Childless singletons - the grass is always greener
I have the overwhelming feeling that I should ‘put up my dukes’ and rstep outside with Carrie Mille, who seems to think mothers with prams and gym memberships are the collective Devil.
For the record, I do not have a *gym membership, but I do have a pram and a child. So in the words of Meatloaf, two outta three ain’t bad.
But I had 34 years of being single and childless. So I don’t want anyone to tell me I don’t know what it’s like to see my friends off at the church, picking rice out of their bodices, and lament the loss of yet another cocktail buddy.
I’ve visited said friends a year or so later as they’ve been lying in hospital telling me about the nipple Nazis and cooing over their wee bairns first black nappy.
But I don’t think she’s seeing a true picture of parenthood if she thinks it’s all nannies, childcare and the endless work/life balance.
For a start, having a baby did more damage to my body than years of gin-soaked evenings at the pub.
Dawn was something that came at the end of a great night out, not after a 4am feed.
Has Miller ever been so tired she wants to vomit, but forced to sit and watch infomercials because the damn pay tv is in the wrong part of the house? No? Well being the life support system to an infant isn’t fun.
I also don’t think ‘our whole culture seems to revolve around the needs of parents’? I was hardly ever offered a seat on the bus or at the bus stop when I was pregnant
This is not some anti-feminist diatribe, and I was fine to stand. But you’d think that in a society that puts parents first, seats would be there for the picking.
What about when I was carefully strapping the child into her car seat at the shopping centre and was told to ‘get an effing move on’ so they could have my parking spot?
Muz Miller can assume that we have it all - the man, the kid, the baby bonus which has kitted us out in Lorna Jane and given us a head start on the reno budget.
But we can’t finish a bottle of champagne on a Friday night anymore. Not without the fear of a whack across the hangover to wake us up on Saturday.
Our Ipods are broken from the toddler chewing the earphones and using the other bit to whack the cats. Speaking of which, the cat was self-harming herself on some ornamental rocks due to the stress of the baby and had to be put on anti-depressants. It cost me a fortune and I’ve still got the scratch marks.
The DVD had to go when the grapes forced into it dripped into the electrics and shorted the entire house. Not that I minded, because most of the Dylan Moran DVDs were full of the F word.
Has Miller had to read Mem Fox? I have. Despite loathing that Fox’s politics, virtually every day I have to look for the ruddy green sheep.
So it’s not all hearts and flowers but I admit it’s ok. I’ve sacrificed my career, circa $100k a year, airconditioned offices and being able to read anything without pictures for hanging around the house in 97% humidity and playing with shakers and singing nursery rhymes.
It can be mind numbingly dull. But then, so can reading about the misconceptions of unmarried, childless people with their noses pressed against the glass.
* The money formerly spent on the gym is now used for swimming lessons for the child.
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