An adman’s woman
‘I knew I’d be a perfect mother. And my perfect baby would be a credit to my perfect mothering. I knew, too, that I would never ‘let myself go’ – that I would always be immaculately groomed and, eventually, surrounded by a whole family of perfectly clean, perfectly behaved children and a perfectly adoring husband in a gleaming, perfectly sparkling home.
‘Of course, back in those perfect days BC (Before Children), I also pictured babies either peacefully sleeping or smiling Heinzfully day and night. I imagined toddlers cutely toddling (never climbing or spilling) between afternoon naps and bedtime stories. I visualised crisply ‘Fabuloned’ children, happily playing in sandpits (never mud). I would take my perfect brood for frolics in the park, with my long red hair (semi-permanent, naturally) blowing in the breeze. Then I would feed my hungry little human beans and tuck them into bed before a gourmet dinner for two, prepared with my own perfectly manicured hands. I’d be simply irresistible and he’d love how my hair shone.
‘Alas, I wasn’t like the TV mothers. I learned that happiness was not a dry nappy. I had nightmares about drowning under piles of nappies. I felt as though I was drowning in breast milk. In the supermarket another shopper whispered, ‘Excuse me, your milk is leaking.’ Can you imagine a better start to the day? I automatically made an embarrassed check. It was the carton in the trolley she had been referring to!
‘I gave up being a Wella Woman sometime during the first year of motherhood. The baby woke up every time I was about to wash my hair (and whenever my beloved told me he loved how my hair shone), and there would be another centimetre of regrowth.
‘In between mopping up the spilt milk, I only ate half as much. And when the children didn’t empty their plates it would be half as much again. I used to look great in a mini, too! There were night howls and musical beds. I started asking ‘Have you got any protection?’
‘Oh ad man, ad man, show me the way,
To be that perfect woman every day.
Yes, I’ll shave and deodorise every inch of me.
I’ll be an ad man’s woman – naturally.’
( Manic Mothers)
Thank you for the fabulous article, I was laughing so hard I had tears running down my cheeks. I too once envisaged bringing up a family that would make the von Trapps look like bunch of no good hooligans, but as I’m typing this, my hair needs desperately some professional help, my toddler, on the other hand, has a wonky fringe because of her deeply rooted hate for fringe trims, I spent a good part of the evening trying to scrub risotto off the wall and let’s not even talk about my nails..
This is fabulous, I laughed but also got the point. You’re a great writer, Pinky!
Sue Painter
Pinky, I laughed all the way through this! It’s been a while since I was raising little ones, but I did come right out of the days of ‘Father Knows Best’ and the utter shock of motherhood with everything you’ve written about here is something I have yet to recover from! It’s so wonderful to have the relief of humor in life, good on ya.
Lynn Moore
ok, now I am going to make sure my young assistant reads your blog. This is so refreshing!
Yes, I thought I would be perfect and my children would be perfect but I adjusted rather quickly after they were born to the reality of it all. All grown up now, they really are perfect. A good friend of our families wrote a book called “Mother’s Day is Over” because she never adjusted to the chaotic reality that is having a family. Thank you for sharing Pinky. Your site is so lovely.
Pinky you are a cack! Laugh laugh laugh!