The Dinner Parent

I've been rereading all of these wonderful blog posts that have spoken to me through the years. I love the "gatekeeper" post as much as I love discussing the "invisible burden". I have been known to forward tidbits like these to Ed, mostly hoping for some empathy. Also, I wouldn't mind a little recognition sometimes.

I've been stuck with the job of gatekeeper and person who notices everything because my brain works like that.

And nobody else's in my house does.

Or they hide it.

Just last night, Connor needed his Boy Scout uniform. I do my very best not to involve myself AT ALL with Boy Scouts. I don't get the emails, I don't check in about what's going on. I show up, as needed, if given enough notice.

The number of times I have worn Connor's uniform? 0.

The number of badges that anyone else in this house has gotten put on Connor's uniform? Also 0.

So I guess that means I don't really ignore Scouts. I make sure the grunt work gets done.

But last night, Connor assured Ed and me he knew where his uniform was, and even though we were unable to attend some ceremony because Ed had scheduled something else, he would be fine. Of course. He had no idea where the little thing that goes on his scarf was, so I retrieved it from the basement, next to the washing machine.

Did I mention I'm the laundry queen around here?

But to the point of this post, two years ago, I went back to work mostly full-time. I still have pay periods where I'm charging annual leave because I can't squeeze all my hours in, but I'm pretty close to full-time. That first year, we spent a lot of time balancing who would stay at work late each evening, who would be home for the kids, etc. It was complicated, but pretty fair.

Last year, we switched it up and I became the evening parent. Which is to say, I haven't packed more than a handful of lunches in the past year plus, because I leave for work before Helen comes downstairs most mornings, and I'm running or preparing for work when Connor is readying himself.

But I am home for almost every dinner.

And while that is, in and of itself, a bit burdensome. It has also been the source of great joy.

You see, my children are old enough now to have theoretical discussions brought on by incidents they observe in life or in the news. Last year, we discussed all sorts of policy. I try very hard to balance my instinct to quash contrary arguments, and instead work to talk  through them allowing my children to share their views. We iterate through topics multiple times  until some resolution is reached. For now.

This is, hands down, my favorite part of parenting.

True, conversations can be tough. We've tackled the existence of god, birth control, and of course, taking a knee. We talk about freedoms my children have that other children do not have, the great wealth of opportunity that surrounds us, and occasionally I share my own despair.

And while being the dinner parent is not for the faint-hearted, and I occasionally worry about screwing up horribly,  I'm humbled daily by the complex thoughts my children are able to share.

I might not enjoy the gatekeeper role much, but I do enjoy being the dinner parent, which could also be called philosopher at large.