Ode to Judgy McJudgepants
Ms Judgy McJudgepants (Cat’s Bumface for short )
A self righteous person and critical sort.
Will remark on the things that you do through the day.
Whilst not giving a toot if it’s not kind to say.
She will cast her aspersions, dismiss and abuse,
Without walking an inch in another mum’s shoes.
Bottle -V- Breast.
Out to work / Stay at home.
She has all the opinions and makes sure they’re known.
She knows all of the things about parenting life.
And she spits disapproval as sharp as a knife.
She might not be intending to wound with each cut,
She’s can’t see the harm done by her throwaway ‘tut’.
She just ‘knows’ that her way is the only way how.
Quite naive that she’s being a judgemental cow.
She’s an expert on HER child, but HER CHILD alone.
From her house made of glass all her pebbles are thrown.
She’s forgotten the struggles, but tuts anyway.
As she forms verbal missiles and sends them your way.
You can try to take cover, pretend not to care,
But Judgy McJudgepants will always be there.
So the bullets you catch – Put them straight in the bin.
Try to channel your own inner “Judgepants” within.
That confident mum, that knows her baby best.
Makes considered decisions despite all the rest.
But… Who knows that her baby, is her expertise
Which does not make her ‘Expert Of All’ thank-you please.
She knows tuts are harmful, no matter how small.
That the kind thing to do is say nothing at all.
To be there with advice if required and when tasked.
To support without judgement whenever she’s asked.
And to know that what’s needed beyond all above,
Is a warm friendly smile,
And a fellow mum’s love.
This poem was inspired by a powerful piece by one of my favourite bloggers, actually the first blogger I ever “chatted” to after hitting publish for the very first time. Her blog is It’s Good to Be Crazy Sometimes and you can read her post here.
Judgement is rife in parenthood. We’ve all been on the receiving end, and I think that a lot of us have been guilty of delivering it ourselves at times too. I would quite like to go back and slap my pre-child self for some of the misguided comments I made about bringing up children. Because obviously I was an expert on kids – I mean I’d been one once? How difficult could this parenthood lark be?
I know. A slap is fully called for.
This is my apology.