All Joy and No Fun (or, people with bizarre expectations) »
I’ll admit that my reaction to this article, which popped up on my facebook feed this morning via a childfree friend, is primed by having first read this absolutely gutting response by a mother to a daughter with disabilities. The point of that response is a point that the article finally got to after 6 pages of self indulgent blather, which is that in the day to day moments of parenting, “happy” is not part of the equation. And frankly, princess, anyone who tells you differently is selling something.
Part of it is a matter of messed up expectations, both from the parents and the researchers. Within “professional” parenting communities there is a ton of pressure to, essentially, wallow in the negative. No one wants to hear about the baby who sleeps 6 hours at a stretch or the kid who doesn’t mouth off at grandma, unless it’s theirs. So discussions with other parents become this strange race to the bottom while still trying to make sure that your little hellion is better than the rest of the little hellions (and, of course, isn’t even a hellion at all). We constantly compare ourselves to the other parents at drop off and the rigid timelines in parenting literature. We obsessively look for the right label for our parenting style like we’re shopping a shoe sale at Nordstrom. Small wonder that the same people who freaked out about their GPAs in law school are now freaking out about their kids’ progress in little ninja martial arts and wondering why little Billy can’t read at the age of 4.
Parents get into a cycle of defining themselves through their children (something which is easily encouraged by capitalism because there’s a tone of money to be made by, well, capitalizing on parent’s inferiority complexes). Which is the crux of the problem. Looking to anything outside yourself to give life meaning is a losing proposition, be that a relationship or a job or a kid. And really, talk about a burden on that wee little bundle of joy.
As for the researchers, well I’m absolutely certain that the research bears out the idea that people without kids are “happier” in the moment. The problem is that ephemeral happiness is the wrong metric for measuring life satisfaction. Pleasure and satisfaction are not the same thing. I’d be a hell of a lot “happier” in a “wow, this is lots of fun and really relaxing” sense if I could just go home tonight and pour myself a scotch and have a nice meal with my husband that is uninterrupted by whining about why we have to eat at the table without Spongebob on the tv or the need to feed the 10 week old (which, for the moment, means I shouldn’t even have the scotch, dammit). When I had kids, I voluntarily gave up some of that flexibility.
I absolutely read accounts online from my non-parent friends and sometimes think, damn, I wish I could do [insert whatever it is that they are doing that sounds awesome, be it a fancy brunch or an impromptu concert or spending a month’s daycare budget on an antique]. But I can do other things. I can curl up next to my newborn daughter and feel her relax as she feels my breath on her forhead. I can share in my 2nd grader’s unabashed joy at discovering a sunflower in our backyard. And I can still go to brunch once in a while, if I don’t mind cleaning the scrambled eggs off the floor.
