Penni Drysdale - P Plate Parenting

We haven’t really spoken before, in the six or so years that we’ve been living here. She’s the lady a few doors down on the opposite side of the road with the push mower that seems to never stop. Yet last week she stopped to say hello as the School Boy and I weeded the front lawn (an activity to keep him out of trouble indoors, rather than an obsession with perfection).

Our conversation was a breath of fresh air. I’ve always known that I’m not alone, but it’s not often that the words are aerated and given free reign. Powerful words shared between mothers who could otherwise tuck the thoughts away in a secret compartment, never to see the light of day. “I’m just not designed to be a stay-at-home mum.” Ahhh. “Me neither! Me neither!” I squealed, inwardly, aware of the keen kiddy ears only a few steps away. My eyes lit up as I recognised a fellow mum who worked, not because she absolutely had to, or because she adored her job, but because she knew that she wasn’t designed to stay home full-time with her child.

It doesn’t mean we love our children any less than stay-at-home mums. It doesn’t mean that we weren’t designed to be mothers. And it certainly doesn’t mean that work is more important than family (though it sure pays better). It’s just the realisation that comes with allowing myself to be who I am, not who I think I should be or who I think others think I should be. It’s a free pass out of the jail of guilt that comes with handing your kids over to someone else for a day or three. I’m just not designed to be a stay-at-home mum. What a brilliant thing fresh air is.

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I soooo wish I could tell you that I was checking in to a health/fitness/beauty/relaxation/strictly women-only retreat for a few days. Sadly, no – the baby won’t take a bottle. Checking in to a fancy hotel? No. Checking in to rehab? I said no, no, no.

Pregnant women gets piles… of attention. Interested parties asking after her health, the baby’s growth, ideas for names. The bulge is like a beacon for attention, and with that often comes support. The woman continues to get some attention when the baby is first born, until the novelty of a new baby and mum wears off. Then the phone calls slow down, visitors dry up and casseroles cease to appear miraculously on the door mat.

Problem is, after those first couple of months the novelty of it all may have worn off for the woman too. Days at home with a gorgeous, unpredictable, sweet-smelling, pooing, spewing, crying baby can be long…really long. Lonely too… and boring. All too soon the reality of the transition into new parenthood sets in. And who’s there to check in on her? Please note: I am absolutely not forgetting the men, who never even get the attention and support to start with.

First time around I was the master of deception, of brave-facedness. I had a talent for smiling and laughing at the right time, of talking only about happy things and saving the tears and truth until Neighbours (or something of a similarly high caliber and emotive storyline) was on. Those closest to me knew what was going on for me, because keeping up appearances was too exhausting to maintain with everyone (and you figure that your family has seen you at your worst already…namely, in your somewhat emotional, horrid teens). But most people remained oblivious to my struggle.

Why? People don’t ask. People don’t delve. Perhaps people are more comfortable with the simple supermarket exchange. Or maybe they don’t  even consider that this mum is not finding her new gig as exciting and glossy as is often falsely portrayed. So, what I ask of you is this: if you know a new mum, or even one who has been at it for a while (let’s face it, the gig doesn’t get any easier) think about checking in with her.

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People have often said, to my great, swelling pride, that my Big Boy will be a ‘heart breaker’ when he gets older. What can I say? He’s got my genes. Trouble is, the ‘heart breaker’ thing has begun already…

Yes, the girls at child care love him, but I don’t think he’s broken any hearts there yet – they seem quite happy to share the four year old love and craziness. It’s my heart he’s breaking, and not because of his big brown eyes, cheeky nature or strange kisses. It’s because I’m not only his mummy now. I have another boy who demands a lot of my time, attention and affection (oh, and there’s the baby too). I have been well and truly shoved to the outer since his baby brother arrived.

Everyone tells me it’s ‘normal’ and it probably is. Still, when your Big Boy brings home a drawing of his family, complete with him, dad and the baby…hang on, complete? Ah, there’s the small omission of your mother, son. Or when he tells me to stay home while he goes to the park with dad, because it’s my job to look after the baby and the house (note: he has always known me as a working mummy). Or when he delights in telling me that him and daddy are going to have blue plates for dinner and I’m going to have a brown plate. Or when he wants dad to tell him ‘all those things’ (our little bedtime routine thing of talking about what we’ve done that day), every night. And the most recent, another drawing. At least I was in this one. Everyone else was drawn in pink pencil and I was drawn in grey. His explanation? ‘You got burnt in the fire mum’.

I’m trying not to break down in tears anymore, or let myself completely lose the plot in anger and frustration. I compliment him on his wonderful drawings and state indifference to the different coloured plate. With the help of a brilliant, calm husband, a baby who smiles at me no matter what and a newly acquired family nurse, I will ride the heart break and look forward to the day when it’s another girl’s heart he’s shattering.

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I would just die if anyone found out that this post was inspired by some Dr Phil viewing, so I won’t tell you. So, yeah, I was watching some show recently and they were discussing the issue of working mums versus stay at home mums. It got me doing some more reflecting and this is the result.

I assumed that, after working full time for what felt like too many years (but was really not many at all!) I was more than ready for any excuse to stay at home. What I didn’t anticipate was the struggle that I would face in doing so. Expectations of leisurely days, a darling baby and domestic bliss were shattered by about week 12, when I had my first evil thought about returning to work. Evil, because: 1. it wasn’t in the plan to return to work until at least 9 months (and plans are EVERYTHING to a control freak) 2. I had made a conscious decision to become a mum, so I was not only obliged to stay home with the thing, but supposed to find it the most rewarding and enjoyable time of my life, yeah? Oops.

The novelty of having a baby, becoming a mum and not having to go to ‘work’ had begun to wear off. I began to lose motivation, confidence and brain cells. I needed (not just wanted – that’s an important distinction) to exercise my mind, have adult conversations, have an excuse to get out of trackies and put some makeup on. Like many sibling relationships, I needed space to create opportunity for our relationship to flourish. I needed to know that the pre-baby me still existed in there somewhere – the one who could speak well to groups of people, make others smile, help people in need of help, be acknowledged for a job well done and earn my keep.

When my Big Boy was 6 months old I returned to work one day a week, wracked by feelings of guilt and failure. I had failed to survive life at home with a baby and failed to experience the bliss of new mummyhood. I felt incredibly guilty about returning to work so soon and leaving my baby in the care of someone else, but I knew that I just couldn’t be the loving, caring, present mother that I wanted to be if I continued to stay at home ‘full time’ with my baby.

What that one day a week did for me was to begin to restore my sense of self and give me a greater appreciation of my family – quality time, not quantity (and for the record, that’s still how I function best, especially with a crazy 4 year old). Second time around I have been much wiser, looking out for myself and responding to my needs, because I know the consequences of ignoring those needs, for my mental health and the health of our relationships at home. I know that I am the best mummy when I am happy and satisfied and if that means having someone else mind my kids for me sometimes, then that’s just how it is.

So, stay at home or return to work? I’m not a huge fan of giving advice to expectant or new parents, but if I was to dish some out, it would be this: Honour who you are. Be truthful to yourself despite what you think you should be doing or feeling because you are the one who has to live with your choices. The consequences of being guided by expectations (whether they are yours or those of others) are not worth it.

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It’s clear from yesterday’s shameful episode of Dr Phil (let me be clear here…I caught a glimpse, well, 25 minutes or so, of it…I am not a regular viewer!) that the TV psychologist is mounting a client drive. Business must be slow  because there can be no other reason, or excuse, for shattering the minds and moods of every expectant and new mother out there.

As if we weren’t already bombarded with ludicrous expectations from every angle about what we and our babies should be doing, Dr Phil has introduced us to his first grandchild. She is perfect (their words, not mine) – alert, ‘very intelligent’ (note, at the time of filming she was 4 weeks old!), never cries and falls asleep peacefully as soon as she is swaddled. But let me step back a little to the (filmed) labour and birth.

The daughter-in-law new mummy is stunning. You know, long blond hair that shines like satin, tanned skin, straight white teeth, large breasts, dainty nose and a make-up job that ought to have taken a good half day to slap on. This is how she looked during contractions. The labour was 30 hours apparently but you see no sweat and hear no cursing or animal noises. And either she had an epidural or she was knocked over the head, because the pushing part that usually elicits some shattering screams or grunting groans, was all calm, quiet and effortless. ‘The birth was amazing!’ Nice one.

So let’s re-cap what we’ve learnt from today’s episode:

1. Pregnancy is no excuse for looking anything other than perfectly manicured.

2. Labour is no excuse for looking anything other than perfectly manicured.

3. Giving birth is an ‘amazing’ experience. It is calm, quiet and pain-free.

4. Having given birth is no excuse for looking anything other than perfectly manicured.

5. Babies are calm, quiet and pain-free. So are new mothers.

Okay, all clear? There should be no doubt left in any woman’s mind now that WE ARE ALL HIDEOUS, LAZY, CRAZY CREATURES WHO NOW NEED THERAPY!! Anyone have Dr Phil’s contact details?

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