Then, on Thursday, Lileks moved himself back into my good graces again. *grin*
While his entire Bleat is worth reading (it concerns this snarky Newsweek piece bemoaning how American mothers feel a pressure to be “Supermom”), there’s a particular bit of advice that I found rather motivating:
The article makes a point despite itself: the perfect is the enemy of the fun. Maybe I’m the wrong person to comment on this, since I am a guy in a rather unique position. But I’ve given up great acres of work time to be here with Gnat[Lilek’s daughter Natalie. -ed.] , and the amount of free time I used to have – time I spent recharging the daily batteries – has dwindled to zip. But it’s all a trade-off. So it’ll be a couple more years until I can wander downtown again; so it’ll be a while until she’s in school and my day is my own. So what. Nothing beats the time we spend together, the look on her face when she shows me a magic trick, the hug and kiss I get when I leave her at school. Today she beat me at UNO again and I explained how Barbie glitter cards are made and we looked at a website about the solar system and ooohed and ahhed at Saturn. And that matters more than anything because she is mine and I’m her Dad, and qualifying those definitions just seems petty.
When it comes to expectations about gender and roles and accomplishments and the latest theories about childrearing, I have a secret mantra:
I don’t care.
As I look ahead towards fatherhood, I aspire to having the same sort of attitude towards my kids. I hope I never get too busy, too wrapped up, too frazzled by daily life and goings-on that I lose sight of what is actually important.
And with that, I think I’m going to go talk with my wife.
G’night.
