I’ve been thinking about what an Earth Mother is. Or a crunchy mum as my friend delights in accusing me of. Hemp, natural, always calm, in tune with nature. Visions of voluptuous women with enormous, exposed breasts sat on a treestump in a grove bathed in dappled sunlight. Some sort of serene goddess who just floats through motherhood like it’s her calling.
I saw a woman yesterday who apparently encapsulates what I think an Earth Mother looks like. Long, colourful dress, long, woolen cardigan, a newborn (obviously), toddler gazing lovingly at her, and a tendency to wild, thick hair. Maybe it’s the look I longed to pull off as a teenager but never had the confidence to; I always appreciated a flowing witchy look growing up. Anyway, I asked her if she thought of herself as an Earth Mother and she looked at me confused, “A what??”. I then reeled off a list of yes/no questions: breastfeeding? babywearing? cloth nappies? co-sleeping? Before Baby 1 recognised that I was committing a huge social faux par in an inflatables warehouse and dragged me away. No doubt she’ll run away next time she sees me.
Google’s AI overview states that an Earth Mother is “an ancient mythological archetype and a modern cultural concept centered around fertility, nature, and unconditional nurturing” but an earth mother wouldn’t use AI would she? She’d focus on intuition.
I mean, obviously that’s bollocks. And maybe some mums are like that but I think not. We all have our problems: juggling a job we resent, guilt at asking for help with our “life choices”, regular opportunities to read the same crappy book over and over again, a yearning to have a coffee in peace, an attention starved cat taking advantage of the ten minutes alone which she has to cook tea in. Our goddess would make time for the cat, putting it first and getting pleasure out nurturing her and would never feel that her version of baby-led parenting is just being lazy and avoiding a fight.
Basically, there’s no way she exists because the expectations are impossible for one person, especially in the time we’re living in. You’re not supposed to be tired and frustrated and angry and bored? Fulfillment comes from submitting yourself fully to your children and enjoying it like that is what you were born to do? And wow, the perfection of those earth mother kids. Happy. Content. Emotionally regulated. All of them gliding through life with an aura of tranquility. Rubbish.
When I was accused of being an earth mother, it invoked a mixture of feelings. Amazement and shock that I ever gave that impression. But also upset that I portrayed an ideal when that isn’t what’s going on at all. Especially at the time. I felt like I was drowning every single day and was convinced someone would report me to social services because I rarely had both children in sight, never mind them being happy or content. I had very little help though apparently all you have to do is ask but who has the wherewithal to do that when you’re underwater? This version of me was in stark contrast to the anguish and turmoil I felt. I did not feel like a swan; I felt, and usually still do, like a grumpy kakapo.
It’s just relentless. There are these precious little moments but they’re like tiny glimmers in the darkness: glimpses of pure joy and delight in what your offspring will do or come out with but the majority of it is hard, repetitive, monotonous and, honestly, just down right frustrating particularly when you’re asking your firstborn for the 5th time in an hour not to hit you. I feel like I’m constantly living on the edge and second guessing myself. Imagining things like my youngest tumbling out of the window he’s looking out. Constantly tight and alert and responsible. None of this radiates the relaxed, tranquil confidence exuding from my mythical earth mother.
Is there any evidence at all that mum’s were meant to do all of it? Wet nurses, Alloparenting, baby wearing, tribes. Where have I learnt that I should try to emulate this impossible goddess who holds it all?
Having sat on this for a few days, I think the whole concept is a myth. An ideal. Probably based on keeping women isolated and alienated, doing the job they’re “meant” to do as if that’s the only thing we’re good for. It’s our place. This ideal is even used to pit women against each other. To be fair, our abilities of endurance do give that idea but the fact that our brains are just as capable of grappling with complex ideas as men suggests otherwise. Or maybe it would be more satisfying if it was actually valued by society.
You know what? I think I’d quite like to reject it and just be a woman. The earth mother is a goddess, an encapsulation of many things with a focus on just one. We were never meant to emulate that. A multifaceted human being can never be that.
