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The news of Brian Philcox, who killed himself and his two children on Father's Day, is striking for its tragedy but for me it begs a larger question: are families cast adrift during divorce?
Our main image of divorce is based, one expects, on high-profile cases involving self-regarding fat cats and exes with an enlarged sense of entitlement.
But for regular couples, who struggle through without a bereavement coach, a team of accountants or a media spin professional, does the current system put too much pressure on everyone, including the children?
Separating couples are left to their own devices to sort themselves out, says Duncan Fisher, chief executive of the Fatherhood Institute, which bills itself as the UK's fatherhood think-tank. While the parents' lives fall apart and everything from the home to the pension to the daily responsibilities is thrown into the pot to be argued over and divided, children are left vulnerable.
"Two children died and there needs to be an investigation as to how this happened. Why was there no safety net?" asks Fisher. He believes that the risks to children during divorce should be assessed and we need to proactively counsel and support families. That would allow families to disentangle themselves rather than tear themselves apart.
Philcox contacted Fathers 4 Justice last week, as do thousands of others coping with separation and custody issues."We had over 1,000 inquiries [from men] from last week alone," says founder Matt O'Connor. Some consider the group a tireless campaigner for father's rights, others believe it's merely a gimmicky group of whack jobs who climb buildings in fancy dress. Whatever its reputation, it's not a support group.
While it operates a volunteer-staffed hotline and refers men to its online forums and support groups like Samaritans and Citizens Advice, it's raison d'etre is as a pressure group.
The UK remains the best place in Europe for women to get divorced. According to Ann Ison, partner at Hughes Fowler Carruthers law firm, in some EU countries, maintenance is shorter (in some places lasting only three years) or absent. Here, the starting point for dividing assets is 50/50 but if you're talking about a £150,000 house with a mortgage, it's hard to slice it up. "One thing the courts accept is that the mother with the younger children has the greater need," while still acknowledging that the father needs a home as well, she says. When you consider that spousal maintenance doesn't have accepted percentages the way child maintenance does (15 per cent for one child, 20 per cent for two…), each divorce means hammering out (and carving up) a deal anew.
It's a fraught system that overwhelms many people. Some plunge into depression. Others cope with drink or drugs. Some take their own lives and even murder their children.
Divorce happens. Surely this highlights we need to make sure it happens more smoothly for everyone involved.
"He phoned up Fathers 4 Justice," says Fisher of Philcox. "Oh, great. Is that all we can offer?"
There is a lot of talk lately about the American book When Good People Have Affairs, which advises people to cope with affairs and strengthen their marriages.
The Guardian lists the book's 17 motivations for having an affair and comes up with some of its own, including "I was bored at work" and "I was just being polite". An article in today's Times chalks it all up to the relative compartmentalisation techniques of men and women.
But it's got me thinking. It seems that every noteworthy individual you read about, from great artists and scientists to politicians and philosophers, had affairs, sometimes multiple affairs. Every year a new study comes out telling us how often married people are playing away and how terrible it is, leading to the breakdown of marriage, the rending of the social fabric and so on.
But what if we came at the problem from another direction. Instead of clinging to the idea of romantic monogamist love (a relatively new invention anyway), what if we encouraged couples to indulge in safe, discreet hotel visits with non-spouses? Instead of swimming upstream, we go with the flow. It would remove the shame from the cheater and the cheatee - thereby supporting the long-term relationship above all. It would acknowledge the need for variety and excitement (see Esther Perel's book Mating in Captivity).
Of course there are millions of people around the world who don't cheat. But would it be more evolved to include in marriage vows, "...In sickness and in health and in the occasionally outside fling with that cutie in the marketing department"?
The answer seems to be yes. Hooray! In the Sunday Times today we reveal the results of the Alphamummy survey into the sex lives of parents, and it seems that unlike pandas we are all at it, and rather happily, much more than we think. I've lost count of the number of friends who raise their eyes to heaven when you mention sex, or the girl friends who say to me, "I just really don't want to have sex any more now I've got the kids." So I'm really glad to hear that despite the intense knackeration that most of us parents exist with permanently, you guys out there are getting it on.
It's always been my view that to have a happy marriage, if you are a woman, you need to do sex and cooking even when you don't feel like it. I know it doesn't sound very feminist, but it works... or put it this way, if you don't cook or do sex your husband's wrath will know no bounds. To put it another way, which perhaps sounds a bit more palatable, marriage is all about the things you do for each other - like listening when the other one is telling you what they had for lunch, or pretending to be interested when your husband explains the intricacies of Arsene Wenger's latest signing for Arsenal. Your spouse is your intimate witness, the one who cares where you are, what your day has been like, what your boss said to you this morning.
In the same way that we need someone to share our trivia, we all have rather more basic biological needs that must be met - whether it is your husband heaving out the bin or changing a tyre or fixing your bike or rubbing your back; or you making sure there is supper on the table and the marital bed is lusty. Caitlin Moran did a brilliant blog a few days ago about still being soppily happily married to her husband after 13 years. I've done eleven years of marital (mostly) bliss - and the secret is making the effort to do something for the other person even when you are exhausted, grumpy and feel like collapsing on the sofa with an enormous glass of wine. I always find that making an effort when I least feel like it pays an enormous dividend in terms of the gratitude of my husband and also in him making the same kind of effort for me.
And going the extra marital mile applies to the boudoir too: I read an old proverb the other day which said, 'a lusty marital bed is a pearl beyond price' - remember that, honour that and you are on your way to a happy married life. My stepfather, who I loved dearly and who was a wise, wise man: a pschoanalyst, a philosopher, a man who had made a great deal of people better, gave me this piece of advice on his death bed. I asked him what the secret was to being happy. "It's simple," he replied. "Live with someone you love, and be faithful to them." That kind of "faithful" means having sex with them - not someone else. But it definitely includes the having sex bit. So give it a go, even if you don't feel your best, you've got love handles and the baby has kept you up all night... it's always worth it. After all, if your husband isn't making love to you, he's probably making love to someone else - or thinking about it. If you don't believe me read Guilty Pleasures, a brilliant piece from New York magazine about just what husbands get up to
Continue reading "Do parents have sex?" »
I'm putting together a story about the responses from our sex and parenthood survey and looking for a few folks to interview. The interview would be over the phone today and take about 10 minutes. If you're interested in speaking frankly about your post-baby sex life for the article, shoot an email to alphamummy@timesonline.co.uk with a sentence or two of your experience with sex after having kids. Don't forget to include a phone number where I can reach you.
And don't worry - we won't use your personal information or email for anything else.
Thanks! - Jen
Do you love your husband/partner? I do. My husband is called Pete and he's great. Indeed, I both love and like him. When we're together, we just kind of sigh, and stroke each other, murmuring "Thank God." And when we're apart, we ring each other every three hours, to say "I've got literally nothing to tell you", and kind of sniff at each other's telephonic pheromones. It really is a win/win/win/win/win situation.
But do you know who I can tell about this? No-one. No. One. You can't talk about how much you love your partner, and what a great father they are, because, by and large, no-one else seems to be saying it.
A couple of weeks ago, me and Pete dropped the kids off at school, and then left the playground together.
"You're holding hands!" one of the mums said, with an odd look on her face. "I can't remember the last time I held hands with _____."
Then the next day, another mum busted us for hand-holding in the park.
"You can tell you two haven't been together very long!" she said.
We've been together 13 years.
By and large, when other women talk about their relationships, it's usually in a very stressed manner - laced with resignation, and a stubborn, weary determination to just keep trying to make it work.
I thought I was in a particularly unlucky in my social circle, as I know of only two really happy relationships. Then I spoke to another friend, who lives further away, who said the only instance she had ever come across of a happy marriage was mine. I was completely horrified - although a bit smug, too, obviously.
Perhaps because of what appears to be the "general situation", I am incredibly cagey about talking about how happy I am, and what a thoughtful, loving, borderline semi-demented father Pete is. I wouldn't tell anyone about how, say, he used to get up extra early to make the girls' packed lunches, and would "protect" the sandwiches with a specially-cut cardboard insert - like they were from Pret a Manger. Or the insane lengths (3am flights, over-night trains, 4am driving-marathons) he'll go to to take the girls to school in the morning. I don't feel I can, when all the other women are tearful about their sex-lives, using phrases like "Feel like I'm going out of my mind with stress," and discussing partners who spend all weekend away playing golf.
Indeed, in a sweaty horror over coming across as smug, I'll only ever really take the piss out of Pete in the course of "wifely conversations." I'll pretend to be a bit exasperated about, say, the ludicrous size of his record collection - before sighing, and saying "But we muddle along, somehow."
So the question is - am I only hearing bad things about everyone else's partners because, actually, they're doing the same as me?
Or is it genuinely quite rare for people to still be properly besotted with their partners after 13 years, two children and a on-going, fundamental disagreement about how interesting Gardener's World is?
For those currently experiencing the post-Easter holiday round of colds, as we are, this old clip is very pertinent.
 Alpha Mummy received this email from N, who wonders how she can get her husband more involved with her 12-month-old son.
He has been such a good baby, very smiley, giggly and lots of fun. He wasn't planned, my husband and I were only married 3 months when I discovered I was pregnant (oooops!!) I was a bit traumatised, however my husband was always a bit more pro-the-parent thing.
Like most women the second he was born I fell totally in love and wouldn't swap him for the world, however my husband is so not interested.
I have always made a big effort to include him and not make him feel pushed to the side. But now I always feel so dissapointed that I have to harrass him to spend time with his son - he gets on like it is such a big chore! We recently got a puppy (totally agree with the post about new puppy v. baby!) the whole family loves him, but now my husband spends hours playing with and loving the damn puppy and even less time with my son. I know some men just don't do the baby thing but is this really normal? I am surrounded by men and husbands that just seem to be more hands on...
Anyone out there have ideas for N?
 Do you shop with an eco-bag? Do you drive a hybrid car? Then are you "recycling sex"?
A relationship counselor in Tokyo has identified a phenomenon among well-to-do eco-conscious wives who are meeting up with old boyfriends for sex.
"They're the types who use eco bags while shopping and drive hybrid cars. They have a strong awareness of protecting the environment. And they have no worries about going back to old boyfriends. That's why I call what they're doing 'recycling sex.' "
 Interesting post on Charles Bremner's blog about a French study that explores why Frenchwomen haven't asserted themselves in the home like they have at work. It has to do with the role of maîtresse de maison. Being in charge at home ensures for women that the man is dependent on them and disposesses him of some of his power. In my house, my husband frequently tries to disposses himself of his power to take out the recycling or to hoover (although to be fair, he's happy to cook and iron). The thing is, I know plenty of women who don't "let" their partners do things at home because "they never do it right" - which tends to be a combination of him mucking it up in a classic avoidance technique and her wanting to maintain control of the home environment.
Of course, the French researcher François de Singly isn't the only one to notice that conjugal equality starts with the laundry. Betty Friedan said practically the same thing back in the '70s. It's on own fault, says Rachel Johnson in New Review, for coddling our boys so they expect to be taken care of. And until we all share equally in those responsibilities, working women especially going to get the fuzzy end of the lollipop - a full day's work, primary caregiving figure and household maid. I don't know how single mums survive!
What's it like at your house?
Continue reading "Why Frenchwomen enjoy housework" »
There’s something in the air. In the more expensive postcodesof Britain, in the upper-earning, over-achieving echelons of life in general, there is a new must-have status symbol. Not a car, not a certain type of house, not a super-sleek yacht, but something much more fundamental — and so much more significant: a child.
Specifically, a fourth child. Leading the pack are some of the richest and most powerful people on the planet: the Blairs, the Gores, the Jaggers, the Pitt-Jolies. Ségolène Royal has four children, as does Ruth Kelly. Roman Abramovich, not to be outdone by mere world leaders and superstars, has five. Nicola Horlick, that veteran over-achiever, must have about 27 by now (actually it’s five, but you know what I mean).
Elsewhere, among the ever-increasing ranks of the anonymous super-rich — the fund managers and private equity whizzes — four children has now become almost a minimum requirement. Why? Wouldn’t you have thought that, with all that wheeler-dealing and high-powered posturing, life would be exhausting enough. Why compound things by adding to the never-ending pile of washing and 5am wake-up calls?
Because having four children without incurring so much as a blip in your lifestyle is the ultimate proof of success. The pile of washing is irrelevant: someone else is doing it; there is any number of highly-trained nannies to do the early shift on a Saturday morning. Tony Blair may have been up to his ears in foreign policy when baby Leo came along, but it was a point of principle that he still found time to do the odd night feed. That’s the kind of tough stuff a world leader is made of.
What might defeat ordinary mortals is just so much grist to the alpha daddy’s (or alpha mummy’s) mill. For men, the message is quick and effective: there’s plenty of lead in my pencil. For working women it reinforces just how super they really are: four children, a size ten and still got balls in the boardroom. For non-working mothers it’s a similar thing: such is their allure that they’ve married an alpha capable of supporting not just her in suitable style, but a nest of embryonic alphas too.
Having four children means that you need a house the size of Texas; it means a convoy on the school run; an army of highly trained staff; multiple school fees. It’s the Darwinian expression of a person’s physical, mental and social superiority.
By comparison, people like myself, for whom two is already plenty hard work, both in terms of holding down a job and generally retaining some, however small, vestige of sanity, are losers.
A friend, whose wife has vetoed having even a third child, let alone a fourth, recently found himself accused of mediocrity (by a father-of-four colleague, naturally).
Mediocrity? What are these people on? And can I have some?
I've noticed a certain maturing of my sexual tastes. Whereas once I would drift of in a dreamy reverie over the thought of a shy 17-year-old boy in an indie t-shirt - with me showing him the ropes on a sunny afternoon - motherhood has completely ruined that. When I see teenage boys now, they just provoke an advance-fret that they might break my daughters' hearts in ten years time. I also find myself speculating on what temperature wash I would put their t-shirt on, in order to get the mayonnaise stain off the front. And whether they have nits. And if they're worried about SATs. And whether I should ask them if this nu-rave malarkey is all it's cracked up to be. And then make them tie their shoelaces up.
Similarly, any scenario where I would be coquettishly crying out "Give it to me, Daddy!" like Marilyn Monroe in "Gentlemen Prefer Blondes", has gone to blazes. First of all, "Daddy!" is now, forever, a word screamed at three o'clock in the morning by a six-year-old who's just had a bad dream about Cybermen. It's never going to be used with casual abandon again. It's lost it's playfulness. And besides - as you realise, when you re-watch all those old classic movies - grown women flirting with men and using the word "Daddy" just sounds a bit ... child abusey. This aspect fairly ruins "How To Marry A Millionaire."
My main lust now is for Alfred Molina as Doc Ock in Spider-Man 2. I'd like to think it's because I feel that, by having sex with him on top of a burning sky-scraper, I could turn him from the darkness into the light. That my irresisible sexual magnetism and knowledgeable way with a man's anatomy could, single-handedly, save the world from destruction. I suspect, however, it's more likely to be down to Ock's arms. He's got four! He could get the shopping in and carry a child up the steps! 
Picture: "I'm playing ping-pong with myself with the other two hands."
I remember the moment I heard that my husband lost his job. I had taken the day off and was at a café with friends and our babies. He rang, I didn't pick up. When I finally listened to the message later, he sounded on the verge of tears, having been escorted out of the office after picking up his coat.
Practically every family we know has experience a redundancy. At least I have a job; for many of our friends, when the man is out of work, there's no money coming in at all. Alpha Mummy reader Charlotte has started a diary blog about her husband's recent redundancy. It's nice stuff - well-written and honest without self-pitying wails or stiff upper lip stoicism. Read her first post below and check out her blog, www.3kidsnojob.blogspot.com.
I've never been convinced by the theory that adversity brings people closer together. On the contrary, it seems to abrade relationships, working away at their rough edges until they're rubbed so raw they're the only thing you notice.
Before Beth, who is now thirteen, came along, we had another baby, who died. It was an opportunity to test the 'for better and worse' bit of the wedding vows before we were a year into our marriage. I like to think that even if I hadn't got pregnant again under three months later and filled the gap in our lives that had become the only thing that mattered, we'd still have survived as a couple, but I'm grateful we didn't have to put it to the test.
Now we're about to be tested again. The day after my youngest child falls out of a tree and gashes her hand so spectacularly we have to rush her to A&E, my friend Janet calls in a panic. She'd dreamt that something terrible had happened to us.
A week later, my husband phones me from work. "They're about to make me redundant," he says. His voice is so diminished with shock I can hardly hear him.
Continue reading "When the man is jobless" »
 Never mind all that extra time spent Hoovering up smashed Cheerios and folding endless pairs of Barbie pants while your partner catches up on the cricket. Personal experience be damned, a new study written up in Salon.com says that men and women actually do the same amount of work at the office and at home. The authors of the study analyzed data from rich and poor countries, taking into account market work (you do it for pay) and home work (it knows where you live). Surprised? So were 70% of sociologists the authors surveyed.
...While the gender equal-work phenomenon has been noted before, "it has been swamped by claims in widely circulated sociological studies … that women's total work significantly exceeds men's," as the authors put it.
Do we do more work than men, or does it just feel that way?
 Or at least, where she gets married, has kids and continues flirting with her boss. Rana from Beirut let us know about a different type of mummy blog: www.amourette.typepad.com. It's the diary of a female adulterer, a mother of three who "may ruin her future in the hope of a better present". It's compulsively readable, especially for women (like, oh I dunno, me) who sometimes feel like they've left behind their former sexy cool selves to morph into an exhausted, flabby, nagging, humourless version of themselves. Having an affair is the quickest way to time travel back to your old self. And while you know a fling is temporary, that doesn't stop it from being tempting.
In fact, the very idea that it's temporary can be the appeal: have the affair/keep the happy family (as long as you're good at keeping secrets).
What do ya'll think?
I suspect many eyebrows were raised at the cover of this week's Body and Soul supplement, with the headline 'Why having a baby boosts the creative mind'. This morning, Seema writes with an unusual take:
"One of the things I have struggled with since giving birth 2.5 years ago is me-time. I am a mother of one , sister to five, have two elderly parents, work four days a week... Last September I decided to enrol in a creative writing course; this is something I have always wanted to do. I enrolled in a university course so that everyone will take it seriously rather than thinking that this is a silly pursuit.
It worked, as it forced everyone (and that includes me) to not disturb me during the time I spent on the course. Add to that I could legitimately tell people that I am not avaiable as I need to get my coursework done.
I wonder if other working mums make time for themselves and whether anyone has taken drastic measures like me?"
Just discovered via a colleague this affecting blog Wife in the North, about a women who's moved with her husband and children to Northumberland from London (not her idea). The circumstances strike a chord with me, as I moved from New York to be with my husband - a decision that was driven by the necessity of being close to his son, my stepson (then 4, now 8), who lives in Barnes with his mother.
I like the UK. It was the right decision, especially while my stepson is so young. But it's difficult being the one to move for the other person, even when I started out thinking it will all be "an adventure" and saying optimistic things like "I didn't know you could boil meat". Cue the responses of "the child must come first" and i "knew what i was getting in to". Yes, yes. But you're always on your back foot, trying to put on a happy face even you feel like booking the next flight out. Now that my daughter is 3 and we're starting to think about school it becomes even more dicey: I wonder if my husband has established home team advantage and that it's going to become impossible logistically to uproot our family and live anywhere else.
I like how Wife in the North puts it on her blog:
"Moving to Northumberland from London was not my idea. My husband was in fact the only one terribly keen on the move. When I asked my younger son what he thought, he confided: “Bears might eat me”. "There are no bears," I told him as I looked into the darkness and the growling started."
Check it out: www.wifeinthenorth.com
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Eleanor Mills, mother of two, edits The Sunday Times News Review
Caitlin Moran, mother of two, is a columnist for The Times
Sarah Vine, mother of two, is a columnist for The Times
Jennifer Howze, mother of one and stepmother of one, is editor of Women at Times Online
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