Me and my mum friends

I've found friendships among mothers to be uniquely intimate and non-judgmental – unlike how it's presented in the media
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Mothers friends
Motherhood is in part a collective experience. Photograph: David Levene

I've never had an easy time making close friends. I'm fairly outgoing, but also a writer, so naturally a bit bookish and sceptical. I covet private time, often go out to dinner alone, and spend lots of days talking mostly to myself. I didn't think becoming a mother would necessarily improve this. When my first daughter was born, I actually dreaded the thought of being forced to mingle with other mothers. I was certain my future was full of awkward small talk and competitive nonsense, but on this, my fifth Mother's Day as a mum, I can honestly say there are few people as important to me as my mum friends.

That's not to say I chose them. In picking your mum friends, the pool is generally restricted to the music class-birthday party-playground scene, but this hasn't been nearly as limiting in my experience as it might seem. Through my daughters, I've met friends whom I otherwise would have never encountered, among them a teenage mum, a military mum, and even a churchgoer! (Given the bookish and sceptical, I figured "atheist" went without saying.) I met the last at a bus stop as we pretended not to notice our kids trampling some nearby daffodils. Weeks later, we had dinner together. I found out then that she didn't drink or swear, but against the odds, we still had a great time. She is now one of my best friends – caring, reliable, supportive, and whip-smart.

In this, she is similar to most of my mum friends – no matter what their current economic, professional, or personal situation is. Indeed, whether the woman sitting by the paddle-pool with me works outside the home or not, reads no or 10 books a month, or even shares the same political views as me, I've found these friendships to be uniquely intimate and non-judgmental. That is, not at all how they are presented in the media. There, almost unanimously, relationships between mothers are presented as fraught with tension and animosity.

A recent example comes from Eleanor Mills in the Sunday Times: "The abuse women hurl at one another over the choices they make is vitriolic; wars between stay-at-home mums and the working breed are toxic and available at any mums' forum you might care to visit."

New Yorker Amy Sohn's new novel (and soon to be HBO series), Prospect Park West, which was published in England last autumn, offers a similar portrait of mothers sparring over slides and swing sets.

Janet McCabe, an old friend turned mum friend, has a theory about why this is: "It keeps mothers preoccupied on what supposedly divides us instead of what unites us."

In other words, as long as issues about women's equality and choices regarding "work" and "life" can be staged as a war between mothers, then those involved in culture and politics don't actually have to figure things out. Take, for instance, a recent BBC report on a study by the Institute for Child Health that claims children of working mothers are less healthy than those with stay-at-home mothers. I'd hate to call a health organisation cynical, but why does a study of children's health have to be put in these terms? When the majority of mothers with young child work, many because they need to, why not just focus on how to make children healthier? Or if lifestyle is such an important factor, why not broaden the study and also compare the health of children with pro-active v lazy dads?

Time and again, instead of discussing the issue at hand – from children's health to maternity leave – the supposed intolerance of women takes precedence (or sells papers), and serious issues are demoted to a catfight. Mills expresses frustration that potential employers often refuse to believe some mothers might want to work full time, and argues that because they are legally prohibited from asking questions about this, women's employment opportunities are suffering. Interesting point. But instead of approaching this as a complex, legal question, with ramifications for all women, she fires a cannon not just at stay-at-home mums, but part-time working ones too! "Many women do want to work flexibly and ache to spend time pureeing carrot; some don't and are paying the price for those who do."

Choice and difference are important concepts when you're talking about women and feminism, and I would never want that to change. But motherhood is in part a collective experience. When you've been up all night with a sick child, and then have to go to work or face a day on the couch with said vomiting/whining/heading-for-a-future-on-the-stage child, who would you rather commiserate with? Your father-in-law? A member of your political party? Or any random mother? Who else knows in a glance that you're having one of those "just fallen off the earth days"? Or the frustration of forking over your entire paycheck to your babysitter? Your mum friends. As Lynn Melnick, one of my best mum friends put it: "It's kind of like having really awesome colleagues."

I think most mothers know this, and appreciate the personal benefits these relationships bring. But if the success of websites like Mumsnet, to which politicians flock, can tell us anything, it is that emphasising our similarities instead of our differences can help us in other ways too. From women's health to workplace equality to children's rights, I suspect we have a lot more in common than most in politics and the media tell us we do. Today would be a great day to begin realising that.

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