Gender Roles

Interesting piece from the Globe and Mail from a couple of weeks ago:

As Diane Sollee, director of the Coalition for Marriage, Family, and Couples Education, told the magazine, “In a way, it’s almost like bragging for a woman to say she has a stay-at-home husband. Not only is she the breadwinner with a great job, but she’s also got this highly evolved male person – a feminist, father and husband who doesn’t care what the gender roles are.”
Nice, although I still feel somewhat like that chihuahua peering out of Paris Hilton’s handbag.
Ms. Solle finished her statement by saying, “It’s really an elevated life form.”
“It’s”? “Life form”? Did she just compare me to E.T.? (Note to self: Also lay off the Reese’s Pieces.)

I feel like I have a lot in common with Kevin McKeever, the author of this piece. We both take on some of the traditional female jobs in the house (today I'm doing laundry), and we both enjoy writing (especially where there are golden opportunities for sarcasm and pop culture references - why is it pop culture? Could Pepsi and Coke not come up with a weekly ownership agreement of culture?).

Then I remember that I'm actually only doing my fair half of the chores, and that I sometimes let those linger far longer than is appropriate (I don't need to empty this trash can until I can no longer even balance a dirty kleenex on top if it after compressing the existing contents with a hazmat boot). Househusband, I am not.

What really surprises me, from this den below the Centre of the Universe, is how any family can afford to be single income (sugar daddy or mommy). Minimum wage in Toronto allows you to purchase a one bedroom condo, maybe. Moderate professional paths like nursing, teaching or the trades get you two bedrooms. If you want three or more bedrooms you have to be in the serious professions that earn six figures. The suburban trade-off is an extra bedroom for every 30 minutes (non-rush hour) driving distance you are willing to move from the Centre of the Universe. Is life really worth living if you are that far removed from the magical land of garbage strikes and annual film festivals?

I think my next pseudo-househusband chore is to spend a day in line to buy tickets to a TIFF showing so that we can have an enjoyable date night. Ideally everything about this date night will be better than Date Night - hopefully we'll see a better movie and we won't be subjected to a mad-cap 3-smirk and 4-laugh inducing plot featuring Marky Mark and Common (we'll probably get Snow and Choclair - shudders).