There’s an interesting article in Newsweek about the “new” generation of dads. The author — a member of said new generation — defines them, basically, as fathers who spend more hands-on time with their kids than the previous generation of dads spent with their offspring. The author spent nine months at home with his daughter, a time he calls, “the most rewarding time of my life — and a bonding experience I wouldn’t trade for anything.”
When I went to work after Poppy was born, Rockford was working on writing his thesis. While he didn’t really take any paternity leave, he was able to stay home with her during the day while I was at work. We were fortunate to have a trustworthy Mother’s Morning Out program at our church, too, so Rockford was able to go to the library a few times a week to work.
I’m a little sad for Pete that he isn’t going to get the same bonding experience with his dad that Poppy had. They used to watch “Magnum PI” and “The Rockford Files” together every day. Her taste in music is enough to reveal the impact that had on her. She loves lame ’70s soft rock, like Bread. She also loves Wilco, though, so I can’t complain too much. Except when she insists on listening to “Guitar Man” 17 times in a row. Then I can complain all I want. And I do.
Anyway, the Newsweek story says the average dad today spends just over 6 hours a week with his children. That seems on the slim side to me, and I can’t imagine that they’re including weekends in their equation. Rockford’s schedule has changed vastly since his graduate-student days, but he still spends a good deal more than 6 hours a week with Poppy. This is partially because she has a pretty late bedtime for a 2-year-old. We decided early on to let her stay up late because we wanted her to be able to see Rockford for more than an hour after he got home from work. He generally gets in three to four “Poppy hours” on weekdays. And I get to sleep until 7:30 or 8 a.m., because she usually sleeps until 8:30 or 9. Everybody wins.
Newsweek also offers a sort-of opposing view written by a mother who says that despite the changing attitudes, “women are still left carrying the bulk of the load.” The author and her husband work full time, but she says the majority of the child-rearing duties are her responsibility. She specifically mentions things like keeping the refrigerator stocked and making sure the kids don’t wear their pajamas to school.
As a full-time stay-at-home mom, I expect to spend more time tending to Poppy’s (and soon, Pete’s) daily needs, because I’m with them for more of the day than Rockford is. I’m very fortunate that Rockford is willing to pitch in as much as he does after work. Most days, he’s in full play mode from the moment he walks in the front door. While he’s playing “animal pieces” (putting together puzzles) or “what’s in my pocket?” (in which Poppy shoves toys into his pockets and then he acts really surprised to find the tiny lobsters and monkeys therein and I listen in and laugh a lot), I make dinner. After dinner, he takes care of bath time while I sit on my duff watching TV. In the past, I have felt like we had an imbalance in the household tasks. But I’m trying to do a better job of pulling my weight. I’ll let Rockford let you know how I’m doing on that front, if he’s so inclined.
Rockford tries to send me out for “Mommy time” occasionally. Oddly, though, I always feel really guilty about going out by myself. On the rare occasion that I take him up on the offer, I spend the whole time watching the clock and worrying that Poppy is giving him a hard time. He’s great with her and, for the most part, handles tantrums pretty well, so I don’t know what my problem is. I think it’s just general Mommy Guilt. Or maybe it’s that I don’t much like going out by myself. I’d probably stay out for hours without giving it a second thought if I were out with a friend. I’ll test that theory if I ever manage to make a new friend. (But that’s a whole ‘nother whiny post.)