More News: Dads Lie

We men say we spend as much time as our partners do on childcare. And we are full of it, say the data. When you actually track how much childcare dads and moms do, the mothers are still shouldering more of the burden.

The basic finding of this report wasn’t much of a surprise to me. We gents start out doing less, from the labor room on into breastfeeding and beyond; that sets up a pattern where moms do more. I’m not proud of this, but if my wife and I did a minute-by-minute inventory of childcare work around the house, I’d come up well short of 50 percent. (Never mind that it certainly feels like I’m on duty every moment.) I work into the evening at least two nights a week, on a schedule that’s not under my control; if those nights go really late, as they sometimes do, my wife will often take the following early-morning shift, too, so I can recover a little lost sleep.

No, the interesting detail to me was that a couple of generations ago, fathers routinely underestimated their time spent raising kids—the opposite of what they do today. Why? Because it used to be stigmatized (“woman’s work” is the phrase that got thrown around). That fascinates me: Not just that mothers used to do the lion’s share of the work but that a dad who changed a diaper was considered a chump. Can you imagine? It sounds as remote as the sixteenth century, at least viewed from our apartment. Yet it was probably true of many of my parents’ contemporaries and friends.

It doesn’t take long to erase even entrenched cultural stigmas anymore. Consider this: When my grandfather saw my kid brother write for the first time, he reacted with agitation, as if he’d seen something dangerous. Why? Because my brother was writing with his left hand. “The devil,” he said. Never mind that in many aspects my Papou was a modern person, one who shopped at Macy’s and liked a glass of Southern Comfort now and then. The way he was raised had determined everything, and he’d been born on a Greek island in 1900. Whereas in our world, four of the past five presidents of the United States have been left-handed. Three decades—one generation—and it’s as remote as Mars.

We Are HUGE Because Parents Fucking Love Us!!!

milan-champions-league

Well, actually, we are huge because Parents loves us. They really, really love us! Last night we heard from our blog-friend PetCobra at DadCentric that we’d been named to Parents magazine’s list of its five Favorite Daddy Blogs. According to Parents, we’re “a little better than most blogs.” Did you read that? A little better! That’s us. And do you know why we’re a little better? Because we’re “magazine writers.” And don’t you forget it. We work in a dying medium that pays dismally and that nobody really cares about, and that makes us a little better than everyone else. You hear that, Mom? Still wish you hadn’t paid for my education?

Our pal DadCentric made the list too, but WHO CARES? We’re gigantically, fantastically, wonderfully, superbly, extraordinarily famous now. Everyone should read us all the time because we’re great. Or at least Matt is, considering that he’s the only person mentioned in the writeup, and the photo was of him. He is the famous one, and we are his unpaid, exploited, far-better-looking minions. Not that we’re jealous.

We’re also huge. Seriously.

Serious Advice for Children

355px-Kinder-Verwirr-Buch_10(Another translation from Joachim Ringelnatz’s 1931 Children-Confusion-Book; read about him here).

Serious Advice for Children
(Ernster Rat an Kinder)

Woodchips fall when you plane
Corpses float in the Seine
Every boat below the deck
Gets covered in a sticky dreck

Beneath the mane’s greasy patina
Of every lion and hyena
Cling a host of critters
In goose feathers, hanging on
Are nesting lice, just like with swans
(Not to mention human beings
Then have it worse with their hygiene)

Not for nothing are there quarantines

When I yawn it’s like gangrene

Only tears are truly pristine
And water from mountain streams

Kids: brush your teeth clean!!

And Don’t Bring the Shredder

Nathan’s nomination for Worst Father’s Day Gift is already out there (as is my dissent), but he’s got competition. The Huffington Post’s nominees are up here, in slideshow form. And they are definitely bad, at least most of them (that bike/mower doesn’t seem so horrid to me, though I doubt it’s much fun to use once the novelty wears off). But this one stood out:

FATHERS-DAY-GIFT

Let me be crystal-clear about this: The last thing anyone wants–and in that “anyone,” I definitely include myself–is for me to spend an entire weekend unclothed.