This is a looong post. It could be longer. I really restrained myself, so be grateful.
We just came back from a holiday in Crete. It was magnificent. Somehow we managed to understand the Covid rules and made it back in one piece. It was everything I didn’t even know I needed.
The thing about being on holiday though when you’re with your kids is that there is zero quiet. Zero chill. Zero space to think. Because the kids are always with you. They are always asking questions. Always wanting your attention. Which is right. Our kids are entitled to our love and affection and we should give it freely and without resentment. Buut, it’s not always that simple. Adults also need time to decompress. And when you are on holiday, you would think that would be the perfect time to decompress. You are away from the daily struggles of everyday life. If you’re in a hotel, as we were, someone else looked after us and fed us and cleaned our room and all the magnificent things that hotels do. But still, nobody can take the childcare responsibilities away from us. So, everyday, we would trundle to the beach or pool and spend the entirety of our time playing with the kids. It was lovely, but also exhausting. I think the kids were super happy and felt that all their buckets were filled. The kids would go to sleep really happy (at 10pm mind you!) and then Chump and I would read for a few minutes and then fall deeply asleep too. But it meant Chump and I didn’t really get a chance to talk to each other. And here’s why it matters.
On the plane ride there and back, we were travelling with quite a few families. Nuclear families. Mum, Dad and two kids. As we also are. And most planes don’t have rows of four seats. So in every single case, the mum would sit in between the two children in a row of 3 and the dad would sit in the aisle seat of the next row. As did we. And the dads were all sitting there, reading their books. And in Chump’s case, he had his headphones on too and was listening to music. All the mums were dealing with every demand of their children. Taking them to the toilet. Keeping them occupied. Giving them snacks. Etc. My kids were annoying the motherfracking shit out of me. Even though I was sitting in the middle, they still found the ability to non stop touch each other. Annoy each other. Fight about every little thing. And as I was sitting in the middle, I frequently got kicked and hit. Don’t judge my kids. They are just normal kids.
But you know that’s not even the most annoying thing. Because they are children and are therefore full of wonderment and curiosity, they asked a million questions about everything. And not sensible adult questions, but like childlike questions. You know the ones – what if someone is sitting in the toilet on a plane and then somehow a bird gets in and then the bird sits on their heads, what would happen to the pilot’s daughter in her home town 5000 miles away. Questions that don’t even make any logical sense. And because they are your children and you love them and you want to encourage their curiosity and you want them to talk to you and interact with you at all times, you actually have to take these questions seriously, rather than shrugging your shoulders and saying I don’t know. Or stop asking me stupid questions. Or what you really want to say is: would you just shut the fuck up! Of course, as a responsible loving parent, you can’t say that. So you come up with an answer and hope to God that’s the end of it. But then they do a follow up and so on and so forth, so that by the end of the flight, you are so frazzled and over stimulated. And all you want is quiet. And then you look over at the dads, sitting there in their aisle seat, reading their books and listening to music and you feel rage. Righteous rage. So when Chump then asks me an innocuous question, I then burst out and say, would you just shut the fuck up. And the poor guy looks at me absolutely bewildered. And instead of apologizing like I should, I continue my tirade and say, all you do is nag me. You’re just a fracking nag. And it’s not his fault. I’m displacing my frustrations on to him. And my god it feels so good. It’s not fair on him. But it’s motherhood. And I hate to make sweeping generalizations, because that’s a dickhead thing to do. But based on what I’ve observed, it’s almost always in most cases, the mothers doing the brunt of the childcare. And I’m sorry to all the dads out there who do childcare too. I’m not intending to insult you or diminish your contributions, but this is what I’ve simply observed with my own two eyes ok? But then I think wait a minute, Chump is a nice guy and he’s a great dad. He doesn’t just babysit his kids, he actually parents them. He’s involved, he’s loving. He does the hard work of parenting. And to be fair to him, he offered to sit in the middle of the kids. On both journeys. And I said to him, that’s really nice, but I doubt it’s going to work. And when we told the kids he was going to sit in between them, they both protested and said no. Mama has to sit with us. And it’s not because they don’t love him. Of course they love him.
Here’s what I think. It all goes back to societal conditioning. I’m the primary parent. I also happen to be the mother. I’m the one the kids spend most of their time with because I work part time. If Chump was the primary parent, then the kids would have the same level of wanting him. But society has dictated that women should be the primary parent. Now of course this is a sweeping generalization and there are dads who are the primary parent. But this is not that common yet. Hopefully things are changing and more and more dads are able to do what they want. But here’s the thing. When I quit my law firm, it wasn’t because Chump said I had to. I made my own choice. It was too intense for me and I wanted to have babies. So I did and then I found a wonderful part time role that allows me to both work and still be the primary carer. Chump didn’t have the option 10 years ago to say that he wanted to quit his job and have babies. It just wasn’t an acceptable situation. He could have done it. He could have been an outlier, but it just wasn’t the norm. It was far more acceptable for me, a woman, to make that choice. So I can’t now look at Chump and think it’s not fair. He gets to chill and I have to do the parenting. He is as stuck in society’s definition of fatherhood and male gender norms as I am. I think things are changing and these concepts are becoming more and more fluid, which is great, but as things stood when we first had children, we only acted in a way that society told us was right. I have so many more things to say on this topic, but I’ve already rambled on a lot.
So to wrap up, I really shouldn’t snap at Chump, it’s not his fault. Sorry Chump. I secretly think you’re actually ok.