Smith Family Weblog

I always used to carry small handbags–just large enough to fit my wallet, keys, phone and maybe a compact and lipstick. About a year ago, I decided to take the mom purse plunge. It was fabulous! Suddenly, I had room for everything. I could throw in a sippy cup and a Diet Coke, or stash my camera and cord.

I was admiring a new bag large enough to hold my laptop the other day, and I realized I may have taken this just a bit too far.

In fact, while digging for my keys in front of a coworker today, I managed to stumble across a Little Mermaid stamping kit, a Cheerio and three bottles of nail polish (which were all basically the same color)…and a few other things…

That’s right–two compacts, crayons, Dora the Explorer sunglasses, a measuring tape (hi, Mom!), an empty container of mints and its stray, lint-covered belongings, perfume, a teether, lip gloss I’ve never worn, and a pair of flats.

And those are just the things I was brave enough to post.

What’s the strangest thing in your handbag?

Clearly I’ve failed on the whole “not passing judgment” thing, so I might as well just add a bit more.

It’s things like this that gives working moms a bad rap. I mean, I’m (obviously) all for involving professional caregivers in the upbringing of my children. I think they’re better for it, in fact.

But, there are those who argue that I’m letting someone else raise my children while I work (or blog, as the case may be this morning). When you work, you have to be willing to FULLY devote yourself once you get home. Hobbies fly out the window. “Me” time is the occasional shower you have to yourself.

If work makes you (or your partner) too tired to get up with your INFANT at night, then really, you need to reevaluate your priorities. If you don’t, I think–in all honesty–you deserve the wrath coming from the other side in the “Mommy Wars.”

Some moms work outside of the home, some don’t. I don’t really care–do what suits you and your family. But please be a responsible, loving parent and devote some time your kids when you are at home.

Whew. Passing judgment is so cathartic. Why did I decide to cut back?

I’m really trying to be less judgmental, so I’m just going to simply post a link to this article without any additional comment.

But, if I were to comment, it would be along the lines of “Really? You can’t get up with your OWN CHILD in the middle of the night?” I might also be tempted to add that as a working mom, there’s a part of me that enjoys that time (or at least feels like I should).

And, what I really want to know is, how do you get around the guilt? I feel guilty if Bryan gets up with Olivia.

I just cannot fathom this. Sleep deprivation makes you do strange things, I guess.

Again, though, not passing judgment. To each their own.

Whatever.

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?

I stopped by the bookstore today to pick up a bit of light reading for the long weekend–Love and Logic: The Preschool Years. It’s about raising kids with–you guessed it–love and logic. Like one or the other wouldn’t be enough.

Anyway, I found a few of the titles in the parenting section to be quite humorous. If you happened to be in the Borders on 6th at lunch today, I was the sleep-deprived mother laughing manically at titles like Babyproofing your Marriage and Children: The Challenge.

I found a few books we definitely don’t need, like Raising Strong Daughters (I’d buy the sequel, which must be entitled Okay, Maybe You Overdid it a Bit with that First Book: Here’s What to do Now) and Raising Confident Daughters. We seem to be good in that department.

I picked up The Strong-Willed Child three times, but couldn’t bring myself to buy it. I also probably need, but would never buy, The Total Mom Makeover and Parent Effectiveness Training. These can’t be big sellers–no one wants to admit they’re the problem in the first place.

If the Love and Logic book doesn’t help, I can always try Parenting without Fear (but never without wine). Maybe then I’ll have the Happiest Toddler on the Block. If not, there’s always Grand Theft Childhood.

In the last few hours, I’ve tried to make coffee without grinding the beans, left the shower without rinsing the conditioner from my hair and washed the remote control with a load of laundry. What gives?