All Joy and No Fun: The Paradox of Modern Parenthood

by Jennifer Senior

WATCHING CLINT GO ABOUT his afternoon and evening routine, it is hard not to notice the stylistic differences between him and his wife—and the different responses the children have to each of them. Zay, for one, could hardly tolerate being put on the ground by Angie that morning. The second she tried it, he bawled. She could have taken a stand, sure, and left him there to tough it out; Clint would say, albeit gently, that Angie has had a hand in creating this predicament, because she allows herself to be manipulated by Zay’s distress. (“Zay’s not expecting me to pick him up the moment he whimpers,” Clint notes.) But to leave Zay to cry would only compound Angie’s terrible sense that she’s not doing all she can do for him, and she feels bad enough going off to work three or four nights a week—the second the kids catch sight of her in her scrubs, they start to cling. So while she’s at home, she doesn’t put Zay on the ground or in the Bumbo. Instead, she works one-armed and lopsided, straining her back and making the awkward progress of a contestant in an egg toss.