parenting

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American Families Have Dual Incomes, Yet Less Time Than Europeans

January 28, 2013 at 10:56 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Two years and two months ago when you were born, we moved away from Nashville where Mommy and I had secure jobs and a great network of friends.

Why? Because life in the big city was too busy for us. We felt so starved for quality time, that we wanted to expose you to a slower pace of life.

So we moved to my hometown in Alabama, where, guess what? We were unemployed for the majority of our 8 months there. Sure, we had plenty of quality time, but it wasn’t reallyquality time because we weren’t actually making any money to justify our existence.

As your dad, it devastated me, knowing that I brought you into this world, only to not be able to provide for you.

Obviously, we moved back to Nashville, got even better jobs than we had before we left, and now life is wonderful.

Except for that one thing: Finding quality time for our family is still a struggle.

Mommy and I both work full-time, plus I have a part-time job. While your parents are at work, you spend nearly all of your waking hours with paid professionals and your peers at daycare.

Granted, it shows. You’re highly socialized: You know how to eat with proper utensils, you use the potty at school, and you don’t suffer from separation anxiety.

Yet Mommy and I have about 20 quality minutes together with you on weekdays, if we’re not counting getting you ready for school and getting you ready for bed.

We really do have so little time with you. Sure, we’ve got the whole weekend with you…

That’s when we buy groceries, clean the house, take the recycling, catch up with friends, and go to church; all based around your nap schedule.

If we were in Europe, I guess things would be different. I just read this article in The New York Times calledWhat We Have Less Of, by Paul Krugman:

“So what we have is a situation in which American families have more stuff, but they have managed to afford that stuff only by being two-income families, with ever less family time — unlike their European counterparts, who have gained in shorter hours and vacations what they lost in stay-at-home wives.”

It’s a nice thought, to actually have a comfortable amount of quality time, as a family. We tried that and couldn’t afford it.

I know it sounds strange that we don’t have cable TV or smartphones, but aside from the obvious financial savings, we also have a few less distractions in our house.

Quality time is a rare currency. As your American parents, we are always desperate to figure out ways to get more of it with you.

However, working less isn’t an option.

 

Love,

Daddy

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I Think My 2 Year-Old Son Is Better At Sports Than I Am

January 27, 2013 at 11:00 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Right now, I think your athletic abilities might be slightly greater than mine. Hopefully, it won’t always be that way. I do plan to catch up, though.

Granted, I won’t always literally be twice your height like I am currently, so I will eventually lose that one advantage over you.

When I was growing up, I wasn’t passionate about kicking and throwing a ball around, like the way you are now.

For your 2nd birthday back in November, you screamed with excitement as you opened your gift from Nonna and Papa:

“A basketball goal!” 

It’s still weird to me that A) you knew what it was called and B) you were able to pronounce it clearly enough for everyone to understand you.

Every Sunday morning as Mommy and I walk you past the kids’ basketball court at our church, you ask us, “I play for a few minutes?”

We’re always a solid 10 minutes late for the service now, but I never regret it, as I pick you up high in an attempt for you to slam dunk the ball through the hoop.

It’s not just basketball you have taken an interest in. After dinner now, Mommy and I play our own version of “Monkey in the Middle” with you, in the hallway of our townhouse.

I stand at the entrance of the living room and Mommy stands at the entrance of the dining room. We kick your miniature soccer ball to each other, with the room behind each other serving as the goal.

Meanwhile, you entertain yourself as you kick your orange volleyball in between Mommy and I in our line our fire, giggling yourself silly as you dodge the soccer ball that we kick inches away from you.

I guess you could call it “Dodge-Soccer Volley Monkey-in-the-Middle…”.

You just love the action, as random and technically dangerous as it definitely is.

As you get a little bit older, I”ll get to throw a football back and forth with you in the backyard, as the sun sets and we talk about your day. That’s a very important image in my head.

Playing both real and made-up ball games with you is lot of fun, but more importantly, it gives me a chance to engage you and get to know you better. The older you get, the more it will matter to both of us.

For now, the best benefit about playing “Dodge-Soccer Volley Monkey-in-the-Middle” is that it’s the perfect way to wear you out right before bedtime.

You go down so easily now. Of course, you sleep with your soccer ball in your bed every night. Sometimes, it’s the orange volleyball too.

If only I were making that up.

 

Love,

Daddy

 

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“All I Ever Wanted Was To Be A Dad,” Said Few Men Ever

January 26, 2013 at 11:17 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Last week when I wrote “Dads Are Happier Than Moms and Singles, Says Psychological Science,” I received an intuitive comment that really helped me understand myself better:

“I am a mom who, much like you, just knew I’d be a [parent] but never dreamed of it my whole life, or knew what to expect at all. I assumed that when I had my child I’d keep working and be happy with him in daycare, because that’s what my parents did with me. I couldn’t have been more wrong — about my happiness/satisfaction with this scenario.

We can’t afford for me to stop working, but all I want to do is be with my son. It is the most horrible feeling in the world. Guilt, feeling like I’m missing out, and most of all: the inherent instinct, dare I say biological need, to be with my infant child, makes me INCREDIBLY sad to have to sit at my desk all day. I know not all mothers feel this way, but this is why I am less happy than my husband — who has no problem at all working full time.”

The main takeaway from this comment for me personally is that, as a mom, she feels guilty about having to work full time and be away from her child; meanwhile, her husband has no problem with that issue.

Good point. Not only does it appear to be the norm for most women to yearn to become mothers, therefore causing my familiarity with the phrase, “All I ever wanted was to be a mother,” but it seems just as predictable that men experience much less guilt about working all day, away from their child.

I’ll speak for myself here, as a dad. Do I feel guilty about you being in daycare all day while I’m literally a quarter of a mile down the road, working in the office?

To be vulnerably honest… never.

If the question is whether or not I miss you everyday while I’m away from you, the answer is absolutely yes!

Inconveniently, your 2 hour nap occurs during the middle of my lunch break; otherwise, I’d spend that extra hour with you.

Like most dads, I am wired with the subconscious yet undeniable desire (and biological need?) to provide for you and Mommy. So to be honest, the thought of feeling guilty about you being in daycare while I’m at work… well, it’s pretty much the opposite of how my mind works.

Instead, I would feel guilty if I couldn’t be working all day while you’re in daycare. In an ideal world, Mommy could stay home with you, at least.

I gain a lot of confidence and self-worth by going out and working to provide for you and Mommy five days a week. It’s like, for me to feel successful, I have to have this “other life” away from you to earn the right to the version of life I share with you and Mommy.

So, no; like most men I know, I never thought or said out loud, “All I ever wanted was to be a dad.”

Instead, this was my version:

“All I ever wanted was to make a good and respectable living for the family that I always knew I would have one day.”

 

Love,

Daddy

Leave a comment Posted on Nostalgia, parenting

Boys And Their Battle Scars

January 25, 2013 at 11:57 pm , by 

2 years, 2 months.

Dear Jack,

Nearly a month ago while I was converting your crib into a bed, you managed to make your way over to a wooden panel I had just removed and set aside on the other corner of your bedroom.

Unfortunately, your innocent curiosity led to the wooden panel falling and hitting you in the face.

It frightened you more than anything. While it didn’t leave a bruise, it did cut you.

If only you had my oily Italian skin, the cut would have been healed up already. Instead, weeks later there’s still a visible mark there.

Mommy and I have been faithfully applying aloe vera and Mederma for Kids on it.

I feel horrible that this happened to you.

The problem is, you’re a boy, and you wanted to be part of the action. You wanted to see me “build your big boy bed.”

Son, I am very sorry. Hopefully, the cut won’t become a permanent scar.

At the same time, I know I can’t shelter you from everything. You’re going to get hurt, no matter how much I try to protect you. There will always be some random way for you to get hurt; one that I just didn’t see coming.

For what it’s worth, last weekend while I was playing trains with you on the floor, you came charging at me with your closed fists up in the air.

Smack! The toy train in your right hand hit me directly in the middle of my forehead. What was a cut for a few days became slightly infected, officially making it a stubborn zit.

So right now, you and I both have noticeable red dots on our faces. They’re just our matching battle scars.

Still, if you end up not having a scar from this, it will be a big sigh of relief for me.

Not because you would be any less of a beautiful boy, but because it would serve as a reminder that ultimately you got hurt and I had something to do with it.

 

Love,

Daddy

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How To Hurt A Grown Man’s Feelings

January 24, 2013 at 11:48 pm , by