I have always been overly concerned with how others perceive me. Every social interaction leaves me analyzing my performance, assessing how kind and likeable I appeared. I even carefully construct an online persona that is friendly, relatable, and unthreatening. My goal each day is to ensure that anyone who crosses my path thinks I am living life perfectly, especially when it comes to being a parent.
Yet, despite my desire to embody this ideal image of motherhood, life took a turn when I found myself as a single mom while my daughter was still an infant. It’s hard to maintain the illusion of being the perfect Stepford Wife when you’re no longer a wife at all. In reality, I was juggling motherhood with evenings spent swiping through dating apps and attempting to flirt with men in pubs during my rare moments of freedom.
This is why I was so intrigued by an interview I recently read with actress and writer Daisy May Cooper in The Times. She found herself in a situation not unlike mine, yet handled it in a way that couldn’t be more different from my own approach.
Cooper, who shares two children with her ex-husband and now has a newborn with her boyfriend, speaks with refreshing candor about her life. She doesn’t shy away from describing how she steer her new family dynamic with honesty and humor. “My boyfriend, Ant, works in advertising, so he’s usually gone by six in the morning,” she said.
“Before the baby, I was in bed by nine, but now it’s different. My boyfriend still gets in the mood, but these days I can’t even be bothered to take off my pyjama bottoms. Nothing ruins the moment more than a screaming baby reminding us how we got here in the first place.”
Despite the humor, Cooper’s openness about her parenting style is striking. She admits to giving her kids pastries for breakfast and working from bed once the nanny arrives, all without pretending that her life is anything other than what it is—a bit unconventional, but unapologetically hers.
Reading this, I found myself doing mental math, comparing her timeline to mine. Cooper’s marriage ended in 2021, and by 2024, she already had a newborn. She even had a brief five-month relationship that ended in 2022. I paused mid-calculation, wondering why I was comparing myself to a stranger. What was I trying to prove by giving myself credit for moving more slowly?
Some of this behavior undoubtedly stems from jealousy. Cooper seems so carefree and comfortable discussing her blended family, a level of transparency I can’t imagine achieving. Her candor appears to free her up to raise three children, star in a hit TV show, and juggle multiple other gigs with what seems like ease.
If I spoke to a therapist about this—and I have—they would probably tell me that feeling judged often makes people more judgmental themselves. That certainly resonates with me because, more often than not, I feel like I’m being scrutinized by others.
As a single parent now transitioning into a blended family, I face constant judgment. The moment I mentioned I had a new boyfriend, I felt compelled to clarify that he hadn’t even met my daughter yet. I went out of my way to mention that it took six months before he ever stepped foot in my house and that I meticulously built up their time together over the course of our relationship. These explanations are endless, yet they do nothing to quell the judgment I feel.
Some of my friends question my decision to enter another relationship, regardless of how carefully I’ve approached it. Their raised eyebrows suggest that I didn’t follow the socially “appropriate” path for a single parent, which, according to some, should involve years of solitude and abstinence from romance. No matter what I do, there are always questions about what will happen if this relationship falls apart.
In reality, Cooper and I took similar steps—we both moved forward after our marriages ended. Our journeys may look different, but the aim remains the same. Perhaps it’s time for me to embrace Cooper’s unapologetic attitude. After all, her approach seems incredibly freeing.