Isn't it Ironic?

I have lost the book I was reading . . . about cleaning house!

It was Cleaning House: A Mom's 12-Month Experiment to Rid Her House of Youth Entitlement  by Kay Wills Wyma.  It's certainly not my usual read, though I have been reading some self-improvement, parenting, non-fiction books in the last few years.

But I don't think I've ever read one that has a blurb from Focus on the Family on the cover.  Or that was written by a person who worked in the Bush White House.  A woman who decries the socialism of our current government and the entitlement of the welfare state, all while exploring why her youngsters don't pick up after themselves and she had let them get away with it.

Yeah, that's equivalent:  food stamps and unemployment vs. kids thinking it's their mom's job to clean the house.  Why do I think no kid in public housing would ever say that to his or her mom??

So, right away, my spine is up about the author's politics.  I just wanted to read why and how she went about encouraging older kids to be more pro-active in household chores.

And I'll admit, Republican Tea-Partyism aside (and I feel quite proud of myself that I can read a book from across the aisle, so to speak!), I liked her idea about the $30 jar.  Essentially, kids are giving a jar with 30-$1 (or 31 or 28) bills in it at the beginning of each month.  Everyday that they do their assigned clean-up in their rooms, they get to keep their dollar; however, in the event that they leave clothes, toothbrushes, toys out and about, they lose the dollar.

I have a pile of ones ready for April.

I was curious to see what she did the other months--each month was a new household chore like laundry, cooking, gardening, etc.  I wonder what 12 chores I'd want to train the kids in--opening cat food cans and scooping the litter box?  taking the recycling out?  dusting?  washing windows?  They already unload the silverware (they can't reach any of the dish or glass cabinets), "shark" the kitchen floor, and help with feeding the cats and with laundry.  With no remuneration because we firmly believe it's part of their responsibility as members of the family.  But we also realize that the time has come for a bit of an allowance, which they can earn.  We're also prepping them to take care of their own spaces as we get ready to put them in separate rooms this summer (which will involve moving about 1000 books, dressers, a bed, etc, and has repercussions across 2 floors and the basement.)

She also wrote about how, while she was taught responsibility and had chores (though, she admits not many because she had sports and studying, and, speaking of entitlement, she got a BMW for her Sweet 16), she hadn't required any of that of her four kids.  I'm particularly interested in this because I had no chores or responsibilities as a child:  I did not help with dishes, laundry, the yard, garbage, feeding the pets.  Nothing.  My mom had me mow a row of grass once but decided she didn't like how I did it and thought it would be easier to do herself.  I figure I got out of all the work that way.  Otherwise, I  kept my room impeccably clean because I liked it that way.  I did my homework and made As because that was my only job (but I'm not even sure how expected that was; I never really talked about grades with my parents, probably because I had good ones.  They certainly never inquired about much less looked at my homework.)  But I left for college never having handled money because I had no allowance (but had perfected begging and borrowing to buy whatever), never having done my own laundry, etc etc etc.  And when I had my own apartment, I scrubbed toilets and tubs for the first time, unsure how to do any of it.

My kids aren't going to be that lucky.  Though, in retrospect, I'm not sure that's what you call it.

A Funny Thing Happened . . .

 . . . at the doctor's office today (no worries, just my annual gyn.)

I was a new patient and therefore being asked all these questions.

Level of education?  Ph.D.

Working or homemaker?  Homemaker

I whispered to Mama that I should just call myself "Dr. Homemaker!"  Really, I can't believe that term is still in use officially.

(At least I'm no longer a "spinster" because I'm legally married in CT.)

Besides, I think of myself as more of a professional volunteer, between Girl Scouts, the historical house, and now hospice.

Think "professional volunteer" is a category on LinkedIn?!

Grocery Challenge Update

Piggybacking on Beauty that Moves's grocery challenge, I've been examining the way our family shops, cooks, and eats.  And eats out.  We've been meal planning for a bit now and find that it helps in numerous ways.  After talking with Mama, we're revamping a few things.  First, we're splitting up shopping--I'm hoping to do the staples during the week, with Driver or another friend, while she picks up the organic produce and meats from WF, since our local stores are lacking, on weekends.  We're also altering the categories of our entrees to include two new ones:  Slow-Cooker Sunday (to work around church now being at 4:30 pm) and "Family Recipe Night," which will feature a Gommie or Ma/Gong favorite recipe from our childhoods for the kids to try (we figure it we say a grandma made it that the kids are more likely to give it a chance!).  So our categories are now:

• Slow-Cooker Sunday
• Family Recipe Night (the new dish)
• Pasta
• Baked or sauteed dish
• Soup/Stew
• Breakfast for dinner
• Leftovers/Take-out

And even while we ate out a lot last week--well, Mama and I did for lunch because it was date week--we managed to cook through everything we bought without wasting anything.  This is progress.  We're also accepting that, especially now, we won't be processed-free, as much as we might aspire to it (like the family of 100 Days of Real Foods).   But we're buying the organic, natural (read "expensive") versions--meatballs, soup, breakfast waffles, macaroni and cheese--to supplement our homemade things.  And each week we make progress.  Like, we now usually have 2-3 nights meat-free, instead of just Mondays (and sometimes, it's not Mondays).  Tonight is Pumpkin Penne, I think.  Or breakfast for dinner.

Next week, we'll focus on the financial side of meal planning.

Falling for a Plan

Continuing on a previous post about how quiet and clean the house is, I'm getting a good preview of what the school year will be like. And, while it's bittersweet now, with the end of summer fun, I'm also looking forward to fall and new experiences and the like.

As I've told you, I'm participating in the 30 Day Vegan Workshop hosted by Heather at Beauty That Moves. And because I'm not able to do a 100% vegan right now, I'm focusing on the self-care side of whole and natural living. I've been doing a self-refresh ritual around 3 pm, with brushing my teeth, combing my hair, rinsing my face, and washing my glasses. I've also started rearranging parts of our environment, keeping the useful and beautiful, redistributing the rest. To these ends, I'm reading a lot of the other participants' blogs and the recommended resources. And, as you know, once you get started, the web expands outwards leading you to all sorts of places.

Besides others' fun days of summer and their experiences setting up their kitchens for the workshop, I've read about a 30 day mom challenge, home management notebooks, the whole world of Pinterest, menu planning, Montessori approaches for home, and so much more. I've also found books, such as The Rhythm of Family by Amanda Soule, Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne, Feeding the Whole Family by Cynthia Lair, Organized Simplicity by Tsh Oxenreider, and Super Natural Cooking by Heidi Swanson. And so, I've got some organizational plans in the works to keep me on task so I don't spend whole days doing nothing all alone while the kids are in school. Which in turn will help me be a better mom and partner when everyone else gets home from their day, making all of our days better. Think of it as my professionalization of motherhood and housewifery (an extension, as it were, of my more philosophical or spiritual musings on those. I guess it's theory and practice?). I know, I've waxed poetic about these things before, probably on a semi-annual basis (see here and here and here and here)--yeah, I'm much better at thinking and writing about it than doing it (an avoidance mechanism, for sure)--but I'm finding practical tips and tools to do it. A daily planner, an organized budget, a compendium of important legal and medical paperwork, a yearly schedule of things not to miss, a binder of tried-and-true recipes, ideas for fun family activities.

Beyond cleaning the kitchen and clutter, paying the bills and planning our family calendar, and all the other household maintenance activities for which there are myriad checklists and such, this is what I really want to do everyday, by myself and with my family:

• Read something.
• Learn something
• Create something.
• Work on a work-in-progress.
• Clean something.
• Connect with someone.
• Be outdoors some.
• Meditate.
• Exercise.

And I know just where to look for help.

Spring Tossing

Mama Hungry and I have been passing time some evenings watching shows on hoarding. In part, we're fascinated; in part, we're embarrassed by our participation in this exploitation of mental illness. Watching the show has us contemplating the complicated (and in these cases unhealthy) relationships between people and their things: the emotional connection to things as a replacement for love, companionship, childhood, pleasure, or to remember the past or a person; the endless cycle of purchasing and keeping, without much concern for need or the ability to store or use it (oh, all the unopened bags of things people bought and never looked at again); "1 is too many; 100 is not enough," or overbuying/collecting to create complete sets; purchasing or keeping something only delays whatever emotion someone is avoiding for a little while (so they have to keep buying more!); don't bring in more than you toss out; never choose stuff over people; people become desensitized to mess and clutter; discarding things evokes hard emotions of loss, waste, guilt, even disloyalty; saving things "in case" or even broken things, swearing they'll fix them; family situations seriously influence a person's relationship to things (either as a continuation or reaction to the family's habits). It really is both difficult and inspiring to watch these people struggle with, and often overcome, years' worth of hoarding habits.

Is it cliché to say we've been doing more cleaning because of the show? But we have. I went through my entire food magazine and clipped recipe collection and tossed the majority of it. While we're not hoarders, we are savers and not very dedicated to housework on top of it. And we recognize some of the feelings and habits in ourselves, though definitely muted and less emotional. Because we are always working to simplify our lives, the show helps confirm our interest in simplifying and clarify our society's unhealthy materialism (even in people who aren't hoarders). So, it felt very good to throw things out and give them away.

License to Kill

My aim is deadly.

It can be The Economist, Parenting: The School Years, or Smithsonian (but oh, never my food magazines). On the back door, on the windowsill, on the back of the chair, and once even in midair.

Yes, we have flies. I'm the Lady of the Flies.

It started with a dirty diaper, in a bag, in our trash can, which unbeknownst to us, stuck to the can and attracted maggots. Fast forward a bit (I know, gross, but we don't check the bottoms of the cans each week after pick up) and add in our old, ill-fitting, doesn't-quite-close basement window. Next thing we noticed, we had flies in the kitchen each evening. And I would kill them pretty fast, usually with only one swat. But it kept happening.

Where were they coming from? Turns out, they had amassed in our basement, probably because it was cooler than the wretched outside, then flew through the lattice in the basement door, up through the basement, to the bright lights and tempting smells of the kitchen. No wonder they were such easy targets, all that flying after being locked in the basement for days.

We've sealed up the window and are waiting for a replacement, but the flies do still come in ones and twos, hopefully the last of the horde, managing to fly past the sticky scrolls and bowls of vinegar, straight to the sticky-table buffet in our kitchen. We'll be calling pest control if the new window doesn't work. We're not above bombing the basement.

But, to be Pollyanna-ish about it, my aim is even better than when we started, we've become puritannical about keeping the kitchen sticky-mess free, and we've purged our magazine collection!

A New Outlook

Literally, a new view: we cleaned some of our downstairs windows last night! The grime, mixed with rain splatters and humidity, was creating a fortress of our usually light and airy downstairs. My, what a difference see-through windows make! I can't help stopping to look out and admire the outside, with no sticky fingerprints or cat prints in between. And it only took a few minutes each. Which should remind me that sometimes the little things, which make a huge difference, really are little.

Tip O' The Day

Inspired by my cousin S's tip about opening foil-sealed container on the edge of the counter, I have a few tips:

• To clean a vase or other narrow-necked container: forget those fancy brushes! Just add some uncooked rice, water, and soap and then swirl around.
• To remove smells in the fridge, put a bag of activated charcoal, which can be purchased wherever fish tank supplies are sold (i.e. Petco), in there. Stays fresh for a long time.
• To pick up lots of bits of paper off the floor without a special vacuum or dust machine, roll a piece of tape, sticky side out, around your hand. Kids love it!
• To keep cooking spray from getting everywhere when you spray a pan or tray, open up the (presumably empty or dirty) dishwasher and spray over the door. It'll be cleaned when you wash it next.
• To clean the dishwasher of crud (which can form when you aren't using petroleum-based toxic cleaners), put 2-3 packets of lemon Kool-Aid (the unsweetened small packets) in the soap dispenser and run the empty dishwasher on a normal cycle.

I know there were others, but that's it for now.

What's Gonna Work? Housework?

I scrubbed the kitchen counter last night. Not just my usual wipe down with a clean, wet, sometimes soapy paper towel, but a complete scrub with the only non-environmentally friendly cleaner left in my house. I was tired of seeing coffee rings near the coffeemaker. And now they are gone. And my counters gleam. I kept looking at them last night and was appreciating them again today. Though, I should probably be embarrassed that they had gotten to the point that I can see a difference! It made me feel really good--the kitchen is where I spend most of my time and I try to have it, at least, in good working order.

I have been obsessed with housework recently.

No, no, not doing it, for the most part. Thinking about it. Theorizing, analyzing, philosophizing, pondering it.

Two books are at the root of my current obsession: Caroline Davidson's A Woman's Work is Never Done and Sue Bender's Plain and Simple (I have a third, Never Done, about American housework but haven't read it yet). The first book is a history of British housework, particularly its technological advances, from 1650-1950. The second is one woman's musings on her obsession with the Amish and her desire to transplant their calm, orderly, homey work ethic to her own life.

There were several things about housework that I hadn't considered before, namely that for hundreds of years, tending a house involved not only cooking and cleaning and laundry, but also lighting and heating and water delivery, three things we just don't spend any time doing anymore. But as technological advances such as better candles, then gas, then electricity, as well as pumps and then pipes for water, as well as coal and then gas, reduced the necessity of those last three tasks, there was a growing obsession with the first three, particularly cleaning. Having a clean home as a sign or moral cleanliness really got its start in the eary 19th century as people in Britain responded to a growing bed bug problem (and the only way to get rid of them was to clean), the dust and grime caused by coal fires, and the greater number of possessions brought about by growing middle-class prosperity. That women were predominantly--no, exclusively--in charge of housework, however, meant that it rarely received the respect or technological attention it deserved (and servants doing the work received even less respect and often resisted much technological help as a form of tradition and job security, it seems). In fact, only in the area of laundry, which really was back-breaking and constant, were labor-saving devices completely embraced. Though, even when time was saved, other tasks just filled the void--the total amount of housework just didn't seem to change.

Bender considers housework as a spiritual task, akin to those 19th-century angels in the house. While staying with two Amish families, she contemplates how the Amish see all work as a religious exercise, a "hands to work, hearts to God" way of thinking (though, officially, I think the Shakers might have coined that phrase). And there is no division between work and play--work is done playfully, with everyone helping--you've seen that barn-raising scene in Witness. There is no rushing work to get to play, to do something you want to do. Can you imagine? Without that work-play dichotomy, Bender believes there is more calm, more satisfaction, more contentment in Amish families. But without the Amish religious beliefs pressing her to see the divine in the ordinary and to forgo individuality and false pride, Bender finds it hard to transplant their work ethic and the resulting atmosphere to her harried Berkeley, CA life.

I don't dislike housework. I just like many activities much more. I loved having someone else clean my house, which lasted about a year, even if politically, as a feminist, I had some issues about paying another woman to do the work I didn't want to do. But she did a beautiful job, so much more thorough than I ever do. I swore when I had to let her go (when we needed to save to put a new roof on the house after the storm)--which was incredibly hard for me, as the NYTimes explored in an article at about the same time--that I would clean the house thoroughly every two weeks (basically, the interval of her visits).

And it never happened. First, I let the dusting slide. Completely. Then vaccuuming became less frequent. I think the only thing I kept up with was sweeping (but not mopping) and the bathrooms, two areas where you can really tell if you aren't doing your work. And why? Didn't I have pride in my house? Didn't I value cleanliness? Wasn't I ashamed of how I (didn't) keep the house? (For those of you who have never been to my house, I'm not talking about a filthy, disgusting house that would be a health code violation, but your usual disheveled family home with extra dust and clutter--nothing like the people who can't get out of their homes because of garbage and "collections" everywhere.) But, like Bender's typical "English," I preferred to rush or skip certain chores in order to do other things that weren't housework--playing with my kids, running errands, cooking a meal (which would qualify as housework in that first book), or, yep, blogging. I'm in no way Amish, but I think, even for a UU (which is about as far from Amish as you can probably get), there is a spiritual attraction to simple living, slowing down, focusing on the home (I'm remembering my post on eco-housewifery, so this obsession with housework goes back pretty far), prioritizing family, integrating spiritual beliefs with everyday activities. But how can I reconcile myself to cleaning? And how do you manage it?

I find time to squeeze in toilet cleaning and vaccuum and sweeping. But dusting? Or window cleaning? Or minor home repairs? And let's not even start with yardwork. I wouldn't want to give up the block of time with my kids to thoroughly clean the house on a regular basis. Or give up time with myself doing something I like. And that's where I differ from the Amish--they would never, as Bender indicates, put themselves before work. In fact, there wouldn't be that dichotomy of work and pleasure--they are one and the same divine thing. But it has to be done. And more and better than I do it. One sign of being an adult is knowing what has to be done and doing it even if you don't want to (like going to the dentist or spending money on, say, routine car maintenance). Right? And I want to model that for the kids. I've wondered if the fact that I never saw much less helped my mom around the house--she performed all of her own housekeeping while we were at school--has something to do with the fact that I am not that engaged in the work of housework (no, Mom, I'm not blaming you--Mama helped her folks out every weekend and she's as negligent and even more oblivious than me)--it's certainly not the way the Amish do it, as they have even the youngest kids working alongside the others (solves the "what do I do with the kids while I clean" problem, though). I want the kids to respect our home, even if sometimes, Mama and I disrespect it by ignoring housework and other tasks. We're not particularly "house-proud." Why is that? We love the house, wouldn't want to move, but don't put that much effort into it, not nearly what many of my mommy friends do. I think, in that respect, we're still growing up, from reckless apartment dwellers to real homeowners, in every sense of the word; it's been a slow transition, not in the least complicated by the fact that for the first 3+ years we lived here, we were almost never home because we worked long hours in the city and spent our weekends playing. And we had almost no idea what it really took to run a house. I think we're still learning.

In the end, though, inspired by Bender's musings, I asked myself the question that really underlies her book: what is important to me? For the rule-bound Amish living their religion, work is all-consuming and divine. I realized--not for the first time, but in this context--that my family is the most important thing to me. Creating a safe, happy, comfortable place for us all to explore both our own individualities but also to participate in community is my focus, my top priority. Because second on my list of importance is community. And beyond that, society. Taking care of people, helping them be safe and cared for, through helping out friends and neighbors, to social action and pastoral care through church. And in the end, the house--the housework is part of all of that. If I struggle against it, I'm unhappy. If it doesn't get done, our family doesn't function efficiently or happily. If I do it poorly or infrequently, I'm not helping my children understand their roles in a family or society. So while family comes first, the house--the physical structure and its contents--is central to the family in a way I hadn't quite understood before, even if I've been heading that way for a long time. So, while housework, even the house, will still not be my focus, it's going to be a larger part of our family.

It's a good thing it's going to be spring soon. We have a lot of cleaning to do.

Right after I read Sue Bender's other book, Everyday Sacred and that other history of housework!

Confession Time

I lied.

I told everyone that we couldn't go to playgroup this morning because someone was coming to look at a leak in the basement.

That wasn't true.

We have a mouse.

Well, probably actually more than one.

But I am embarrassed to admit it.

I am already ashamed of and sensitive about my housekeeping skills.

But the appearance of mice makes me feel worse.

Of course, I've been told that the appearance of mice does not necessarily indicate dirtiness.

But I don't think I believe it. Because I know we are guilty of not being neat and clean all the time.

We first started noticing that soemthing was amiss when the cats quit coming upstairs in the evening and overnight. We would find them in the morning huddled in front of the cabinet underneath the sink. Obviously they could hear, see, or smell something that we couldn't. Now, we've had a mouse or two before, usually in the spring, usually one that we have trapped in the basement. It's an old house with no doubt lots of ways for mice to get in and it does get cold outside. So we looked for droppings, but didn't find any and so put down baking soda to see if we could find any tracks.

Well, two nights ago I found droppings and tracks. The cats' vigilance had paid off; we had been clued into our problem. But instead of our usual traps in the basement, we decided to call in our pest control people who came this morning. It's not a huge problem, he said, but it's good that we called them so they can seal up holes and the like before we have a real little colony. He also suggested we get rid of all the cardboard boxes in the basement so they can't nest. Now, most of you haven't been in my basement, thank goodness (and those of you who have made fun of my basement stairway have no idea what lies below; let's just say we value family time above organization) but I bet there are 100-plus cardboard boxes of books, holiday decorations, childhood memorabilia, clothes, housewares, and other crap down there. We would love to finish half the basement but there is a lot of stuff to move, and we haven't had the money or incentive to declutter. Until now. I think we'll be spending a lot of our evenings in the basement cleaning, transferring things to plastic bins, and hopefully not coming across too many mice.

And the kiddos. They of course are now aware of what's going on because I couldn't tell them it was a leak in the basement if the man and I were looking under the sink and behind my stove. At least the nice man said he was going to put the mice in a field instead of send them to their deaths in little wire traps (I know, I know, I'm a vegetarian and I should use humane methods but I want them out now and none of the humane methods--glue traps, peppermint oil, cohabitation--work). But Bud wants to name the mice. Sis wants to call ours the "mouse house" and feed them cheese. I tried to explain that real mice aren't all that nice and that they are eating our food, and then Bud got worried and asked if the mice had angry faces. Oh, boy. First the damned turkeys, and now the mice.

So there, I told you. The kids would have anyway so I might as well beat them to it. I'm coming clean. And am cleaning. I guess that makes it a win-win situation. Just, please, don't tease me.

A Week of Changes

So, it's been a week of change: first, the tv ended up in the basement; then we cut up our credit cards (except one each for emergencies, to be kept NOT in my purse, just another way to cut spending in these uncertain financial times); we have been substantially cutting down on laundry because our dryer is still broken and Sears won't be here until next week (it's under warranty, luckily); and I have a new plan--one dish per person and you must wash your own! I read about it in a magazine. Some lady with 8 kids always had a pile of dishes in the sink and a fight on her hands to get someone to do it. So they each got one bowl-like plate that they decorated with their names and each is in charge of washing his or her own. I'm not going to take it quite that far but I did have the kiddos wash their own plates along with their hands today. And they loved it!! I think we might have something here. Maybe I'll invest in a fun sponge with the soap in the handle--this will also save soap. They've always loved playing in the water in the sink. Time to turn fun into usefulness. Getting older sucks, right? Yeah, but already being older and figuring these things out is great!

Equal Parenting

A recent article in the NYTimes examined in-depth the phenomenon of equal parenting. I forwarded the article to my SAHMommy friends, even before I finished it. So I was surprised to find out that the last several paragraphs deal with lesbian parents. Apparently, lesbians are relatively committed to equal parenting because our family structures don't fit into the typical mommy-daddy dyad. We have to work it all our for ourselves.

In comparing us to the examples the author Lisa Belkin includes, I realized we were both typical and atypical of both lesbian and also straight parents. For instance, Mama works full time and I stay home, pretty atypical for lesbians and more normal for straight parents. But like other lesbian couples, we pretty much split whatever housework we do. I was fascinated by, but in no way surprised, that lesbians just do less housework than their straight sisters, almost by half, but more than straight men (gay parents weren't surveyed apparently, not enough of them yet, I guess). You only have to look at my house to know that's true. All of my friends' houses are cleaner, neater, and more, what would be the word, decorated? We call it the "house beautiful" approach. Must not be in the lesbian genes.

Interestingly, the article did seem more concerned about housework than actual parenting, which it seemed to boil down to tucking kids in and planning birthday parties. The focus was also limited to quantifiable hours, but I think that is reductive though probably sociologically necessary. Mama and I are equal parents but in quality not quantity. On average, I spend 84 hours with the kids in a week; she spends 34. We try hard to be all together on evenings and weekends; that's our family time. There is very little (possibly not enough) single parenting when both parents are home. At those times, or even when we're apart (for those things that are tangential to actual, physical childcare), either one of us is likely to call the pediatrician, buy toys, put a child in timeout, serve a meal, tuck in, soothe tears, plan a birthday party. Indeed, she has night coverage, which means any problems arising after they go to bed are handled (most adeptly) by her, because they respond better to her at night (and are much more likely to go back to sleep. Lucky me).

Call it parenting by committee, if not equal. Everything, EVERYTHING is discussed. Take potty training: we've discussed potty-training theories, where to put the potty charts, what box to put the potty chart stickers in, what kind of stool to buy so they can get on the potty, what undies to buy, where to keep them, whether they've earned enough stickers to get their weekly treat, what kind of weekly treats they can earn, when to go undies-only. And that's just the tip of it. Do my straight friends do this? Do their husbands have these kinds of conversations? And it's not just about big issues like potty training. It's EVERYTHING. Housework too: we revisit the division of chores, discuss the best way to organize clothes/toys/supplies, make the grocery list and menu together, ad nauseum. There are only a few things we don't mess with--she does laundry and garbage and I handle the kitchen, including dishes and food.

It is said that committees don't get anything done. And, well, when it comes to housework, it's probably true--perhaps why lesbians do less of it and my house isn't so neat (and mind you, we "farm out," as one of the men in the article mentioned, the heavy stuff every two weeks! In many ways, equal parenting is as much an economic decision as anything else. We don't want to give up the safety, security, and, let's face it, comfort of one solid income with insurance as opposed to two part-time or reduced salary ones). And sometimes it can be frustrating and time-consuming--I can't just rearrange something because it suits me (or throw out something)--we share, we both live here, it's all ours, which means decisions, all decisions, are too. Nothing, nothing happens quickly. But, I find, with parenting decisions anyway (though perhaps not the upstairs closet or the basement!), it's wonderful to have someone in my proverbial boat. There is always talk about the isolation of suburban mommyhood--and it does exist for those 50 hours I'm with the kids by myself, even with all my SAHM friends and activities--but such co-parenting helps, because I'm only alone physically, not spiritually. Even if our conceptions of parenthood--she's the working mom (though with the great benefit of being "married" to her childcare, and this can't be undervalued, she says) trying to balance work and home while I'm the stay-at-home-mom struggling with isolation and three-year olds. She might not be here during the weekdays but we communicate constantly, completely--I have been told that this (some call it co-dependency) is a lesbian thing. Whatever the word, it makes us better parents, better partners, better people. I don't know if that makes us typical or not. But it's what works for us.

Besides, the parenting is more important than the housework any day. There just aren't enough hours in the week to do it all.

-=-=-=-

P.S. We kept our own names but hyphenated the kiddos. Another shared decision.