Shared parenting

There’s an interesting article in the New York Times about shared, or equal, parenting. It opens by detailing the pact that one couple made before they had children:

…They would create their own model, one in which they were parenting partners. Equals and peers. They would work equal hours, spend equal time with their children, take equal responsibility for their home. Neither would be the keeper of the mental to-do lists; neither of their careers would take precedence. Both would be equally likely to plan a birthday party or know that the car needs oil or miss work for a sick child or remember (without prompting) to stop at the store for diapers and milk. They understood that this would mean recalibrating their career ambitions, and probably their income, but what they gained, they believed, would be more valuable than what they lost.

I read this aloud to Bryan, who responded, “That’s what we do!”

Um, okay…

When I read it outloud, I thought, “Wow, what would life be like if we were both on the same page all the time and Bryan knew where the grocery store was?” As I continued to read, though, I was reminded that I have a far different situation that the article illustrates as commonplace:

Social scientists know in remarkable detail what goes on in the average American home. And they have calculated with great precision how little has changed in the roles of men and women. Any way you measure it, they say, women do about twice as much around the house as men.

The most recent figures from the University of Wisconsin’s National Survey of Families and Households show that the average wife does 31 hours of housework a week while the average husband does 14 — a ratio of slightly more than two to one…Break out the couples in which both husband and wife have full-time paying jobs. There, the wife does 28 hours of housework and the husband, 16. Just shy of two to one, which makes no sense at all.

Ask Bryan, and he will tell you he does at least–if not more than–50 percent of the household chores and childrearing. For the most part, I wouldn’t argue. But, there’s a clear division of labor, unlike the couple at the beginning of the story. I handle the mental to-do lists, the errands, the cooking, and theoretically, general household and family organization. (The three-year-old at our house, with whom I forgot to send a show-and-tell item to preschool on Friday, would probably prefer I did a better job there.)

Bryan handles traditionally “male” chores like yard work and garbage, but he also does the dishes and is the preferred parent come bath time. And, after trading off bills and finances for the last nine years, those responsibilities have thankfully landed with him permanently.

We have specific duties based on our areas of interest and expertise. This means that when I travel for work, I prepare food, make packing lists for daycare and preschool and record Olivia’s schedule. When Bryan travels, he takes out the trash, reminds me where the cat litter is and asks me to check the locks.

The division of labor isn’t always fair. On any given day, one of us may do far more than the other. And, as the NYT article asserts, we certainly find this to the case:

When couples argue, it is most likely to be about children, money or the division of labor. “Those are always the Top 3,” Blair says. “The order changes around, but the topics don’t.”

Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I want to plan the parties. I want to make the baby food. I do not want to know how to change the oil in the mower, and I have absolutely no working knowlege of our sump pumps. While job sharing might be a logical approach for some parents, we’ve found it much more efficient to approach our home like a business. Each “employee” has their own area of responsibility. For us, it’s efficient and effective.

And while Bryan may not come anywhere close to touching the hours I spend on worrying–which falls squarely into my realm of responsibility–I could not ask for a more engaged father for my children. I know very few men who take such an active role with energy and enthusiasm.

That’s what works for us.

What works for you?

4 responses to this post.

  1. What works best for us? Simply put, its a matter of doing what we find we’re best at in the family duties. I’m the cook, my wife is the baby clothes expert, I handle the bills, she handles the breast feeding. Personally, I find it amazing that people want to act like all parents can be perfect equals, but if that where the case what would we need a spouse for?

  2. Posted by smithfamilyweblog on June 15, 2008 at 1:56 pm

    I totally agree!

    I edited the entry just a bit, because someone (my mom) felt that I didn’t portray Bry’s responsbilties in as positive a light as I did mine, which was certainly not my intent. My whole point is that we each play a role in making the house and family run well, and every piece is equally important.

    I mean, it is Father’s Day. If I was going to complain about the division of labor, I would have waited until Monday. 😉

    I stand by the whole “engaged and involved” thing. I’m pretty lucky.

  3. Posted by karyl on June 15, 2008 at 9:04 pm

    It definitely takes the perspective of two individuals with a plan to make a ‘whole’! Doug and I have things we each prefer to do, and in combination, makes perfect sense! I don’t like to mow – but I do love to pull weeds, mulch, plan new projects, and ‘tell’ Doug what I need done. He runs a very successful business, which I don’t even try to participate in, and he leaves the ‘homefront’ to me. It has worked great for us – I don’t want to be equal in every way – we each have our special input, which makes the ‘whole’ work!

  4. Posted by Doug Smith on June 16, 2008 at 2:40 pm

    Karyl is the visionary, the genius, the scheduler, the organizer, the person who has all of the people and things in our lives in a giant master plan, to which I am not privy. I am the drudge, the laborer, the maintenance guy, the muscle. The only difference between me and a pool boy is that Karyl yells for me to put my shirt back on.

    P.S. I love our division of labor . . . .

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