Give Me A Break, Give Me A Break

All By Myself

I love my kids, and my wife.  I really do.  I know when you say that it makes it seem like you don't, but trust me, I mean it.  I'm incredibly fortunate that I get to spend as much time with them as I do.  Every once in a while though, it's nice to get away, or have them get (go) away, and experience some good old fashioned solitude.  Sometimes it's nice to get yourself out of house and go find a quiet spot in the woods to meditate, or your local sports bar to drink beer and eat wings.  Other times though, it's nice to remain in your own domain without having to worry about providing for or looking after others.  A king in his castle with no subjects to rule if you will.

Last month, I had two consecutive kid friend weekends, with the second weekend being followed up with two additional days free of parent duties.  Again, I love my kids, but as someone who tends to spend an exorbitant amount of time with them (especially in the summer months), it was a welcome break.  The first weekend, my wife and I actually got a chance to have a couple of kid-free days, and thankfully this time I did not take over-advantage.  It was about the midway point between our birthdays, and since birthdays as parents usually become a family filled affair, we wanted to take a night (or two) for remember what life was like before kids.  Given our free weekend, we should have whisked away to some romantic B&B, but instead found ourselves spending a bulk of our time geeking out about our finances and the prospect that we might be able to retire early, or at least earlier than we thought.

The second weekend though was a classic bachelor weekend.  My wife had taken our kids to her parents' for a baby shower (not ours, we're done), which meant I had the entire house to myself.  The weekend was followed up with our kids spending a few days at my Mom's while I helped out my former employer, which became four consecutive days .  With an empty house and no one to answer to, one would assume that I stayed up late, got up late, ordered pizza, and hardly left the couch.  I actually worked most of the weekend in one of my various freelance hospitality gigs (aka bartending), partially in effort to stay focused on discussion topics from the previous weekend.  Even despite my seemingly counter-intuitive use of free time, it was nice to have a couple of days where I could be on my own schedule, play whatever music I wanted, and play it as loud as I wanted - no radio edits necessary. 

I had a high school English teacher who always said that "variety is the spice of life."  He also taught me that hamburgers are done and people are finished, but that's (maybe) another topic.  As parents it can be hard, and at times guilt laden, to take time away from active parenting.  But it is completely necessary in my view, if you want to stay sane as a parent.  Many of the books/blogs/articles I've read strongly encourage spouses to take date nights after having kids in effort to mitigate the toll that having kids takes on a marriage.  Similarly, I believe it is vital to take those individual times, away from your kids, away from your spouse/partner, to do some individual reflection/sleep/Netflix binge.  Especially if your role is one as the primary caregiver, and that care giving is your primary day to day responsibility*.  

As previously mentioned, I often try to avoid drawing comparisons between stay-at-home parenting and traditional paid employment.  But if you are working "9-5", as Dolly Parton would say, or "for the weekend" if you prefer Loverboy, at some point you get to punch out at the end of the day and go home (if that is even still a thing).  When your primary daily role is to parent and support your kids, those responsibilities continue well into the overtime hours, typically without the time and a half.  So every once and a while, you need a break.  A day or two off.  We all know that if you engage in a  repetitive action for too long you are likely to injure yourself in some way.  When it comes to parenting, too much uninterrupted child rearing  is bound to have detrimental effects on your mental capacity and fortitude.  I don't know of any peer reviewed studies, but the anecdotal evidence seems compelling.  

You could even label your day or days off as professional development.  Back in my younger working years, I would usually get the chance to attend a conference once a year (if the budgets were okay and I could sweet talk my wife into letting me go).  These conferences were obviously geared toward learning about best industry practices and new ideas or resources that could be used in our office, but they typically turned into more of a "social commiseration".  Attendees would gather to gripe about how bad their jobs sucked, often while enjoying complimentary beverages sponsored by a company who was hoping to get you to purchase their product.  While I always came away with at least a couple of new ideas related to my work, the bigger benefit from attending those conferences was having a feeling of refreshment for the work, which may have been bolstered by not having to actually do the work for a few days.  It also helped to know that there were others out there experiencing the same struggles that you were.                     

When I have those relatively rare occasions when my kid-rearing duties are non-existent, I often feel refreshed as a parent when I am back in the presence of my children.  I certainly savor the moments of freedom, and try to keep the guilt at bay, because I'm pretty certain they are not thinking about me (maybe about their mom).  But I also use those moments as a springboard to help me be a better parent when it is time to take back the controls of the family airplane.  My parental fuse lengthens considerably when I am able to take those periodic breaks from parenting, and my appreciation for the amazing ways in which my kids (and of course my wife) contribute to my life grows.     

Typically, when we shirk our parental duties for a day or more, the responsibility for looking after our angelic children goes to our parents.  We don't get out much, and they live close enough, without living too close, that it works logistically for our kids to see their grandparents regularly enough (my Mom would most certainly disagree).  When we send our kids to one of our parent's for a night or a weekend, I do tend to feel a little bit of guilt, like I am pawning my kids off on them.  But I quickly remember how much our kid's grandparents love spending time with them, and how they would take them any chance they could get.  We're very blessed that both my wife and I have parents who full on embrace their roles as grandparents, and our kids love spending time with them as well.  I also think back fondly about the times from my childhood when I stayed with my Grandma, and the wonderful memories my sister and I were able to make with her.    

Like most all things with parenting, and life in general, the key seems to be finding the balance.  We don't ship our kids off every weekend, but we try to do at least one, possibly two date nights a month; and a full weekend, or even a long weekend, once a quarter.  Is it enough, too much, too little?  Who knows, but it has seemed to work for us.  It gives us time to ourselves, and at times even our individual selves, without feeling neglectful.  You have to find what works for you logistically and mentally, but it is important to make it work.  Sometimes you just have to take advantage of timing.  Part of my rationale for relinquishing parental duties for six full days in the last month was the fact that just after a four day stretch sans-kids, we would be embarking a week-long family trip that would encompass a lot of together time - more to come on that later.

It's natural to want a change of scenery at times.  Occasional breaks from the routine can be refreshing - it's why we take vacations.  If you feel like you need a quick time-out from your kids, or maybe even your spouse, try not to feel too much guilt about taking it.  Use it as a way to recharge your parental and spousal batteries so you'll have more energy to devote to them.  In reality, they might have wanted a break from you too, but just didn't want to say anything.  Inevitably, if you take sometime for yourself, or sometime with your spouse/partner, at some point, you'll be ready to get your kids back and get back into parenting mode.  When I hugged our kids after not having seen them in four days, I told them I enjoyed the time I was able to spend by myself, and the time I was able to spend with their mom, but I was glad that they were home.  They said that the missed me too, but only a little. They were just having too much fun.
       

"Everybody's going off the deep end."

*That was a very roundabout way to describe a stay-at-home parent.      

Life After Death

Can Somebody Anybody Tell Me Why?

It's July and our family made it through our first entire month of 2018 without attending a funeral.  It had been pretty morbid start to the year, with us averaging about a funeral month through May.  The first was actually on December 30th, but that seemed close enough. It also happened to land on our middle child's birthday, and fortunately she was pretty understanding of the need to postpone her 5th birthday part to celebrate the life of her great aunt.  She was treated to a pinata later that day by her extended family, and this has seemed to smooth over the fact that we never got around to rescheduling her an actual party.  More fodder for her therapy sessions later on in life I suppose.

Like sex, drugs and maybe even rock 'n roll (pending your music tastes), death is one of those uncomfortable yet unavoidable topics you will have to discuss with your kids at some point.  Pending the closeness of your children to the deceased, the manner of death, and the age of your children, there are many ways, and no right way, to approach the topic.  One of our child's teachers told me that she had all intentions of taking her kids to a funeral of someone they didn't know very well before they had to attend one of a close loved one.  Not quite funeral crashing, but an interest idea nonetheless. 

The very decision to take your kids to a funeral can be a challenging one.  If you're not a regular church goer, and the funeral happens to be a traditional religious service, the prospect of your kids sitting still and for an hour (or more) can seem daunting.  Despite being semi-regular church goers, I spent the bulk of one life celebration service quarantined in a bathroom at the back of the sanctuary while our overtired 3 y/o screamed himself into a nap.  I'm pretty certain his cries were audible by the back few pews of the church.

In the past, I've struggled with the decision of attending funerals myself, even sans kids.  In a way it sometimes give me an odd, and likely incorrect, feeling like I'm imposing on the family.  A few years ago though, I caught a conversation on public radio (because I'm old) discussing funeral attendance.  The host made the comment that the philosophy in her house, as directed by her father, was that you always went to the funeral out of respect for the family.  This seemed like some sound reasoning to me, and has helped me dictate my decision to attend funerals whenever logistically possible.

When it comes to deciding whether or not to bring the kids, I always consider what I think the person we are honoring might want.  This typically means that whenever feasible our funeral attendance is a family affair.  I did allow our two oldest to sit out one of our most recent funerals, as it happened to land on their last day of school, and it was logistically easier to not bring them.  It also would have been their second funeral in two days.  I figured our 3 y/o had enough ambivalence to spare him any excessive emotional trauma.  He also didn't have a choice; since I was going, he was too.

With all of this exposure to death, it has certainly conditioned our kids to process and cope with it.  They've seen deceased loved ones in open caskets.  Our daughters, who tend to wear their emotions on their sleeves like one of their parents (I'll let you speculate on which one), usually shed their fair share of tears.  Often times because they are genuinely sad, but also in part because everyone else is crying too.  It just seems like the thing to do at the moment.

My wife and I never discussed a strategy to approaching the topic of death with our kids, or answering their curious and thoughtful, albeit at times inappropriate questions.  We've tried to be as honest as possible with them, while also sparing some of the unsightly details.  To me, this seems like the most humane way to approach death.  It seems bizarre that at time we try to shield our kids from death and sadness in real life, while we think little about the situations they see in movies and on TV.  One of my friends commented that growing up on a farm with animals that came and went helped him better understand that death is a natural part of life. 

I am by no means an expert on the child grieving process, and while all the funerals our kids have attended have been loved ones, most all have been great-grandparents or great-aunts or uncles.  Close family, but not necessarily family we see daily or weekly.  Sad and unexpected losses, but most had gotten to an age or been fighting an illness where death was not unlikely in the near future.  This has likely allowed us to support our kids through the grieving process, as opposed to trying to shield them from that grief.  But I do think it is good, and healthy, for our kids to see us show our emotions as we grieve too.

While we recognize the sad and hurt that comes along with the loss of a loved one, one thing that we've tried to encourage our kids to do is is think about the good memories and traits about that particular person that they can show to the world.  Personally, this has helped me during my own grieving process; finding solace in the memories of the good times I've shared with those who have passed, and identifying the ways in which those people positively impacted my life, so that I can try to do the same for others. 

When my wife's grandma past away in May, our 7 y/o started making a list of the things that we loved about her.  She had all of our family members, including her aunts, uncles, cousins, and my wife's parents, write a fond memory or something they loved about their mom, grandma or great grandma.  This note made its way into the casket where my wife's grandma will be able to rest in peace with those memories and words of love.  Of course at the top of the list, courtesy of our children, was how much great-grandma was loved and will be dearly missed because she always gave out treats. 

Some of the most thoughtful words shared with me following the loss of a loved one came from a good friend after my stepsister was tragically taken from us at a young age.  It was the one of the first funerals our oldest two attended, and had they been the age they are today, much tougher to explain to them.  The words my friend share were a quote from Leo Buscaglia, who is often referred to as "Dr. Love", and have become my go to condolence when trying to find anything that might provide a remote amount of comfort to those mourning the loss of a loved one.

"I know for certain that we never lose the people we love, even to death.  They continue to participate in every act, thought and decision we make.  Their love leaves an indelible imprint in our memories.  We find comfort in knowing that our lives have been enriched by sharing their love."

If we keep these words in mind, I think, hope, it can help us weather that storm of grief that descends when we lose those we love.  It might also help us to help our kids in understanding death.  That though the people they saw every day, or even just occasionally, might not be physically present, their presence can live on in them and in others around them, and in the memories they have of those loved loved ones. 

The loss will still hurt, and there will be sadness and tears.  And we will struggle to help our kids process that grief and sadness, just as we will struggle to process our own.  But as the minister presiding over the funeral of my wife's grandma said, those tears are a sign of love for the those we've lost.  It's a sad reality that it hurts the most when we lose those we love the most.  But it is a reality, and one we will have to face, and one our kids will have to face.  If we support them, and allow them to support us, it will help us to continue living life.  Even after death.




Title credits: (The disturbingly prophetic) Notorious B.I.G. and Bone Thugs N Harmony. 
       

Snow Day

School's Out For Summer

Yes, it seems bizarre to title a post Snow Day, since we're now well into June and most schools (should) have started their summer break by now.  But what is summer break from school in a state like Minnesota but really a three month snow day, minus the snow*.  Some schools might have seen their summer break temporarily postponed because of the number of snow days they had during the winter.  All curses toward school administration for not calling a snow day after that 12 inch blizzard are quickly forgotten when the school calendar stays on schedule come early June.

Growing up in Minnesota, I always remember having at least a weeks worth of cumulative snow days during the winter.  Either times or the weather have changed, both of which are probably true to some extent, or my memory is fading, which is also likely true, as my kids seem to only be averaging about one a year, with maybe a late start or early out thrown in here or there if you are lucky.  While snow days (or any other break for that matter) are always welcomed by the kids, parents certainly have mixed emotions about those days off of school.  If you are lucky enough to be "retired" like me, and your school district has the foresight to make their snow day calls relatively early the evening before, your biggest excitement probably comes from the possibility of catching a few extra minutes of sleep.

I've commented before that one of the best things about staying home with my kids has been the ability to be on their schedule, especially now that they have entered school and gotten busier with school related and extra curricular activities.  For households with two working parents or single parents who work, days off of school, whether expected or unexpected can be a harried experience.  Pending the age of your children, and the flexibility of your work arrangement, it undoubtedly leaves a fair share of parents scrambling to find a suitable overseer for their children.

During the one snow day our kids had this past winter, I was chatting with our neighbor while we were out attempting to dig out from the previous snowfall.  Both he and his wife are teachers and we agreed that we felt lucky to not have to scramble to find childcare for our kids.  As we were admiring our good fortune(?), I casually made the comment that maybe a requirement of having school age kids should be that one of the parents work in the school, or a school, so that their work schedule could be somewhat consistent with their kids' school schedules.  I know as I contemplate coming out of retirement once the kids are all in school, working a job at their school, or one of our district schools sounds pretty enticing.

Of course I know we all hate requirements, and I'm certainly not trying to suggest that all parents, or at least one parent in each family should become teachers, just as I've suggested before that not all parents should be stay-at-home parents.  I do think the notion of parental involvement in a kid's formal education has some merit, if done appropriately.  As we've moved to the norm of a two income household, if there are two incomes to be had in that household, naturally it has become harder for working parents to stay connected to the formal education process.  And as our community bonds have seemed to weaken, our connection to the social institutions, like our schools, have strained as well.

Increasingly it seems as though the educating of our kids has become something that we leave to the teachers and education administrators.  We may do this in part because as parents we don't feel equipped to teach our kids the things they would learn in a school setting.  It also gives us an out to complain about the way our kids are being taught, or not.  I give special kudos to anyone who home-schools their children, as that must take an insane amount of patience, creativity and mental fortitude.  And while I certainly don't think that we should all be homeschooling our kids, it would be incumbent upon us parents to think that we could, should Alice Cooper's prophecy actually come true at any point in the future.

Dropping our kids off at school, and leaving them to the teachers and various education professionals for the next 7-8 hours, it seems like another way in which we've tried to make parental responsibilities fit into the rest of our life.  One of the central goals of a country, state or even a community would seem to be supporting the education of our kids.  But often our collective societal action doesn't always fall in line with that concept.  Two years ago, an article on the Huffington Post tried to make the argument that if we really cared about working moms, then we should increase the length of the school day.  A former college classmate of mine, and incredible teacher, was quick to point out that she, like many other teachers, was a working mom as well.

When we were touring kindergarten open houses with our oldest, I vividly remember a particular school's open house, where the point was reiterated multiple times that just because a child was 5 years old, they did not need to start kindergarten if the parents didn't think they were ready.  It hadn't really dawned on me until then that a common mindset when a child reaches 5 years old could be to get them out of the house or out of daycare.  I found it a little ironic when paging through a Community Education Flyer and came across a series of classes titled Parents are Teachers Too.  Considering how much time a child typically spends with his/her parents/guardians, it is well accepted that parents are the most effective teachers during a child's formative years.  Even the best teachers have a limited ability to instruct, given the number of kids in each class, the number of classes in a day, and the number of days in a school year.  A teacher's ability to make an education impact seems to be decreasing even more as it become more commonplace for teachers to spend excessive amounts of time dealing with student behavior management, something, if anything, that should be taught in the home.

And while we seem to be asking more and more of schools, both in the formal education process, but also in the development of individual character, communities tend to be supporting their schools less, and being more suspect of teachers and education administrators.  Now it has become more the norm for parents to question teachers and administrators than to acknowledge poor performance by their child, which ultimately might reflect poorly on their parenting performance.  Teaching thus becomes one of those "desirable" professions where everyone has an opinion on how it should be done and feels that they could do it better, but few actually want to do it, as highlighted by nationwide teacher shortages.  You would think that such projected shortages would spurn us into collective action of wanting to recruit new teachers and retain the ones we currently have, or at least the good ones.  But yet, this spring alone, five different states have seen teachers strike, or threaten to strike, over inadequate funding and resources^.  We may say that we highly value teachers and the education of our kids, but what our actions really say we want are bigger houses, more Snapchat filters and faster delivery service for our online shopping.

Of course more goes into job satisfaction for teachers than a paycheck, and while most don't get into the field to get rich quick (if at all), there are a number who do it just for the summers off and have little to no business educating our kids.  But when we lament those stereotypical outliers, we fail to recognize that we have an opportunity as parents to partner with the formal education system to make it better.  If all we do is complain about bad teachers, instead of trying to support them to make them better or working with the administrators to get them out of teaching, we help perpetuate the cycle of a failed educational system.  In a country like Finland, which is consistently ranked as the best in the world for educating its youth, the teaching profession is one of the most respected, has the most rigorous training process, and is compensated accordingly.  The Fins also view educating their youth as a central part of their society and adjust other aspects of their lives to help support it. 

If we want to make educating our kids a priority, we have to recognize that we as parents have to work collaboratively with the formal education system (if our kids are apart of it), and provide teachers with the support the deserve, both financially and from a social-emotional standpoint.  We have to recognize that as parents, we are the most influential teachers in our kids lives.  If we can't teach our kids basic behavioral skills at home, our expectations that the formal teachers in the schools be able to teach much reading, writing or arithmetic should be pretty low.  If we view sending our kids to school, especially public schools, as a very inexpensive daycare, then we should expect to get what we pay for, which is very little.

We also have to realize that kids learn in a variety of places and in a myriad of ways.  These include the formal brick and mortar schools, as well as our daily experiences and adventures.  Because of this, we have a community obligation to teach our kids the skills necessary to live capable and productive lives.  We can certainly shirk this responsibility, and leave it up to those with degrees and advanced degrees in education, but this will do little to fix an education system so commonly viewed as broken.  It doesn't require all parents to stop what they are doing and apply for jobs at the local school, although they always seem to be looking for bus drivers.  If we can't see our role in fixing the problems that exist, we shouldn't have much expectation that those problems will actually get fixed.                   
 

*At some point during the summer, as I'm attempting to lather up my kids with sunscreen, I wonder what is worse, working up a sweat putting all of the snow gear on your kids in the winter or feeling the constant cake of SPF 50 on your hands all summer.  I'd say it's a toss up.

^Yes you can debate the merits and justifications for these strikes, but they are obviously happening.  And given that we spend we spend about 2% of our annual expenditures on Education in a given year (less than the amount we spend on clothing!), you can easily see why. 

People Get Ready

"You Gotta Tell Your Story Boy, Because It's Time To Go"

I was exchanging a few text messages with a good friend of mine the other week, as he and his wife are expecting their first child any day now.  I asked him if he felt ready, and his response was "more or less".  Coincidentally, it was the same answer he gave when I asked him if he was ready for the half marathon was planning to run this last weekend.  I suggested that he should pace himself, both with the half marathon and impending transition to fatherhood, as long distance running and parenting tend to draw a lot of parallels.

After that brief message exchange, I realized, disappointingly, that was the first time I had really inquired with him about the life changing moment he would be experiencing in the next few weeks.  A good friend, someone who I had traveled foreign countries with, someone I would trust my own kid's well being without hesitation.  And me, someone who likes to think they are typically more attuned to the social-emotional state of affairs.  Yet, despite knowing for seven months that he and his wife were expecting, I had neglected to ask him how he felt.  And when I finally did, it was via a three bubble text message correspondence.

I felt like a pretty horrendous friend after that realization.  What kind of friend finally gets around to check-in on someone a few weeks before his world is about to be completely altered (mostly for the good) to ask them how they are feeling.  I have no doubt in my mind that my buddy and his wife, who I would also consider a very good friend, will be absolutely phenomenal parents.  He's going to crush fatherhood, just like he crushed the half marathon he ran.  But that certainly doesn't mean that he isn't feeling a whole range of emotions, including some that might be a little more unsettling.  Talking through some of those feelings, however challenging that might be, can often provide a recognition that those feelings and emotions are normal for expectant parents.  Especially when you can have those conversation with an expert parent like myself (please note the sarcasm). 

In my view, there are two primary reasons, neither excusable, for the lack of support I felt I've provided to my friend.  One is the obvious culprit of time, and lack there of.  The other is the all too familiar gender stereotype that doesn't encourage guys to talk about their feelings, and often puts the father in a supporting role in the sci-fi, rom-com, comedic-horror, drama that is pregnancy and parenting.

We're all busy.  When people ask me, "How we have been?", my response is typically, "Busy, although we never seem to do anything."  When you have young kids, or older kids too I presume, it's easy to get into the minutia of the day to day - school, homework, activities, recommended daily hygiene, etc.  It's hard to deviate from the path without anticipating some serious challenging parental opportunities^.  Because of this, we have a tendency to get into our own little world, and lack the energy to have awareness of others and the things they might be going through.  We ask, "How are things going?" as formalities, somewhat hoping the respondent doesn't dive into a five minute monologue about what has really been consuming their life since the last time we asked them that question.  Ain't nobody got time for that, we're already running late to pick the kids up from school.

It's little surprise that a recent survey of Americans conducted by the large health insurance provider Cigna showed that nearly 54% of respondents would be considered lonely, with 40% indicating that they "lack companionship" and "meaningful relationships", and feel "isolated from others".  The report also pointed out that feelings of loneliness are much more prevalent in the younger generations.  This is quite the juxtaposition, given today's technological advances where we can be hyper-connected to so much and so many, but still lack that deep sense of connection to others.  We can have 1,000 Facebook friends, but struggle to identify a non-familial person we'd feel comfortable putting down as an emergency contact on our child's school medical forms.

And if we don't feel like we have time to really get to know others and do the work to establish those meaningful relationships, then we guys, who would do pretty much anything besides discuss our feelings, are certainly not going to take the time.  Naturally, men and women approach the entire aspect of pregnancy and child-rearing in typically different fashion.  Lacking the ability to actually get pregnant, guys do not get to (have to) experience the physical changes that go along with expecting a child and ultimately doing the physical work to deliver that child*.  But this is certainly not to say that an expectant father's emotions and feelings about the pregnancy and his transition into fatherhood doesn't deserve airing as well.

Throughout the pregnancy and delivery of the baby, the vast majority of attention is focused to the mother, and rightfully so, as she is doing the brunt of the heavy lifting.  But this also tends to color our perspective of those events as women-centered, and can often leave an expectant father wonder where his place is or should be.  Expectant mothers get thrown baby showers and get to go shopping for a whole new wardrobe - yes, I get that pregnant women probably wish they didn't have to wear maternity clothes.  They get to "nest" and have late-night cravings for ice cream - again, I get that those cravings come at the expense of morning sickness and overall uncomfortableness and exhaustion.  Expectant dads, if they're lucky, have friends that will take him out for one last night on the town before baby comes.  Something we tried and failed to do with our friend because we were all too busy.

I don't want it to seem like I'm bitter for not being thrown my own baby shower - I actually got a tool belt full of baby related products as a gift from my old coworkers - or getting to wear jeans with an elastic waistband.  I'm just saying that our view of what pregnancy and childbirth, and subsequently most child rearing activities entail are seen through the mother's lens, and I think this can make it harder for dads to feel connected to the process.  Even the child birth class we took before our first focused primarily on the comfort of the mother during labor and delivery (again, rightfully so).  When the expectant fathers were consulted on what they hoped for throughout the process, most everyone indicated, wisely, for their wives/partners/baby mommas to be comfortable.  Having never experienced a pregnancy first hand and lacking the ability to physically carry offspring inside my body for nine months and personally push that offspring out of an undersized opening, I felt my job was to defer to whatever my wife felt was the best course of action.  "Get her any/all of the drugs she wants, Doc!  Here's my Amex, just keep the tab open."   

Even past the pregnancy, labor and delivery, and into the stages when a father can be more actively involved in the child rearing (minus the breast feeding of course), we still have a tendency to view our marker as a parent through the standard set by the mom.  I feel like I get referred to as a slightly-above average-dad (in the aggregate) because I did/do a number of things that are commonly associated with the mother.  I happily changed diapers, gave bottles, took the kids out in public, and continue to do a vast majority of things that women tend to do around the house, whether they are working or not.  Don't get me wrong, there are certainly some terrible moms out there.  And of course households without a motherly presence; whether tragically or intentionally.  But on the whole, and is true in our house, the societal parental standard is set by the mom, and for good reason. 

But maybe this is part of the reason it can be challenging to get fathers to engage in parenthood, because we are expecting them to act more like moms.  That can be challenging to do when a father's experience through the pregnancy is very different.  We might lack some of that connective feeling to our kids because we didn't carry them for nine months.  We might not appreciate the challenge of parenting through frustrating times because we didn't experience the mental, emotional and physical exhaustion of labor and delivery.  We can do our best to try and understand what it was like, but we only know what we know.  And when we live in a society that questions if all moms are #momenough, how can we expect dads to even compete.           

 A few nights ago, my wife and I were discussing how fortunate we are to both be home on most nights and able to put our kids to bed.  If you have multiple kids, you're probably aware that the divide and conquer strategy is typically the optimal approach.  But I think it is important, and at times refreshing, to parent solo.  While you are forced to deal with every kid crisis yourself, it also helps you to develop your unique style of parenting, without necessarily having to worry about what your co-parent might be thinking.  Don't get me wrong, single parenting has to be infinitely more challenging, but those moments when it's just you and no Super Mom to swoop in and save the day can lead to some profound resourcefulness.

Shortly after our oldest turned one, my wife took a girls long weekend to Chicago with some of her friends.  I'm sure she was apprehensive to leave her baby, and worried about how I would fare, but it was a necessary rite of passage for me.  In my own baby book, I remember finding a piece of paper where my Dad had documented a play-by-play synopsis of a day he spent with just my sister and me when we were little, and my Mom was enjoying some much needed time away from her motherly duties.  Having those occasional times as an only parent has helped boost my confidence in my parental abilities, and it is something I would suggest that new fathers do once it is logistically feasible.  We certainly all make mistakes as parents, and sometimes you learn better from recognizing your own mistakes, as opposed to being informed of your mistakes by someone else.  It's also nice to not feel guilty about leaving the dishes piled in the sink after dinner for a few days.

As important as having those opportunities to test your parenting mettle while flying solo, I don't think anything is as vital in helping you improve your parenting game as just having that time with your kids, especially when they are brand new.  I've commented before on the generous parental leave policy that my previous employer had.  Like dealing with a hangover and running long distances, kids just take time.  A lot of it.  And the more interrupted time you can spend with them, especially during the first days/weeks/months of their life, the more comfortable you'll become with your parental abilities, and hopefully the more likely you'll want to use those abilities in the future.  This time won't ease all of your concerns, and it might just create new ones for you to worry about: Am I reading the appropriate books?  Is this the most ergonomically correct baby carrier to use?  Can newborns comprehend swear words at 4 months?  I heard their mind is like a sponge.

There isn't much of a training plan for parenthood, like there might be for a half marathon.  Unless I suppose if you work in a daycare or have a large family with significantly younger siblings.  They always say it's different when they're your own.  And It is.  It's easier and it's harder at the same time, and for very different reasons.  You can certainly practice with other people's kids, and we will gladly offer up ours at a discounted price.  But regardless, being an expectant parent, especially for the first time, will bring on a whole host of emotions and feelings, both for the expectant mom and the expectant dad.  While we are reassuring expectant mothers that those feelings are completely normal, and sometimes just hormonal, we should also remember that those expectant fathers might also be feeling similar emotions, and much less likely to wear them on their sleeves.

This is not to downplay the often insurmountable task that is motherhood, or advocate that us Dads of the World should unite to protest this weekend's next Hallmark Holiday.  Moms deserve all the kudos they get, and much, much more.  The Dad-joke that everyday should be Mother's Day is by all means true.  But as Dads, our experience as parents is going to be different than that of a mother's.  We have our own dreams, hopes, and fears when it comes to having and raising our kids.  We might not want to talk about them, but that doesn't mean it isn't worth getting us to try.  There is a good chance that if you get us to tell our story, we'll better know the reason why.


The below photo progression illustrates the increase of comfort in holding a newborn with each subsequent child.  This corresponds directly with a decrease in head hair coverage.

Child #1:
Pretty Awkward Newborn Holding

Child #2:
Slightly Less Awkward Newborn Holding

Child #3:
Seamlessly managing my fantasy football roster while holding newborn

My buddy Ben got his awkward newborn
holding photo out of the way with our first.

^Commonly referred to as meltdowns

*I've commented before that the book The Sh!t No One Tells You was a good read to help me better understand the toll pregnancy and delivery took on my wife.  Still, reading and experiencing firsthand are obviously two very different things.

       

Guilty As Charged

I Get Knocked Down, But I Get Up Again

We're almost a month removed from the Lenten season, which means, if you're like me, you have consumed an equal amount of chocolate that you gave up during those forty days.  I gave up a host of things for Lent, chocolate/sweets being one of them.  I don't do it because I'm overtly religious, but I tend to take some small pleasure in mild masochism.  You could make an argument that all parents are masochists in some way.  The whole point of giving up something for a period of time is that it's supposed to be a challenge and involve a bit of suffering.  Sounds a lot like parenting.

Along with chocolate, alcohol tends to be a common indulgence that people up for Lent.  In fact, in 2016, based on a unscientific analysis of Twitter, alcohol was the most common thing that people gave up for lent.  I remember going out with a group of people one night in my 20s, encountering someone who had given up drinking for lent, and having a hard time wrapping my head around the prospect.  The religion that I was raised in didn't push giving up things for lent, and somewhat ironically, as I've become less religious, I've tended to adopt more practices that have a religious historical context.

This year I did give up alcohol for lent, but it was a very knee-jerk, reactionary decision.  I've commented before that as I've aged, and hit my mid-30 about a month ago, I've gotten better at recognizing my limits when it comes to imbibing.  Every once and a while though I forget that I have limits, and one of the weekends leading into Lent, I took over-advantage of being 24 hours kid-free.  When the dust had settled, I found myself in a state I hadn't been in a good 5-7 years (and hopefully won't be again for another 10-15).  My decision to part ways with intoxicating beverages for a few weeks were eerily reminiscent of those particularly bad (and thankful rare) occasions of my younger years where I woke up a following morning (or afternoon) and swore I'd never drink again.  Only to have usually recovered by that evening and completely forgotten the oath I made to myself or God or whoever else I thought might get me through my hangover.  As your years increase, your recovery time tends to as well, and it took me until Wednesday morning to finally feel recovered from my Saturday night antics.

As a parent, you have a whole host of things to feel guilty about.  There are certainly no shortage of books and blogs and excessively long Facebook posts addressing parenting guilt.  For me, the guilt doesn't get laden much thicker than missing out on time with your kids because you're nursing a hangover.  Fortunately it hasn't happened that often, but the times when it has (mysteriously?) come about, I've felt like a pretty piece-of-shit parent.  Being under the weather and unable to attend to your kids brings on it's own level of guilt, which is amplified at least 295^ times when that under-the-weatherness is completely self induced.  Influenza S* as I referred to it following my most recent debacle.  To add to the guilt, if your kids are young and clueless enough, they will show such sincere concern for you.  As I spent the better part of a Sunday laying in bed wondering if I could convince my wife to take a sick day the next day, our kids would occasionally peek their heads in the door and ask if they could bring me anything to help me feel better.  This only made me feel that much worse.

So once I fully, or mostly recovered, I decided to give up drinking for a while.  Or at least until we celebrated the resurrection of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and hunted for some Easter eggs.  I don't consume that much or that often, and I knew it likely wouldn't be the last time in my life I forgot those tenets, but it seemed like an appropriate decision given the timing of the incident and how long it took me to feel like a fully functional parent again.  I can't say that I made it all the way through Lent without having any, but if you adhere to the allowance of a cheat day each week, I did pretty well.  Definitely better than the chocolate.

I've never been a huge believer in guilt as a sustainable motivational tool to improve your life.  I certainly think it has its merits, as it did in my case a few months ago, but I see changes, especially lifestyle ones, motivated primarily by guilt as ones that don't last.  I believe wanting to do something because you feel better after you do it is more likely to create lasting habits than doing something because you feel guilty if you don't.  Exercise and going to church are perfect personal examples.  I don't exercise or go to church because I feel guilty if I don't.  I exercise and go to church (most of the time) because I feel better if I do.  Sure I may be motivated a little by guilt if I skip a workout or a Sunday, but by and large my impetus for engaging in those activities is because I know I will feel better after I do them.

I think the same can be said for parenting.  It's easy to feel guilty as a parent.  About everything.  Guilty about not spending enough time with your kids, guilty about not putting them in the right/enough/too many activities, guilty about letting them wear the same clothes two days in a row, guilty about feeding them mac and cheese multiple times a week.  But if we let that guilt be the prime motivator to try and be better parents, we allow it to consume us.  We shouldn't try to be more patient and loving parents because we feel guilty when we loose our cool and yell at our kids.  We should strive to be more patient and loving because it feels better to parent that way, and it's usually more effective (in the long run at least).  We've all been guilt tripped into doing things, and we've probably all guilt tripped our kids into doing things (or at least tried).  But we recognize how that behavior is temporary, until the next time that situation arises and we're dealt or are attempting to deal the guilty card.

This is not to say that a guilty conscience doesn't have place in parenting, or in life in general.  If parenting could truly be "guilt-free", my kids would subsist on flour tortillas and Dinosaur Train.  Yes, I feel guilty when I've turned on the TV for them so I could get some personal time.  But that guilt isn't the only reason I try to avoid the electronic babysitter as much as possible.  I'd rather play outside with them, or read books, or do something creative with them that I can post on Instagram and make other parents feel guilty.  I may lack the motivation to do those things at the time, like I usually lack motivation before a run, and it's really enticing to let them watch one more episode, especially when that's all they want to do.  I know though that spending that time with my kids, engaging them and interacting with them, even if they are melting down the entire time, will make me feel more fulfilled as a parent.  And possibly provide some good blog material.  I also know that if my kids watch too much TV, they turn into complete assholes.

So maybe it's not really "guilt-free" parenting that we're after.  Maybe it's "guilty enough".  Guilty enough to want to do better, but ultimately deciding to do better because you feel better from doing better.  That makes sense, right?  We're going to screw up a lot as parents, and we're going to feel guilty about it.  It's a natural emotion.  If all we feel is guilt for making those mistakes, we will continually make the same ones because we'll be consumed by that guilt.  Real world parenting will always have a plentiful amount of guilt that can be felt.  But just like masochism and intoxicating beverages, everything in moderation.       

I clean up their throw up after they get sick,
so why shouldn't they reciprocate?

         

^For some odd reason this is our 7 y/o's favorite number.  Whenever she complains about something taking a long time, it is always 295 seconds or hours or years.

*Should stand for Stupid, but since we don't use that word in our house, it stood for Should Have Made Better Life Choices



     

Don't Take Your Guns to Town, Son

Wish That We Might, and Wish That We May

We're three weeks past the shooting that killed 17 people at the Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School in Parkland, Florida.  By now, most of us have likely moved that incident from our "working memory".  We may have already forgotten that just over three weeks prior to the Parkland shooting, a student killed two students and injured seventeen others when he opened fire at a high school in Benton, Kentucky.  If our collective attention span of a current event is measured by how often we search for it via our favorite medium, some have suggested that it takes us about a week to get over a mass shooting^ like the ones in Florida or Kentucky, or the one in Texas last November, or the one in Las Vegas six weeks before that one.

If you've read some of my earlier stuff, you may be aware that I am a self-labeled pacifist.  I've never owned a gun (besides a BB gun) or even fired a gun, and have absolutely zero intention of doing either in the near or distant future.  Ever.  Thus, I was naturally somewhat surprised when I received a mailing from the National Rifle Association (NRA) a month ago encouraging me to become a member.  My membership would instantly enter me into a sweepstakes where the grand prize was a cache of a dozen different guns, ranging from AR-15s to Glock pistols to some that looked like they were used in the Revolutionary War.  The grand prize also included enough ammunition to shoot (at least) one round from each gun for a month straight for an entire calendar year.  I'm guessing that my friends who exercise their Second Amendment Rights with much more frequency than I do may have been behind my receiving of the membership invitation.  

Like a number of things that manifest from our developmental socialization, I was not raised in a gun-owning household.  My Dad probably had a gun somewhere, we lived on a farm multiple miles from our nearest neighbors.  But he never showed it to me and I never saw him use it.  He didn't hunt, and neither have I.  This is not to say that I never played Cowboys and Indians or Cops and Robbers as a young kid.  I had my fair share of toy guns, and even that BB gun, but real guns where never apart of my childhood, and subsequently they have not been apart of my adulthood in way.

Because of this, there is no part of me that would feel any safer owning a gun or having one in my house as a means of protecting my family.  Especially considering that having a gun in your home significantly increases the risk of that gun killing one of your own family members, accidentally or intentionally.  It also increases the likelihood of someone in your house committing suicide.  Not to mention the empirically studied "weapons effect", that shows that the mere presence of a gun makes people more aggressive.  For these reasons, I've made if very apparent to our young kids that our's is a household that does not celebrate guns or violence.  On more than one occasion, I've redirected my three year old from using something in a gun-like fashion.  Any "squirt guns" have been reclassified as the more PBS-friendly "water squirters".             

This past December marked the five year anniversary of the shooting at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut.  I vividly remember the increased unease I had when hearing about this tragedy in comparison to other similar events.  Sure, I was alive, and even in high school when Columbine happened, but as a high school freshmen, it was hard to imagine that anyone would ever walk into my school and start shooting people.  Newtown was different though, as I now had a kid, and one more on the way in a matter of weeks.  In a few short years, my kids would go to an elementary school, which, until that horrific December day, seemed like an unfathomable target for a mass shooting.

Following the shooting in Parkland, which had been the 239th instance of a shooting at a school since Newtown, a number of politicians, including the President, pointed out the mental state of the assailant and decried America's "mental health crisis".  Critics suggested this was done to shift the focus away from the unique gun culture that exists in the United States, which is the only developed nation where these mass shootings happen with alarming regularity.  I will agree that there are certainly issues related to mental health that need to be addressed to help prevent future tragedies.  It's worth pointing out that those who want to place the blame squarely on mental health have done much to exacerbate* the crisis.

But even if we could "solve the mental health crisis" (I'm not even sure what that would look like), or ban all of the violent video games and media, another scapegoat of the those opposing any, seemingly common sense, gun control measures, we'd still have guns, and the primary function of a gun is to induce harm, most often fatally, on something or someone.  Nevermind the fact that rates of mental illness diagnosis are relatively consistent across the developed countries.  The US has a mental illness rate comparable with the Netherlands, which has a gun death rate nearly 10 times less than the US.  I'm guessing they also play their fair share of violent video games in Holland, including the popular Killzone series games, which were developed there.  Like the US, they probably haven't yet found a way to block all of the violence portrayed in Dutch movies and television (or those salacious American imports).  I do wonder what gun sales would look like if we managed to get rid of all of the violent video games, television shows and movies, a concept I've become much more receptive to in my crotchety old age.                   

I recognize that getting rid of all the guns will not end tragic events like the shooting in Parkland. Having taking middle school and high school civics, I am well aware that the Second Amendment provides all law abiding citizens with the right to bear arms.  I am also aware, having taken constitutional law classes in college, that no rights are absolute.  Even the late (and very conservative) Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia commented in regards to his opinion of a 2008 Supreme Court Case dealing with Second Amendment Rights, that there are "undoubtedly" certain "limitations on the right to bear arms".  As the only developed country that continues to deal with these types of mass shootings on a too regular basis, it's baffling, disturbing and shameful that we can't figure out how to reduce the gun violence in our country.  Our obsession with guns is not the only problem, but it is certainly part of the problem, and in my view, a big part of the problem.

After the shooting in Parkland, there was discussion about the need to "harden" schools, and the Florida Legislature earlier this week, passed a bill that would allow certain school staff to be armed.  Some experts have suggested (more than once) that this is the exact opposite of what needs to be done to prevent another school shooting.  I don't agree with our President often, but I did agree when he "tweeted" that "No child, teacher, or anyone else should ever feel unsafe in an American school."  But honestly, I can't imagine arming teachers or adding (more) metal detectors outside of school entrances doing the trick.  Yes, schools should be a safe haven for kids, but shouldn't every place else; the park, the mall, the movie theater?  Why stop with just the schools?  Don't all of us have a right to feel safe in a nation that was created to "form a more perfect Union, establish Justice, insure domestic Tranquility, provide for the common defence, promote the general Welfare, and secure the Blessings of Liberty to ourselves and our Posterity."

When our kids were in daycare, we used to get the occasional note home about a "biting incident".  As sad as it sounds, I was always a little relieved when the note indicated our child was the one bitten, as opposed to the one doing the biting.  I never wish ill will on my children, but realizing that bite marks and bruises heal in time always seemed easier to process than behavioral issues that would need to be continually addressed over time.  It's a drastic, and somewhat (okay, very) sadistic comparison, but if, Heaven forbid, one of my children were ever involved in a mass shooting, I'd have to say that I'd rather have them be a victim than the shooter.  The sad reality is that we can't ensure that our kids never fall victim to a horrendous act of violence.  Shootings like the one in Florida three weeks ago will undoubtedly happen again.  But we can, and must, do absolutely everything that we can to ensure that our kids are never the ones to commit those horrendous acts.  If we all did that, then we could probably worry less about them being the victims.

Yes, I carried this toy gun when I dressed up as a cowboy for Halloween one year in college. 
I even took it to the bar and vaguely remember, in my drunken stupidity, pointing it at people in attempt to be humorous.
Despite my antics, I was very fortunately not shot that night.  Although I probably should have been.
  

^The definition of mass shooting is obviously widely debated, but we usually know one when we see (or hear about) one, which we do a lot.

*If you are unfamiliar with The Onion, please note it is a satirical news publication, and Paul Ryan did not actually write this article.  But if you want to get an actual sense of how serious conservatives are about fixing the "mental health crisis" you can look here.  Or here, among other places.     

You Ain't Gotta Go To Work, Work, Work, Work

But You Gotta Do the Work, Work, Work, Work

I've been at this stay at home parenting thing (and subsequently a world renowned blogger*) for over three years now.  My current supervisors don't have a formal annual performance appraisal process in place, but they tend to be very good about giving me ongoing feedback.  As they say, you should never be surprised about anything you learn at an annual performance review, as any areas of improvement should be pointed out on a continual basis, with suggestions for action items to help you improve on those areas.  Believe me, I get plenty of these.

On multiple occasions, when I've told people that I am a stay-at-home parent, some have commented on how it is great that I have the opportunity to raise my own kids.  I never really thought much about this idea, as we thought our kids were in a great daycare while we were both working, and part of my own hesitation for staying home with them was taking them out of that environment and subsequently learning all of my bad habits.  As I've perfected this parenting thing (please note that was laden heavy with sarcasm), I've realized that there is certainly some truth to that statement.  What I have appreciated has been my opportunity to raise our kids in the environment that my wife and I have created, which I'll, somewhat unfortunately admit, seems markedly different than today's norm.  

It seems like the new normal for a family with dependent kids is a frenzied, stressful environment of rushing between home, school, work, and various activities.  While we certainly have our fair share of stress in our house and do our fair share of frenzied rushing to various things, I've said before, and recently reiterated a number of times to various people, that me being home with our kids has reduced the collective stress level in our house.  Just as kids pick up on the stress level of their environments, I think our kids have in turn become some pretty easy going children, at least when mom and dad are not around.  Whether this is attributable to the vast amount of reggae music we listen to on a daily basis, I cannot make a definitive judgement.     

Of course I've suggested before that being a stay-at-home parent is not for everybody, and focusing primarily on the children and domicile duties comes with its fair share of stress in other areas.  This is also not to say that working outside the home has little merit beyond the monetary compensation that one receives to support his/her family.  It does seem though like we'd (all) be better served with a little more balance, as hard as that can be to attain.  Before I left my job, a colleague recalled a remark he made to his wife when their kids were young.  He thought they should both work 20 hours per week, as opposed to him working 40 (or often more) and her not working at all.  I agreed with him very much at the time, and still do.  It is also a comment that my wife has often made, wishing for one or two days off per week, so that she could spend more time with the kids, while also being able to work and provide the Bruns Family Foundation with an operating budget.    

Work is good, and it is certainly a defining part of our life in a lot of respects.  Most of us (hopefully) feel a calling to do our work beyond just the paycheck (if we earn a paycheck for the work that we do), and find fulfillment in using our talents and being challenged.  I've said before that as much as I don't like comparing "stay-at-home parenting" to a job, it draws a lot of similarities.  I have good days, and bad days, just like I'm guessing those of you do who work outside the home do.  Often though, we can really let our work define us and consume our lives, even when we wish it wouldn't, or we know we should try to find some better balance.  I had the opportunity to go out for happy hour with some former work colleagues a few weeks ago.  It was great to see them all, but as expected, once we covered the formalities of how our various families were doing, and what hilarious escapades my kids had been up to, the conversation naturally turned to work related topics.  It was great to not have to worry about their work issues (that's what happy hour is for right, to complain about work), but I felt a little left out that I couldn't gripe along too. 

Of course when us stay-at-home parents gather for our "playdates", a bulk of our discussion centers around kid related topics - school, child development, sleep schedules, the latest Odd Squad episode, etc.  It's good to commiserate, but because we all parent in different ways and raise different kids, it can be hard to feel that connection at times to something larger.  One of the challenges I've found with being a stay-at-home parent, and focusing primarily on child rearing and domicile duties, is the goals of your day to day can seem relatively abstract.  Yes, you have concrete things that need to get done; kids dressed/fed/kept alive, house somewhat clean/not on fire, etc.  But beyond that, and how you get to those various points, can be open to some pretty liberal interpretation.  Fortunately, for me as a stay-at-home dad, and unfortunately (and unfairly) for the stay-at-home moms, the societal interpretation is probably even more liberal than it should be.

I found this past summer to be both my easiest and hardest summer as a stay at home parent.  As our kids have grown, they've gotten pretty good at entertaining themselves, and most days this summer, they would be happy to go in the backyard and play with the neighbor kids.  I was happy to let them, because I think that free play is vitally important, and it gave me a break from the unrelenting requests and questions that lacked easy answers.  It was great that they would do this, but after a while, I would start to wonder what I was supposed to do.  Sure I could do all sorts of things - read a book, fix a drink, write a blog, but inevitably I'd tend to gravitate toward things that seemed like they needed to be checked off my list, or added to the list so they could be checked off, providing me a measurable sense of accomplishment.  This usually meant doing more laundry or spending more time in the kitchen prepping a meal that would cause my kids to recoil when I put it in front of them.  My wife probably wishes it meant more time cleaning the house, but if there is any goal that is the most abstract when you have young kids, it's attempting to keep your house clean.   

While we all seem to pine for a vacation, or even just a little free time from our regular live demands to do what we really want, when we find ourselves with that time, we don't always know what to do.  This may be one of the reasons Americans failed to use half of their vacation days last year.  We want to escape the grind, but seem to secretly need the structure that the grind provides us.  With our technological advances, even a day out of the office can easily turn into answering emails and taking care of work related things.  I recently read a couple of books that discussed the paradox of how our burgeoning societal affluence has created a wealth of other problems for us - a perceived lack of free time and more work, the obesity epidemic, general dissatisfaction with our current situation, higher stress levels, etc.  What was striking was how James Wallman pointed out in his book, Stuffocation, that we hit a point following the Industrial Revolution, where our society could have chosen a culture of contentment, which may have led to economic theorist John Maynard Keynes' prediction that we'd eventually be working 15 hour work weeks.

Obviously, we've instead embraced a conspicuous consumption culture, in which our own economic livelihood is dependent on us using things, discarding them, and buying new ones.  It's not nearly enough to have a phone (or, should I say, mobile device) that makes calls, can take pictures, and surf the web, but we need the newest version to replace our most recent version, whose product life was likely designed to only last about a year.  But of course, the cyclical nature of this arrangement is what allows for jobs to exist in the various sectors of manufacturing, sales, support, management, product development, human resources, etc, so we can earn money to purchase those products.  I don't want to discredit the merits of these products, and the relative usefulness they can have in our lives.  As Gregg Easterbrook points out in his book, The Progress Paradox, technological advances have attributed to a lot of time saved (and lives saved) doing various day to day tasks.  But I have wondered more than once, given the vastness of our technological advances, especially in the last 20-30 years, why 40 hour work weeks are still the norm.  I've also found the concept of working 40 (or more) hours per week for 40 (or more) years to subsequently retire and not work anymore a bit bizarre.  While some studies have examined a possible correlation between retiring earlier and dying sooner, I would hypothesize that any such link is likely due to the prominent role that work plays in our live, which might not be all good. 

Maybe we could all be working 20 hours a week, or 15 hours, like Keynes suggests.  This would obviously take a drastic change in our attitude toward our cultural norm of what work is, and what role it plays in our society.  I would venture a guess that most working parents wished that they could work less and ultimately spend more time with their kids and family.  We make decisions though on what we are going to prioritize, especially based on our most limited, and arguably valuable, resource, our time.  When we typically spend a third of our day working and another third sleeping (or at least we should), that leaves just 8 hours (the remaining third for you fellow non-math majors) for us to spend time with our families, make meals, exercise, volunteer, engage in our hobbies that bring us additional fulfillment.  Obviously, a vast majority of people work more than 8 hours a day, especially when you factor in commute times.  Also obvious is that a vast majority of people do not sleep 8 hours a day, in detriment to our own health and well being, usually to try and cram more "productivity" into their day.  I'll certainly acknowledge the fact, and if you've ever worked a "white collar job" I'm guessing you'd agree, that a fair amount of 40 hour work weeks don't always entail 40 hours worth of actual work.

Unfortunately, considering the tax code re-write recently passed by Congress, we've seemed to double-down (or however many down) on economic growth being best marker of the "good life".  It certainly is the easiest to measure.  Even if, as the President contends, the legislation can produce continuous growth of 4% and create millions of new jobs, claims that have been highly contested by many, will it make us any better off on the whole?  It might raise wages, another concept many experts doubt, or create a new employment opportunity for someone who was previously without work, which probably won't make it any easier for all of those fast food places and gas stations who all seem to be hiring.  But I can't imagine 4% GDP growth doing much to curb our rising spending on high care or increasing rates of depression.  I'd certainly welcome a few extra dollars in my (wife's) paycheck.  Maybe we could buy an iRobot, and decrease the amount of time I spend on vacuuming the house. Likely though, this would just give me more time to stress about other things, or stress about the fact that I don't have an imminent task to complete, causing me to question my purpose as a stay-at-home parent^.

This time of year, which tends to be considerably more stressful than the rest of year, if not also more joyous, seems to illuminate the type of environment that we've created.  We will consume a lot over the next few weeks - both culinary and stuff made in China.  To do so, it requires that we have the means to do such consumption, or the wherewithal to grow all of our own food and manufacture all of our gifts (homemade Christmas sweater anyone?).  To achieve those means, or any means, it usually requires work, and typically that of the paid variety.  The more we work, the more we can consume, but the more we consume the more we have to work.  It's up to us to decide if this is the environment we want to be a part of.  It can be hard to break the cycle, but as Tim Ferris, the author of The 4-Hour Work Week suggests, "to do the impossible, you need to ignore the popular."  Decide what type of environment you want your family to live in.  If it's different than start making some changes.  It will take some work to put those changes in motion, but you might even get a promotion and you can do it from home, home, home.

    

"Well, the kids seem to be entertaining themselves.
Guess I'll just tear some siding off the garage for the hell of it."

*I've seen the Blogger audience stats, people have read this thing overseas.  At least one person did.  Once.

^Considering the infrequency with which I actually vacuum our house, any time savings realized from having a iRobot would be very negligible.

Liberal sampling taken from Fifth Harmony in the titles and final paragraph.