SAFFIYAH EDOO
336 days. This is how long I stayed with kids, day in, day out and I am done. Sanctimummies and daddies, please hold your horses. This has nothing to do with my love for them or the fact that they need to be kept safe at all costs (I’ve been doing that since the first one was in utero). But mostly, it has to do with the fact that my patience, as parent, has been stretched beyond its limits. While some have taken the situation in stride, others have struggled. As part of the latter group, I, for one, could not wait for the three of them to be off to their respective schools and lives without me into it for a few hours of the day to erupt into celebration mode. But more seriously, not having them in mine for a few hours of the day frankly looks like an oasis right now, and I cannot wait to reach it.
336 days gone by, taking one step at a time, some days bright and airy, others dark and gloomy, or others like being in a cave without a way out. And, still, we put that one foot in front of the other, hoping that the next day will be one day closer to the one where we can reclaim ourselves, our lives, as individuals, for it’s easy to lose sight that parents are individuals à part entière. We do not exist only by virtue of being the mum or dad of a child/ren. Part of our identity is indeed defined by parenthood, but we are so much more, and we need space to express our individuality in any manner that may be. Otherwise, we risk losing our identity and ourselves in the process.
Society has conditioned parents, mothers especially, to suck it up and do the job: take care of the baby, wake up nights, breastfeed, do the household chores, impart knowledge and good manners (let’s not forget the ‘to mama pann montre twa manier’?…emphasis on ‘mama’…), look good and be fit, all without an ounce of complaint, because isn’t motherhood great, the greatest job in the world? It is, among, yes. But along with the long-term rewards, it is also incredibly taxing on the best of days. And on the worst, as we have experienced, it makes you question yourself, your sanity, your role in the family, your place in society, but most importantly, it sometimes makes you fail to recognize who you have become when you look at yourself in the mirror with uncompromisingly honest eyes.
For my part, juggling three growing personalities, some bigger and more opinionated than the others, catering to their different individualities (for we do not want to cast our children in a one-size-fits-all mold) 24/7 for a little less than a year has taken its toll. On “normal” days, when leaving them on their own for a little while would have been unthought of, for the sake of my sanity and ultimately theirs, I had to take a breather, go for a walk, go meet other adults, to finally have some adult conversations that did not center around “have you sent the homework due”, “tidy your room”, “I’m hungry” or “I am bored” for even half an hour. The good it did was tremendous, and it was much needed for me to reboot, to be able to give back.
While much has been said, and rightly so, about the mental health of children and the need for them to go back into their classrooms and among their peers, that of parents has been much less talked about. It is time we acknowledged that not everybody experiences parenthood the same way, its realities should not be sugarcoated. The hard and dark part of parenthood cannot be taboo for fear of judgment; it imperatively needs to be talked about. We often lose sight that parents are rearing little people, who have their own minds, thoughts, personalities. And sometimes, as parents, our own personalities clash with the little ones’, thus becoming a real challenge. Our approach to same determines our relationship with the child, how we view ourselves as parents, and the kind of adults they will ultimately become.
If we are to be honest, we need to admit to ourselves that while we are a figure of authority in their lives, we need to give them space to grow into who they are as individuals and not impose ourselves and our views on life on them. In “normal” times, the majority of us are able to do that, because the “burden” does not rest only on our shoulders; we share our children with their teachers, their peers and other people in their lives. But in the 336 days that have gone by, we have found ourselves on our own with them, which means that the void created by the lack of interaction with others had to be filled in one way or the other, and by only one or two persons, that is, parents. And if we continue on that path of honesty towards ourselves, we need to admit that we, as parents, cannot do it all, by ourselves, in the best interests of our children. We need help, we need assistance, we need the village.
Yesterday, I joined many other parents in waving goodbye to my children as they made their way back to school, heaving a huge sigh of relief. We definitely felt the silence and emptiness in the house, but it also came with the relief that some kind of balance is being restored, not only for them, but also for us. While some of us went to work, finally without having to worry about what the kids are doing back home, or some were finally able to work from home without constant interruption, others took a moment to breathe, and acknowledged unapologetically, that it feels so incredibly good to be without kids.
