<p>Hey, isn’t sleep deprivation a form of torture? I can remember not being allowed to sit down for hours–forced to walk back and forth–forced to sing inane tunes over and over. In the middle of the night.</p>
<p>Pizzagril That’s my point…identity and job are two different things. </p>
<p>And don’t get me started on what a job my husband is.</p>
<p>And what was the song of choice Hunt?
D’s was Itsy Bitsy Spider. We once drove from San Francisco to LA singing it EVERY MINUTE. Nothing else would do.</p>
<p>It’s the only job I ever had that started with an episiotomy.</p>
<p>MusicaMusica, perhaps you will relate to the agony of a young woodwind player screeching the high notes on a clarinet over and over and over again, every single day for months?</p>
<p>(Which brings one to the overwhelming joy of hearing that same clarinet player bring an entire audience to tears with the perfection of his rendition of “Danny Boy” or the personal connection shared when you know that he knows that you have had terrible news and he chooses that exact moment to play “Bridge Over Troubled Water” just for you).</p>
<p>I think relationship is the perfect word in terms of marriage and motherhood.</p>
<p>oh…the …horror…</p>
<p>I have nothing but the greatest respect for the parents of young and inexperienced woodwind and string players. God bless you. You got through it.</p>
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My recollection is that it was a kind of tuneful zombie moan.</p>
<p>In addition to torture, we were in bondage to travel soccer for several years.</p>
<p>I guess this is true mother’s love: When I practiced the violin, my sister would leave the house but my mom would stay. (My sister played clarinet but she didn’t practice, so not equivalent torture.)</p>
<p>But speaking of agony: your little gymnast on the balance beam.</p>
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<p>I’ll see your travel soccer, and raise you summer rec swim team…in Texas.</p>
<p>Parenthood is a dual responsibility that we accept when we decide to bring kids into this world–through our actions/inactions. How we choose to handle the many duties and rewards that are part and parcel with the package deal is up to us and our resources. How much guilt anyone chooses to assume is also a personal choice.</p>
<p>I am glad H & I decided to become parents and have loved most of it, the relationships, “jobs,” or whatever it is called and wouldn’t trade it for the world. I chose not to delegate much of it to others and the time has flown all too quickly–counting my blessings that it has mostly been a great journey for all of us.</p>
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Ooh that’s a good one. </p>
<p>I swear this is the literal truth. When my son was starting out with clarinet, my dog used to cry and cower when he played. The poor dog suffered terribly.</p>
<p>Has anyone read “We need to talk about Kevin?” on the issue of nature versus nurture? I just started it.</p>
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<p>One corporate executive mom chose to delegate drill team hair to others…no one blamed her for it. But I made time for it because I loved being a fly on the wall in the dressing room, pinning and spraying and listening and observing.</p>
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<p>No, but I read the article in the *New York Times *magazine earlier in the summer about little kids who had already been diagnosed as sociopaths. I don’t know how anyone becomes more judgmental as they get older, because the more that I learn about others’ lives, the more slack I cut everyone.</p>
<p>Why do we never have thread called “is fatherhood a job?” My guess is that we value fatherhood so little, that we don’t pretend to think that it might be a job. </p>
<p>That being said, I personally think fatherhood is just a important as motherhood and I thank God daily that H is a wonderful father and has a important, vital realtionship with his kids. ( And that he thought that cleaning up vomit in the middle of the night was a father’s job.)</p>
<p>My saint of a dad has always been the one in the family (of a wife and two daughters) to clean the toilet and the area around it. He knew that if there were “dribbles”, he was the likely one to have made them and didn’t think it was right that a woman should have to clean them up.</p>
<p>zm (#119); I just finished “Defending Jacob” - similar theme, I believe. The book left me shaken.</p>
<p>re: We need to talk about Kevin – I didn’t know it was a book before it was a movie. I saw the movie previews – I want to watch it. Lately, D reminds me of Kevin.</p>
<p>I love being a mom. It gave my life meaning and purpose and yes, rage and fear and frustration. It gave me my life.</p>
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<p>Exactly. And when we talk about fatherhood in a society, note that many of the characteristics that are seen as defining a father aren’t the hands-on chore types that we associate with mothers. (For example, “My father was a good father and I know that because he kissed me goodbye everyday as he headed for the office.” Put mother in that sentence and see the reaction. Or, “My father tossed the ball around with me in the backyard or took me fishing.” Not everyday maintenance chores.)</p>
<p>For whatever faults my husband has, our role as parents has been completely 50/50 and for that I am eternally grateful. I am not the “main parent” with him on backup duty. It’s shared. I may have done more of the hands-on logistics, but we were still equals.</p>
<p>Must be nice to have a father in the picture. I had au pairs first few years. Three of them I keep in touch with, and one has visited twice. Only three times during his school years did I call on my parents for help when the worm was mildly ill. </p>
<p>If I didn’t work, we wouldn’t survive. Being self-employed gave me flexible hours, but I would stay up late writing reports. Sometimes I don’t know how i managed, but I was younger then. I carpooled with some lovely people thou elementary school years, and being a private school, hours were longer. When he played soccer, for ex., others would take him to the practice field, but I would watch the latter part of games and take the kids home. </p>
<p>Our house was walking distance to MS and HS, but until HS, I’d pick him up. I did tell him he had to join after school activities, because I would never be able to be there at 3p.m. Daily. In hindsight, that probably worked out well, pushing him to find activities he liked. His teacher from Academic Games would drop him off, and older boys in band took him home after most games. </p>
<p>Sleepovers were at our house, as the kids had privacy from younger siblings and intrusive parents. Probably redundant to say, but I liked his core group of friends, and all of,us parents would socialize. </p>
<p>Most cooking was done on Sundays, and lots of meals came from my freezer or Whole Foods (which was next to hospital area). </p>
<p>I’m trying to be succinct. I had the most cooperative and caring son, and he never complained about my working. We always had time to play and had our favorite tv shows, like Seinfeld. Weekends away at disneyworld or the Keys, or Jamaica, or family affairs, broke up the routine. </p>
<p>The only year that nearly did me in, and was hard on the worm, was the year before he left for college, during which both of my parents became ill and died. I dropped to 85 pounds. No need to write any more.</p>
<p>I could never imagine my life without a child. His g/f is wonderful. I hope I can be as good a grandmother to their children as the worm’s grandparents were to him.</p>
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<p>I never really socialized with my kids’ friends’ parents, other than pleasantries when we would see one another and the inevitable we should get together for a cup of coffee that never materialized since we were all so busy. I hope I’m still an ok mother 
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<p>Actually I think that’s a new expectation of motherhood. When I was growing up, my parents didn’t socialize with my friends’ parents either (aside from pleasantries). They had their own friendships, made through other means, and I played with those parents’ kids.</p>