Tuesday, April 13, 2010

I honestly don't know how you do it...

I know the debate rages constantly over the working mum versus the stay-at-home mum. We talk about mothers that have no choice to work, families who sacrifice so much financially so mum can stay at home...and no matter which side of the fence you sit it seems that your opinion is the correct one and you think anyone different has a hot spa all their own reserved in hell. Recently there was a study into which environment led to healthier children - ironically full time working mums and stay-at-home mums fared equally poorly...both churning out equally obese little tackers while the part-time Mums had the healthiest children.

Rather typically for me, I really don't know or care which is best. I don't believe there is a cookie cutter solution than can be applied like a security blanket to all children. Follow this method and your children will turn out well adjusted, happy little people and no one will ever turn to a life of crime again. I think it's something every family must decide for themselves. I also think that fathers got off pretty lightly in the whole debate. In some ways its sad that a father is simply expected to keep working - but my sympathy is curtailed when I see the sheer amount of guilt and expectation placed on mothers. Why is it all about the mother's choice? Why don't people ask fathers if they plan to work after the baby's born and then curl their lip and say, "I've always thought that small children need to be at home with their Dad"?

In our case Charles earned the most money and I had the milk-filled breasts so the choice about who would stay home was easy. What was harder was whether I would return to work at all. With Charlotte I was going to be a stay-at-home Mum. Then I gave birth to Miss Outgoing and by the age of six months, if we spent the whole day at home she would almost drive me mad. We needed to go shopping, playing, swimming, visiting other babies - anything to keep her occupied. And it was painfully obvious that apart from the milk-filled breasts I was a bit redundant as far as she was concerned.

She went into daycare at 10 months and it was immediately obvious that I'd made the right decision. She surveyed the room in wonder - clearly wondering where all these playmates had been her whole life and she never even noticed when I left - she was already engaged in the serious business of playing with the other babies. Her first ever tantrum came that weekend when we didn't go to daycare. I had prepared myself for tantrums, tears, separation anxiety...and I was the only one who suffered those afflictions. Apart from her obvious delight with the working mother arrangement, I have to admit that I really loved being back at work. Nice clothes untainted by baby sick, ten minute blocks of time to sit down and not have to get up, leisurely lunches and extra cash to play with. Bliss.

I have never regretted my decision because it was obviously the right one for Charlotte. She's blossomed into a social, bright little girl who makes friends within two minutes of landing in a new social situation and I think daycare has played a large part in that.

James was a whole other kettle of baby. The day he was born he growled when anyone held him but me and his infatuation has continued unabated since. Until very recently he had to be in the bathroom with me so he could see me while I showered and when I left him with anyone but his Dad he would scream uncontrollably until I returned. Rather than play independently he would only be happy when he was in my lap and we were playing together. My only respite was when he slept and when he was in his Jolly Jumper. I didn't think daycare was going to be an option at all and I was ready to give up work all over again.

It's funny how few people appreciate how hard the decision to stay at home can be. They think it's some sort of mythical modern utopia. You stay at home and you play with your children all day. What fun! They don't take into account how you suddenly become responsible for all the housework, all the errands - how people call you up to do their errands (because you have so much free time) and not to mention how insane a total lack of adult conversation can make you.

My husband is a little bit guilty of this. He says he doesn't expect me to do all the housework but it's definitely not a 50/50 arrangement and he always looks to me to point out what housework he should do (as though the threat of being crushed by the mound of clean washing in the laundry isn't a good enough indication). He also rather glibly arranges extra curricular activities outside work like business trips, gaming and drinking with his friends and then doesn't understand why I get so frustrated and upset. I admit, it's hard for him to know how alone you can feel when you're a stay-at-home mother because he's never had to do it. I really look forward to him coming home and just talking to me and giving me a break from 24/7 suicide watch on the big one and constant entertainment for the little one.

I've tried explaining it but he's never had to watch either or both of our children for an extended period so I know he doesn't really understand it. Three or four hours is the longest I've ever managed to get out and about without James since he was born. Even then I've only managed it a handful of times. Charles' solution to my frustration was to tell me that I should get out more and do more things. And happily enough, James has recently become quite mobile and his Mama addiction has eased to the point where I feel comfortable leaving him. So I've been going to burlesque classes.

I think Charles has found those few hours on a Sunday quite challenging. A couple of times I've stayed on to have a drink or two with the girls and the tone of voice down the phone when I've called in has been frustrated and a little despairing. But he maintained that I should still strive to get out more. So, in an effort to bring in some money without having to pop the littlie in daycare, I enrolled in a swim teacher course which ran all day Saturday and all day Sunday with a view to working on weekends to bring in some extra cash. Charles assured me he'd be fine with the kids while I did the course but I still had some reservations. Turns out it was one of the best things I could have done.

When I got home on the Saturday Charles had the stunned, slightly glazed look I see in the mirror at the end of every day. When I asked him how he went his eyes got the wide-eyed stare all war veterans get when recounting their experiences.
"I don't know how you do it," he gasped and I laughed. His eyes got wider.
"No, I mean it," he said, "I honestly don't know how you do it. I haven't managed to do any housework at all."

He was completely flabbergasted at how exhausting it was just to look after the two of them for a whole day. He'd had visions of not just getting the housework done, but of doing a really good job and I could tell that he was a little bit miffed that all he'd managed to do was keep the kids alive. He's always maintained that all I need to do is keep them alive and he'll be happy. But I've always felt that there's an unspoken expectation that because I'm the one at home, I'll do all the chores and errands. For me this means distracting Charlotte while James has his morning nap so I can work like a hummingbird on speed at the housework. This doesn't give me a lot of time to do things and so I work on what I call "the essentials plus one" principal. Which is all the essentials like dishes, clothes, vacuuming, etc first and then either one room gets a proper clean or I do one major cleaning activity like dusting.

The result of the essentials plus one method is that my house is in a constant state of clean but cluttered. It's never pristine but then no one calls DOCS and reports me for neglect and my home hasn't had its own feature on "Hoarders" (yet). I don't know how other mothers keep their homes in an orderly state but I suspect they're a lot nastier with their kids and hubby. Certainly it would take a megaphone and a cattle prod to get mine to clear up after themselves. Charles thinks I care too much about the state of the house. He thinks as long as we're all clean and happy, I'm a success. It's also obvious that as far as he's concerned, I'm the one who cares about it and I'm the one with the time to clean it. I have been unofficially wearing the "domestic princess" tiara ever since Charlotte was born.

It was nice to hear that he found it hard to look after the kids and the house for two full days. Sometimes I feel like a spectacular domestic failure. I get the urge to check into a motel - by myself - just to have a clean place to stay and someone else to pick up after me for a change. I feel like calling a skip and chucking everything out except one set of dishes each and three sets of clothes. I fantasise about making a new rule that if you don't clean your own dishes and clothes, no one else will. And oh how I dream of going back to work. My own money, my own space, adult conversation, and out from the yoke of domestic expectation.

I am thrilled that James finally seems to be becoming a little bit more independent and I would love for him to graduate to daycare - even if it's only part time. But for now I will settle for a little more time to myself and a husband who has a better understanding of why I look so frazzled at the end of the day and why his underpants draw isn't always full.

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