It’s the pressure, you see.
You might have secretly loved the past two months.
Waking up on a Saturday morning and not having to shove toast down a kid’s throat with one hand, while lacing up soccer boots with the other. Not trying to find the AFL vest at the bottom of a slightly stinky, damp washing heap while fighting rising anxiety about the gentle greying of karate whites.
Watch: Horoscopes Homeschooling Their Kids. Post continues below.
You might have loved that you were able to eat dinner at a reasonable time at the table with the kids most nights because you weren’t working late at the office and they weren’t at jujitsu/French/macrame until 7.30.
You might have secretly fist-pumped at having an entire weekend free of making small-talk with adults you don’t know, around a supermarket birthday cake studded with Smarties.
Shouting across an indoor play-place blasting Senorita so loudly you swear the perky young staff are all secretly wearing earplugs and just smiling and nodding at you in unison.
But it’s the pressure, you see.
It’s possible, of course, that many of us are over-scheduled.
That we’ve internalised the adage that a busy kid is a happy kid, a kid who’s out of trouble. That middle-class parents think that tutoring is not a choice, but simply table-stakes for giving your children ‘the best start’. We may have lost sight of the fact we don’t need to accept every invitation and reciprocate with one of our own. We may have been guilted into making sure every kid in the class is at the party, and that our kid in turn is at all of the other kids’ celebrations, whether they all know each other or not.
It’s possible we know all that, but it’s the pressure, you see.
Because what if we tried to hold on to some of the ‘good’ things we’ve learned about the quiet life, but no-one else did?