British Mom's "My Kids Bore Me" Essay

Not long ago I was searching for articles that had to do with motherhood and came across an essay by a British writer: "Sorry, But My Children Bore Me To Death!"

I read it and the follow-up comments, and thought it was just an odd thing I'd turned up in my clicking around online. Then today our local paper featured it on the front page of the "Living" section: "Saying the Unsayable, British mother's essay sets off a new skirmish in the Mommy Wars." I didn't know it had made such a widespread, controversial splash.

I re-read it and thought about it some more. I wonder, Is she exaggerating for effect as a writer, or does she truly feel those negative feelings to the extent that she describes?

I think her phrasing and outrageous statements are what stirred up the extreme reactions. In my opinion, the way she's written this has made it as much about her view of children in general as it is about her feelings as a mom. She almost seems to relegate children to substandard beings, disrespecting them as persons. In the opening paragraphs, she talks about how boring every birthday party or children's outing was when her kids were little. She'd respond to invitations by saying she couldn't spare the time and send the nanny in her place. While the children were at the parties, she was out running errands. "I confess that I was probably ogling the merchandise at Harvey Nichols or having my highlights done instead. Of course I love my children as much as any mother, but the truth is I found such events so boring that I made up any excuse."

The editors ask readers to respond to whether or not Helen is "selfish." I don't know about selfishness, but this woman's writing causes me to question whether or not she even respects the precious, unique, expressive human beings who are developing under her watch. I'm not saying she should have to stay home with them or attend every one of those parties. I'm just wondering if she believes children at those stages are remarkable even when to us their ideas may seem trite or "below" our "superior," adult minds (I write this facetiously to illustrate how she comes across). She talks about avoiding them. "To be honest, I spent much of the early years of my children's lives in a workaholic frenzy because the thought of spending time with them was more stressful than any journalistic assignment I could imagine."

The early years with my children were indeed stressful, especially when we had three kids in a row. I don't argue her that. I did enjoy every solitary outing as a refreshing break from days that seemed monotonous. I tried to keep writing as a part-time occupation so that my thoughts weren't exclusively on pureed peas and diaper genies. I believe that the daily demands of parenting can feel boring at times--but the kids themselves boring?

Regardless of what a mom chooses (staying at home, working full- or part-time, from home or away, etc.), she can respect her children as people, whether she delegates their care, education, language development, safety, interaction, etc., to others or does it herself. I guess this woman has me concerned that she is bored with them because of how she views them. She writes, "While all my girlfriends were dropping important careers and occupying their afternoons with cake baking, I was begging the nanny to stay on, at least until she had read my two a bedtime story."

Later in the article she talks about how so many parents live child-centered lives and that kids are overscheduled--she states that sometimes it's good to let them be bored. I agree with this to some extent--my job as a mom is not to be the source of continuous entertainment or even educational activities for my kids.

(I do, by the way, think it's funny that she's played around with the idea of boredom...does she realize that her kids may find her supposedly vibrant adult world boring? My kids sometimes find my grownup conversations desperately dull.)

The occasional days when my kids claim they are bored, I might make a few suggestions that give them an idea or two. Then they head off and often find themselves greatly entertained (and often learning new things). So letting kids be bored forces them to be creative and take initiative. I don't argue her on that point, but I won't use it to justify avoiding or ignoring my own kids, which seems to be the main reason she included it.

She offers this toward the end, in her concluding remarks:

"Frankly, as long as you've fed them, sheltered them and told them they are loved, children will be fine. Mine are — at the risk of sounding smug — well-adjusted, creative children who respect the concept of work.

"They also accept my limitations. They stopped asking me to take them to the park (how tedious) years ago."

Sounds like she's covered the first three levels on Maslow's hierarchy of needs: food, shelter, and love...at least she's telling them they're loved. I guess that's enough. It's a bare minimum, I suppose.

But I shouldn't be too critical, as I have found myself craving adult conversation on many occasions. I've dreamed of developing a full-time writing career. I've grown weary of reading Dr. Suess books (clever as they may be on the first or second reading, they get old after four kids and 12 years of review).

But I respect that when my daughter needs to describe every moment of her school day for a full twenty minutes nonstop, that's important. I might feel bored, but this is her world. I need to respect it. I respect her. When one of my kids wants to explain step-by-step how she assembled an erector set ferris wheel, I try to pay attention--she's working things out and learning in that repetition. When my son wants me to read "Green Eggs and Ham" one more time, I settle next to him on the floor, flip open the book, take a deep breath, and begin: "I am Sam....Sam I am...." Words, connections, ideas, synapses, language, writing, reading, they're all flashing around up there in that mind of his. I respect that. I love that. And most of the time, I'm not bored by that.

And come to think of it, I think I'll take him to the park. He'll try the monkey bars and call out, "Mom! Watch me! Watch me!" over and over and over. I might find it tedious now and then, but he won't, and I respect that. I love that. I love him, and sitting at the park and watching intently as he works those arms and swings those legs to catch the next bar is a great moment. He knows I'm there, that he's safe, that he's loved. I'll grin and wave. I'll give him a thumbs up and nod approval. I won't be bored.

He's our last child. These are the last years with early readers and monkey bars.

Suddenly, nothing seems boring. Nothing at all.