This past week, a few things have happened. Last Sunday (Mother’s Day in the UK) I went to a gorgeous spa where my feet got paraffin wax poured on them (nicer than it sounds), before being encased in heated booties. My Mum and I shared a proper, gossipy conversation over a lush three course lunch, and there were no small fingers grabbing at my food or clothes. I actually felt weightless.
When I called my husband to check in, the screams and yelps of a sticky soft play session pierced my calm from miles away. A child was demanding “banana pasta banana pasta banana pasta” which isn’t even a thing. When I put down the phone and clocked back into serenity, I physically shuddered.
I got to thinking, Carrie Bradshaw style, why is life so binary? Either I’m in the trenches of parenthood, elbow deep in biscuit dust and yoyo cards, or I’m working alone in silence. Work-wise, either I’m frantically powering through brief after brief, or it’s crickets. Tumbleweed. During my slowest ever work patch at the start of this year, I’ll confess that I sent myself a work email to check it was working. Today I’m working round the clock to meet a deadline.
It’s the same with cash flow. One month I’m struggling to pay myself a basic salary, rewriting overdue invoice emails and trying to strike a tone somewhere between “this is unacceptable” and “I do still want to work for you”. The very next month, I could be meeting an income record.
I’m not sure if either of these extreme states are to do with either being a parent, or working for myself, but I struggle to recall such daily highs and lows in my former life. Elizabeth Day’s recent article in The Times also explores the apparent paradoxes in parenting. Elizabeth speaks openly about her struggles with fertility and, in this piece, explores the careless reactions of some of her friends. She writes:
I don’t expect my friends to hide the joy of parenting from me and nor do I find it insensitive if they need to offload about the tough times. What I do object to is binary extremity: the idea that something is either a flower-filled field of bounteous joy or a relentless trudge through a joyless gamut of colic and sleep deprivation. Both of these mindsets are exclusionary: I either can’t hope to understand the happiness or I can’t hope to understand the misery.
I’m definitely guilty of this. I recently described one of the births of my children as “brilliant” and in the next breath “the worst pain I’ve ever experienced but… you know… textbook”. In the midst of a full-blown account of the impossibly number of times I was woken in any given night, I’ll get out my phone to show the cute photo I took of him sleeping. Do I emphasise the highs to excuse the lows? In case I’ll accidentally convince someone it’s not worth having kids?
But then, I guess everything around fertility and parenthood is binary. You don’t have children, or you do. The divide between the two possibilities sometimes feels so wide that it’s impossible to cross the gulf. Earlier in the week, I shared an essay from Nicola Slawson of The Single Supplement. I love Nicola’s writing and this piece exploring how mothers are pitted against childless women really struck a chord. Reading the comments on Nicola’s article, I wasn’t sure whether I’d be entitled to add my own thoughts. I’m not childless; I’m not even single. But sometimes, I also feel excluded by the narrative put out there that seeks to divide us.
In terms of these extremities, I think Elizabeth is right — “the truth surely lies somewhere in between”. The way forward is finding that middle ground - in work as well as parenting. The trouble is, I’ve been in the game long enough to know that finding a healthy balance is always going to be a struggle for me. I’d love to hear if anyone else shares my battles, in either domain. And if you’ve got any tips on how to reach this middle ground, I’d love to hear from you. I will say this — the spa day definitely helped.
Great read! I also read Nicola's essay that you shared and it was really interesting too so thank you!
Are we encouraged, or we have a preexisting bias, and/or it’s simpler to indulge in black and white thinking rather than a more nuanced understanding of any issue? My boys are adults now but I do remember feeling consumed by parenting when they were younger. And I then wonder if in certain areas of life or certain times, the divide is more stark and thus noticeable?
I haven’t read the articles you mentioned but this definitely gave me some food for thought.