The Mum Mafia

‘It takes a village to raise a child’

This was one of those phrases that I never really understood (like sleepless nights) until I became a mum. I feel fortunate that I get to be the mama of my wild things but being a mum has made me so much more thankful for my mum and the village that raised me. By ‘village’ I mean the mum mafia that I have grown up with and therefore set the tone for my ‘motherhood’ years. My mum is one of my favourite people. She is one of my best friends. She is still best friends with the group of girls that she went to school with and it is these women that I am so thankful for when I think about my own motherhood journey. In order to share a bit about my ‘life as mum’ I want to share a bit about those who have gone before me. My Mum is in her 50s, as are most of her friends (give or take the ones that joined the circle of trust a little later than others – but are still key members). She is a solid over-sharer, she has th social life of a teenager, she goes out in London with her ‘mates’ at least once a week after work (I don’t try and talk to her on Thursdays because she’s “out out” and doesn’t answer her phone!). She goes on girly holidays, on weekends away, she pops round for tea, breakfast, lunch or dinner without being invited; and her friends do the same. Recently mum and her friends stepped into action when one of their best friends needed them…they had adult sleepovers (not that kind!) they made food, they made phone calls, they laughed and listenend and cried and most importantly just loved their friend and were there for her. Because of these women I have a group of friends I have known my whole life… because of their influence and love for one another they have raised a new generation, a new village of women (and men) who love their people passionately with care and honesty. These people are so much more than friends to me and I will be eternally grateful to my mum and her friends for raising us how they have, for showing us how to love people and surround yourself with good ones and how important it is that you are not alone. When I became pregnant with our first child I knew I needed to extend the village…

I joined a pregnancy yoga class (to help with the pelvic stuff and hopefully meet some other mums to be). I was living away from the place I grew up (still am) and didn’t know anyone else who’d had a baby or was pregnant so this seemed a good place to start. It was in this group that I met the Mum Mafia (so aptly named by our social secretary). We were more the baby wearing, pushchair pushing, coffee drinking, boob/bottle wielding, sleep deprived, living in a glass cage of emotion,  similar stage of life, group of similar minded women type of mafia… not the gun wielding aggressive type… just to clarify!

Of course, those early days of not knowing people, trying to make friends as an actual adult, was not easy. The ‘hello, will you be my friend’ of childhood days didn’t seem appropriate and I didn’t want people to think I was weird (that could wait until later). We were in this group for weeks and as each week passed and I didn’t know any of them or talk outside of the group I was starting to worry that I was going to be doing this alone. There was one week that stands out and the day I knew I had met some mummy mates; we were all in the 3^rd trimester with large growing bumps and trying to do the exercises with the class and grace of an elephant in Swan Lake. As we all bent down for floor exercises in pairs, someone…well, ‘let one rip’. The woman just ignored it and carried on and I silently thanked God that, on this occasion, it wasn’t my unruly and unreliable digestive system letting me down as I really did want to make at least one friend. As I tried to hold back the tears and looked at my partner I realised she was not laughing and all of a sudden I hated my 5 year old humour and needed to get out of there and into the car so I could cry and laugh safely; but then, as I looked around I realized there were two curly blonde bombshells in a pair next to me with silent tears and shoulders shaking like they were dancing to 80s dance tunes. I knew we’d be friends. As I caught sight of a few others I realized I wasn’t alone and the Mafia was born (in my head these were my people, these were going to be my village – they just didn’t know it yet!). Fast forward a few weeks and our social secretary (we said that with the confidence that one day we’d be social and have a social life again) suggested we swap numbers and I’m so thankful that she did! These women have walked alongside me in my parenting journey; they are my go to people.

They don’t judge when you text to say you’re having percy pigs and baileys coffee at 5pm because it’s one of those days. Instead they send back emojis of their current food/drink and you’re on par.

They bring you lunch on their lunch break (from being an actual Dr) when you’re in hospital with a very sick child and it’s only months later you realise they never ate with you.

They don’t mock your accent as an Essex girl living in the Midlands.

They answer cries for help without judgement.

They listen like you’re the only thing that matters in that moment (despite the fact that there’s food being thrown, milk leaking, children screaming).

They share their lives with you and welcome you in to theirs.

They can be called upon at any time or any place.

They politely tell you when you’ve got sick or faeces (not your own) stuck to parts of your body/clothing.

They don’t tell you look tired.

They know that you do really love your husband even when you have an adult meltdown in soft play about the fact that ‘you didn’t communicate that to him’.

They love you as you are.

They love your kids and would fight for them like their own.

They are all amazing women who I hold in high esteem.

The internet tells me the term ‘mum mafia’ refers to school gates politics between mums. I’ve been a school mum for 7 months and I think the definition of ‘the mum mafia’ needs an update. I think they are a group of like minded women, who love, support, laugh, cry, listen, adapt, support and encourage other women in their journey of motherhood, whether we’re in John Lewis drinking too much coffee, stuck in soft play tunnels or standing in a school playground.

On this Mother’s day, I’d like to thank the mum mafia, the prayer warriors and village that raised me for being on this journey with me and bringing me this far.

I’d especially like to thank my mum; she is kind and compassionate, she loves beyond measure, she’s funny and lets us laugh at her and with her, she’s fun to be with, she’s a feeder (thanks mum!) and she loves her kids, my kids and her people unconditionally. I’ve learnt a lot from her already but I still have so much more to learn. Without her I would not be half the person I am – she regularly boasts in my triumphs that I get everything from her: except my anxiety – that’s from dad – sorry dad!

Happy Mother’s day Mum and thank you.