Skip to main content

Dubai Stereotypes: Smug Mummy

Often spotted wearing floaty organic cotton and hand-tooled sandals handcrafted by a Free Trade co-operative in the Outer Hebrides, Smug Mummy is easily identified by her self-righteous glow, a side-effect of the massive exertion of effort she undergoes in order to make other non-SM mothers feel utterly inferior in comparison to her own wonderful self.

SM's children only eat organic macrobiotic wholefoods (preferably harvested under a full moon by Himalayan virgins) and they never, ever eat anything that might even have been within nodding distance of GM foodstuffs, dairy, trans-fats or (gasp horror) be processed. Her darlings' 'treats' consist of ethically-sourced carob bars which are carefully doled out once a month; little does SM know that dear little Tristan and Isolde have a secret trade going with other kids in their class, exchanging high-sugar and fat contraband items for answers to the weekly homework task.

Breastfed until the age of three to maximise their brain development (SM developed a special diet rich in Omega oils for herself for this very purpose), Tristy and Issy now undergo a rigorous programme of after school activities carefully selected to develop their brains, bodies and souls: Kumon maths, oboe and harp lessons, Mandarin and Ancient Greek, sunset yoga and Sanskrit chanting are just some of the classes carefully selected to accelerate their learning and help them reach their full potential. SM secretly worries when the kids go on playdates that they might be exposed to such horrors as Playstation, television and plastic toys that haven't been handcrafted using traditional techniques, so different from the spiritual haven of their own home.

SM gave up work once she had the kids - after all, Tristy and Issy are her focus now and she always felt uncomfortable in the commercial soullessness of paid employment. She spends her days worrying about the ethics of her gas-guzzling 4x4 and if she should invest in a hybrid, shopping at the Organic supermarket, and trying to find clothes for Tristy and Issy that haven't originated from a sweat-shop somewhere horrid.

One day, SM hopes, Rory will be posted somewhere more real, somewhere more in line with her ideals, somewhere she can really mingle with the locals and make a difference. Somewhere like Nepal, perhaps, or India. Then, she hopes, their lives will really begin to feel more profound, more worthwhile, more essential. One day...

Most likely to say: "Darlings, eat up your nutritious mung-bean bake and then you can have a delicious soy-milk fruit smoothie for dessert. And you know what, it's the weekend! So why don't we play a nice non-competitive game of snap before we all have a fun time mulching the vegetable garden!"
Least likely to say: "Darn it kids, mommy's tired and emotional, the fridge is bare and can I be bothered to go to the supermarket? Hell, no. MacDonald's Happy Meals all round!"


Plastic paddy said…
I'm definitely not one of those! Thank goodness!
Anonymous said…
I am - but not quite so extreme. Nepal and India are full of nasty bugs. No place for MY kids! Nothing wrong with mung beans though - wash thoroughly before cooking!
Kate S. said…
I'm sure SM has her virtues, even if they are hidden under layers of annoying-ness. I'm also sure SM would consider the bugs to be organic and thus OK. :-)
Anonymous said…
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...)Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

Best of British: how Brit mummies survive in Dubai

British expats are invariably cheerful due to having left the gloomy weather, Gordon Brown's foolishness and increasingly high taxes behind. British mummies are generally especially cheerful due to them usually being in Dubai on their husband's visa, which makes it a bit tricky for them to find employment. Not having to work and being able to enjoy a tax-free salary is a heady combination for many British wives, most of them having been forced to toil whilst juggling overpriced and inept childcare for years in the UK - thanks of course to the Labour party's outwardly family friendly policies which are, in truth, a pile of cobblers designed for nothing more substantial than a media-friendly soundbite or a flurry of tabloid headlines.

British Mummy is the one running towards the school gates looking slightly flustered with her Boden skirt tucked into her knickers. Her Birkenstocks are designed for comfort rather than style, but hell, she loves them anyway, plus they show of…

Recommended & the Mahiki dance-off

My GFs and I went to Mahiki last night, great fun as usual but made me feel a bit old; it seems that Thursday night is the playground of the just-past-pubescent. Oh well. Good tunes though, so whatever.In between taking over the dancefloor - the youngsters may have youth on their side but frankly that shrinks to insignificance in the face of two decades of clubbing experience - one of my GFs and I got into a conversation about why so many people are full of bull.It appears that many people we come across are content to live their lives in a superficial way, skimming the surface of what life has to offer and equating the ownership of stuff (cars, houses, boats, jewelry, designer clothes) with happiness. They converse in terms of status, strut their possessions as a measure of their own self-worth, take themselves far too seriously, are quick to judge others, easily annoyed, complain a lot about very little and their worries seem to far outweigh their joys. Personally, I think all that…