Is Judy Murray a pushy mum?
Judy Murray’s Big Day is so near she can almost taste it. One thing we all know is that, whenever her youngest son holds that Wimbledon trophy aloft, her face will be reflected in its glimmering surface. Because she’s always there, at his side or over his shoulder. She’s the true power behind his 145 mph serve. The ultimate pushy mum, the one who has groomed her son for glory, determined now to be there to see her investment finally pay out. But I mean it as a compliment. Amidst the crowds roaring approval for her son, I applaud her. Where would we be without mums like Judy Murray? A nation of chumps instead of champs, that’s where. Pushy mums are a great British institution and we should learn to value them rather than scorn them for daring to do their maternal best. Pushy mums may be irritating at times, often nauseating, but we should all be so pushy. I remember when I was a new mother still cradling my first baby in the nursery at my home in North London, the community midwife whispered to me: " If you want to get your son into a good school around here, frankly you should have had his name down months ago. I shouldn't say this, really, but you're going to have to be very pushy if you want to get him in now!" And then she added, as if pityingly, "You're not Jewish, are you?"
That's when I first learned that being pushy is not just an advantage in the modern business of bringing up baby, it's a requirement. Ive witnessed some breathtakingly pushy mothers in my time, especially in showbusiness. One well known radio presenter is an extremely pushy mother and notorious for taking her offspring, now in their twenties, along to all media events in the hope of carving them a media career. I have seen her sidle up to producers and commissioning editors, engage them in small talk and then leave them in the company of her children with a calculated though apparently flippant: "Meet my daughter! Just like me, only more talented, more beautiful and younger!" Another famous TV presenter I know is the progeny of a pushy mother. I remember introducing her mother to mine at a Mother's Day cocktail party at ITV's South Bank studios back in the 90s. Her mum had little time for small talk, and wasn't there to enjoy the ambience. She was one of those women who's constantly looking over your shoulder, tasting the other guests, salivating when she heard a group of producers discussing programme ideas. She was on the prowl for a job for her daughter. My mum was gobsmacked when she witnessed her shamelessly pounce: "My daughter could do that You should ask my daughter, here's her business card. Give my daughter a call!" Her daughter walked away from that glitzy social evening with at least three pilot tv shows under her belt . Me and my mum, meanwhile, just watched initially revolted and then intrigued. The pushy mum is, however, a natural force, that’s evolved over time. We’ve all met mums who fight like lionesses for their children’s survival, particularly if their kids are threatened. My biggest heroine is Shirley Nolan, who spent her life force trying to find a bone marrow donor for her son, who had leukaemia, and ultimately founded the Anthony Nolan Bone Marrow Register. Once upon a time, the pushy mum was epitomised by Jane Austen in Pride and Prejudice’s Mrs Bennett, whose pushiness was about marrying her daughters off. Now Mrs B has evolved into a superwoman powerhouse who must be capable of chauffering her kids around to all the must-do clubs and events, throw an end-of-GCSE barbecue in the back garden at the drop of a hat, fill the school holidays with the requisite work experience, volunteering and travel, help teenagers revise their AS levels in anything from Further Maths to Ancient History, research and plan a Gap Year, nag them to work, work, work and still ensure they have a fulfilling social life because, well, they are youngsters, after all! If you think this is bordering on madness, think again. This level of parental energy is now a bottom line requirement that I never conceived of when I er..conceived.
The days we all remember fondly, when a youngster could amble through their O levels, idle their Lower Sixth, cram for the Upper Sixth and then sail into a state-funded place at university and a guaranteed job are over. Look at today's latest shocking statistic that university leavers stand only a 1 in 270 chance of getting a decent graduate job.
Competition for just about everything the middle classes value has increased so alarmingly that only kids with pushy parents stand a chance. I’ve had to use every contact I have to help find my children work experience. And I’m well aware that I am up against other professional mums with better contacts lists than me! Sporting parents are, of course, years ahead of the rest of us. It's reckoned that to become world class at any sport, you need to put at least 10,000 hours into it. So says Matthew Syed, author of "Bounce - How Champions Are Made", and former world class table tennis champion. His book has become a bit of a bible in our house. My boys got very excited when they read his theory, borne out of years of sporting research, that it doesn't take talent to get to the top, but practise. World champions at anything - not just sport - it can be mathematics, science, engineering, politics, have simply put in the requisite amount of practise - and its reckoned to be ten thousand hours. That means that, if you want your child to have a much better chance than next door's kid, he has to put in more practise at whatever it is. And for that number of hours ( and it would come to at least three hours EXTRA a day) - you need parental help. It's as simple as that. Musicians already know it. At my boys choir school, the eight year olds practised their violins for two hours a day on top of everything else school threw at them. The other ‘bible’ in my house is a book neatly titled “Getting Into Medical School – A Pushy Mother’s Guide”, because one of my sons is determined to be a doctor. That’s going to be my full-time job over the next few years, finding him work experience, extra tuition, all of the coaching, interview practise and nagging that’ll be vital to help him chase his dream. Pushy dads are a rarer breed, perhaps because society expects fathers to be ambitious for their kids, and mothers are just expected to be nurturing.. Pushy mums are always seen as interfering and obnoxious at best and at worst, bad mothers who mollycoddle their kids and who'll get their just deserts when their offspring prove to be incapable of standing on their own. Mind you, I've seen that happen, too. In the course of the last 22 years, bringing up my four sons, I've known a variety of pushy mums. Some were obviously overdoing it, filling every spare hour of their children's lives with music practise, tennis coaching, hours of homework, extra tuition and overbearing pressure to get every scholarship, every prize and the solo spotlight at every concert. You could almost predict that those kids would rebel at some stage, and rebel they did. Several high achievers we've known dropped out of school at 16, left home, grew their hair long, flipped their sexuality, and did everything "wrong", throwing their pushy parents into paroxysms of despair. However, several years later, I can happily report that ultimately those rebels have still done well - going back to college, or setting up their own businesses and becoming very pleasant, well-rounded (and high achieving) young men and women. Which just leads me to suspect that, as a pushy parent, perhaps you will always get a return on your investment of time, care and love. Pushy parents are only so-called if their kids are doing well, after all. The word "pushy" is used as an insult but I think it's actually a grudging compliment. Read it as "well done. You got off your backside and made things happen!" Andy Murray's talent is his own but if he’s a true champion, he’ll understand that his Pushy Mum is possibly his greatest |
