I’ve been thinking about parenting in various ways lately, kicked off by various posts. I’ve even written a couple of posts. These have mostly been to do with the roles of mothers and fathers, the societal pressures to stick to reasonably traditional roles (ie mother as primary childcarer and homemaker, father as breadwinner).
I want to partly continue with that theme, but mix in something a bit different.
What got me thinking was this article, which discusses social care for older people in the UK, and the particular problems that older men face. It was this part of the article (some way down) that has kicked off this train of thought:
Almost half of the surveyed adults would like to keep in contact with their older fathers more. Why should fathers be contacted by their children less than mothers? “In the case of that generation, fathers were not as involved in children’s lives – both as little children and as teenagers they took backseat roles,” says Draper. “Even if your mother and father didn’t get divorced, you’re more likely to be closer to your mum. The classic vignette is when you call home, your dad picks up and says, ‘Hang on, I’ll get your mother.’”
The article talks about “that generation”, and while they say “over 60″, the article as a whole really seems to be about men in their 80s or late 70s. My parents are significantly younger than that, almost a generation, and they were not particularly young when we kids were born. Both are highly educated, they are intellectual equals, and in some ways their relationship is equal.
However, in other ways it is very, very unequal.
That “I’ll get your mother” quote hit very close to home for me.
It’s not the first time I’ve thought about this. My relationship with my father is not always very smooth. It’s a cliché, but sometimes our misunderstandings are so profound that I wonder if we speak the same language. At other times, we are completely on the same wavelength. (Funnily enough, both situations involve a lot of arguing, but it’s a different type of argument in each case.) Neither of us are very good at small talk, although I can do it if necessary (actually, I think my mother is in the same position). I don’t think it should be necessary with my father, though (although Amanda’s point about this made me think again – but he’s the parent, he should try, too, right?). We don’t tend to “chat”, especially when it’s just the two of us (if there’s a third person present, the dynamic generally changes – I have never understood why we often require a facilitator).
When I’m not at my parents’ place (ie most of the time), I’m in fairly constant contact with my mother – mostly by email. Our emails are often only a line or two long, but there are generally several of these a day, with the occasional longer mail thrown in. However, my father and I tend to email each other only when we have a specific purpose (question, favour, birthday etc).
Sometimes I’ll lift the phone or hit the “dial” button on Skype to actually talk to them. And this finally brings me to the point of this post: if I use a normal phone, if my father answers, he will often say – before I say anything at all – “I’ll get your mother”. But sometimes I’m ringing specifically to talk to him, sometimes I just want to talk and would be equally happy with either and sometimes I actually want to talk to both of them.
It always disappoints me when he does that, because it makes me feel that he doesn’t want to talk to me. But intellectually I know that’s not really the case. Emotionally, my father can be pretty childish, and I think that the “I’ll get your mother” is often a way of trying to protect himself from disappointment, in case I say “actually, I want to speak to Mum”.
I admit that sometimes I am ringing to speak to my mother, and that there have been times when my father has answered and hasn’t gone straight to “I’ll get your mother” and I have asked to speak to Mum. I usually only do this when he explicitly asks “what are you ringing for?” which is often his first question if he doesn’t say “I’ll get your mother”. But I usually try to have a chat with him first. It doesn’t always work.
Still, if I use a normal phone, I often get random little chances to chat with my father, even if I am ringing with the explicit purpose of talking to my mother. And anyway, often they put it on speaker phone and both speak (although in that case, it’s often my mother who ends up running the conversation, and my father essentially listens in, occasionally interjecting).
Skype has changed this, to some extent. My parents have separate skype accounts, and use separate computers, one at either end of the house. My father’s computer is closer to the area of the house they’re more likely to be in during the evening (kitchen, dining room, living room). So for me, using Skype is more like using email in terms of intent. I am more likely to think “I want a chat, oh, Mum’s online, I’ll give her a quick call” than I am to do the same with my father. If I want to ask something that either of them can answer, I’m likely to talk to my mother – the answer is more likely to be forthcoming and intelligible. But this means that sometimes, if my mother doesn’t answer, I’ll try my father’s account instead, since if neither of them are at their computers, my father’s computer is the one they’re more likely to hear.
This means that sometimes I’m calling my father and asking explicitly to speak with my mother, which again raises the “I’ll get your mother” spectre (it’s happened a couple of times when I’ve dialled his account to talk to him, not my mother).
And again, I usually call my father only when I have a particular purpose to do so.
The other day I called him for his birthday. I called before I went to bed here, so it was breakfast time there. My mother was cooking him breakfast, a birthday treat. My father has a webcam set up, so I could see him as we chatted, and he looked honestly chuffed that I’d called – smiling in the way that children do when they can’t hide it but are too embarrassed to admit it. We got past the “happy birthday” bits and pieces, started to have an actual conversation about something else, and then my mother came in to tell him breakfast was ready – or did we want to keep talking?
“No, it’s ok, thanks for calling, Jo,” he answered.
“No worries, I’ll let you enjoy your breakfast,” was my response.
A few more words, and we rang off.
For a moment, it made me feel awful. I had rung my father and he didn’t want to talk to me. Then I pulled myself together: (1) food is important in our family, (2) effort is important in our family (ie the fact that I’d made an effort to call – especially at the first possible opportunity – meant almost as much as what was actually said), (3) he had looked really pleased to hear from me and (4) he didn’t want to leave himself open to the possibility of being in a situation where I would say “ok, Dad, I’ve got to go now”.
But as well as all of this: I think he is actually, truly uncomfortable having those sorts of conversations, these irrelevant little chats (and not just with me).
All of this makes me wonder how many other people are in this position – and what newer technology, where people are less likely to share an “identity” (phone number, email address, skype account etc), means in terms of who keeps in touch better with one parent or another.
To me, all of this emphasises the importance of both parents in the upbringing of the children. If you follow the traditional roles when they are young, then you will probably continue to follow the traditional roles when they are older, no matter how feminist your children turn out to be.
