I spent all Saturday judging other families

I brought my children to the zoo on Saturday and instead of marvelling at the array of wild animals almost within touching distance, I found myself mesmorised by fellow families.

While obviously I encounter other families on a daily basis, these interactions are generally fleeting and ones to which I don’t offer much thought.

However, last weekend saw me wander for two hours in the company of other parents and their kids while we all navigated the circular route en masse.

Whether or not you wanted to encounter the same faces and families at every exhibit, circumstances dictated you would.

So while my family used the tour for its actual purpose, I on the other hand inadvertently conducted an anthropological experiment where I became engrossed in the behaviour and conduct of other families.

While my children and their dad admired the giraffes, I admired the way one stressed mum appeared to channel her inner Mother Teresa when her child threw his fourth tantrum in 20 minutes.

While my family gaped at the lions, I gaped at the way in which some older children addressed their parents.

While my family turned their noses up at the smell of the elephant enclosure, I turned my nose up at the language used by some parents when chastising their children.

Noticing my disinterest in the animals and my less-than-subtle interest in other people’s carry-on, my husband suggested I use the trip for its actual purpose and stop silently comparing our family to others.

“I amn’t!” I started to protest, but my husband knows me too well, I suppose.

Even though I’ve been a mum for over half a decade, I suppose I still amn’t totally comfortable with the role and sometimes look to other mums in an effort to learn the ropes.

It’s like I carry a mental checklist and routinely offer a thumbs up to behaviour I hope to emulate and thumbs down to behaviour I know won’t fit.

“You know you don’t have to study other families in order to make ours work, right?” he muttered in my ear as he lifted our daughter over his shoulders in order to give her a better view of a hidden sloth.

Well, that’s all well and good for him to say because he’s utterly assured of himself in every aspect of his life, none more so than his role as dad.

But me? I still feel like I’m learning and so what if I hope to pick up some tips and draw a mental cross through some approaches?

It’s surely better than not caring, right?