Parenthood Juggle: It Takes a Village. . .

973794339_92cfe394be_bMy wife and I were enjoying one of our post-children’s-bedtime quality hours (by which I mean catching up on season 3 of Downton Abbey) when I told her about the recent post on Doves and Serpents by a Computational Biologist/Mormon Mother and her feelings of desperation during her maternity leave. I was reminded of the college sociology class that introduced me to Betty Friedan’s The Feminine Mystique. This was not my favorite class, in that I had been working full-time and going to school full-time for 3 years by then and I was. . .beat. . .down. I didn’t really get along with the professor, and I detested sociology with the fire of a thousand suns. No offense to sociologists intended; I’m sure you are nice people and your work is important.

Perhaps it was my cheerless state of mind that caused the tone of quiet desperation in The Feminine Mystique to stick with me.  

I thought of my own wife, a Stay At Home Mother by choice, crocheting a blanket for our forthcoming third (and by mutual decision, final) daughter while we grabbed an hour of grown-up TV time. I wondered if she also felt this way, like she was quietly dying to leave the home, and I asked her if that was the case.

She said that some days taking care of the kids was crazy difficult, and it was always better if she got some time at the gym, but that she would not like to work before the kids were all in school. She would feel guilty leaving our children with someone else every day and would see that as a selfish choice on her part. Besides, isn’t that one of the major points of the feminist movement? To be able to choose  not  to do the stuff other people think you should be doing?  

Once all the kids were past kindergarten, she would like to work, but she wanted a job that was flexible, so she could be there when they came home from school, or stay home if they were sick.  I thought to myself, “What kind of a job is that?” If I left every day at 2:30 to be home for the kids, that would be frowned upon by my bosses. By frowned upon, I mean I would be invited to join the ranks of the unemployed.  

Part of me knows, however, that if anyone can find a job like this, it will be my wife. For a while it was teaching an elective art class at the local elementary school, then later she provided daycare for a friend. Interestingly, the daycare job was so her friend could go to work while her husband looked for a job. Our house is less than a mile from where my wife grew up and that places her firmly inside a support network of friends, parents, sisters and other helpers that allow her to be a Stay At Home Mother. Some of this network is church related, but I would say only about 1 person in 10. The village is raising my children, a village that my wife has created with a winning personality and sense of humor, and that is good and right. These are the same things that attracted me to her in the first place, even though I knew her Fine Art printmaking degree might not be as fulfilling monetarily as some other career tracks. Many other career tracks. Okay, pretty much any other career track.

Most of the time, our arrangement with the village works out fine. I mean, it’s a tangled web of favors and compulsion that in some ways resembles an organized crime syndicate, but other than that it’s real friendly. I must say, though, there are times when I am toiling away at something stupid at work (I am a graphic designer, so stupidity here ranges from picking the best urinary catheter stock photo to photoshopping away the CEO’s facial blemishes) when I think how nice it will be when our kids are all in school and my wife can earn some money (you could almost buy one college textbook with the money I have saved for my children’s college expenses.) I don’t care what job she does, just as long as it produces more money than it consumes. I hope she feels fulfilled in this part-time, flexible commitment, Mother-friendly job, because if we ever have to rely on MY village, the one I have crafted with social awkwardness and a pronounced inability to remember people’s names, we are in serious trouble.

See all the Parenthood Juggle guest posts here.   Go here for this guest post invitation.   Submissions should be sent to guestposts@dovesandserpents.org (please see our guest post guide).