I have recently noticed an alarming trend. It seems like women are being publicly applauded for complaining about parenthood. And dads, well, aren't. At all.
A decade or so ago, complaining mums were revolutionary, as evidenced by the overwhelmingly negative reaction to Ayelet Waldman's 2005 essay in which she admitted loving her husband more than her kids. The hugely popular website www.scarymommy.com, started in 2008, is the paradigmatic confessional mummy site, and there are thousands more blogs and articles confessing and, increasingly, celebrating being imperfect mothers, including the sites "People I Want to Punch in the Throat," "Honest Toddler," and even my own article "I'm Just Not That Into Toddlers, Including My Own."
In other words: Mummy guilt seems to be on its way out, shepherded by the honesty in the blogosphere and, more recently, by books like All Joy and No Fun by Jennifer Senior. The mum confessional zeitgeist has grown so dramatically that it is barely a trend anymore. Rather, it's ushering in of a new era of honesty and self-disclosure for mums. This is all wonderful news, and I hope that mommy guilt is vestigial by the time my daughters may decide to become mums.
But what about my son? One thing I have noticed as a clinical psychologist in private practice is that men are increasingly less able to voice negative feelings about parenting, even ones that are entirely understandable. Imagine being at a play date and hearing someone say, "God, I needed a drink all day today. The kids were behaving terribly, I couldn't deal." You're picturing a mum, right?
However, what if the speaker is a dad? The question is moot because I have yet to hear a dad complain this openly and honestly about his kids, and this is not for lack of trying. Dads don't even take the conversational bait. If asked to commiserate about parenting, the average mom breathes a sigh of relief and sits forward in her seat, but the average dad looks around like he's on Candid Camera and gives a vague answer about having lots of fun sitting around watching dance class through a two way mirror for the 15th week in a row.