It all started with a story.  A story intended to get us talking.  You see, something horrific had happened.  A mother of a toddler told us how, while at the grocery store, she observed another mother holding a can of soda to her barely-a-toddler’s mouth. And giving her a sip.  

Being friends who would NEVER do such a thing, we could instantly rattle off a handful of reasons why this was so terrible.  The caffeine.  The sugar.  The strong, new teeth coming in.  Oh, we had our opinions. And we were clearly right.  In our own minds.  

Which got me thinking.  Thinking about how we tend to befriend those most like ourselves.  And when we meet, or as in the soda case, even hear about those that may not be quite enough like us, it’s an opportunity for us to talk.  To reinforce what we think and pass judgment.

Sure, when it comes to the big picture, we women proudly wear our “we’re all the same” badge.  On the outside, we like to appear unified.  Together.   Dig deeper and we discover how we put ourselves in categories and it's not always nice. We can be very hard on each other.

Typically we start by labeling ourselves as "mothers."  Then we continue. It goes far beyond the hotly debated working vs. non working split. It's the groups we create next that separate us even more. Make divisions within divisions.  What are we trying to accomplish?

Those that had natural child births are stronger than we wimps who elected an epidural.  By only bottle feeding both Big Guy and Little Guy, I cut myself off from more than half of the Gymboree conversations. We may act as martyrs if we’ve done this child raising thing completely on our own, without any help.  But let’s be honest, would we have turned the help away if it had been available to us?

We may award the “better mommy prize” to those who volunteer compared to those who spend days shopping. We discuss all the activities our children participate in and wear their accomplishments as representations of ourselves, posted proudly on our cars.  Can my hockey mom really beat up your soccer mom?

We talk about who’s been under the knife. Getting things sucked out or added in. Compare them to those who have gone the more natural route. But before we cast the first stone, let’s set the record straight.  Once we reach a certain decade, there’s really no such thing as being truly natural. Whether we’re highlighting for fun, coloring our gray, or even waxing, we’re no more natural than someone getting Botox shot in.  

We have all been there, quietly passing judgment on a mother with an unruly child.  Or the mother with what she thinks is the perfect child. Or a marriage we observe that seems sort of odd.  Not being malicious, but nonetheless, adding our two cents.  And with this comes the discovery that we can be our own worst enemy.  Why is that?

Perhaps we do this to help other women define us accurately.  To set the record straight. As women, we are well aware that we classify, label and critique each other.  By talking first, maybe we are trying to state our piece.

Perhaps we’re simply looking for some affirmation that we’re doing this mothering thing correctly. We’re always feeling as if we could do more.  Or do better.  Maybe we’re trying to build our confidence and give ourselves a pat on the back once in a well needed while.

For just as sure as I sit in judgment of soda mom, Little Guy will back talk me in front of a group of moms.  A neighbor will contemplate calling Child Services as she hears me yelling like a crazed woman as I try and break up a fight in the driveway.  And I’ll let Big Guy eat a giant bowl of Lucky Charms for dinner, followed by two sugar cookies for dessert.  Suddenly, soda mom doesn’t seem so bad.  

And this is motherhood.  As soon as we make up our minds about someone, motherhood gently reminds us that it doesn’t care if we have stylish clothes. Dirty sweats.  Messy hair.  Or flawless makeup.  It doesn’t care if our kids made the honor roll or spent recess in study hall.  It will continue to knock us down, regardless if our children had eggs or Pop Tarts for breakfast.

Instead, motherhood teaches us how to get back up and try again. To love unconditionally.  Accept without too many questions. To never say never.  And to not pass judgment.  We strive to learn these lessons for our children.  

The challenge is trying to do this with each other.

Illyse appears Thursdays on TriangleMom2Mom.