Nina In New York: Parenting Officially The Worst Thing That Can Befall A Human

A lighthearted look at news, events, culture and everyday life in New York. The opinions expressed are solely those of the writer.
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By Nina Pajak

Being a parent is hard. There's no question about it. Kids are exhausting, physically and emotionally. They demand. They whine. They break things. They poop on things. They throw tantrums and don't inherently understand right from wrong and need to be cajoled into doing normal, life-sustaining things like eating and sleeping. Once they're school-aged, they bring disease and pestilence into our once clean homes. As they age, they become snarky and withdrawn at best, and openly hateful and rebellious at worst. They are expensive. They can't comprehend their own mortal limitations. Our love for them knows no bounds, and subsequently, neither does our crippling anxiety that they might somehow come to harm.

So yes. It's fair to say that parenting is a difficult occupation. But is it the worst thing ever? Like, worse than divorce or the death of a partner?

Over two thousand Germans say: Ja. That is, according to a recently published and highly publicized study.

The subjects were simply asked to rate their happiness over time and as it related to the birth of their firstborn. This data was compared with that of similar studies, which considered happiness levels before and after being unemployed or WIDOWED. Becoming a parent is the buzzkill to end all buzzkills.

But there are some things to consider here, not least of which is that new-parents-to-be are generally stupidly, naively, sublimely happy. They can nap all they want and sit and read quietly and dine in actual restaurants and eat brunch. They spend their time living their independent lives without the weight of crushing, constant guilt—and selecting curtains for the nursery. Of course the hypothetical versus the reality of a mewling, spewing newborn being ripped out of one's loins would result in a pretty severe differential.

And then, there's the issue of parent propaganda. I suppose I don't know what it's like in Germany, but here in the United States there is an unspoken agreement among those with children to perpetuate a myth that new parenthood is bliss. Everyone is always "over the moon." Oh, they'll be sure to tell you it's the hardest thing they've ever done, but those words are relatively meaningless without the proper context. And they are usually sandwiched between declarations of how excited they are for you and how delicious babies are and how it's also the most rewarding thing they've ever done—or anyone else could ever do, for that matter.

Sometimes, they're just trying to be positive and not scare the newbie. Sometimes it's been so long since they've had a baby themselves that their brains have already successfully fooled them into remembering that time as one of serenity and elation. Either way, it ain't helpful.

I am not one to refrain from complaining about my life as a parent. I've never been one of those people who handles things with quiet grace or stoicism. If I'm tired or sick, everyone knows about it. If I've spent 48 hours grappling with a toddler who has decided to abandon English for an invented gibberish language and then scream when she can't communicate, well, you can bet I'm going to whine. I don't want or need to pretend that parenting is all lollipops and unicorns, unless of course you're referring to the stickers now covering my brand new dining room table. Seriously, a little dose of healthy realism and public honesty could benefit us all.

That being said, with the parenting conversation trend going from "my kid is a beautiful and unique flower" to "my kid is a special kind of monster #realtalk," I think a little perspective is in order. Is being a parent difficult? Sure. Is being sleep-deprived terrible compared to, say, losing a pregnancy? No. Is a bout with the stomach flu something to lament when you consider people who cannot conceive? Er, maybe not. How does a tantrum compare to a terminally ill child? Right.

I am not trying to sound self-righteous or high and mighty. And I fully believe that there is a proper time place for venting in all forms, for all reasons. Other people's problems don't make your own less stressful or valid. But when I have a day when I find myself feeling like everything blows, I force myself to think of friends (and strangers) who have endured much, much worse than a 3am screaming session with a teething baby. Who would probably give a limb to have a night like mine. Parenting is the worst? We should all be so lucky.

I know, I know. I'm the worst. Tell me about that awful thing your child did today. Seriously, lay it on me. I'm into it. I empathize, I promise.

Nina Pajak is a writer living with her husband, daughter and dog in Queens. Connect with Nina on Twitter!