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Working mothers don’t need to feel guilt – but it can be a useful tool Working mothers don’t need to feel guilt – but it can be a useful tool
(8 days later)
Stop feeling guilty. That’s the rough take-home message – or perhaps more precisely, the message many working parents will choose to take home – from a new Harvard study which found that the daughters of working mothers go on to have more successful careers and more equal relationships. Something many women have long hoped was true – that going out to work provides a strong role model for your daughters – now has a little more evidence to back it up. And in this season of forgetting to bake cakes for the school fete and scrabbling for sold-out summer holiday childcare, it’s just nice to have the moral high ground for once. Stop feeling guilty. That’s the rough take-home message – or perhaps more precisely, the message many working parents will choose to take home – from a new Harvard study which found that the daughters of working mothers go on to have more successful careers and more equal relationships. Something many women have long hoped was true – that going out to work provides a strong role model for your daughters – now has a little more evidence to back it up. And in this season of forgetting to bake cakes for the school fete and scrabbling for sold-out summer holiday childcare, it’s just nice to have the moral high ground for once.
Related: Having a working mother works for daughtersRelated: Having a working mother works for daughters
How liberating to be told that we’re not ruining our kids’ lives by daring to pay the bills; that a career isn’t necessarily something you buy at the expense of the people you love; that you needn’t drag the clanking chains of guilt along behind you for ever. How liberating to be told that we’re not ruining our kids’ lives by daring to pay the bills; that a career isn’t necessarily something you buy at the expense of the people you love; that you needn’t drag the clanking chains of guilt along behind you for ever.
And that, essentially, is also the seductive promise behind the latest hot parenting book, by the American time management guru Laura Vanderkam, I Know How She Does It. The author promises less to change your life than to stop you feeling quite so bad about it.And that, essentially, is also the seductive promise behind the latest hot parenting book, by the American time management guru Laura Vanderkam, I Know How She Does It. The author promises less to change your life than to stop you feeling quite so bad about it.
Having persuaded numerous over-achieving women to keep time logs of their days, from dawn gym workouts (nope, me neither) to solving work crises at midnight, she observes that actually “their lives didn’t look that bad”. Busy, yes, but full and rewarding. Our culture’s doom-laden focus on the tough bits risks obscuring a bigger truth about working parenthood, she argues, which is that it makes many women feel very fulfilled, if stressed.Having persuaded numerous over-achieving women to keep time logs of their days, from dawn gym workouts (nope, me neither) to solving work crises at midnight, she observes that actually “their lives didn’t look that bad”. Busy, yes, but full and rewarding. Our culture’s doom-laden focus on the tough bits risks obscuring a bigger truth about working parenthood, she argues, which is that it makes many women feel very fulfilled, if stressed.
Her book may not resonate quite so much, it’s fair to say, with those very many women feeling knackered and guilt-ridden while doing jobs they don’t much enjoy for less than the six-figure salaries of the women in her book. But the more accessible British version is probably the argument made by the Labour frontbencher Lucy Powell last year that working mothers should be publicly proud of how much they do, rather than apologising for it. That unmistakably chimed with mothers who privately felt pretty comfortable about their working lives but didn’t dare say so because they worried that if they weren’t wracked with self-loathing then they were probably doing it wrong. Her book may not resonate quite so much, it’s fair to say, with those very many women feeling knackered and guilt-ridden while doing jobs they don’t much enjoy for less than the six-figure salaries of the women in her book. But the more accessible British version is probably the argument made by the Labour frontbencher Lucy Powell last year that working mothers should be publicly proud of how much they do, rather than apologising for it. That unmistakably chimed with mothers who privately felt pretty comfortable about their working lives but didn’t dare say so because they worried that if they weren’t wracked with self-loathing then they were probably doing it wrong.
It’s faintly mad, obviously, to make anyone feel guilty about not feeling sufficiently guilty. Yet there is a tendency for brisk, can-do accounts such as Vanderkam’s to skip a bit too quickly over the question of whether guilt is always necessarily bad; of what makes a good life for children, as well as for parents. It’s faintly mad, obviously, to make anyone feel guilty about not feeling sufficiently guilty. Yet there is a tendency for brisk, can-do accounts such as Vanderkam’s to skip a bit too quickly over the question of whether guilt is always necessarily bad; of what makes a good life for children, as well as for parents.
Cards on the table: in the last fortnight alone I’ve felt guilty more times than I can remember. There was the time I packed my son off to school when he was feeling distinctly under the weather, because I needed to be away for work. The ongoing guilt about not doing more to support an old friend whose father is seriously ill, because there never seems to be time to carve out an hour for a proper, uninterrupted conversation; the faint but perpetual guilt that the house is a mess, and that the dog now pointedly brings its lead to any stranger who comes to the door, in the manner of a dog that needs more walking. Cards on the table: in the last fortnight alone I’ve felt guilty more times than I can remember. There was the time I packed my son off to school when he was feeling distinctly under the weather, because I needed to be away for work. The ongoing guilt about not doing more to support an old friend whose father is seriously ill, because there never seems to be time to carve out an hour for a proper, uninterrupted conversation; the faint but perpetual guilt that the house is a mess, and that the dog now pointedly brings its lead to any stranger who comes to the door, in the manner of a dog that needs more walking.
And then there’s the Saturday spent chairing a Labour leadership hustings, feeling simultaneously guilty about not being home doing something fun with my son; guilty about leaving my husband with a day’s solo parenting; but also guilty about all the other out-of-hours gigs – the thinktank breakfasts, evening drinks, weekends at party conferences – I’ve turned down on family grounds, even at the risk of drifting that bit further out of the professional loop. The trouble with contemporary parental guilt is that it’s as much about work as it is about the children. Related: Women, motherhood and modern society’s values | Letters
And then there’s the Saturday spent chairing a Labour leadership hustings, feeling simultaneously guilty about not being home doing something fun with my son; guilty about leaving my husband with a day’s solo parenting; but also guilty about all the other out-of-hours gigs – the thinktank breakfasts, evening drinks, weekends at party conferences – I’ve turned down on family grounds, even at the risk of drifting that bit further out of the professional loop. The trouble with contemporary parental guilt is that it’s as much about work as it is about the children.
To stay at home is to feel bad about wasting your education, about dodging your responsibility to contribute – either financially at home or publicly to the world – and now about whether it will hold your own daughter back. Full-time motherhood has moved from middle-class norm to niche choice that requires defending, and as a result every government pledge of free childcare or official report highlighting – as the European council did this week – how rising maternal employment boosts GDP becomes a cattle prod to the conscience.To stay at home is to feel bad about wasting your education, about dodging your responsibility to contribute – either financially at home or publicly to the world – and now about whether it will hold your own daughter back. Full-time motherhood has moved from middle-class norm to niche choice that requires defending, and as a result every government pledge of free childcare or official report highlighting – as the European council did this week – how rising maternal employment boosts GDP becomes a cattle prod to the conscience.
Part-timers, meanwhile, are envied for having one foot in the playground and one in the office, but worry secretly about failing to keep up with either of them: skidding late into the school pick-up, still furtively sending emails on our phones. I’ve worked variously full-time, part-time and (very briefly) barely at all, and the truth is that some of those lives were more enjoyable than others but none was guilt-free. Time spent envying or resenting other parents is usually time wasted.Part-timers, meanwhile, are envied for having one foot in the playground and one in the office, but worry secretly about failing to keep up with either of them: skidding late into the school pick-up, still furtively sending emails on our phones. I’ve worked variously full-time, part-time and (very briefly) barely at all, and the truth is that some of those lives were more enjoyable than others but none was guilt-free. Time spent envying or resenting other parents is usually time wasted.
Guilt is essential to a full and interesting life, since it helps us keep track of what’s owed when, and to whomGuilt is essential to a full and interesting life, since it helps us keep track of what’s owed when, and to whom
Vanderkam has a point that wallowing in guilt over every little thing can be exhausting, self-limiting and even self-indulgent. Taking things to martyred extremes is sometimes more about showing what a saintly person you must be – so self-sacrificing, so concerned for others – than about organising family life well.Vanderkam has a point that wallowing in guilt over every little thing can be exhausting, self-limiting and even self-indulgent. Taking things to martyred extremes is sometimes more about showing what a saintly person you must be – so self-sacrificing, so concerned for others – than about organising family life well.
But wanting to be entirely free of guilt, of that horrible mental tickertape running through your head? That seems neither possible nor, to be honest, all that desirable.But wanting to be entirely free of guilt, of that horrible mental tickertape running through your head? That seems neither possible nor, to be honest, all that desirable.
Guilt stems, after all, from a feeling of obligation, a sense that there was something you should have done but didn’t, and it’s this sense that basically makes us social animals. Guilt helps us keep numerous complex relationships going, by prodding us to observe the correct mutual obligations for each – indeed you could argue it’s essential to a full and interesting life, since it helps us keep track of what’s owed when, and to whom. Guilt stems, after all, from a feeling of obligation, a sense that there was something you should have done but didn’t, and it’s this sense that basically makes us social animals. Guilt helps us keep numerous complex relationships going, by prodding us to observe the correct mutual obligations for each – indeed you could argue it’s essential to a full and interesting life, since it helps us keep track of what’s owed when, and to whom.
At its worst, guilt can obviously be a mechanism for repression, particularly when used for political or religious ends. But at its best guilt is the emotional equivalent of physical pain; a warning sign that something’s overloaded, some unseen damage is being done.At its worst, guilt can obviously be a mechanism for repression, particularly when used for political or religious ends. But at its best guilt is the emotional equivalent of physical pain; a warning sign that something’s overloaded, some unseen damage is being done.
The genuinely contented working mother is, of course, probably the one who can distinguish this useful guilt from the toxic kind that results from failing at some pointless, imaginary or unreasonable duty. And no, before you ask, I don’t really know how she does that. But hey, at least that’s something new to feel guilty about.The genuinely contented working mother is, of course, probably the one who can distinguish this useful guilt from the toxic kind that results from failing at some pointless, imaginary or unreasonable duty. And no, before you ask, I don’t really know how she does that. But hey, at least that’s something new to feel guilty about.