The Other Mother: A wickedly honest parenting tale for every kind of family

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In 2018, Brister took her sixth show Meaningless to the Edinburgh festival, where she had a sell-out run. This was the first show she had toured around the UK.

The Other Mother is not only a hilariously funny and authentic read but it is also a new kind of parenting book which portrays the changing landscape of parenting. We should no longer expect every family to look the same, as Brister explains to her own children; some kids have a mum and dad, some have two mums, some have two dads, and some have just a mum or just a dad, and all of these families share some of the same problems of parenting. I had one of those asymmetric haircuts for a while. I thought I looked so cool. I remember going to my mum’s house and her answering the door saying: “I think your hairdresser hates you.” The funniest joke I’ve ever heard … It is important to point out before I start this review that I don't actually have kids but I do a) work with children and b) enjoy reading, so those are my main qualifications for this book review.From the perspective of someone who doesn't have children, I can't comment on the love between a parent (biological or not) and their offspring, but what I can say is that Brister talks about relationships and forming bonds with people, in general, in a very candid and accessible way that leaves you feeling less alone, whether you are dealing with nappies and NCT groups in your day to day life or not. Gilson, Edwin (1 June 2018). "Brighton comedian Jen Brister on #MeToo: "I found out things I never knew" ". The Argus . Retrieved 28 May 2019. We needed ten years to go from "We want children" to the birth of our first child. We went to fertility clinics, internet forums, and ultimately found our donour in a friend. I didn't give birth to my daughter, but stood beside her isolette in the NICU (she was a preemie) and was the first to touch her. The fear I had of losing her when my wife was bleeding during her second trimester is the moment I realised I was irrevocably a mum. I did give birth to my son. The first thing I'd like to say is that for the full experience of this book you really need to watch some of Jen Brister's comedy first (try this one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v0eeK...). She has such a distinct way with words that once she's in your head she will continue to narrate not only the rest of the book for you but, probably, the rest of your life. You're welcome. Jen Brister’s writing is not only open and honest about her insecurities about being the ‘other’ mother but also about the insecurities and fears all parents can relate to. She delves deep into the struggles she and her partner have, particularly during pregnancy, childbirth and the early stages of bringing up the twins.

I first saw her on one of the 'Live from the Appollo' shows. I was about to go out to work on a night shift and I ended up crying laughing, and I can't remember the last time I did that!!! In 2020 she was due to take her UK tour [19] of Under Privilege to the Machynlleth Comedy Festival at The Tabernacle, Machynlleth. [20] Once, when they were very small, I took our boys to a café. They were both crying and I was coping as best I could: changing their nappies on a chair and wrestling to pour expressed milk into a flask. A woman approached me. ‘Hi, I’m sorry, but my friends and I have been watching you for ages and I just wanted to say...’ she started. Oh God – what? I thought. ‘We think you’re a hero! We can’t imagine how much work twins must be.' As a self-described ‘beige lesbian’, Jen Brister offers an insight into what it’s like being the ‘other’ mother in the relationship and the questions she often has to answer. She also goes some way to fill a gap in a growing group of parents who have a slightly different experience to heteronormative couples. From conceiving outside of the ‘norm’ to deciding what to call yourselves as parents (to avoid the confusions of children yelling mummy at two people), Jen Brister captures a snapshot of what parenting looks like in our modern society. I really enjoyed this book. From the first few lines, everything about it is drenched in the love that Brister so obviously has for her family, which is beautiful. The way she writes highlights her love for them even when, at times, things are (quite literally) shitty, and you just can't underestimate how heartwarming and reassuring that is.We’d chosen to go down the IVF route and use sperm from a bank rather than from someone we knew. I felt completely fine about becoming a parent without the biological connection, but I did have some neurosis about whether my children would like me. I’ll be honest with you: lots of people don’t. I needn’t have worried, though, because as soon as they were born, I realised that these gorgeous _(_prune-faced) little lads needed me more than I could have ever imagined, and I was compelled to rise to the challenge of being their parent. Bottom line, it's a book which in no way sets out to make her especially likeable, but through which her likeability seeps anyway, almost against her will. It's a book of laughter, logic and love which gives the hearty finger to pretentiousness and guff - which frankly feels like just the right mood with which to scream towards 2020. Recommended, this one. If you're a parent, some of it will strike shivers of remembrance or cameraderie fown your spine. If you're not, you'll still enjoy it while feeling slightly smug. I’ve never been good with small talk and I am completely allergic to other people’s opinions, so it’s no real surprise that I was not totally prepared for motherhood – and certainly not for being a mother to non-identical twin boys. As any parent of twins will tell you, when you walk down the street with a buggy so huge it looks like it could have been used in the last moon landing, people just want to talk to you. ‘Are these your twins?’; ‘I have twins!’; ‘My mum is a twin’; ‘I met a twin once’; ‘My favourite film is Twins!’ How are you supposed to respond? ‘That’s great to hear. OK, BYE NOW’? My wife and I have children with the last one coming under the wire when I was 4 days shy of 43. How often do I see myself and my family so truly depicted in stories? Never. I was being a mum and – guess what – I wasn’t completely terrible at it. The truth is that motherhood doesn’t begin and end with conception, pregnancy or even birth. It begins the day you’re given a brand-new human and told that you’ll be responsible for them until the day you die. Five years in, our journey’s only just begun.