transform from appropriately-warm-and-chatty Mum to muttering, awkward and looking-down Mum. It’s strange as I’m not normally affected by people to this degree, not anymore. Everyone so often though I meet someone who makes me recoil into myself. And Super Enthusiastic Mum is one of those people.
Super Enthusiastic Mum
I could compete, but I know I will lose. I’m not as peppy. Not as loud. And definitely not as smiley. Especially not when I have just been dragged from my slumber. Super Enthusiastic Mum, you see, is one of those little bouncy blonde Mum’s who I know has never stopped to question whether her volume bothers anyone. And why should she? She’s not doing anything wrong. She seems lovely and confident. And she obviously loves her children. I mean really obviously. She is really loud about her love. She takes up all the space with her love, enthusiasm and volume.
We both drop off our Girly no2’s (about 18-months old) in the tiny space of the entrance to the Baby Room. Her being half my size but twice my personality, she takes up 80% of the space (simple maths). We hand over our babies, I nod quietly to her keyworker “yes, she’s fine, great night, slept well etc”, kiss her on the cheek and hand her over. Super Enthusiastic Mum throws her hands in the air and declares it the best night they have ever had. She grabs her baby back again and smothers her in kisses her all over before eventually releasing her to the floor, not letting go of her hand yet. She eventually does and as she walks up the stairs behind me, she shouts “love you” over and over until she finally she is out of ear shot. I stumble into Girly no1’s Pre-School room smiling at her key worker. “Morning!” I say with a small smile as I hang up her bag and coat, changing her shoes into slippers. I bend down for a cuddle, kiss her on the head, tell her I love and tell her to pop to the toilet before they go on the walk. She reminds me to wave to her at the window.
My way down the stairs is blocked by Super Enthusiastic Mum who is telling her new audience about the best night they ever had (which is every night, in case you’re wondering). She gets her Girly changed into her walking gear, slobbering all over her and holding her tight. She loudly shouts about how they are about to have the best day ever – how the walk will be full of twittering bluebirds, singing squirrels and luscious flowers surrounded by dancing honeybees. She tells how her playtime will be enthralling, fun and exciting! They bounce around together, laughing. Once dressed there is a further round of kisses and cuddles as she eventually releases her no1 and they agree to race to the window.
I walk down the stairs, out the door and I stop to wave to my Girly, who is waiting at the window for me. We mouth I love you. She makes a heart with her tiny hands and I nearly cry. As I head towards the car, Super Enthusiastic Mum rushes out. She sees her no1 and shouts “You beat me AGAIN! AGAIN! EVERY DAY!”. She doubles over laughing then looks up to shout “love you” over and over from the street and they blow kisses. When they have finished their overt coo-ing, she goes back to the window where our babies are happily playing. She raps loudly to attract their attention and blows yet more kisses. I slink away. I can’t cope. It’s too much.
Last week I was running late and Super Enthusiastic Mum was on her way out as I was on my way in. She patted my Girly no1 on the head and said (loudly) “I believe you definitely will kiddo!” in her cheerful sunny tones. I wondered if no1 had whispered “can I come live with you Mrs Sunshine?” when I wasn’t concentrating and felt slightly burnt. Then I remembered the tshirt she was wearing that we had argued about that morning. It has metallic rainbows on it and says “I will change the world”. I begrudgingly agreed that yes, she probably would, and went on feeling even more uninteresting than I normally did after our interactions. She skipped off to her nearly-new Range Rover to retrieve a beautiful fluffy dog and then bounced over the road to meet her bouncy blonde friend with a bouncy blonde dog so they could all go on a bouncy blonde walk together.
There is a Super Enthusiastic Dad too
The other morning she was accompanied by Super Enthusiastic Dad. There’s no way he’s that full-on with his love…surely,I thought. But yes. Super Enthusiastic Mum and Super Enthusiastic Dad are cut from the same cloth. There was twice the amount of “love you’s” twice the amount of kiss-blowing and ten times the laughter because, isn’t it hilarious when you can see your little Girly waving goodbye and shouting I love you from the window? HAHAHAHAHAhahahaha…
No. No Super Enthusiastic Mum and Super Enthusiastic Dad! Calm it down! Every day and every night can’t be the best night! I imagined their ‘best nights ever’ – nipple tassles, belly dancing and shimmies while they sloshed Cristal around their palace made of gold.
Is Sainsburys that exciting?
The other day I saw Super Enthusiastic Mum, Super Enthusiastic Dad and Super Enthusiastic Girlies in our local supermarket. I was ahead of them and unrecognisable without children (Super Enthusiastic Mum doesn’t have time to be worrying about who other people are). I discreetly watched them from the aisle ends, lurking in the milk fridges while they (loudly) danced around the cheese. My shoulders dipped at the peacefulness of my shop. I had to remind myself that shopping with two children is actually a different kind of hell involving at the very least a half eaten bag of apples, a nibbled baguette and eventually sweets from the banned list, culminating in me asking a very grumpy checkout operator desperate to go on their break whether they have a bin for the brown apples cores and slimy banana skins I’m placing into their hands. How does the Super Fam even make this look fun?! As I quietly smile at the checkout lady scanning my items, they catch me up. Well…three of them do. The other Girly is at the other end of the supermarket slowly dawdling along. HA! I think. Enthusiasm, volume and laughter do not make children perfect! Then Super Enthusiastic Dad runs out and says “Run to me babe! Come on! Run as fast as you can and I’ll throw you in the air!”. She comes running with a big smile on her face and I chastise myself for imagining him tripping over a trolley. They all roll about laughing when she runs over. Stupid, perfect Super Enthusiastic Fam, I think.
I shouldn’t be so mean. I’m not actually that grumpy, I just sound it. They’re just so…..bouncy! And keen! And enthusiastic! There is always that one Mum who is the Tequila Sunrise to your Dark ‘N’ Stormy. The one who makes you question yourself. Do I worry enough? Do I work too much? Am I too snappy? Do I kiss them enough? And this Super Enthusiastic Mum is mine. I know deep down that we’re trying to do the same thing bringing up independent, well rounded and happy little people in our own way. That’s our job. Being a Mum is a leveller, you realise that we all have the same intentions. We are all cocktails of similar ingredients when you get down to it.
I go back to the car and look at myself in the rear-view mirror. I know that what they have is actually very lovely. How fabulous to be so chirpy all the time. Imagine your glass not only being half full but constantly bubbling over with possibility and imagination? We try for this but we just have a few more shades of grey in our life. We can’t help it. And actually….I quite like it. It’s more us. We’re just not the loud and bouncy types. I look back to the mirror and practice smiling and say “hi” and “love you!” in my loudest voice. I wobble my head from side to side and try to smile for longer than two minutes. It makes my face ache. I sneer and go back to my resting bitch face. That’s better.
Thanks for reading this far! How kind! In the unlikely event that you are Super Enthusiastic Mum reading this, please don’t be offended. Know that I admire your energy and love. I promise to try and be more like you. If you’re not her, and are a slightly-grumpy-in-the-morning soul like myself then please do share with your Super Enthusiastic friends so they begin to understand what they do to us – Facebook, Twitter & Instagram. Until next time my friends.