When you’re looking after a little person, you’ve always got stories. Not a day goes by without something story-worthy happening, and that’s probably partly because the way the little people see the world around them – with constant joy and wonder – is the way we mums see them. Their amazement at watching a worm crawling along the ground can be likened to our amazement at watching the person who once couldn’t hold their own head up, use a FORK for the VERY FIRST TIME! Unbelievable!!

These stories about the daily achievements and hilarity of our Pride and Joys are utterly enthralling to us mums. However, to 99% of the rest of the world, they’re…somewhat less than enthralling. Some may use the term ‘boring’. They’re not even really stories, because they generally lack a beginning, a middle and an end. More snorey than story. Just a statement that ‘someone did something’. If the story-receiver isn’t invested in that ‘someone’, or the ‘something’ is not outrageously cute, I’m afraid it’s about as interesting as listening to your dream about how you were Spiderman, in great detail.

There are certain audiences I believe our wonderful stories and/or snories should (or shouldn’t) be bestowed upon:

Anybody telling story about the child to the mother = utterly enthralling. Always.
Mother telling story to father = interesting. As long as you just pick the best ones, not the ones that involve people throwing around his DVD collection.
Mother to another mother at playgroup = interesting. As long as they’re able to relate it to their child in some way as soon as you pause for breath.
Mother to grandmother = enthralling, particularly if the grandmother can play with the child while you’re telling the story, or talk about when the child is coming over next after you’ve finished the story.
Mother to family member or good friend = reasonably interesting, as long as it doesn’t drag on forever, which is difficult because the family is often a captive audience, so one tends to add unnecessary detail so you can talk about the child for longer.
Mother to childless acquaintance = generally boring, unless it involves poo. Then it’s gross instead.
Mother to childless male acquaintance = run, run for your life.
Mother to blog audience = you log on, you’re asking for it.

You know what though, we mums aren’t completely oblivious; we know that the fact our cherub bent upside down and laughed at us through his legs today may be boring to the guy at the servo. We just don’t care. Coz it’s our world and it brings us joy to experience it, and more joy to relive it by talking about it. Making people do the smile and nod is a small price to pay for that joy, I say.

And as far as I can tell, it’s gonna keep bringing us joy for the duration of our childrens’ lives, because I’m 26 and my mum still tells snories about me.

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mums life by julie