Working mums make ‘having it all’ seem hardly worth the bother

What’s up with the youth of today? They don’t drink, don’t smoke and – going further down the reactionary road than Goody Two Shoes ever dared – they actually believe that “a woman’s place is in the home”. Almost a fifth of mothers under 30 say that women should be content to be housewives, according to a new study by the website Netmums. By contrast, only 6 per cent of those over 30 share this quaintly neolithic belief.

What could have caused such a rowing back of female ambition? Some of it may perhaps be explained by immigration from more conservative cultures (certainly a factor in Britain’s increasing teetotalism). Some may be a backlash against the more extreme wing of fourthwave feminism, with its unlovely combination of victimhood, aggression and cod-academic jargon. There are parts of social media where old-school feminists like me (cis-gendered and hopelessly forgetful about checking my privilege) no longer dare to tread, at least without a hard hat and a glossary.

But my own generation must also carry some of the blame. For we were the first to truly “have it all” – to grow up expecting full parity with men, both at work and at home – and we have made it look like it was hardly worth the bother.

There’s a syndrome that all parents are familiar with called Competitive Tiredness. It begins roughly 24 hours after the birth of a new baby and continues, as far as I can tell, until said baby gets a job and leaves home. Symptoms include: both partners saying “I’m SO tired” once an hour, every hour, without eliciting the slightest twitch of sympathy; bickering under your breath at dinner parties over who’s doing the “morning shift”; and never doing anything around the house without first shouting: “Fine! I’ll just do everything!”

My generation has contracted Competitive Tiredness on a grand scale. We bang on endlessly about how frazzled we are – not just to our partners, but to friends, colleagues, any barista with kindly eyes. My conversations at the school gates are almost all confessions of parental guilt or exhaustion, albeit accompanied by laughter.

The sleeplessness, the frantic scheduling, the babies sobbing at the nursery, the work meetings where you suddenly realise you have a streak of poo in your hair: this is what we talk about because it’s cathartic, and true, and it somehow seems more convivial than boasting about the things that are going well.

But you can see how, to the younger generation listening in, our therapeutic grumbling might sound very much like a counsel of despair. Why bother trying to juggle motherhood and a career if – as those of us attempting the stunt often bemoan – it means doing both things badly?

There are things that working mothers hardly ever say, for fear of being smug. Getting paid is good for your self-esteem, as well as your bank balance. Commuting is fun: you get actually to read a book! Office gossip is the antidote to a day of soft play. And one day, your husband might leave you. Like a crazy American survivalist, you need to build up your reserves – of money, skills and confidence – ready for the End Times.

A woman’s place is for her alone to decide. But she ought to at least know this: Having It All is a lot more enjoyable than we’re letting on.