I was reading this today; the Yarn Harlot is a very funny Canadian woman, totally obsessed by knitting, and she writes thoughtfully and intelligently on a whole heap of things. She's, in effect, the antithesis of Jane Brocket, who I also love, although superficially they have similar interests.
Anyway. I commented on her blog, which I never do, then thought that I might as well put my comment here as well, and then maybe add to it if I'm feeling creative.
For what it's worth, I regard "babysitting" my own daughter those times when I'm in on my own in the evening, she's fast asleep upstairs and I'm watching rubbish television while eating chocolate biscuits and knitting. I regard my husband as babysitting her when he is doing the same thing. We also share the housework - he tidies and I pay the cleaner (exaggerated somewhat but basically true). My parents are occasionally horrified that he irons his own shirts, but I don't like ironing and the couple of times I've done it, I didn't do it properly, so what can we do?
I think that as more and more men live alone for a period of time before marriage/co-habitation, it will become more common for them to do "women's work". I'm in my thirties, and I wouldn't expect to run around after my husband, and I hope that my daughters will feel the same. As far as I can tell, at least here in the UK, the next generation now assume that both parents in a family will have to work and that everything needs to be shared, from childcare to emptying the dishwasher to the laundry to the DIY and basic car maintenance.
We need to keep on telling ourselves that things are not fair at the moment, and working to make them more fair and equal for both parents, so that we can change things for our children.
Rant on!
Simon is a wonderful husband and father. We are partners in every sense of the word, even though I occasionally feel guilty for earning considerably ess than him. This is somewhat balanced by the fact that I used to work much harder than him, my job traditionally pays bugger all and I get to play with Lucy during the mornings and do my job in the afternoons, which is the best/worst of both worlds. Simon is not an "alpha male"; he doesn't think about "status" at all, and I think for this reason, we are very happy together. He's also a natural carer, having looked after his parents and his brother for most of his adult life, and looks after me very well. He makes decisions about things and organises things, and while I'm often frustrated that his preferred method of relaxation is playing endless computer games, it works well with my knitting and every now and then he plays one like Zelda, which I love. Anyway, he is the best husband in the world, and I wouldn't be without him.
Soppy.
The new baby is growing very, very fast, and judging by how much I weigh, must be at least 2 stone by now. Hem hem. She looks almost ready to pop out, but we've got a long way to go before December and her grand entrance. I've more or less decided that she will be called Harriet Louise Johanna, after her great-grandmothers, although Harriet did not test positively when we were with my dad's sister in France last weekend. Silly old cowbag. I don't actually care what she thinks, and she'll be lucky to see either of her two great neices more than once a year. So there.
It feels like Autumn here, what with the almost non-stop torrential rain, so we are having lasagna and peas for supper.
Anyway. I commented on her blog, which I never do, then thought that I might as well put my comment here as well, and then maybe add to it if I'm feeling creative.
For what it's worth, I regard "babysitting" my own daughter those times when I'm in on my own in the evening, she's fast asleep upstairs and I'm watching rubbish television while eating chocolate biscuits and knitting. I regard my husband as babysitting her when he is doing the same thing. We also share the housework - he tidies and I pay the cleaner (exaggerated somewhat but basically true). My parents are occasionally horrified that he irons his own shirts, but I don't like ironing and the couple of times I've done it, I didn't do it properly, so what can we do?
I think that as more and more men live alone for a period of time before marriage/co-habitation, it will become more common for them to do "women's work". I'm in my thirties, and I wouldn't expect to run around after my husband, and I hope that my daughters will feel the same. As far as I can tell, at least here in the UK, the next generation now assume that both parents in a family will have to work and that everything needs to be shared, from childcare to emptying the dishwasher to the laundry to the DIY and basic car maintenance.
We need to keep on telling ourselves that things are not fair at the moment, and working to make them more fair and equal for both parents, so that we can change things for our children.
Rant on!
Simon is a wonderful husband and father. We are partners in every sense of the word, even though I occasionally feel guilty for earning considerably ess than him. This is somewhat balanced by the fact that I used to work much harder than him, my job traditionally pays bugger all and I get to play with Lucy during the mornings and do my job in the afternoons, which is the best/worst of both worlds. Simon is not an "alpha male"; he doesn't think about "status" at all, and I think for this reason, we are very happy together. He's also a natural carer, having looked after his parents and his brother for most of his adult life, and looks after me very well. He makes decisions about things and organises things, and while I'm often frustrated that his preferred method of relaxation is playing endless computer games, it works well with my knitting and every now and then he plays one like Zelda, which I love. Anyway, he is the best husband in the world, and I wouldn't be without him.
Soppy.
The new baby is growing very, very fast, and judging by how much I weigh, must be at least 2 stone by now. Hem hem. She looks almost ready to pop out, but we've got a long way to go before December and her grand entrance. I've more or less decided that she will be called Harriet Louise Johanna, after her great-grandmothers, although Harriet did not test positively when we were with my dad's sister in France last weekend. Silly old cowbag. I don't actually care what she thinks, and she'll be lucky to see either of her two great neices more than once a year. So there.
It feels like Autumn here, what with the almost non-stop torrential rain, so we are having lasagna and peas for supper.
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