Penni Drysdale - P Plate Parenting

A wise woman recently reminded me that it takes a village to raise a child. Another equally wise woman referred to it as a ‘community’. Either way, you get the point.

Children need a variety of influences in their lives; people other than their parents to guide them, make them laugh and look out for them. People to spoil them, loosen the reigns a little and smother them with hugs and kisses.

My point is that it also takes a village to support parents. No one will argue with a parent who acknowledges just how demanding and exhausting parenting is (and if they dare try, send them my way). It’s relentless. It’s wearing, and there are times, many of them, when an extra pair of hands are most welcome – someone to give you a break from this 24 hour a day, volunteer work. It might come in the form of practical assistance (some help with the grocery shopping, an offer to do some dusting or gardening); it could be an offer to mind the kids while you get on with all of those tasks that just never seem to get done. It might be an offer to have the kids for a night so that you and your partner can sleep peacefully and get up when your own body clock, rather  than that of your child, tells you to. Small things, simple things. Sanity-saving things.

It takes a village. We get run-down, squint through the fog and reach the end of our tethers, and we wonder why. Some parents have a wide, or small but dedicated community around them. Are they the lucky ones, or just examples of how it ought to be? Has the concept and existence of ‘community’ changed? Are we expected to shoulder much more of the burden than we used to, or are we just a more whingey parental bunch than our hard-working, uncomplaining older generations?

Whether you refer to it as a village or community, it’s about support and assistance. Stuff that makes survival that little bit easier; stuff that keeps sanity within reach.

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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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