Why is the fertility rate across the Western world plummeting..? Ah, this is one clue.
Here is how I get to work and back:
- Get Lauca up.
- Change her nappy.
- Make her breakfast.
- Get self showered, dressed, hair and make up done.
- Sometimes have breakfast.
- Get Lauca dressed, hair brushed, face and hands washed.
- Check Lauca’s daycare bag, he packs it the night before but he invariably forgets something.
- Check I have everything I need for work.
- Pack handbag, folio case, Lauca’s daycare bag, (sometimes Lauca’s sheets if its a washing week), my lunch bag and stroller in to the car (thank myself for being sensible enough to enrol her in a daycare with a chef so I don’t have to make and carry her lunch with us).
- Get all our stuff and Lauca in the car.
- Drive to the station and try to find a spare park.
- Unload Lauca, stroller, handbag, folio case, daycare bag, sheets bag, lunch bag.
- Clip Lauca into stroller, walk up to the train platform.
- Buy a ticket, fold up stroller.
- Carry stroller, Lauca, handbag, folio case, daycare bag, sheets bag, and lunch bag on to train.
- Lay stroller in aisle-way to be cursed at later by other passengers tripping over it.
- Get Lauca in to the train seat next to me, prepare for 30 min trip.
- Feed Lauca (she is never hungry enough to eat much breakfast first thing in the morning).
- Train fills up with people squished together and standing all over my bags and stroller.
- Think about how Lauca is the only child here under school age but don’t wonder why – this is hard work.
- Try and keep Lauca from getting bored and making too much noise, asking to get out of the train, or wiping food on people or seats.
- Start reaching between people’s legs to collect our bags and stroller together before we get to our stop.
- Give Lauca a pep talk about how to get off the train.
- Scoop up bags and stroller and push Lauca along through the crowd of people squeezed together in the train.
- Stop Lauca from falling out the train door, drop bags and stroller on the platform and reach for her as the train door closes.
- Think about the minor miracle that happens every time we manage to get on or off a peak hour train together.
- Set up stroller and clip in.
- Gather bags and find an elevator because we can’t get up the stairs with a stroller.
- Find ticket and swim against stream to get through the one ticket gate that is large enough to fit a stroller through it.
- Walk 15 minutes to the daycare.
- Sign Lauca in, fold up stroller and put it away.
- Put daycare bag away in her pigeon hole, get a tissue to wipe her tears.
- Settle Lauca in, try and get her calm enough to stop crying, greet the carers.
- Leave and walk 15 mins to work wondering why I have to start my day in heartache and he is oblivious.
- Come in, sit down at my desk, feel hungry and wish I’d had breakfast, wish I could get to work earlier, feel exhausted, listen to inane jokes about my ‘long weekend’ (gentlemen, its not a long weekend if you don’t get paid for it and you don’t get to rest during it).
- Then at the end of the day….
- Wish I had longer to get the work done, instead finish work up in a mad panic and attempt to tell my boss telepathically not to stop me for a ten minute chat about work on may way out the door… I have stayed here until the very last possible second, I need to leave, now, right this moment, and collect my poor daughter from daycare.
- Wonder why none of these men I work with have to rush out the door to pick up their children from daycare.
- Carry lunch bag, handbag, and folio case and jog-walk 15 mins to daycare.
- Collect Lauca and her daycare bag.
- Check with the carers how Lauca’s day went.
- Collect notes to parents from the pigeon hole.
- Get stroller and unfold it and strap Lauca in.
- Fill out any paperwork and pay daycare.
- Sign Lauca out.
- Rush 10 mins to train station, find ticket, cut across a steady stream of commuters to get to the only ticket gate to allow a stroller to pass through.
- Get elevator down to the station and curse it for being slow – now I will have to go faster than a speeding locomotive to get us on the speeding locomotive.
- Fold up stroller and give Lauca a pep talk about sticking with me while I push through crowds of people to get us on a train.
- Carry handbag, lunch bag, folio case, daycare bag and stroller while trying to keep Lauca with me, and pick her up when she trips over and get on train.
- Am offered a spare seat and must get Lauca and I settled in to it with all our bags and stroller on the floor among people’s feet without falling over as train jerks away from the station.
- Try not to sweat on people, I am overheating from all the running to and fro.
- Think about the minor miracle that happens every time we manage to get on or off a peak hour train together.
- Chat to Lauca to keep her distracted as she starts to get tired, frustrated, cramped and teary – 30 min trip.
- Get out of train, slightly less difficult as not as many people by the end of the line but still have to carry Lauca (too tired now to walk), a stroller, handbag, folio bag, lunch bag, daycare bag.
- Unfold stroller and clip Lauca in, find car.
- Get Lauca in the car, shove assorted bags inside, fold up stroller and put it in the car.
- Drive home.
- Get Lauca, handbag, folio case, lunch bag, daycare bag out of the car.
- Get inside – unpack folio bag, lunch bag, daycare bag.
- Starts the evening grind – dinner, bath, get toddler to sleep, clean-up etc etc.
- Ask him to pack daycare bag for the next day.
Now, this is how he gets to work and back.
- Showers, shaves, dresses.
- Puts on a playschool DVD for Lauca.
- Sometimes changes her nappy and sometimes makes her breakfast.
- Makes and drinks a coffee.
- Sometimes has breakfast.
- Packs bag, gathers helmet and jacket.
- Kisses us goodbye.
- Rides motorbike 35 mins to work.
- Parks motorbike and walks straight into office.
- Then at the end of the day…
- Pack up bag, gather helmet and jacket.
- Ride motorbike home 35-40mins in worse traffic.
- Park motorbike and walk straight in the house.
- Kisses us hello.
- Starts the evening grind – cooking dinner etc etc.
- Sometimes packs daycare bag for the next day and sometimes complains that it is too hard and he doesn’t know where everything is.
Off the top of my head there are a few strategies that could make life a lot easier:
Flexible work arrangements to allow some work from home, or start and finish times outside peak hours. More jobs offering part-time opportunities and greater acceptability around men working part-time jobs so we could both be working part-time. More respect for part-time workers – we’re not paid for full-time hours so don’t treat it like we can stay back full-time hours. More funding for public service so peak-hour trains aren’t so cramped, and maybe even carriages with room to pack strollers away. Train carriages with ramps for strollers and hello, wheelchairs. On-site daycare centres at work. Greater expectations on men to take up more of their share of parenting responsibilities. Me, being a little bit less of a stupid martyr and negotiating a fairer division of labour with my partner.
But.
The very worst thing about this, the thing that is worse than living this insanity is that this gross inequality between men and women is completely silent. Some women know about it, I suspect these are the same women who offer to help me get Lauca on and off the crowded train (ie. older women who have raised children). But I’m pretty sure almost no men know about it, certainly not the man I raise our child with (though I’m working on it) and definitely not the men I work with. This endurance test of mine is not seen, appreciated, or valued. Were it not for my (almost) two-year old witness it would be as if it never happened. Maybe if it was acknowledged I wouldn’t feel so spent, though I’d still feel it was unfair. The truth is no-one wants to know about it. Who wants to take up any of the slack, to create solutions that share the burden and the rewards of working life more equitably? It is easier to let women keep carrying the load, silently, in the background, to keep the cogs turning. On a good day I have a satisfying time at work and it feels worthwhile, I don’t want to even talk about how hard it is on a bad day. (Now you decide we should write the submission in this other direction?! Why did I put Lauca and I through this struggle so you could change your mind at the last moment and make the last two weeks work of mine redundant?!)
It starts at home, as a mother you must fight for equality in parenting. You’ll probably never get it, but if you don’t at least try we’re all screwed.
Wow, this is so enlightening. I confess I’m one of those childless women who sometimes rolls my eyes at women with squawking toddlers or strollers in my way. (In my defense, I’m usually responding to what seems like a galloping sense of entitlement, not to the mere existence of strollers and children. But I’m sure that on a bad day, many parents I would adore if I knew them can look just like the entitled jerkwads who really DO think the world should stop for them and their progeny.) I’ve been trying to break that habit anyway, since A) lots of my friends are having babies and B) I’m starting to think more about having one of my own, but now, I will do my best to think back to this post every time I find myself annoyed.
Oh yes, you hit the nail on the head. Over and over again.
Thank you for your honesty, both of you.
Kate – I know I saw things differently before I had a child so what can I say.. becoming a parent has meant getting very acquainted with humility. I’m always doing and thinking things as a mother that I never thought I’d ever do or think. Compromising my feminism has been one of the hardest elements of that, but dark confession – I’ve also let my baby pull price tags off merchandise just to keep her occupied while I shopped, even though I knew it would annoy sales assistants and customers alike. Eating your words – one of the integral experiences of parenthood. So, if you do have a child don’t be surprised if you feel pretty damn entitled (to a break, to some tolerance, to some acknowledgement) also.
em – thank you for letting me know that you feel the same way too as a mother. It is a reassuring moment when others nod in recognition.
Yeah, between relatives and friends who’ve gone before, I’m definitely convinced that the one universally true thing about parenthood is that you have no freakin’ idea what it’s like until the kid is there, and then you just do whatever works. And I am the type of person who goes batshit crazy without A) sleep or B) alone time, so I KNOW all my parenting theories will be out the window by week 2, and it’ll be a good day if I don’t leave the kid on the doorstep of a convent and then throw myself off an overpass.
Thank YOU for your honesty about the unexpected compromises of parenthood. That’s the kind of thing that gives me hope, in a strange way. When I read about people who present motherhood as this 24/7 joy that fulfills their destiny as women, I think, “Guh, not for me.” But when I read about people who say, “I’m exhausted all the time, and I question everything I do, and my feminist principles might just be on the back burner for the next 18 years, and my god, it is so hard… but it’s STILL the most incredible joy,” then I can actually see where I might fit in as a mother.
You should tag this post as a public service announcement. Thanks for sharing your day in such clear and understandable detail. And let me get those bags for you.
Thank you kitchentable.
[...] words) for whatever is left of a paycheck after daycare and other work costs are covered. This excellent post by blue milk illustrates the co-parenting myth applied to childcare arrangements. This would be me, too, if I [...]
I just linked to this, you painted a perfect picture.
Many thanks bianca bean.
just stumbled across this.
i have 3 kids. dad of first two less helpful than you described, decamped when youngest was 2, now has decided ten years later that he has paid ‘enough’ child support. Luckily i am almost finished my degree, (delayed when then youngest developed heart problem due to a virus, and I had to take time off to provide full time care.)
father of youngest decamped for first 6 months of her life to decide whether or not he ‘really wanted to do this.’ Luckily he does, and is now very helpful… though no longer my partner.
I no longer have the energy to list all the stuff that i do, but admire yours. Keep writing!
Reading this made me realise that after years of being ‘a sole (loser) parent’,after being told it was ‘my fault for having them’ and that i should be more financially responsible for my ‘crotchfruit’,(i have worked part time doing everything from cleaning hotel rooms to painting weatherboards- and this year i made the deans list at my university.) that i had lost sight of the value of the work i do as a parent.
back to the essay, the washing, the dishes and the rest of it… feeling a little better.
Stumbled in, four days later than the last straggler. ^^
Amen to kitchentable’s suggestion to tag this post as a PSA. I haven’t had any children yet, but this is more than likely in my future, the exception(s) being 1) that our local public trans is a bus system and 2) being informed by women such as yourself how share this invaluable information with the rest of the blogosphere, I might actually be in a place to more effectively negotiate schedules with my husband.
Come to think of it, he might be able to do some work from home… *plans*.
I’ve been enjoying everything I’ve read here so far. Consider yourself linked. ^^
Thank you rose for the really lovely comment you left on my website. I am not surprised you don’t value your own work and achievements as a
parent – it is a completely unrecognised labour in our society. If motherhood was valued then our society wouldn’t be so down on single
parents – single mothers are after all achieving the incredible, all by themselves. Speaking of which, I was really impressed with your story – your perseverance with tertiary study on top of the labour of raising three children alone. My mother did the same thing but even having witnessed it firsthand I still don’t know how single parents do it. I can’t imagine
anything harder than doing the whole parenting gig alone. For one, there is no buffer for single parents. As unfair as I find the sharing of parenting responsibilities at times in my relationship with my partner I realise that
on the scale of things he is one of the very good ones, and not only that but some help is always more than no help whatsoever. And in those moments of sheer parenting exhaustion when you feel like you are make or break on
surviving the day, even 15 minutes relief from the other parent can make the difference.
All I can say is best of luck with the studies – I hope job recognition and a good salary are coming to you soon.
Thank you nightgigjo, your comment was really lovely.
This is a fabulous post. Thank you so much for putting it out there.
Thanks Liz, nice of you to take the time to comment.
Agree, agree, agree … but must also add that the thing I’m most weary of is being responsible for EVERYTHING. My husband’s role is that of assistant, sometimes available, sometimes not (at his whim). Out of milk? Mom’s fault. Kid misbehaving? Mom’s fault. Messy house? Mom’s fault. Checkbook not balanced? Mom’s fault. Going on a trip, forgot the kids’ toothbrushes? Mom’s fault. Kids need day care, doctor appointment, sign-up for school, piano lessons, soccer,? … You guessed it. He watches. And if any of it goes wrong, conveniently, he is not to blame.
My kids and I adore him. But I am driven crazy by the imbalance in labor (I work full-time outside the home, mind you) and responsbility.
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Your itemising of the daily grind with kid in tow is very close to what what I used to do. It hurt to read it! How hard we women have to work in all our jobs.