I once spoke with a mother of many children and realised why people often dislike them.
“I’m a mother of three, and people ought to understand me!”
“Madam, no one forced you to have so many! Let go of my jumper!”
Ethel had always believed the world owed her something. Shed been like that since university, long before shed started a family. But the moment she had children, she truly lost all sense of proportion.
One. Two. Three. They earned the status of a large family, and off she went.
At first, Dorothy thought Ethel had simply lost her wits after childbirththat peculiar state where one forgets all reason. Suddenly, everyone was expected to bow and scrape before her.
“Can you believe it? I was in a queue with the children, and no one let me go ahead!” Ethel fumed during one of their rare meetings.
“Well, they werent obliged to. Some might have been tired from work, others in a hurry”
Ethel cut her off mid-sentence.
“Nonsense! They can wait. What have they got to be tired about, anyway? They dont have three children!”
“And why must exhaustion come only from children?”
“Because I have three, and I know what Im talking about! But you wouldnt understandyouve never even had one!”
Ethel was a piece of work. She believed every womans duty was to bear at least one childpreferably several. Those who thought otherwise drove her to fury.
Dorothy, on the other hand, had always been firm in her decision never to have children. Naturally, Ethel couldnt fathom it.
It was impossible to make her see reason. Dorothy had wanted to live for herselfto travel, build a career, learn new things. Her husband fully supported her, and they were content. Yet Ethel saw it as her mission to straighten out her misguided friend.
“Youd be happier if you had a baby!”
“You dont understand because youve never had one!”
“Wholl look after you in old age without children?”
Arguing was pointless, and Dorothy refused to waste her breath.
Years later, when Ethels children were older, Dorothy paid her a visit. They talked for hoursit was clear Ethel was starved for conversation. Shed let herself go entirely, drowning in nappies and tantrums. Dorothys husband often wondered what his wife could possibly find to discuss with her. Yet somehow, they managed.
“Irene, what do you want out of life? Once your children are grownwhat then?”
“What do you mean? Ill help them. Before I know it, Ill have grandchildren.”
Dorothy was taken aback but pressed on.
“And what about living for yourself?”
“What for? My life is my children. Everything must be for them. Speaking of which, did you know we qualify for more benefits now?”
Of course, Ethel steered the conversation back to her favourite subject. She always did when faced with uncomfortable questions.
In time, Dorothy grew ashamed to be seen with her. One incident, in particular, sealed it.
Theyd gone shopping, Ethel dragging the children along, determined to buy a new jumper on sale. Dorothy wandered off, drawn to another aisle. She hurried back at the sound of shoutingEthels voice, unmistakable.
To her horror, Ethel was in a full-blown row with a stranger over a jumper.
“Im a mother of threeyou should understand!”
“Madam, I didnt force you to breed! Let go of my jumper!”
Dorothy rushed over. “Ethel, stop this at once! Youre making a scenethink of the children!”
She shot an apologetic glance at the womanonly to realise it was her own colleague.
“Well, Dorothy I never took you for the sort to keep such company.”
Dorothy realised then that Ethels behaviour reflected on her too. As the saying goes, “A man is known by the company he keeps.” Worse, this wasnt the first time.
After that, Dorothy began to distance herself. She hadnt the heart for a direct breakthered been no quarrel, after all. But her patience had worn thin. Soon, she was always too busy at work to meet.
Ethel, however, thrived on conflict. One evening, she turned up at Dorothys, seething over nothing.
“Have you nothing to say for yourself?”
“About what?”
Dorothy braced herselfsurely Ethel would accuse her of avoiding her. But the reason was something else entirely.
“I saw your sister yesterday. With her child.”
“And?”
“That coat her daughter was wearingthe designer one. Ive seen it at your house.”
“I dont follow.”
“You should have given it to *us*, not her!”
Dorothy nearly lost her footing. Was Ethel seriously suggesting she had the right to dictate Dorothys gifts?
“Irene, do you hear yourself? Since when do you decide what I give to *my* family?”
“What? Your sister has one childshe can afford nice things! Ive got three! I need it more, dont you see?”
What Ethel needed more than designer clothes was a dose of humility. Reasoning with her was futile. She ranted, growing louder, until Dorothy showed her the door. Even then, Ethel shrieked in the hallway, forcing Dorothy to apologise to the neighbours.
Ethel, of course, never apologised to anyone.
Ten years passed.
Dorothy and her husband had moved abroad, visiting England only occasionally. Then, one day, walking through the park where she and Ethel had once strolled, she spotted her.
“Well, look who it is! I never thought Id see you again. Still gallivanting overseas?”
“Just visiting my parents. How are you, Irene? The children?”
Ethel nodded at the pram beside her. A fourth child.
“Congratulations! Im happy for you.”
“Yes, well. Not much to congratulate *you* on, is there? Still no childrenat thirty-eight!”
Dorothy smiled calmly. She was stylishly dressed; Ethel looked worn at the edges.
“Why, weve built a thriving business abroad. Everythings as we planned.”
“But youre still childless,” Ethel sneered.
“Our priorities differ, thats all.”
Ethel would never grasp that motherhood wasnt everyones purposeor that having children didnt entitle her to the worlds deference. If anything, age had made her bolder.
“Oh! Thats a lovely handbag! Whered you get it?”
“I bought it.”
“Hmm. Wouldnt mind one myself.”
“Why on earth?”
“Youve money to spareone less bag wont hurt. Im a motherI *deserve* nice things!”
“Go earn them, then.”
“How? Im on maternity leave! Not that *youd* understandnever even had one!”
Ethels shrill voice followed Dorothy as she walked away. The woman would never learnno one owed her a thing.
Children had been *her* choice. If she couldnt afford them, perhaps she should have thought twice. These days, it seemed fashionable to breed first and worry laterthen demand handouts from those who owed her nothing.
But then, Dorothy supposed, shed never measure up to Ethel. Their livesand their valueswere worlds apart.
