Kids equals crazy happy

I was reading an article last weekend about studies in the US concluding that having children doesn’t make you happy. It stated that over the past few decades social scientists have quizzed parents and have found evidence that there is almost zero association between having kids and happiness and indeed lower levels of happiness, life satisfaction and mental wellbeing were reported in parents than the childless.
If those scientists had asked me I would tell them having kids has most definitely upped my levels of happiness one million fold. There are times I laugh so hard at my kids I can’t breathe. With regards to my levels of craziness, or whatever the scientific definition of crazy is, they are off the ricktor scale.
I’d say that as a mum I get less sleep but more laughs, my house is a at times a mess but my home is blessed with three incredible boys and seeing the wonder of the world through a child’s eyes is truly amazing.
I remember the things that made me happy before children – a glass of wine, new shoes, a night out – and call me boring I wouldn’t in a million years swap it for the things that make me happy now – family life. Way back in the day Saturday nights would be spent out on the town, now I’m not ashamed to say we’re more likely to be found on the sofa surrounded by kids, popcorn and a DVD.
I met a girl I knew from years back recently. Even back then she always stated she never wanted to have children – they were too noisy, too messy, too much bother. There was nothing medically wrong with her, unless hating children was a medical disorder, she just didn’t want them.
There she was all salon-styled hair, manicured nails and big shopping bags full of new clothes and fancy furnishings for her no-doubt immaculately presented house. There was I, the other extreme, with my three kids and hair that hasn’t seen the inside of a salon in two months. The only thing I had hold of were tiny hands pulling me in the direction of different items of interest. She found it remarkable that I could carry a conversation over the din of three kids demanding things loudly.
She was also amazed that I looked exactly the same as I did before I had kids. I wondered for a minute if the reason this girl had veered away from motherhood because she had been misinformed that when babies are born, parents actually sprout horns, a tail and get a greenish tinge to their skin.
I think the second my youngest boy swung a heavy Eason’s bag at his brother and accidentally hit himself and they both began screaming and shouting was the exact second she thanked her lucky stars she didn’t have kids and tottered away on her expensive heels.
Perhaps for some people having children brings misery. Not me. My kids make me 100 per cent happy, make me laugh every day and amaze me with their various talents – be that spitting great distances, disco dancing or drawing pictures of me with crazy purple hair and orange eyes. I’m not rich and I’m often dog-tired, but having these boys is the most rewarding thing I have ever done.
If those scientists had asked me if children make you happy I’d have said: “Straight up they do. My kids have an outstanding capacity to help me look at the bright side of life. Amen”.