I’ve recently read an article that said that every minute of parenting is pure joy and I am confused. Yes, parenting is pure joy, but not every minute of it. I think this is just another instance of that annoying trend of performative parenting whose main goal is pretending you are a superhuman who is never tired, who is always following the best practices of the latest trend in parenting, who never puts on some cartoons.
Well, I’m writing this to counterbalance that claim, that it’s all sunshine and rainbows, despite the fact that some people consider complaining about parenthood distasteful. In fact people, parents and non-parents alike, like to attack anyone who complains about parenthood. “Wasn’t it your decision after all?”, “Who forced you to become a parent?”, “I didn’t know you don’t love your kid” they say.
Becoming a parent is one of the best things that happened to me and I recommend it to anyone. Still, that doesn’t mean every day is a walk in the park. There are days that are hard.
The hardest day as a parent was not when my daughter was sick, because thankfully she never was terribly sick, but a day when both my wife and I were really sick. We still had to care and do all of our obligations and be at our best, but it was hard, and our daughter detected that something is not right and then became frustrated and nervous which resulted in multiple tantrums that day, which are difficult to deal with when you are healthy, not to mention when you are sick.
This day made us viscerally aware that we don’t get a day off from parenthood, even when we need it. It’s a full-time job where you’re expected to always be at your best. You don’t get time off and you don’t get sick leave. You have decided to take the role of a parent and that is your role until the day you die.
People would probably question my decision to become a parent after a day like that, but I stand by what I wrote above.
Everything passes. That includes the hard days. And with them soon even the memory of them passes and you only remember these readings of children’s stories, the days when we played around in the yard, the days we rode bikes near the sea. The time spent parenting crystallizes into good memories and the bad ones evaporate.
The hard moments are not the norm and there are many more moments of both regular calm and joy. The moments of cold rain falling slowly on the terrace roof, and we’re getting warm under a too big and too heavy blanket reading children’s stories. The Hare Who Wouldn’t Share. The Three Little Pigs. The Little Dormouse Who Didn’t Want to Wake Up. The moment when I’m getting to bed and the little one is already asleep, and it’s cold outside, but the room is warm.
What an honest take on parenthood. I feel like sometimes you have to just say the thing, that its hard and shitty and too much sometimes. It doesn't diminish the beauty of it too. both can co-exist, both can be true.
As usual, Hrvoje, I really appreciated your frank honesty. It is so refreshing in a world increasingly full of bullshit. :)