Thanks for your email, Janet.

No need to apologise for your message being a short one. I have been writing short, unpunctuated, slighty illiterate, staccato emails since Timshel returned to ‘work’ ten days ago. Naps are the only chance to write. Ten days of lovingly reading my golden-haired cherub a golden-book, singing sweet lullabies until his eyelids grow heavy, and then sprinting like buggery to get to the laptop.

I have been thinking a bit about parenting lately and have come to the conclusion that parents rock. I think they are wonderful. (Naturally, I include myself in this sweeping generalisation.)
It’s just that parenting is such bloody hard work! That had been my experience, but living with our Edinburgh family (mum, dad, 3 kids) made me realise that no, I wasn’t doing it wrong: it really is long hours and hard yakka. Daniel, Robert and Francis are 10, 8, and 4 respectively and although they are really well-behaved (and gorgeous) kids, the work of parenting still keeps their parents (David and Marie Lousie) busy until about 9.00-9.30 at night. I would put Reuben to bed at 8, collapse in a relieved heap to watch Scottish television dramas and notice that they were still at it!

It’s not just the hours either, it’s the constant caring for other people bit that I admire. David (the Dad) came back from staffing a school camp REALLY EXCITED because he had had a cooked breakfast appear magically on his table every morning. He was like “I didn’t even have to cook it, it would just ‘appear!’” I so understood his reaction: after a year of grappling with the fact that I have to get breakfast for myself and OTHER people EVERY morning, I can understand that it’s not just the scrambled eggs he appreciated, it’s the fact that HE didn’t have to scramble them.
Just as I began asking myself “What makes normal people give up their freedom to tolerate a ‘work-fun” ratio of 1:25?” I realised it’s a dodgy question to ask because parenting is great fun. It’s just a more in-house kind of fun, than say, sea-kayaking.

I’m 14 months into the role of parenting, loving it, but still casting wistful looks at the kayak in the corner. “Vanuatu’s only 500km off the coast of NSW…” So I’m impressed that most parents seem to put in the hours quietly and constantly without (or despite) a lust for grass skirts and blue seas. I think they deserve a cup of tea and a good lie down. And a trip to Vanuatu.

Sorry I can’t be there to make you a cup of tea.
Love Shelley.

p.s. attached is photo of your baby girl casually eating grass.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, February 28th, 2006 at 10:17 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Responses are currently closed, but you can trackback from your own site.