As a mum of five, I’m constantly scrutinised – but my husband is celebrated

I get incredulous questions, invasive comments, and even remarks about my body (Picture: Jules Millward)

I was standing in the school reception with my newborn while my four other children queued for the toilet. It was the end of the day, I was collecting them from school and they were hungry and tired.

A woman collecting her grandchildren started walking past. She caught sight of my kids, silently counted them, then turned to me with a look of genuine shock and asked: ‘Are they all yours?’

I know having five kids isn’t that common these days – especially with the birth rate in England and Wales at its lowest in 50 years – but the question still caught me off guard. 

I replied ‘yes’, with a polite smile, hiding how taken aback I was. I know it came from a place of curiosity, not criticism; but still, I wasn’t expecting to have to explain the size of my family on a Monday afternoon.

After hearing her dumbfounded reply: ‘You’ve got your hands full’ – a comment I get umpteen times a week – I rounded everyone up, silently thanking the powers that be that the kids weren’t fighting at that moment; and wondered why my husband rarely receives the same scrutiny when he’s out with all five of our kids. 

He usually gets praised for being a hands-on dad of five; while I, as their mum, get incredulous questions, invasive comments, and even remarks about my body. 

I understand people are curious. But, while I’m sure most of the questions I receive are well-meaning, I have no doubt they’re questions people wouldn’t ask a mum with fewer children – or, as I know all too well, a dad with multiple children.

Complete strangers stop to call my husband ‘super-dad’ – I have never been called a ‘super-mum’ (Picture: Jules Millward)

As parents of five small humans, my husband and I both help with the morning chaos, bedtime, packed lunches, the endless amount of washing, and the logistics of getting five kids to five different places at the same time. We survive by dividing and conquering. 

Leaving the house with five kids is like a military operation. There are water bottles to fill, snacks to pack, and constant toilet negotiations – and we do it all together. 

But despite sharing the workload equally, people assume otherwise. Questions about childcare or clubs from the people who run them are usually directed at me, even when my husband and I are both standing there. He has been asked what I am cooking for dinner that evening, as if meal planning falls solely on me. 

And when we’re each out with all our kids, our experiences are worlds apart. 

My husband’s everyday parenting is often seen as something extraordinary. He is treated as a superhero for taking the kids to the supermarket. Once, while shopping with all five children, he was stopped by an older lady who said: ‘Aren’t you good, taking them out on your own?!’ 

Complete strangers stop to call my husband ‘super-dad’ and to tell him how amazing he is for ‘giving Mum a break’.

I was once asked whether all my children have the same dad – nobody asks my husband if all our kids have the same mum

He says these comments make him feel uncomfortable and embarrassed, because he’s just doing what parents are supposed to do every day. 

What bothers him the most, though, is that I’m rarely given the same grace.  

I have never been called a ‘super-mum’. Instead, I’ve lost count of the amount of times I have been told I ‘have my hands full’. I was once asked at the school gates – by another parent – whether all my children have the same dad.

It’s upsetting that nobody stops to ask my husband if all our kids have the same mum.

I often tell him that I wish I, too, got given a verbal medal every time I left the house with all five children – because what else can we do but joke about the unfairness of the comments I receive when he is celebrated just for taking five kids to the playground by himself?

Worst of all, complete strangers – and even mums on the school run – have said to me: ‘You look like that after having five kids?!’.

I wish I, too, got given a verbal medal every time I left the house with all five children (Picture: Jules Millward)

It’s no doubt meant as a compliment. But, as someone who has always struggled with body image – and as a mum raising a daughter – this comment makes me feel the most uncomfortable, especially when it’s said in front of my children. I don’t want them growing up hearing women being praised for ‘bouncing back’, or feeling as though there’s an expectation to look a certain way after having kids. 

In fairness, not all the intrusive comments about our large family are solely about me. A trainer at my gym once suggested that my husband and I ‘must be at it like rabbits’ (though it didn’t escape my notice that nobody has – yet – brought up our sex life to my husband).

It made my husband and I laugh later; five kids are the best form of contraception out there. 

Others assume we must be an incredibly wealthy couple; or, on the flipside, that our house is in constant chaos. But the reality is much less exciting. 

Like most families, we make choices and sacrifices, and we budget to make things work. Yes, our house is chaotic to a point – our washing machine is constantly running, despite the never-ending mountain of clean laundry to put away – but we wouldn’t want it any differently. We are a family full of love, doing the best we can, just like everyone else.

One thing I would want to be different, though, is the assumptions I get compared to my husband.

These assumptions come from outdated – yet still prevalent – beliefs that mums are solely responsible for their children, while dads are just ‘helping out’. He is praised, while I am scrutinised. 

Fathers shouldn’t be treated as exceptional for doing the school run or taking their kids to the park, even if the comments are well-meaning. Parenting is their responsibility too – no matter how many children they have.

And if my husband is celebrated for taking five children out by himself, then I should be too. Because the problem isn’t that people are kind to him; it’s that I am held to a different standard. And until perceptions change, the double standards will remain.

So, instead of putting my husband being put on a pedestal while I am boxed into a stereotype, perhaps we could both simply be congratulated on how wonderful our sprawling, loving family of seven is.

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