To the Mum with 5 Kids on the Tube

9 March 2025

I first saw you on the platform, my attention drawn by the sound of your baby crying in his pram. It made me uncomfortable to witness you standing there ignoring his cries, while you minded your other children sitting on the seats nearby.

I looked the other way, aware of the invasion of my own stares. I tried to put myself in your shoes. I counted your other children: 4 boys. One aged around 9 and the others all under 5, my best guess. They were eating ice lollies, laughing and joking around as they waited for the train. You were managing them calmly, like you had it all under control.

By the time the train came, the baby was quiet. I boarded at the next set of doors, and glanced back as all your boys clambered inside, you following last with the pram. The feat of getting multiple children onto a tube train single handedly is not for the faint of heart, but this was far from what you appeared to be.

On the train, kind strangers gave up their seats to allow your children to sit. The hubbub of seat swapping boys dripping with ice lollies and cheeky smiles attracted the eyes of nearby passengers, and before long it felt as if the whole carriage was watching you. The folded arms and down-pointed noses exposed their silent judgements.

I realised that I had been them, 5 minutes before. Now, I was in your corner. They saw four unruly boys; I saw four boys being boys. Happy, playful boys. I smiled as I recognised a glint of my son in them.

They saw a thoughtless mother; I saw a woman managing the unmanageable.

I realised that I have been you. Countless times on public transport I have felt the stares of strangers casting evaluations of my parenting while I juggle prams, bags, scooters and multiple tiny feet (albeit, never 10 of them).

As the train began to empty, I took a seat near you. I wanted to show you some solidarity amongst the isolating stares and pointy elbows. You seemed so nonchalant, I wondered whether you even cared.

“You’re amazing” I said, as my stop arrived and I squeezed past you to get off the train. I couldn’t tell from your reaction if you were genuinely touched or not bothered in the least. As I climbed onto the platform, I wondered if you thought I was being condescending.

But I remembered all those times I had felt the eyes of others drilling into my soul, and how a few kind words would have lit me up inside.

Because no matter our differences, we’re in the same boat. We’re all in the club they call motherhood. Once you’re in, you can never leave, even if you want to. So we must look after each other here.

After all, only we know what it is like to be us.