“I’m not interested in other people’s boring lives!” my mother exclaims, as she turns from the computer screen where she has just been comparing interest rates on MoneySupermarket.com.
It is Saturday afternoon, and Mother is making her feelings clear on the small matter of blogging, which she considers to be marginally less interesting than comparing interest rates.
She does not like to read blogs; not mine, nor anyone else’s. Especially not mine.
“I’m going to start a blog!” she tells me the following day, quite out of the blue, as we are engaged in the not inconsiderable joint effort of pushing Piglet’s buggy up a hill in the boiling sunshine. “I’m going to write a blog, and it’s going to be all about how being a mum is not that bad. In fact, it’s the best job in the world!”
Yes. Yes it is. So here you are Mum, here are all the reasons why Being A Mother is the Best Job In The World.
salary cost is astronomical. Conception alone cost thousands (long story), but the finished product was well worth the investment. You don’t get that sort of return on MoneySupermarket.com.
2.) The hours are flexible. Usually
involving a few mostly night shifts here and there. Apparently you’re supposed to sleep when the customer sleeps. Not useful when they won’t nap unless you’re pushing them in a pram.
3.) The healthcare benefits are fantastic. Making it through pregnancy and childbirth intact is near-nigh impossible, then there is the small matter of never getting a full night’s sleep ever again. Does wonders for the complexion. Wonders what happened to my youth.
4.) The dress code is casual. Casual enough to get away with indeterminate stains on everything.
5.) The social life is non-stop. All networking and communication takes place over the internet, usually on a phone, while the toddler breastfeeds. I can’t remember the last time I saw a friend in real life.
However, I wouldn’t be without it, any of it.
I recently read an article about mothers who regret having children. I didn’t read the comments underneath it, but my general impression is that these kind of sentiments tend to be regarded with marginally more horror than would greet a piece hailing the joys of cannibalism. Indeed, it seems as though admitting that motherhood is not always the best job in the world might be somehow breaking the secret code of motherhood.
For my part, I don’t regret having a child. On the contrary, I love it more and more each day, but I accept that not everyone feels this way one hundred per cent of the time, and that’s OK. Being a mother is amazing. It’s the best job I’ve ever done, and the best I ever will do (I’m assuming that I’m not going to suddenly turn into Beyoncé overnight), but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Anything that calls itself a “job” rarely is.
Similarly, I quite often moan about other things in my life-my real job, the one that pays the bills, my failure to have nailed a house and a husband within the accepted timeframe, living with my mother. That doesn’t mean that I don’t also appreciate those things; that I realise I am lucky to have a job that I enjoy, a roof over my head and a mother to share the joys of childcare. It just means I’m human, and we all like a bit of a whinge.
And Mum, it IS the best job in the world, but no one wants to read about that. It’s just my boring life.