On International Men’s Day, won’t someone think of the fathers?

It’s been a hard year. Healthcare staff have been under immense pressure. Businesses have struggled. Many have lost loved ones, some without the chance to say goodbye. Lonely people have been lonelier and vulnerable people more vulnerable. Anxiety levels are through the roof – but worst affected by increased stress caused by the pandemic are fathers in their 30s, according to a study by Aviva Life and Pensions that was published on Tuesday.

Some will look at the survey results and worry about the plight of these poor men. Personally, I’m a little surprised that we need a survey to conclude that increased parenting responsibilities tend to add to your stress levels, and that unpaid house and caring work on top of a paid job does indeed take its toll. All over Ireland, there are mothers who could tell you that.

My husband and I struggled, too, with the home-schooling, the limitations and overall pressures of that first lockdown and six months of two primary-school age children at home. In the greater scheme of things we were luckier than many, but it was hard – probably one of the hardest things we’ve been through as a couple in years. And yet, I couldn’t help but wonder about all the research from my native Sweden, which has shown that couples are more equal and share the unpaid work more fairly after fathers spend a few months at home on parental leave. Maybe, amid all the awfulness of 2020, this would be an accidental but very welcome knock-on effect? It’s that age-old thing of not being able to unsee something once you’ve seen it. Once you’ve had a potty-training toddler on the toilet the moment you realise that you’re out of loo roll, you won’t forget to make a mental note the next time it’s close to running out.

Parents in Sweden are entitled to a total of 480 days, or 16 months, of parental leave paid at around 80% of their salary, and each parent has an exclusive right to 90 of those days. Anecdotally, friends of mine have acknowledged the difference it’s made to their relationships when their male partners have taken at least a few months of paternity leave: not only have the shared parental responsibilities become less of a burden and cause for arguments between them, but other household chores have subsequently been shared more equally as well. “It’s like he sees things now that he never saw before,” one friend told me. “I guess when I was always there, he never got a chance to really notice all these things. Now he’s got his own systems and his own ways of doing things at home.”

A report from last year, looking at all the Nordic countries, reveals as much: fathers enjoy far closer relationships with their children after extended parental leave and even feel like better fathers, and the relationship between the parents is improved and becomes more equal. But there’s more. The mothers’ careers see big benefits, including higher earnings. Their physical health improves, as does their mental wellbeing, and domestic violence becomes less prevalent. Interestingly, research has shown that the time when a couple first become parents is a good indication of how equal their relationship will be in the future; an equal share of parental leave in the first year of parenthood paves way for an equal future as partners and parents.

Things are different here in Ireland, not just in terms of policy, but culturally too. I’m not here to say that the Swedish model is perfect, nor that we should be copying it. It might be worth considering the lessons from the Nordics, though – and asking ourselves what that survey says about the reality of parenting in Ireland. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out why fathers who are suddenly confined to their homes for months, along with their children, are suddenly experiencing unprecedented spikes in stress levels. Working from home while home-schooling, parenting and coping with the uncertainties of a global pandemic is stressful; it was stressful for almost everyone. But there’s a reason why it was more of a shock to the system for some than it was for others – possibly the same as the reason why our elected politicians (77.5% of whom are men) thought that it would be possible in the first place, simply assuming that parental responsibilities would magically sort themselves while we sit on Zoom meetings ignoring our children. Something tells me that they won’t rush into that kind of non-solution again. It’s that age-old thing of not being able to unsee something once you’ve seen it. There they are, in plain sight: the house chores and the responsibilities of running a home and raising a family. This International Men’s Day, I hope we can vow never to unsee them.

I don't know how he does it

“If you want to have it all, it’s your job to work out how to do it. If you can’t, give something up.” That’s David Cox’s advice to Kate, the high-flying fictitious character in the film I don’t know how she does it.

I suspect we’ll read many a harsh critique of the super-woman film, but I wasn’t quite prepared to read this in the Guardian. I’m not saying that this Hollywood plot doesn’t need some ripping apart – the have-it-all approach to life indeed deserves questioning – but your way of criticising something says a lot about your outlook on life. And I guess, somehow, I keep forgetting that even the most liberal publications in the UK look at parenting as a one-woman job.

Many would agree – and I’m sure I will too if I ever see the film – that the plot is nothing but a boring cliché. My idea of the real world, however, differs quite a bit from Cox’s. He answers the question of how she does it with the accusation that Kate uses her poor husband, a man who wishes to focus on furthering his own career but is forced to bring their injured son to the hospital when selfish mammy is at work. He explains her success by pointing the finger at the way she expects of her employer to be flexible, thereby, he suggests, somehow undermining the efforts of women who don’t need flexibility at work because they don’t have a family: they’ve had to make a sacrifice, means Cox, so why should we let selfish Kate get away with not making one?

“Motherhood is voluntary,” Cox reminds us. But “fulfilling all other aspirations at the same time may or may not be practicable.”

This is where I lose him completely. We’re supposed to look at Kate as a “scumbag” for wanting it all (but, he insinuates, not doing it well enough), yet her husband is described as a victim. Isn’t fatherhood voluntary as well? What does he mean?

Here’s what I think he means. Fatherhood isn’t that demanding, after all. Most fathers manage very well to combine fatherhood with successful careers, thank you very much. And so no one ever says, ‘I don’t know how he does it’. Why? Because parenting is a mother’s job. It’s a mother’s fault when a child is malnourished; the mother is the one who’s neglected a child who doesn’t learn to talk when other kids do. Laundry, school runs, hospital visits – it’s all done while the father’s at work. That’s how he does it: he’s got a wife.

About mothers, Cox writes that “if they can’t work as hard as their childless colleagues to get a seat on the board, they could manage without one.” But of course, a majority of the board members aren’t childless. They’re fathers. And fathers don’t have to make sacrifices, we all know that. Right, Cox?

[All of the above is of course based on yet another of the patriarchy's great myths: the idea that not getting to spend a lot of time with your kids isn't in itself a sacrifice for fathers. But that's another discussion for another post.]