A new grandmother catches a glimpse of what parenting looks like today.Deborah Fallows
I recently cleared my calendar for nearly a month, deleting it all: work, meetings, appointments, dinners, movies, and even workouts at the gym. It felt at once liberating and luxurious, and a little bit scary. I had done this a few times before, twice for much longer times when our sons were born and once for a sad, open-ended time when my father was dying.
This would be a happy time. Our son and daughter-in-law had arranged to bring their first-born across the country for two separate two-week visits. They would both have work; could I take care of Jack? "He's really active for a one-year-old!" warned our son. "You forget I raised you and your brother at the same time," I replied.
Grandparental leave, I thought, and I leapt at the chance.
I spent lots and lots of at-home time raising kids some 30 years ago. That was during the very first wave of honest discussion of home vs. work. I planted my stake then with an article in The Washington Monthly called "Mothers and Other Strangers," which was bannered on the cover as "The Myth of the Superwoman," followed by a book, A Mother's Work. I argued that raising children full-time was a legitimate choice, not a capitulation to falling short or failure, and that no matter which road women took, there would be costs to pay. (And yes, yes, I did talk about the luxury of having a choice.)
From my book in 1985:
My desires and feelings about the way I should raise children and be a mother suddenly seemed to place me at sharp, and unnecessary, odds with the women's movement, whose campaigns to offer women the chance for stronger and more independent lives were, along with the civil rights movements, the most important social developments of my lifetime. I thought of the women's movement as my friend, and still do; yet its positions on motherhood and child rearing made it seem as if I would be failing the movement if I took the steps I thought necessary to care for my children.
A torrent of response followed. The mailman delivered bins and bins of typed or handwritten heartfelt letters, an image that now rings as quaint compared with the barrage of easy, instant digital responses. I was embraced or vilified, quietly and publicly, more or less equally, by both sides.
Time marches along, but witness the response to recent articles around the theme of "Can women have it all?" The topic fans a firestorm. In fundamental ways, the debates are familiar: women, work, children, dads, time, balance. But it also seems to me that the emphasis has changed. It used to focus more on "What does this mean to the kids?" and now it is, "What does this mean to women's careers?"
Much now said and done, I do not regret a moment I spent raising our children. Not a moment. Well, OK, there was a learning curve and there were those times; I have sometimes regretted missing a professional career with a clean trajectory and recognized milestones. Instead, I cobbled together an eclectic (and interesting!) career of linguistics, writing, Internet technology, and academia.
So, that history established, you can imagine that I was very interested to time-travel and try out modern life with children. Here's what I learned, in three parts: the sociologically interesting, the surprising, and the highly improved.
Dads. I should have seen this one coming. There was no missing the appearance of more young dads with kids at the playgrounds, in the grocery stores, on mid-day outings, or the announcements of paternal leave and dads' support groups over the last generation. But old habits die hard, and when I was laying in supplies for the baby visit, I unthinkingly asked our son to ask our daughter-in-law what size diapers and what kind of bottles I should get. Without missing a beat, he replied, "Size 3 Pampers Swaddlers and Medela bottles."
My first reaction was: a misstep by me. My second reaction was: He's a good dad. Later, I even indulged the idea that maybe something about our sons' own upbringing had rubbed off on them. My husband, a writer, has primarily worked from home. He saw, heard, and, to a much greater degree than most fathers of our generation, was part of the everyday scramble of life with kids. The lucky break of the workstyle of his profession allowed a participation in and empathetic appreciation of family life that is, I think, a version of what many young families aim toward today. Something has changed demonstrably in the functioning of modern young two-parent families: Both parents are there in the elemental sense of the word. Finally.