Badly dressed children

I am the happy father of three children: Marguerite, Lambert and Joséphine. There was a time when, depending on our family routine, I was the one who got them ready in the morning before taking them to daycare.

At first, my partner Marie-Noëlle thought I dressed them very badly. Well, an independent observer would conclude that she wasn't entirely wrong. I admit, I have questionable taste in clothing. (I thought for a long time that a pair of floral Bermuda shorts with a striped polo shirt was a terrible look . You see.)

In any case, to remedy the situation, Marie-Noëlle first suggested dressing the children herself every morning. A false good idea that quickly proved to be impractical due to our respective schedules. Instead, Marie suggested preparing the clothes that the children would wear the next day every evening . I would just have to put on their laundry in the morning, without asking myself any questions. What a great compromise!

We did this for a week. And we both agreed that this was stupid and contrary to our idea of ​​equal division of family responsibilities . There was no way she would be the only parent choosing our children's clothes for the rest of our lives.

Since then, if I'm the one who gets the kids ready in the morning, I'm the one who chooses their clothes. I'm not a fashion stylist yet, but my eye has become more refined! And my girlfriend has accepted that the kids aren't always dressed exactly as she would like. Because that's what a real compromise is.

Teamwork, not trench warfare

I like to tell this anecdote because it illustrates well the dynamics that are still at work in many couples and which generate a lot of tension and conflict around the same theme: mental load.

On the Internet, debates on the subject always fascinate me. They quickly take on the appearance of a boxing match. In the left corner, mothers at the end of their tether – sometimes with good reason, of course – who portray their spouses as happy fools, incapable of going to buy bread and milk at the convenience store without someone writing them a list on a piece of paper. In the right corner, fathers who live in denial and retort that they also bear a mental burden. “ Who takes care of the lawnmower and the pool, huh? ”

These exchanges are good for many, no doubt. They serve as an outlet and allow people to vent. I'm afraid they don't solve much, however.

Sharing the mental load and family responsibilities fairly in a couple should be seen as teamwork, not trench warfare. Deconstructing the old reflexes inherited from the past that lead us all to reproduce the roles associated with our gender stereotypes is a two-way street.

First and foremost, it takes committed, clear-sighted fathers who recognize the stakes, of course, but also mothers who learn to let go and trust. It takes parents who talk to each other, listen to each other and know how to recognize each other's good moves and good ideas.

This is the common challenge of all parents of our generation. No couple escapes it. And each child who shows up dressed a little crooked in the morning, at a school or daycare somewhere in Quebec, represents one more small victory in our collective battle.

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