On Being A Parent And Professional
I work a lot.
I do it because I enjoy my job, because I am building a career, because I am the primary earner…because I want to and need to. All the right reasons, right?
On top of that, I’m a dad. My kids are my world, and each new milestone in their lives is a source of joy for me. I potty trained Ben, I rock my daughter to sleep each evening, I grab Alex and sit him down to watch soccer with me ( Go Fire!)… when my kids have a need and I can help with it, I do my best to help.
I want to be a parent that other parents recognize as a real parent. It pains me to think that because I work so much other parents assume that I’m not involved in my kids’ lives. I tried to volunteer at Ben’s school but was quickly dismissed because I couldn’t meet at 9:30am on a Thursday. It’s hilarious — at work, people ask me about parenting stuff all the time. Many of my coworkers are starting to have kids now and they are amazed that I already have three, so they ask what carseats to look at (Britax) or how much time to take off when baby comes ( as much time as you can possibly manage! ). But at Ben’s school and in the neighborhood it seems the playing field is dominated by professional parents. You know the kind: not just a stay-home parent, but someone who literally critiques their own performance as a parent, like their entire self-worth is derived from making everything perfect for their kids. The kind that’s shocked when I give my kid a packet of manufactured crackers and not the whole grain ones that I ground myself, with a custom mill I made with Swedish imported wood, from fresh grain I grew in my own field, and then baked with solar power in the Eco-friendly hearth in the backyard. THOSE. Not the cheez-its. So it seems that the two are somehow mutually exclusive, and that makes me sad.
I may not be able to swing by and have midmorning tea, but I still want to help out and meet other parents and use my talents to make things better however I can. At least, I did. Now I just kinda feel unwanted.
What do you think? Should working parents get to help out at schools? Should we just stick our noses back into our work?
Oh, and should we give a flying shit who Tiger Woods slept with on a given day?
Pecked to Death by Chickens. With Frickin’ Laser Beams.
There comes a point in every man's life where he realizes that his Achilles' heel is fully exposed. My 7 year old is currently kicking mine with remarkable aplomb.
If he were just being "bad", it'd be one thing. He's not destroying things, or abusing the animals, or breaking his siblings' toys; he's not taking the car for joyrides or inviting hookers from Craigslist over for a midnight snack ( and let's be clear, if he DID invite a hooker over it would actually be for a midnight snack -- cookies, maybe some Sprite... ). He's pulling the Diet-Coke-of-Evil stuff: sneaking extra video-game time, conveniently 'forgetting' that he wasn't supposed to go to the bratty girl down the street's house without asking first, stubbornly refusing to do anything at all if he doesn't get to do whatever his first choice is...
I'm running low on patience here. I don't think taking stuff away is working, and talking about it doesn't seem to stick. I'm thinking gypsies, or maybe a shock collar. And whiskey ( for me, not him).
That is, if I don't crumble to dust first.
