So I've just read an interesting article on parenting from New York Magazine. It was recommended by a girlfriend who's also in the throes of joyous, or not so much, parenting. This article's premise rests on a slew of recent studies indicating that nonparents are happier than parents, and generally, dads are happier than moms. Why is that? Because we're all caught up in the minutiae of the grunt work. We're investing way too much energy in trying to be perfect parents, scurrying around to secure the best advantages for our rugrats, while trying to hold everything else together (ie careers, marriage, mortgage, physical well-being) that our mental health takes a toll.
Okay. It's true that children themselves do not create happiness. In fact, there's probably more moments in the day where we parents are pleading, begging, cajoling, bribing, bemoaning whatever the children are doing than there are moments of sheer unadulterated joy. But let's be honest, even with well-behaved kids, or without kids at all in the equation, how many moments of sheer outrageous glee do we really experience in a day?
I think it's very true that children add stressors to our lives. Financial, mental, physical, marital, logistical, whatever - you name it. Having children always adds another dimension to whatever task you're facing. Booking a trip? Must consider whether the destination is child friendly. Are cribs provided? How long is the layover? Is there time for the kids to run off some pent-up energy? Will the airline allow for a stroller? Baby food? Extra charge for a tot that will on ingest breast milk?!
Purchasing a vehicle? Is the back seat large enough for two or car seats? Enough anchors? Child locks on doors and power windows? Can the seat fabric handle spilled drinks, melted ice cream and vomit? As a parent, fuel consumption takes a back seat to number of air bags and the safety ratings.
Going out for dinner? Is there a kid's menu, that doesn't feature fries? Does the restaurant have crayons?
Any idiot could tell you that having children complicates one's life. In fact, if I didn't have any, I'd probably look younger, more rested, more fit, and be dressed in the latest fashions. We'd probably travel more, most likely to exotic locales where hot dogs and french fries are nowhere to be found. There would definitely be more disposable income since money wouldn't be flying out the door for diapers, kids' clothing, lessons, toys, sports equipment, education funds. We'd see the latest movies, take in sports events, read the paper, watch late night t.v., live in a stylish condo, decorated with white suede sofas and breakable knick knacks, and dine out at restaurants where you don't pre-pay for your meal, and have to help yourself to the napkins and condiments. I don't think we'd drink more though. In fact, my alcohol consumption has increased dramatically since I became a parent. No, I don't have a "problem". Let's just say, at the end of a trying day filled with tantrums, poop, maybe some vomit, lots of tears, pulled hair, negotiations with stubborn souls (I'm NOT referring to my job here), a glass or two of fine (or cheap) wine is a welcome respite.
Part of why parents are so unhappy may be the pressures we are placing on ourselves to be "perfect" parents, and particularly for women, to become the elusive "supermom". Parenting magazines are filled with helpful articles on time management and tips for raising a cooperative child. The newspapers are filled with articles on how children are becoming monsters, thanks to "helicopter" parents, or how the parents are taking the fun out of recreational sports. There was a recent incident of an overbearing soccer parent who threatened a referee with a gun over a call regarding that parent's child. Not to mention the tales of abusive hockey parents. Or there are articles about the female CEO who's achieved so much at such a young age, and a little blurb about how this power star is also raising a young family. Then there's Gisele Bundchen who spouts on about a need for a law to make breastfeeding mandatory for ALL mother for a period of six months!
There are so many mixed messages out there. Parents are evil. Parents are too involved. Parents aren't vigilant enough about their offspring's internet use. Moms should stay home when the children are young. Dads should stay home for a well-adjusted child. (Who's going to work and pay the bills?) Children shouldn't be fed packaged foods. Organic for all! Kids are obese. Too many organized activities leads to stressed out kids. To much idle time leads to weight problems. Working moms have high-striving daughters. Working moms have maladjusted sons. Really - is it any wonder parents are in a constant state of stress, with all this working to undermine whatever efforts we are putting in?
We seem to forget that for centuries, people have been raising children without the self-help books and parenting experts. Some might argue that life was simpler when we were all farmers or hunters and gatherers. But I'm quite sure that since the beginning of time, children have been misbehaving, crying for no reason, arguing with their siblings and talking back to their parents. We did, and that was a generation ago. So, let's get back to the basics. Which is? Having children does not equal happiness. Not having children also does not equal bliss. Rather, it's what you make of your life, whether it includes children or not. To me, having my children has meant a life of never ending exhaustion punctuated by many brief moments of sheer delight. Whether it's laughter caused by Aisling finding Daddy's hat and handing it to him, only to discover it's a baby bonnet she's picked out. Or it's Ceilidh who offers to kiss my boo-boos, even the blisters on my feet. It may be witnessing Devlin throw a softball at the dunktank and hitting the target, or seeing his face light up with pride as he masters cycling down a hill without falling off. It's the moment I enter the house after a long day at the office, only to be bombarded by sticky hands and little bodies hurtling themselves at you, while chanting "Mommy, mommy, mommy". It's watching Aisling dance at dinner time, while eating her "nummy" noodles. It's seeing Ceilidh wiggle her hips to a simple tune on the radio, not yet caught up in issues of embarrassment or body-image. It is listening to Devlin negotiate for a better "deal" in evening snacks. It is having all three monkeys wriggle their way to be as close to you as physically possible for the nightly ritual of bedtime stories. All of these brief moments of pure, unadulterated bliss that my husband and I live for each and every day that makes the rest of the grueling task of parenthood manageable and tolerable. Or if nothing else, a glass of red wine, preferably from Spain or Australia.
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