I’m a grandmother, not a child carer. I did the job the first time around

As Baby Boomers prepare for their final act, it is hard to ignore the recent musings on the role of grandparents. From the op-ed pages to the glossy lifestyle inserts readers have been privy to, an inexhaustible amount of “joy and wonder” at returning to the grind of looking after small, helpless human beings.

Well before our adult children settled down with their life partners, I made it very clear that while the prospect of being a grandmother would be something I might enjoy, I would not be available for child care.

The cuddles are nice, but caring for small children is mostly abject drudgery.Credit: Getty Images/iStockphoto

To be clear, I am talking about 8am to 6pm babysitting carried out mostly by women (grandmothers) well over 65 years of age sometimes several days a week while parents work their day jobs.

As parents, a good part of my life and that of my husband’s has been dedicated to raising our own three children and neither of us wish to take on that level of responsibility again.

Furthermore, I resent the fact that despite the equal involvement of said partner during those years and now as grandparents, the expectation is that I alone, by virtue of my sex, should somehow be participating in child care on a regular basis.

According to the federal government’s gender equality strategy, statistics continue to confirm the stereotype that care work is predominantly undertaken by women and that this is something they do “for the love of it rather than money or recognition”.

But rebelling against the status quo is not the primary reason for either of us not providing care for our progeny. The truth is we simply don’t like it.

Caring for preschool kids, particularly under the age of four, is a relentless regime of feeding, sleeping, nappy changing, wiping, cleaning, carrying, rocking, vomit, dribble, teething pain, temperatures, sickness, reading mindless picture books, playgrounds and trying to decipher baby babble.

Yes, the cuddles are lovely, but not enough to outweigh the abject drudgery of it all.

Nor would it be acceptable to replicate my own mother’s version of grandmother care (not that I blame her for an instant) – that of plonking the kids in front of the TV all day while they sucked on tubes of condensed milk.

We see ourselves as grandparents only and, as such try to provide our now eight grandchildren (yes, multiply that number by the years of care we would need to provide to be fair to all) with experiences such as going to the theatre, camping, and the occasional sleepover while their busy parents enjoy some respite.

You only have to scratch the surface of a beleaguered grandmother who is spending exhausting hours tending to toddlers to witness the outpouring of resentment.

To add insult to injury, they also complain of the thanklessness of the job: the unbridled criticism from adult children for not doing things the “correct” way.

Oh, and don’t be fooled by the contributions written by old men waxing lyrical about their newly found love of kiddy care. This lot, by their own admission, never lifted a finger when their own children were young but now expect to receive a sainthood for suddenly changing a nappy.

You may think my apathetic attitude runs the risk of my adult children not reciprocating with aged care when I’m old and infirm.

Recent studies also confirm that women of all ages spend far more time than men caring for, and co-ordinating the care of not only children but also elderly parents and those with disabilities.

As much as I love and respect my two sons, I am not so naive as to think that the burden of our aged care wouldn’t fall heavily on our only daughter.

I don’t want my darling girl condemned to the inevitability of the “sandwich years” as they are so quaintly referred to — the time when women, after raising children of their own (in my daughter’s case, four) are automatically consigned the care of grandchildren and ageing parents.

By this time, our daughter will be menopausal, worn out and working hard to pay down a mortgage. It is also likely she will still have adult children living at home.

It is startling to see the lop-sided statistics about women embracing paid work outside of the home with the commensurate lack of enthusiasm from men in entering the unpaid, under-appreciated domestic realm.

It’s time for women to ignore the guilt, defy expectations and down tools for a well-earned rest. Now that’s anarchy!

Avril Moore is a Melbourne writer.

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