I notice in my own house, some responsibilities just fall naturally into the individual strengths and interests that Tom and I have. I am the teacher, so the kids’ education and their homework falls to me; he is the practical/ community guy, so he is the one who teaches them the right way to wash out the trash cans or takes them to do volunteer work. It is funny that he is the coach when I am the one with athletic experience, and that I handle all the finance issues when that is clearly what he knows better. But these are the easy divisions of labor. Where  it gets tricky is, I think where volume of parenting and volume of working outside the home meets.

I am not the first to bring this up, I know. But the reality is, I am not at work as much as Tom, and it is his job we all depend on. So does that mean that I am the more expendable parent? If some one has to stay up late licking envelopes for the auction or stay home with a sick baby, does it always have to be me? Since I have more flexible hours, does it always mean I should be the one who makes meals and shops and has conversations with the pediatrician and plumber and then stay up late doing what I need to do while he sleeps? If we’re really going to get to the bottom of this, we still need to ask: is his time really more valuable than mine?

This much is true: I believe families work better if one parent has a more flexible schedule. Someone has to do all these things, shouldn’t it be the more flexible parent? And I do know parents who enjoy their stay-at-home role, however temporary it may be. Maybe I’ve been doing it to long. I think the problem is I don’t want to corral my ambition into domestic things. It’s not enough to bide my time any longer; do I really want to squeeze my drive and expertise into doing cool things with milk cartons and playdoh anymore? Is it so wrong for a mother to want to play on the field in the game for which she was trained? 

What do you think? Have any of you had any great insights on this issue? Are you perfectly content with your choices, whatever they may be? Let’s hear your experiences!

You never really know what messages get through to your kids, but I had evidence at least one of them hit home recently. It was the first week of November and I  turned on the car radio to find Christmas music (on a station that shall remain nameless, but since we all live in Boston we all know which one you are, you scoundrels!) Before I could even form a scowl, Neve shrieked from the backseat, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME? CHRISTMAS MUSIC? ARE THEY INSANE?” I smiled to myself as I listened to her rant for another few minutes. Dex chimed in, “How to ruin Thanskgiving. They just want us to panic and start to buy stuff!”

You could say I was pleased. The indoctrination has worked!

Maybe my world is warped, but I only know one dad who shops at all, especially for Christmas. Believe me, I’d love it if Tom took over the shopping since my idea of torture is entering any retail establishment, except a bookstore, and even that is problematic since I will only look at books I want.  As Tom says, I seem to be allergic to shopping. There is no circumstance which makes it appealing to me. Shopping gives me a headache and low blood sugar shakes, and before long I have given up and gone in search of chocolate. Some of my issues stem from the choosing, some from sheer volume of items on display, some from the blatant sex and the marketing geared to dumb us all down and the uninspired thought behind design or the expensive price of what’s available. (I actually saw a parka for sale last week for–get this–$999.00 A ski parka!) Maybe it’s the pressure for whatever we choose to change our lives for the better, make us happier, better looking, more excellent human specimens — and of course that is mostly a wash. Only once have I ever bought something that has been so ultimately satisfying that it was worth the effort and the expense.

It was 22 years ago, and I spent a lot of my hard earned savings on a pair of boots I saw in a shop window in Rome. I loved those boots, I loved that they reminded me of Rome, I loved the craftsmanship and they way they fit and the fact that they went with everything. I had them reheeled four times, and those boots lasted me sixteen years of hard wear. They had truly become an expression of me, some might say an extension of me. The day my toe broke through the leather and the cobbler told me there was nothing more I could do, I was heartbroken. I actually asked if he could retool the leather into a change purse, and he patted my shoulder. “It is time to let go, Andi.”

When was the last time any of us bought something that lasted even three years, nevermind 16? Maybe that’s why I hate shopping. Maybe I doubt I will ever have a purchase that good again. Like the love of my life, it was the purchase of my life, never to be repeated . . ..

Nah, that’s too deep. I just can’t stand musak and malls and, well, any pressure to add more stuff to the overflowing chaos of my house. Is that so wrong?

Dear Parents,

What makes a good mom?

What makes a good dad? 

I’d love to hear your opinions. Even if you have only three seconds to write 2 words, I’d love to hear from you.  I’ll compile them and give it back to you in a future post.

Thanks a million

Andi