Having kids is much more fun than parents make out

WE COMPLAIN so much about how hard life is after kids that we’re scaring childless people away. It’s time to reassess the message.

A MEMO to fellow parents of young children:

I’m starting to worry that we’re doing a truly terrible PR job.

Our performance hasn’t yet reached catastrophic birth-rate-dropping-off-a-cliff levels but if we were actually being employed to market parenthood to the masses? The termination of our collective contract would be imminent.

Last week I was having lunch with a group of friends, most of whom have kids, when one of our number announced that his partner is pregnant. “Wonderful news!” We all chorused, ordering another round of flat whites to celebrate. Before proceeding to warn our mate of the abject horror that lies before him.

Say goodbye to long luxurious brunches and weekends with nothing in particular planned. Prepare to sacrifice half your income on nappies, childcare fees, and overpriced prams. Forget about listening to music you like, The Wiggles and the ‘womb noises’ setting on the baby sleep app are the new soundtrack of your life.

Welcome to tantrums, latching issues, constant whining and a complete lack of privacy. Sex will become a distant memory because on the rare occasion that one of you is in the mood, the other will be too tired. And speaking of tired … have we mentioned yet that you will NEVER SLEEP AGAIN? EVER.

It was a sick, indulgent pleasure to scare him in this way. We relished the opportunity to complain about how tough parenting can be to an uninitiated newbie. Rolling our eyes at one another in solidarity, smug in the knowledge that our unsuspecting childless mate couldn’t possibly get it. Well, not yet, anyway.

A few days later I caught up with a colleague from a previous job. We’d worked together before I became a mum. She hugged me tight when I arrived, looked meaningfully into my eyes and said, “You look really, really well”.

It was as if I’d recently recovered from a prolonged illness. There was pity and concern in her expression. It took me a moment to realise she was referring to my not-so-recently-acquired status as a parent.

“How is it going?” she asked, after a suitable period of small talk. “It must be incredibly hard. You know, I’ve always wanted a family but sometimes I’m honestly not sure if I could do it. Or if I even want to do it anymore.”

Holy mackerel, we’ve scared the non-breeders off entirely.

Jamila Rizvi with her son.

For as long as the world can remember, bitching about parenting — particularly motherhood — has been off limits. Children were to be cherished, pregnant women protected, and the miracle of life was not a burden but a blessing, and all that.

You weren’t supposed to confess that raising a family is actually incredibly hard work. You weren’t supposed to complain.

So the mothers of times gone by pushed through, stoic in their silence. When women began entering the workforce in large numbers — and realised that paid work was comparatively easier than child rearing — things began to change.

We started becoming more honest about parenting. The internet created new communities where parents could gather together, joke, bitch and laugh at how tough looking after little people can be. Honesty gave way to camaraderie.

It became socially acceptable to admit that entertaining a child all day can be deathly dull. Complaining about lack of sleep and fantasies of running away to the nearest cocktail bar and never looking back became a method of parental bonding. So we did more of it, and more of it and more and more and more until … many of us simply forgot to talk about the good stuff at all.

I don’t write this to be preachy. Becoming a mum is unquestionably the most difficult thing I have ever done.

Less than 14 days into my son’s time on this planet, I may or may not have sobbed to my husband that I’d ruined my life. Those first few months made it abundantly clear to me why sleep deprivation is a torture device. There are days when the grind of toddler-wrangling utterly grind me down.

I am most definitely guilty of scaring non-parents about what’s to come.

And yes, I’ve enjoyed doing it.

But becoming a parent has also been the single best thing that has ever happened to me. My kid brings joy and delight to the everyday. I am rediscovering the world through his eyes, finding the exceptional in the ordinary and marvelling at it all.

My husband and I laugh more than we ever did before our kid was born. And speaking of my husband, I’ve fallen in love with him all over again, watching him become a dad.

So, fellow parents of small people, next time you’re having a whine, or a bitch, or a vent to someone without kids: Try to remember the good stuff. Don’t pull back on your complaining because gosh dammit, toilet training is the very definition of hell on earth. But just try to throw in some of the good stuff as well.

The parents of the future will thank you for it when it’s their turn.

Jamila Rizvi is writer, radio presenter and news.com.au columnist. Her first book, Not Just Lucky is available now. You can also follow her on Facebook and Twitter.