A little on labels

When you're a kid, labels come in all shapes and sizes. I, for instance, had some beauties! Tomboy, space cadet, moody, sullen, bright, bubbly. When you're a kid, labels are kind of necessary. I know lots of "energetic" (read - wild)  two year olds, I've met plenty of "chatty" four year olds (read - going through the why phase), I've spent numerous hours writing fairy letters to imaginative little girls (read - I sometimes wish fairies really did exist). Kids need labels to warn the adults in their lives of what's around the corner. I know that an hour with an energetic child means that I will be chasing them, stopping them from climbing furniture and  holding peace talks to coax them away from holding my make-up bag hostage.

Labels stop being as diverse somewhere around twelve or thirteen, after that, "teenager"  covers all manner of sins, err I mean, descriptions. As we coast towards adulthood however, they make a comeback. And in my experience of late, they're often negative.

Once upon a time my label read, Executive Assistant. This label involved working hard, smiling often (through sometimes grimaced teeth), keeping my ears and eyes open on behalf of my VIP boss, arranging fancy soirees, schmoozing with other amazingly talented (you know who you are ladies) EA's and other various forms of balancing on the corporate tightrope.

People knew how to make conversation with me during this phase of my life. I could hold my own in discussions about business (read - smile and nod and look very interested), I knew the best places for drinks, I had inside information on all kinds of office chatter (read - I knew when the good caterers were in the building and where I could get my hands on their pistachio macarons). Outside of work I was easy to chat to as well. People assumed I had interests and hobbies and asked me about my life in general.

One day, about 10 months ago, all of that changed. My label became, full time wife and mother ** insert sound of record coming to an abrupt halt here **

Mothers have been coping some serious flack of late. Perhaps they always did. Perhaps I'm simply more aware now that I've joined the team. Gone are the days of people asking my opinion on anything. Gone are the days when my voice seemed to be heard at a dinner party (in fact, gone are the days of being invited to a dinner party). As suddenly as I was awarded my new label, my interesting factor has dropped through the floor. People seem to assume that I have nothing interesting to offer by way of conversation and when I give my opinion, it seems to be glossed over.


I am the same person I was when the Hedgehog joined the world. I still enjoy the same things in life. I love reading, perusing the weekend newspapers is one of my most favourite pass times, I am interested in other peoples lives, I love to exercise and like to think that I love news programs but in reality I just wait for the feel-good story at the end of the news. The only thing that has changed since my label became full time wife and mother is my actual job.

• I no longer fuss about the needs of the man that I work for or the company he is running. 
• I no longer have the fabulous hours of the working world - 24/7 is where it's at!
• I no longer catch public transport. 
• I no longer eat lunch at my desk while holding a phone to my ear while simultaneously typing an email.

Sure my day consists of a myriad of baby related tasks. Of course my office gossip is somewhat limited to the actions of my growing baby. Yes I have a one track mind at times. But I'm still the same person.


I read an article last weekend and it claimed that social media participants (so basically all of mankind) are sick to death of Facebook, Twitter and Instagram updates and photos from parents. There is even a program that will allow you to remove all posts about babies and replace them with cats. Cats? You mean those fuzzballs that wee in your clean washing and scratch the bejesus out of your skin?

One woman featured in the article complained that her friend used to be interesting but since having children, she had lost her ways and could only talk about her children. Another person said that posting photos of your children via social media was exploiting them and asked how the children would feel about this exploitation in years to come. Well first of all, elated! I love nothing more than looking at photos of myself from my younger days!

The article really got under the skin of this blogger.

I am a lover of social media. I declare myself addicted to Facebook feeds and Instagram uploads. I hit the 'like' button dozens of times a day because I honestly 'like' that my friend started today with a beach run and I 'like' reading the plans of my friends as the excitement of their weekend looms. I don't particularly get that one of my Facebook friends does difficult and painful mountain bike riding but I 'like' that it's important to him. Social media is about sharing our lives. My life is currently devoted to helping my child grow into a healthy and happy person. Once upon a time it was okay to share my daily exploits, photos of my meals and selfies with the world. Now that my updates are 90% mummy related they're no longer acceptable?

There was a time when women were simply labeled with the title of "homemakers". The world understood this title. A lot has changed since those days. Bras were burnt (although how they could afford to do this I'll never understand! Hello $60+ brassieres!), the glass ceiling was smashed and now women equal men in many modern cultures. However in my very humble and non-Germaine Greer world, with all that we have gained, the labels attached to women have become diverse, perverse and sometimes impossible.

No challenge this week. Simply a request for more 'like' button'ing the the lives of our friends and less time labeling. Oh and maybe talk about something un-mummy related with one of your mummy friends. Who knows, she may just be dying for it!

My new boss - the hours are long, the wage is woeful but the returns... incredible!