I'm Waiting For The Day

I'm Waiting For The Day When My Children Cease To Find My Domestic Propriety Reassuring And Actually Find It Annoying.

Parenthood, Like Death, Is An Event For Which It Is Nearly Impossible To Be Prepared. It Brings You Into A New Relationship With The Fact Of Your Own Existence, A Relationship In Which One May Be Rendered Helpless.

The Creativity Of Childhood Was Often Surrendered Amid Feelings Of Unworthiness. So The Idea That ­others Are Demanding To Be Given It Back - To Be "taught" - Is Disturbing.

The 'good' Mother, With Her Fixed Smile, Her Rigidity, Her Goody-goody Outlook, Her Obsession With Unnecessary Hygiene, Is In Fact A Fool. It Is The 'bad' Mother, Unafraid Of A Joke And A Glass Of Wine, Richly Self-expressive, Scornful Of Suburban Values, Who Is, In Reality, Good.

I'm A Novelist, Not A Social Scientist Or A Commentator.