One down, six to go. The eldest graduated from college in what can only be described as a magnificent affair. I had been told by a colleague that such occasions are really a day for the parents. Turns out he was right.
I mean, my daughter enjoyed it too, which was a convenient aside, but I relished every moment of the day in a way I didn’t quite expect to.
Perhaps that’s because previous graduations from other stages of her education had been, let’s say, a tad emotional. Cry me a river didn’t come close to the unleash of emotion that followed her graduation from secondary school. I blamed the song that she sang during the service. In reality, it was probably the dawning realisation that my little girl was now a young woman and my role as her parent would never be the same again.
Equality, however much it may be improving, is still a long way away when it comes to parental responsibilities
I sometimes wish I’d realised this all those years ago. “The days are long but the years are short,” they told us, often guilting us for the choices we made or the frustrations we dared to express.
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“Cherish every moment,” they said, as if we were wrong not to enjoy explosive nappies, years (yes, years!) of sleep deprivation and parent as if we didn’t work and work as if we weren’t parents. Enjoy it, enjoy it, enjoy it because the clock is ticking and counting down.
But what they forgot to say is: remember to protect who you are too – because the clock is ticking and counting down. And that those beautiful babies, who you love more than life itself, will grow up. And one day they’ll hopefully venture into the big, bad world, without needing you to hold their hand. All will be as it should be, but where does that leave you?
That all depends on the choices you made or even had to make depending on circumstance. It’s most typically mothers who find themselves questioning their place in the world as children grow up. And that’s because it’s mostly mothers who reduce their working hours, or don’t go for that promotion, or step away from work altogether so that family life is not compromised beyond what is manageable. Because equality, however much it may be improving, is still a long way away when it comes to parental responsibilities.
Typically, who are we most likely to see at the school gates? Who are the creche or school most likely to ring when there’s a problem? Who do we see at the parent-teacher meetings and the vaccination appointments? Who are the people in the class WhatsApp groups? Who organises the birthday parties and hosts the playdates? And who did most of the homeschooling during the pandemic?
When she who has just graduated initially decided to pursue a law degree, with a view to a career practising law, one of my first thoughts was, ‘Oh, that’s not a very family-friendly job’
Herself, in frequent indignation, reminds me how differently I do things with her brothers. The different boundaries, the different freedoms, the different bedtimes and the different expectations. It’s never been a gender thing, you understand, that’s just coincidental. The brothers who follow closely behind her express equal indignation as their younger siblings get away with apparent murder.
Most recently, that murder has extended to I’m a Celebrity... Get Me Out of Here!. “We weren’t allowed to watch that at their age,” echoed the chorus after one of the younger children informed me, on my return from the shops, that a campmate had eaten a sheep’s vagina. I decided rather than berate myself for my lax parenting, I’d commend myself that they knew the proper body part names.
They’re right though – things are done differently, in some respects, with the younger children. What’s the point in living and learning, if you take nothing from it, I argue. You learn to pick your battles along the way, which is to the younger children’s benefit certainly. Plus, there’s only so many years of bedtime battles a person can endure.
I wonder a lot about the paths my children might take in life. Pondering their fabulous differences and resisting the urge to interfere, too much, in the choices they make. When she who has just graduated initially decided to pursue a law degree, with a view to a career practising law, one of my first thoughts was, “Oh, that’s not a very family-friendly job.” Will I instinctively think the same way when my boys share their plans? God I really hope so.
The youngest has a mop of curls. I sometimes bury my face in them when he sits on my lap. He’s learning his 9+ tables now.
One down, six to go. But what’s the hurry?