Village Raw - ISSUE 6

VILLAGE FAMILY
VILLAGE FAMILY
HAVE WE HAD
ENOUGH OF
PARENTING?
Words by Dr Emma Svanberg.
Illustration by Lobster and Pearls.
When I first started working with parents, my job was pretty
simple. People may have read one or two parenting “manuals”,
like Gina Ford or The Baby Whisperer, but generally
information came from family members, midwives, health
visitors and fellow parents. The phrase I talked about with
nearly everyone I saw was “This is not what I expected”.
People were shocked at how different the reality of parenting
was from their expectation that it would come naturally.
Those most frequently caring for their children – usually
mums – came to see me feeling surprised at the level of
need their babies had, the transformation of every part of
their lives, the loss of their identities. Partners were lost
too, not knowing how to be the parent they thought they
would be, and wondering what had happened to their relationship.
Both parents were coming into my room with the
baggage of their own childhood histories, wondering how
to come together again as a new unit.
Fast forward ten years, and we’re drowning in information
about parenting. There are too many books to read
in one lifetime, every newspaper has a parenting section
and there are endless blogs, influencers and coaches on
the subject. Instamums and celebrities like Chrissie Teigen
and Rachel McAdams have revealed the side of parenting
that usually stays behind closed doors. There are
not only documentaries about parenting, but TV shows
like The Letdown and Ali Wong’s Hard Knock Wife which depict
its realities (while leaving you crying with laughter).
So now, surely, we know what to expect? In that ten
years, are parents any less shocked? Have we smashed the
myth that parenting is easy? Are we united in a new belief
that parenting, like the rest of life, is full of ambivalence –
both joyous and despairing, often at the same time?
Well…no. Somehow the pressure has ramped up even
more. While we have revealed the truth that parenting
isn’t easy, we’ve simultaneously made it even harder. It’s
not surprising – many psychologists have identified that
we are living in a pandemic of perfectionism. This generation
of parents, brought up in the 80s with its emphasis
on competitiveness and individualism, have brought
that same level of self-scrutiny to parenting. It becomes
something which we can “get right”, rather than a lifelong
transition which we will never quite finish.
And alongside parenting, there is a new pressure too.
Even before the six-week check, parents talk about setting
up businesses while on maternity leave, getting back
into a fitness regime, or renovating a home. We have become
so driven by the need to be productive that it becomes
increasingly hard to focus in on the new person we
have just produced.
Somehow we have managed to talk (and talk) about
parenting without actually talking about parents. We talk
about parenting behaviours and assess them as choices
– when any parent will tell you that many of the actions
they take are often driven by necessity, not choice.
Perhaps, then, we need to start talking about parents.
What is it that happens to individuals when they
become parents? How does it feel to be responsible for
a new person in these highly turbulent times? How can
we support people in their parenting journey, either alone
or as a partnership? What needs to happen to reduce the
endless pressure on parents so that their only immediate
concern is getting to know their babies?
When we answer some of these questions, we move
away from viewing parenting as an activity. Not just a series
of tasks, but a shift in every part of our outer lives and
inner worlds. Then, as we create and nurture a new life, we
can start to see it for what it is – a transformation. •
Learn more about Emma and her work at: www.mumologist.com. Find her on
Instagram and Twitter as: @mumologist, or on Facebook as: themumologist
LAYING DOWN ROOTS
Words by Huma Qureshi.
Illustration by Lobster and Pearls.
People ask me often if we will ever move out of Crouch
End. They see our home – a modest apartment with a
lucky little garden – and they wonder how, as a small but
growing family of five, we all fit in it.
Our home is by no means diminutive and nor is it a
lesson in absolute puritan minimalism. But on an avenue
where most of the handsome Victorian homes offer up
twice, if not thrice, as much square footage (the majority
of them have not been carved into flat conversions as
ours has), it seems many people can’t understand why we
haven’t just left the area yet.
My husband and I moved to Crouch End when we were
expecting our first child six years ago. We were indeed
that cliché of the young couple from Islington, moving
for green spaces and baby-friendly cafes. It is the sort
of privilege that rightly makes people’s eyes roll – we are
incredibly lucky to live here and to be able to afford the
home we now have.
But when people ask if and when we will move, we
shake our heads and say: “We don’t know.” We say: “Not
yet.” It is not that we have not considered it, but skyhigh
property prices in our neighbourhood mean that
the sort of homes that might accommodate us while our
three little boys grow from preschoolers into teenagers
remain somewhat out of reach for now. So we stay put.
We make it work. We tell each other we’ll figure it out. And
besides, what we have is more than enough, because it is
our home. We have made it so, and love it dearly. We are
lucky to have it.
Still, there are days when I’m fed up – when our walls
feel more cramped than they really are, and I feel closed
in by small hands and limbs climbing all over me, wanting
something. There are days when even though it seems
like far too much effort, I still herd my small children and
their cumbersome bikes out the door not just so that they
can let off steam outside, but so that I may too. And it is
easy to do this in our little pocket of London because, as
I’ve written before, there is more than enough for us to
do. A short walk to the park is all it takes to reset a difficult
morning or a tricky afternoon. I see my five-yearold
catch his breath sharply on the zipwire, as though
he’s flying, his cheeks flushed by the thrill, and I realise
that’s all he needs to change his mood. Or we might take
a five-minute ride up the hill to our favourite cafe for a
treat – the sort of warm neighbourhood cafe where the
owner knows our names and always offers us a macaron
or two. On a good day, a hike (for that is what I believe it
must feel like, to a three-year-old) up to Alexandra Palace
to fly a kite or eat ice-cream feels as glorious as an entire
day out – and yet it is really just up the street.
It is not as though we have not been tempted by more
affordable prices outside of the city. Charmed by a weekend
away to Kent and astonished by the considerably
lower costs of homes there, we once went so far as to arrange
house viewings (entire houses!) and school tours.
But, well, none of it felt like home. None of it felt like here.
And so we stay, content with our lot – grateful for it
too. We have laid down roots here. It will be hard to ever
unearth them. I truly hope we shan’t have to. •
Huma is an author and blogs at: www.ourstorytime.co.uk
You can also follow her on social media: @ourstorytime
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