Scathing sceptic

I always believed I was the proverbial optimist … one of those rare breed that believe everything is wonderful unless proven otherwise. I have proven myself horribly wrong. It seems I cannot believe that anyone would actually enjoy … I mean enjoy to the point of elation … this terribly common thing called parenting. When told by a woman I met through one of those dreadful classes that I am loathe to call ‘moms and tots’, that having a second has been absolutely wonderful and that she is loving it so much … well, I balked. Honestly, she must surely be hiding something … a dark secret that involves all those awful things I imagined doing to my child when he was such a tiny baby.

I can’t help but wonder how people can be so overtly happy about being a mother. Happy fathers I can understand to a point – they are, after all, relatively removed from the drama and mayhem (and I mean this from a purely emotional perspective).

I’m not convinced.