No life is perfect

Jean's Journal with Jean Farrell

I have mixed feelings about the ‘Housewife of the Year’ programme. I disagree with some reviews. One stated, “The women radiated low-wattage despair and a deep sadness.”

No life is perfect. In the past, many women were very happy to be at home, minding their children. That was their role in life. They accepted this. Expectations were low. They worked hard, with few modern appliance, as did all their friends. Their husband’s role was to be the wage-earner.

“You just got on with it,” one housewife told Gay. “We were all in the same boat.”

And everything is relevant. Remember that their mothers and grannies coped with no running water in their homes, and no electricity. Indeed, a lot of the previous generations had no houses of their own. They moved in with their in-laws when they married.

However, as I see it, the very biggest drawback, in the past, was that the housewives were totally financially dependent on their husbands.

A lot of men were good husbands and fathers. They handed over most of their wages to their wives each week.

Together they managed to have a good life, with the basic necessities.

However, sad to say, other husbands, in the 1950s and 60s, spent far too much time in the pub, spending precious scarce money there. In that situation, their wives had miserable lives trying to make ends meet, as well as putting up with drunken husbands’ demands.

Here is an example.

This is a true story, told to me by the woman herself. I’ll call her Mary. In 1951, aged 21, she had five children. (She got married when she was 17.) Mary went over to confession in the Friary, and having explained her situation to the priest, she asked him could she refuse her husband sex. His angry reply was, “Go home woman and do your duty.” She did as she was told. However, after the birth of her sixth child, she moved out of their bedroom. Her husband said nothing, but reduced the money he gave to her by a third.

He took himself off to the pub every night and spent his extra income there.

“I managed,” she told me. “I cut up thick cardboard and put it into their shoes when the soles wore out. I turned collars on shirts and I knitted and sewed and mended, all night.” She said they only ate meat on a Sunday, but she fed them eggs and beans and basic nourishing food.

This woman was a very intelligent person. Her main aim in life, as a mother, was to ensure that her daughters got a good education, so as they would NEVER EVER be financially dependent on a man, as she was. A lot of women, from that era, saw education as a way out for their daughters. They hoped that this would give their girls a choice in life. If they wanted to stay at home and mind their children, they could. However, they could also choose to continue with their careers.

This didn’t happen. Young mothers now do not now have a choice. They, and their husbands, must both go out to work in order to afford a house and a life for their family. (And their expectations of ‘a life’ are very high nowadays!)

As I said at the beginning here, no life is perfect. I don’t have to spell out the daily lives of our daughters. Most have good jobs and are financially independent. Most have little children. Most are worn out, trying to juggle all. Our grandchildren have spent their early years being cared for by others. Husbands also work outside the home.

Here is another true story told to me by the woman herself.

“We rush in home with the little children, having driven through horrendous traffic. I go into the kitchen and start preparing the dinner. All Jake has to do is take his children into the sitting room and entertain them there.”

Her tale continued. “This is what happened yesterday. I was rushing around the kitchen doing six things. I ran into the sitting room for something, to discover Jake ASLEEP. Little Adam is half-toilet trained. I won’t tell you the mess the child was sitting in, on our new expensive carpet. Niall was writing on our Harlequin wallpaper, with his finger covered in poo. Their father’s excuse was that he was exhausted after a terrible day at work. ‘I’M EXHAUSTED TOO,’ I roared at him, and the children started crying.”

I repeat, no life is perfect!!

Maybe our generation were the lucky ones. We are the last who, as children, were reared by a mother who was always at home. And this was lovely for us.

As young married women, we did have a choice in how we lived our lives. Most of my friends and I got married in the mid-1970s.

The ban on married women working (in the civil service and banks) had just been lifted. Houses were cheap enough for us to buy. Willow Park, Retreat Heights and Auburn Heights were new and fairly reasonable.

A family could survive on one income and pay a mortgage (just about!)

Our determination not to have too many babies was stronger than our fear of Hell!! We sent postal orders to the (illegal) Family Planning Clinic in Dublin and contraceptives were posted out to us.

As married women, my sisters and I all worked outside the home (as well as in it!) Most of my friends stayed at home to mind their children there.

We did have that choice back then.