This afternoon I was reminded just how easy the father has it in parenting. While I was eating my lunch, I read a blog entry on the New York Times website about the "petty humiliations of motherhood." In this case, the entry recounts several stories of mothers being confronted in public about their parenting skills, decisions they made, pretty much anything. The stories are actually rather horrifying, especially because most of them occur in the context of conversations with other women (which goes unexplored in the piece), which means that at least some of them were probably mothers themselves.
Anyway, the point is that later this afternoon I took Nicholas out to run some errands. Him, me, a stroller, and a big-box store. And probably because I had just read this piece, I felt like I noticed (more than usual) that I get a lot of credit simply for noticing that I have a child. People seem to stop me and ask how old he is, what his name is, to tell me how cute he is. It's nice, in a way, and I do like to show him off (he is cute, after all). But I did notice that it seemed I could do no wrong.
When I got home, I related the story to Sarah. She hadn't read the article, and yet her first reaction was that people never seem to stop her to see the baby, to compliment. Lightning bolt. Fortunately, she hasn't had anyone critique her that I know of—and I pity whoever attempts to tell my wife she's not a good mother.
In any event, I've added this to my list of reasons why dads have it easy—to go right alongside everything else about my life these days.
I have too much to say on this subject. I'd better keep my mouth shut in case anyone from around Texas is "listening"
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