Nowadays, that criticism — subtle or direct — continues. It’s hard to shake it off, and even harder for me not to criticise myself. Our wonderful son, Silas, is one and a half, and Mark has spent Silas’ entire life as his primary caregiver. I went back to work full-time when he was three months old, and Mark cut back to stay home with him. To this day, I rarely change diapers or give Silas a bath. I’m not there for many of his meals because I’m off earning the money that pays for those meals (and our mortgage, etc.). But I’m always there when my son needs me, I sing him to sleep every night, and his first word at every 6 a.m. wakeup call is a squeaky “Mum!” (Also, he already knows I’m the pushover parent whom he can convince to read him six books in a row or take him to the park for a second time that day.)