Dear Moms, Here's Why I Don't Care If You Work

04/17/2015 11:21 am ET | Updated Jun 17, 2015
michele princigalli via Getty Images

I don't care how you define motherhood, whether you think it's a job or a hobby. I do not care what words you choose to describe what you do "for a living," and I don't care if or where you went to college.

I couldn't care less how many kids you have, how or why you conceived them, or if they were planned. I don't care if you're single, married, divorced, separated, or in a domestic partnership, who you love, or how you identify within your relationships.

I don't really care how old your children are, or how many years you chose (or didn't choose) to space them apart. I will not make comments like, "Wow! That's quite a separation -- same father?" or "Jesus, Did you get pregnant again in the delivery room?"

I don't care if you breastfed or bottle fed, and I don't care if you used formula or bought breast milk off the black market. You don't need to justify your attempts to nurse, or explain to me why formula was the best option for your child. There is also no need to defend your complete aversion to having your nipples chewed, or your forced time constraints because you had to head back to work right away.

It does not concern me that you work 80 hours a week or stay home with your children full time to support your family. You do not have to explain your feminist belief system, or the reasons you can't justify working to pay for child care.

I don't care if you use cloth diapers, disposable diapers, or what brand you use. I really don't care how naturally savvy or challenged you are, or if you choose organic or fast food for your kids.

It makes no difference to me what religion you most identify with or what your beliefs are. You don't believe in anything? That's perfectly fine with me.

I don't care if you have washboard abs or junk in your trunk. I don't give a sh*t if you hit the gym every day or not, if you are a size 2 or 22.

I don't give a rat's ass if you wear yoga or stretch pants, or why you choose not to.

I hold absolutely no emotional attachment to your views regarding my personal life choices. I don't care how you feel about my parenting styles, beliefs, what I'm wearing at the bus stop drop off, or how often I'm looking down at my iPhone.

None of those things make us who we are. They are merely details of our lives; small parts of the big picture, and personal choices we all have the right to make. I will never use any of those details as weapons against you or challenge you to a motherhood showdown or pissing contest.

I understand, appreciate, and accept that the decisions you make for your family have nothing to do with me. Your life is not mine to dictate or judge, and how you live it is none of my business. I respect your right to raise your family and live happily however you choose, without my input or assistance.

I care about your thoughts and feelings, and how they impact the choices you make. I know we can learn from each other, especially if we feel and think differently about things -- if we can allow each other the freedom to be genuine. It is absolutely possible for me to honor your perspective and view points, even if I don't share or agree with them.

Being a mother is hard enough without constant fear of judgment from other moms. Many of us are judging ourselves harshly enough, and don't need any help.

I care about what I can do to help you feel better -- not worse. No, it's not my responsibility, but I know what it's like to struggle, to question every move. I also know having a happy mother won't hurt your children, and I care about their happiness and well-being.

I care about whether or not you know how important you are in the lives of your kids, and how capable you are of making tough decisions for them -- even on the days you question your sanity. I have faith that we can find support in each other, if only we can stop arguing semantics and pretending we're so different.

Because under all the details, labels, and hats we wear -- behind all of the masks and titles -- we're all just scared to death, doing the very best we can, and hoping it's enough.

I don't care about your outsides, or how they compare to mine. I understand that I'm no better than you, and I don't care to put on a show and pretend that I am.

I care about who you are, how we relate to one another, and what motivates you.

I care about what matters, and I really don't care about the rest.


This post appeared originally on Find Julie on Facebook & Twitter @NextLifeNOKids