I’ve started this post about sixteen times. Each time I’ve tried to come up with some clever way to get to the facts. They never really sat right with me, so I’m cutting straight to it. 

How do you balance the life you want for your children and the implicit biases and stereotypes you’ve been wired to believe?

I am the MOST annoying person when it comes to my friends and family applying gender stereotypes around my children. 

I constantly push back against traditions and terminology that apply predetermined attributes to my children. I recognize that I will never change everyone, so I actively work towards teaching my children that they aren’t what others say they are or need to be. 

Then I act or speak in a way that sends the exact messages I don’t want to send. 

Recently, I’ve been struggling with the message I send my children when I put them to bed at night and they don’t see me for twenty-four hours. It is their mother waking them up, getting them ready for school, feeding them breakfast, dropping them off, picking them up, and finally preparing dinner. Then dad walks in the door, everyone runs over to say hi, we sit down eat, and finally baths and bed.

I recognize the message it sends to my daughter. This idea that even though mom has a full-time job, her responsibility is still the primary caretaker. However, I’d by lying if I didn’t say I’m most concerned about the message I’m sending my son. 

My children see me take on the responsibilities of parenting every second I am with them, but they still see a father leave for work before they awake and return home at bedtime. 

Why do I do it? Most importantly, why does a part of me feel the need to keep doing it?

Money. 

Somehow, at some point, I got the message that I was responsible for making sure our family had the means to get by. Every single time we ran into issues with our finances, I took the burden on myself and for some reason when we didn’t have enough money to do something, I subconsciously blamed myself. It was my fault we couldn’t eat out this month. It was my fault that we couldn’t buy new school clothes. The list goes on and on. 

It never mattered who made more money. I always blamed it on myself. Then I’d turn around and sacrifice my time in an attempt to “give my family what they deserve.” I want them to have everything they ever ask for, so I place my own happiness to the side, and continue to give up my most important resource.

My time. 

I’m not here to unpack where this idea came from, but I am here to work to erase it. I don’t want my son growing up in a home where he’s sent the message his happiness is less important. I don’t want him to grow up believing that financial restraints are his fault. 

Instead, I want him to grow up in a home where he gets this message that I’ve been forcing my subconscious to repeat over and over again:

My children don’t need the money I make. My children need me, my time, and most importantly, my love.