Hazed as a mother….by another mother.

Hazing would be considered a strong word by many people for the amount of unsolicited advice and constant questioning of motherhood that they do with a new mom.

It would be considered objectionable to compare older women with a form of bullies who can’t let parenting be individual. Or who don’t think parenting is something with a learning curve, for that matter.

There’s going to be a lot of commentary on my parenting model. That it has come from western concepts. That it evolved because I’m a God forsaken working mom who has to have heretic parenting techniques.

There is also going to be some perfunctory offer of help when I need it. They assure me that help will come if I ask for it…… and also only if all the moons and stars are in a straight line, perfectly aligned with their other cosmic counterparts, when I ask for help…… that’s when they assure help will definitely come if I ask for it. So really one in a never chance.

But there is definitely going to be a lot of condescending prayers sent my child’s way . How people hope that my children’s mother knows what she is doing. How they expect my kids to grow up, all the way up, so fast that they don’t have to depend on my half-ass care. How they even encourage my kids to run most major decisions by their father and teachers because I can’t be trusted with my advice.

The hazing is real, women! It is a form of modern bullying. It’s also a constant test of patience and resilience while dealing with exhaustion, burnout and fatigue.

Also, moral injury! Yes, moral injury. That young moms suffer the most. That they are subjected to the most. That young career moms face the most and experience deeply.

Just to say, I’m there. Time and my own lack of consideration for what people expect from me made it all better. So it will get better for everyone except bitter people.

Bitter people won’t get better. Let’s say a prayer for them……just as condescending, sweeping and devoid of emotion. A prayer that doesn’t reach any higher power because of its sheer insincerity. Let’s say a disingenuous prayer that is drenched in our maternal sanctimoniousness. And then let’s just move on.