Duxbury Beach...if you could just make the damned piping plovers pipe down it would be an oasis of serenity

Last week we went on vacation, sharing fun times — and our children! for a whole day or so! — with both of our wonderful sets of parents. As part of an elaborately planned campaign to let me and Amy celebrate our 10th anniversary by ourselves (scowl! say the children), we dropped off the kids at…”Grandma’s house(s).” There are also Grandpas present there and happily they are vibrant, loving, and not afraid to wade into the three-girl circus. So why is it that it’s usually “Grandma’s house”?

Well, maybe for our parents the traditional identification of the home with the mom makes sense. But what about for our generation, where it’s hard to imagine that even the most distant, work-til-10PM dad hasn’t done a lot more diaper changing and household chores than our dads did? Not to mention the stay-at-home dads. My esteemed friend, stay-at-home dude (that’s right) Jack, says that his house is always “Jack and Julie’s”, except when it comes time to blame someone for the mess and he deftly dodges the bullet to make it all hers. I have a feeling (awaiting disproof) that for our friends and their kids, the house is more often Amy’s than Amy and Josh’s.

I would love to know from others whether their kids naturally elide the presence of Grandpa (or Uncle or whomever) when talking about some happy home. This isn’t a big complaint, as I wallow in the many homey benefits that living in Casa Amy provides. Part of this is my reaction to the difficulty of making and maintaining guy friendships across the miles/years/other obligations. Thoughts?

Amy and A. try out for the Title Nine catalog, after we get back from Parent Time