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The Age February 7, 2005
Just because it's important, doesn't mean
it's fun, writes Mark Cleary.
Domesticity has the effect of breaking
down the gender barriers - that is, the frustration and boredom
involved in raising children can be felt equally by men and
women alike.
I am what society politely describes as
a "stay-at-home" dad, raising two preschool-age
girls full-time, and in my case it took about six months for
the myth that raising children is a privileged and wondrous
experience to explode.
It struck me as I was watching Desperate
Housewives the other night. One of the characters, a mother
of four (why are they called housewives as opposed to stay-at-home
mothers?) was asked if she enjoyed being a mother, to which
she felt compelled to lie: "It's the best job in the
world."
Why do we parents feel compelled to lie
about the joys of parenthood? Sure, there are joys, but they
probably represent 5 per cent of the total experience (believe
me, I've crunched the numbers).
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After the initial awe of the "miracle
of birth" has worn off, parenthood quickly assumes a
suffocatingly dull pattern. In fact, most of the time it's
so boring you occasionally look forward to the frustrating
parts just for a bit of stimulation.
Young children see their parents as machines;
specifically, peanut butter sandwich-making machines and DVD-inserting
machines (oh yeah, I didn't believe in children watching too
many DVDs before I was a parent, either).
Unfortunately, it's not until you've had
children that you discover how selfish you actually are. That's
one of the paradoxical aspects of becoming a parent: at the
very same time you realise precisely how selfish you are,
you are forced to become less selfish.
And perhaps this is why so many parents
(men or women) are incapable of admitting they don't enjoy
raising their children - because it is an admission of their
selfishness. They don't want the reality of their situation
to contradict their conception of what a parent should be
- you know, self-sacrificing, wise, reasonable, etc.
These days when I hear parents, particularly
fathers, gushing over how beautiful and wondrous being a parent
is, I must admit I am slightly sickened. For one thing, most
of these men find it so "wondrous" because all they
really have to do is tousle their kids' hair when they get
home from work and read a story before bed.
I know this because I used to be one of
these fathers. Ah, back then, parenthood was a magical time.
The truth is, parenthood is an incredibly
mind-numbing, energy-sapping and, for the most part, banal
experience. Yes, I love my children; but I really have no
choice - loving your children is hardwired into most parents.
It's just nature's way of ensuring the propagation of the
species. The child is usually loved even before it's born.
So I think the myth has to be exploded.
If you enjoy cleaning up the same mess you just cleaned up
five minutes earlier; if you enjoy answering the same question
12 times in a row; and if you aren't particularly fond of
leaving the house - parenthood might just be for you.
But please, don't go around perpetuating
the myth that it is a rich, fulfilling and rewarding experience.
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