A typical (weekend) day in the life of a parent

There was a report or study or something a while back (yes, I know, I should really go and look it up, but I have to go and do some work and it would take me ages to find it and then the momentum would be gone, so perhaps one of you would like to be my research assistant and go and find it) that said that non-parents are consistently happier than parents. A lot of parents were disbelieving of this – who, having had children, would give up the joy they bring? Others nodded their heads, thinking back to their pre-children days and remembering how much easier and less stressful everything was. And still others marvelled at the media’s (and bloggers’) quickness to jump on some study or other to write a story.

The thing is, though, what they were talking about was being consistently happy (none of this is actually based on the research, by the way, it’s just me blathering on, so do take it with a pinch of salt). Being asked on any random day, at any random time, how happy they were and they’d consistently say they were happy. Parents on the other hand would be caught saying they were furious, stressed, sad, exhausted, blank, murderous… but also fantastic, on top of the world, content, happy…

Because a parent’s life can go from the deepest depths of despair to the highest heights of elation many, many times. In the same day. If you average out the happiness quotient, perhaps it would be a bit lower than the non-parents’ happiness quotient, but they just potter on being consistently content. Sure, they don’t have to deal with the despair and the fury, but they also don’t get to experience the wonder, amazement and sheer, absolute bliss that comes with children.

Today, I have had one of those days. It started with Rosemary being woken a bit too early by Eleanor (who was standing on the windowsill trying to get up to Rosemary’s top bunk, shouting ‘Ro Ro! Ro Ro! Ro Ro!’) and on my refusing to stay upstairs with her (because I had to let the dog out, make tea, feed Eleanor… not because I was being mean, honest) screaming, kicking and coming very close to throwing up. In essence she was having a meltdown not at all dissimilar to those Eleanor had been having in the middle of the night lately. She couldn’t be calmed down at all and trying to talk to her or cuddle her or do anything at all to help just made it worse. After a while, her breathing changed and she picked something funny to talk about and then she was fine. For the rest of the day (well, pretty much).

We then had a bit of nice playing and boiled eggs and soldiers for breakfast, before heading upstairs for the morning shower (which these days I get to share with Rosemary and Eleanor). This went pretty well and everyone’s hair got washed and rinsed with minimal tears. Dressing time came and it was achieved with only one change of mind from Rosemary (three or four are very more common) and only having to read four books and spend about ten minutes giving Eleanor ‘dot dot’.

Then, suddenly (it’s always sudden) I realised we were running late and had to get out of the door pretty damn quick, so I ran round gathering things together, being grateful that it wasn’t a school day and so I didn’t have to worry about snacks or book bags. At this point Rosemary decided she wanted to wear her (shiny new) school shoes, but she couldn’t find them. She got all the shoes out of the shoe box and left them in the middle of the floor. She refused to wear her ordinary (not so new, but still pretty shiny) purple shoes. She refused to look upstairs. I put all the shoes back. She looked in the living room but couldn’t find them. Until I went in too and spotted them on the sofa. We came back through to find that Eleanor had now pulled all the shoes out and left them in the middle of the room. I put them back again.

There then followed an hour-long walk to the new ballet venue. Through pouring rain. Many Quavers were fed to both children, as well as some other bits and pieces from the baker. We got there just on time, after the last 10-15 minutes being filled with ‘Are we going to be there soon? Is that it? Are we there yet?’ Ballet went fine and Eleanor had fun in the waiting room as usual. I even managed to change a poopy nappy in an ordinary toilet (i.e. no changing facilities) without covering myself in poo (enough to make me jump with joy these days). Then we had a pleasant walk into town with friends, and the added benefit of being shown a quicker route which should cut off at least 10, probably 15 minues, from our journey time.

We bought some nice things from the bakers – pasties, cream cakes and flapjack and ate them as we wandered home through the market (where I wished we hadn’t just bought pasties, because there much tastier looking ones there) and the churchyard (where Rosemary stopped to say hello to a friendly dog and two separate women offered to help me down the steps with the buggy. Eleanor was getting grizzlier and grizzlier, refusing most food bribes (even Quavers!) and finally climbed out of her buggy outside the library and would not get back in. At all. So I had to carry her and the shopping home while pushing the buggy and trying to keep Rosemary in sight and safe.

The afternoon was then pretty pleasant, with Chris putting Eleanor to sleep, Rosemary watching some TV and me cleaning up the kitchen a bit, followed by a lovely walk to the shop with Eleanor (she walked most of the way, and helped pick the shopping and also bought a treat for herself and Rosemary), where I marvelled out how easy one child can be to look after. The girls played together while I chopped salad and made cheesy pasta, coming through now and then to steal some cheese.

Dinner went well and Eleanor didn’t attempt to climb out of her highchair until she was properly finished. Rosemary only had a very minor meltdown at being refused ice cream and a few vitamins were ingested by them both (though Rosemary’s were in the form of some tomatoes she’d nicked while I was cooking rather than either the salad or the fruit salad that was on offer). 

Bath and bedtime went like clockwork, with Eleanor going to sleep perfectly for Chris and Rosemary and I reading about spiders (ewwwwwwww! and arrrrrrggggggh!!!!) and then a couple of story books, followed by a chapter of (? Can’t remember) with Chris.

And I came down to tidy the living room. You can tell it was a busy day, and one where the girls were here for most of it:

Even Wesley thought it had been tiring, and so he nabbed the cosy book corner while there was nowhere else to lie down:

Fortunately, it didn’t take long to set it straight (now that it’s all nicely organised):

And Wesley has is place on the sofa back:

This is a day in the life of a parent (well, this one, anyway) – mostly bobbing along, getting stuff done and keeping the children safe, healthy and stimulated, with the odd awfulness and screaming and stomping thrown in (and the occasional tantrum from one of the children, too) and now and then a moment of perfect, soaring happiness and love for the children.

What do you think? Are you consistently happier with children than you were before? Is your mood since becoming a parent a huge rollercoaster? Was our day something like your typical (weekend) day or did it sound like something from outer space?