Say you, say me?

As you will rapidly gather by my title descriptor, I'm just a little tired of defending the fact that I work and have children. And if you're not a working mum, you might not understand why this is such an issue. But you see, it starts from the day that you let the world know that you're expecting a bundle of joy. From there on in, the rest of the world will feel they've got a right to share their opinion on your performance as a mother. And no subject is too delicate. Breastfeeding, circumcision, discipline and the hoary chestnut of daycare. I personally like to break these soothsayers into three camps - the single, never had, never likely to have children (predominately women post 30, and a few bullish males around 30); the post 50, married, children raised by stay at home mum; and the current crop of stay at home mums.

I've been ambushed by various combinations of these three factions over the last seven years of child-rearing, but without a doubt, my favourite combination is the over 30 shrews with over 50 stay at home mums. And what I love about this group? They actually align to have a go at working mums! Amazingly, the fact that one camp has never worked, the other has never raised children, is no obstacle to either rating your performance (unsolicited) - and you, the only one doing both, apparently have no valid opinion at all.

And the current crop of stay-at-home mums? I know some fantastic stay at home mums, and somehow, the work/stay at home thing never comes up in our relationships- because its not a definer on who either of us are, or how we relate - we each do what we feel we need to do. Yet when I go into my son's school for a particular event, or to teach a scientific concept, I have to run the gauntlet of stay at home mum's - "what are you doing here - shouldn't you be working?" "what are you doing with the children - you don't normally come in?" And I find myself justifying why I'm there. I've turned up to talk to my son's teacher, and had the stay at home brigade walk in on our conversation and start talking over me to the teacher, as if I'm not there. And the worst part about this? I have continued to let it happen. In my professional career, I won't let anyone get away with this sort of crap, no matter how hierarchial the driver - and yet I let this band of bustling white holier than thous decide my access to the school. Its a domain thing - they sit together as a pack - and as we working mums are always running late for something, they usually manage to pick us off one by one, as though we are interlopers or tresspassers.

But no more. So be warned pack-in white, shrews and vainglorious baby boomers. The argument starts at I'm a fantastic mother - and the evidence is in my two glorious children. Good luck proving otherwise.