The other guys

A lot of this blog's focus has been on what I've colloquially referred to as "The Breeder Wars". That butting of heads between me and parents who (in my opinion) are products of society's trendy view of child bearing and raising. The ones who I think place too great a demand on the rest of the world, have too much expectation, and have an over inflated sense of success. But today, I'm not talking about them.

There are parents out there that I truly admire. Not because their kids have Montessori or Waldorf educations, not because they only use organic local grass fed hand massaged beef, and not because they're hipsters that make their kids listen to everything on vinyl and shun anything known by more than 50 people. In fact, the parents I admire probably don't get noticed all that much. They blend into the background, minding their own business, doing their own thing. They apologize if they bump into you with the baby carriage, they always make sure their kids are fed/entertained/looked after in the least obtrusive way they can and are just about always mindful of their surroundings. I want to talk about 2 concrete examples of this.

We'll start with J. She and I met online years ago. We don't hang out, we're not the "Oh gosh, we should catch up" types. We check in on each other now and then, we enjoy the occasional conversation when we have the time and inclination. We read each other's blogs (sort of) and we like knowing what the other is up to. We are the quintessential Facebook friends. Last year, while standing in line getting some lunch, I heard a voice that sounded familiar. I looked over and there was J, 7 months pregnant. I had no idea. Despite the fact that J and I aren't in each other's inner circles, in this world of social media information sharing, I was taken aback that a major life event like this was unknown to me. "Well, this is new!" I said, looking at her belly. She explained how she and her spouse had decided not to advertise it publicly online. I don't remember if I thanked her out loud, but an overwhelming sense of respect and admiration came over me. J never cared much for trends or doing what everyone else is doing (one of the reasons why she's awesome) and the fact that she chose not to make her pregnancy into a spectacle was something I admired.

Then there's F and C. They beat the odds when C got pregnant, so this was a "miracle baby" of sorts. F and I worked together for the better part of 2 years (with a small gap in between), so I saw him every day. Not once did he complain about having to be up late, about looking after C when she wasn't doing well, or about the inherent stresses and difficulties of being a new parent. He'd show up for work and trudge through his day, coffee in hand, then go home and look after his family. Whenever I'd see C (either during pregnancy or after the little one was born), I'd always ask how she's doing. She'd give a quick rundown of how things were at home and then gloss over everything, shrug her shoulders and flash a smile as if to say "but you don't want to hear about that!". They talk about the little one and their family life, but they don't make it the one and only focus of every conversation. I find that respectful and refreshing.

My point is that I don't have issues with parents indiscriminately. I don't denounce everyone who has or wants children. There are certain behaviours that I dislike. There are facets of parenthood that I'm far less tolerant of than others. But at the end of the day, there are some parents I can't criticize. They're not be the spotlight parents who are on everyone's radar. They're not sensationalist attention grabbers who either receive unreasonable amounts of attention, or demand it. They are not the the divas, the mom- and dad-zillas. They're the other guys. They're the unsung heroes. They're my friends.

The good kind of dirty

It's 2012, and the industrialized world is driven by social media. Most of us use Facebook, Twitter, Google+, Instagram, LinkedIn, Pinterest and a host of other sites where we can communicate our thoughts, likes and dislikes with other people. This blog is a perfect example. But with social media comes the inevitability of trends and memes, where you'll see the same thing posted by multiple people. This image is one iteration of something I've seen posted by many parents:

Sometimes it's an image, sometimes it's a typed out status. All of them point to the same thing: that having a house that looks like a tornado tore it apart is ok if you have children. Now before anyone hangs me out to dry, I want to say I know kids can be messy. I was terrible for not picking up my toys as a child. Even as an adult, I tend to put off doing dishes or cleaning up Nonetheless, I disagree with the above statement for a few reasons.

Generalization

This message of a messy home and happy kids is one of those statements that fosters a sense of community and solidarity amongst parents, because it's justification. Parents with messy homes don't feel so bad because other parents have messy homes, so it must be ok. It's a common thread in any subculture: If the herd does it, then it must be right.

There are some who flat out hop on the bandwagon because it gives them an excuse. An acquaintance of mine knows someone (we'll call her M) who is just such a person. Statements like this one give her an excuse to not do housework, so she has more time to play on her laptop while the kids are being raised by the television. Being selfish and attention-loving as she is, M will brag about not putting any time into the housework because she's looking after her family. She is the exception, not the rule, and I realize that. It's still a sad situation all around.

Causality

The statement implies that the messy house is because of the happy kids. In other words, dedicating more time to family life while sacrificing time spent doing chores. That is invariably seen as an acceptable trade off, because there is nothing more important than taking care of the kids. It's a noble sentiment in and of itself, but I find it too absolute.

I grew up in a clean house. Not a spotless one, but a clean one. My toys were put away when I was done at the end of the day (much to my chagrin), the dishes were done, any dirty laundry was in the hamper. The house looked lived in, for sure, but it wasn't a wreck. Nowadays, I see so many houses that require you to watch where you step for fear of putting your foot in a plate of food left on the floor, or stepping on a toy, spare battery, set of keys, fork, stray shopping bag or whatever else that was left where it was set down. I lived as a bachelor for 9 years, and my apartment never even came close to looking like that (and bachelors are notorious for being slobs). Maybe the times are different.

My mother was a stay at home mom until I was about 9 or 10 so when I was very young, she was home all day and in the evening, she and my dad would take turns taking care of me while the other one cooked/cleaned. I also have a brother who is 5 years older than I am. That was a large enough gap that they didn't have to watch us both with the same diligence. My brother could be left to his own devices while they cared for me. He could even help look after me. So it's entirely possible that my personal experience has clouded my judgement. I also have no memory before the age of 4. Perhaps my house was a pig sty during my toddlerhood (Is that a word? It sounds like it should be a word).

If you don't feel like dusting or doing dishes or putting away laundry, be my guest. It's your house. If you don't mind having your belongings strewn about your house where every day is a scavenger hunt, go for it. Honestly, I won't judge so long as it doesn't become a hazard and no one's safety is at risk. But don't tout yourself as a super parent because your stove top is a mess or because your socks are hanging form the ceiling fan. That's something M would do, and I don't want any parent to turn into M.