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Dad Diary

 Sometimes, people offer me unsolicited thoughts on work and parenthood.


An acquaintance--someone with a career--informs me that having two children is "a full-time job!" Is it, though? And did I ask for this nugget? And if it's full-time, why did the speaker in question maintain a thriving professional practice while raising his own children?

Another speaker--a neighbor--listens as I describe the strange quiet of a Wednesday morning. I'm whining, I guess, and so I've walked into a trap. "Just enjoy it," my neighbor says, in a bored way. "Enjoy the quiet." And he walks off.

I want to shake this person and advise him to go take a flying fuck to hell. Did he "enjoy the quiet" when he became a father? No. He waged various high-profile anti-corporate battles and just dropped by his house, now and then, for quick visits, maybe on weekends.

A third acquaintance writes to me on my birthday, and says, "I bet this is your noisiest, busiest birthday yet!" In fact, it's not. On other birthdays, I've had obligations in the world. On this one, I'm twiddling my thumbs while one child naps and the other explores a slip-and-slide at "summer camp."

All this is to say that I'd like to find a steadier job this year. Sort of. I'd *sort of* like that. In the meantime, I have this odd, recurring moment where a semi-stranger tells me what my life must be like. And I nod and smile.
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