Shit on my hands

MH

On the news the other night was a story about Summernats which, in case you are unaware, is a celebration of noisy, fumey car culture held annually in Canberra. If you are the kind of woman who prefers not to walk past mobs of men in Jack Daniels singlets yelling in unison ‘SHOW US YA TITS!!!’ then you are unlikely to have ever attended said event. Interestingly however, as the news report related, the new owner of Summernats is trying to make the whole shebang more family friendly by cordoning off the hard drinkers into designated areas so kiddies and sensitive ladies can peruse the show ‘n’ shines in relative peace. These changes did not impress my hubby, however. Even as he was spoon-feeding T her tuna/pumpkin/pasta combo, he was heard to exclaim (startling the little darlin’ in the process) ‘THERE’S TOO MANY FUCKING FAMILY FRIENDLY EVENTS THESE DAYS! WHERE THE HELL ARE ALL THE DRUNKEN BOGANS MEANT TO GO!!!’ Which aside from making me think he may be somewhat craving a life separate from respectable middle-class fatherhood, got me thinking about what seems to be a marked rise in resentment towards parents, babies and children – and how they encroach on the space of everyone else. Commonly this is expressed in outrage at prams. They’re too big, they clog up footpaths and cafés, and they’re just status objects. One gent I know posted on Facebook that he had to leave a daytime street festival early because there were too many prams. Jeepers! Lacking a bit of resilience there, mate? Lucky you’ll never have to give birth. And people without children rail and complain about parents not keeping their offspring under control and stop them being, well, children. Newsflash: toddlers are not robots – they are messy crazy fuckups – who in twenty years will be likely paying via their taxes for your aged care. It’s just that at this stage it’s them, not you, shitting spectacularly in public places. A popular blogger, whose entire day had apparently been ruined by a kid dropping his guts, suggested that he should be incinerated. Of course she was joking, but it was a violent sentiment just the same. Of course, I’m probably just noticing this stuff since I had a baby. I’m sure it was much worse for parents, particularly mothers, in the past when they couldn’t go bloody anywhere with the kids except the park and milk bar. Sure, parents are deluded if they think they can continue to pursue their pre-breeding pursuits. The reality is that you can’t take an eighteen-month-old to Vue de monde or a Brecht play, or a 6-week-old to a university seminar. Others will hate you and your night will just end up shit and stressful. But surely we can push a pram around a daytime street festival and perhaps get a little sympathy, rather than pursed lips and glares, when junior cacks his dacks on the tram?