No. 1:

Act very deeply concerned or worried whenever they start telling you things.

No. 2:

Become impatient and short tempered. Demand that they get to the point.

No. 3:

Fire a series of questions at them about their issues, machine-gun style.

No. 4:

Say mm, mm, without making eye contact and perhaps while looking at your phone. If they persist, you could mutter, "Important work email," and hastily leave the room.

No. 5:

Offer a lot of advice even – indeed, especially! – if they didn't ask for any. Pieces of advice can start off, "Why don't you just...?"

No. 6:

Start flapping about like a panicking mongoose (this one is my usual go-to).

No. 7:

Sigh audibly.

No. 8:

Say, "Can we talk about this later?" And then completely forget.

No. 9:

Yell, "I can't deal with this!" and leave the room, slamming the door.

No. 10:

Say dramatically, "I've ruined your life!" and start crying.

No. 11:

Say gently, "Do you think you might be overreacting?" or, "Perhaps you're being a little bit too sensitive?"

No. 12:

Remind them that they were having a problem with something else just last week.

To get this into perspective

While it isn't ideal if we're reacting in these ways when our children need us, it is quite understandable.

When we were children

Did our own parents react in any of these ways to us, when we were young? For most, the answer is yes.

Now we are parents

If you're a parent, have you ever done any of those things I wrote above? I'm sorry to admit that I have. More than one of them, arrrgh!

So, if we know these reactions probably aren't very helpful – why is it still happening?

The State of the Nation

Most main-carer parents are exhausted and depleted just from daily life. The logistics, the practicalities, the being constantly ‘on’, and the general drudgery and hauling stuff about.

This person is tasked with keeping everyone happy, the family on an even keel, and – as much as possible – making sure everyone gets considered and listened to. They to be available, smile a lot, act up-beat – even when their legs are shaking and they still have two tons of shopping to unpack and the dinner to cook.

In a nutshell, they have to put everyone’s experience above their own, while, in most cases, there's no one there who's able to return the favour.

The hardest thing, I feel, is that all this labour isn’t considered "work". We have this paradoxical notion that if something isn’t paid, it’s not work. This translates to: if you’re not getting paid, you’re actually not working.

(I’m sure there’s a word for this, conceptually – oh yes, a tautology!)

So there you are, thinking you must be hallucinating this alternate reality where you have zero free time and are chronically, permanently, exhausted. Hallucinating because you are... uh... actually not working. And if you ever try and talk about your plight, people act a little bit surprised, even irritated. Though if they're the sort who like to be helpful, they might suggest you try some yoga or ask you if your kids don’t ‘help’.

On top of this situation, where main-carer parents are not just completely exhausted and demoralised but also feeling faintly (or completely) like we must be nuts, come the children. Needing things. Difficult things – like complex emotional support!

I hope all this goes to explain why we must never, ever blame ourselves for not always having been able to listen to our children in those moments.

Main-carer parents really need money, time, and proper recognition for what we do. If we had those things in adequate supply, we could provide that much-needed emotional support to our children without risking a complete burnout of our own – which would, of course, serve nobody.

My follow-up article to this one, on how to get your children to talk to you about things that are important to them, can be read on the Jessica Kingsley Publishing blog, here.

Images reprinted in this article with permission from the photographer as follows:
1. Mid Morning Break 1, Diane Wildowsky
2. Mid Morning Break 2, Diane Wildowsky