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Meet Jim Meehan
"What Do You Do?"
Mr. Mom! I hate that phrase. It makes me wince when someone calls me that. Yet here I am using it myself. It's short hand: a quick answer that avoids the painful explanations that invariably resulted in the confused listener exclaiming in revelation: “Oh! You’re a Mr. Mom!”
a status that's hard to shake. You know,
The biggest sin a modern parent can commit is to deflate
their children’s ego (meanwhile your own ego is looking like the Goodyear blimp on a very, very
cold day). You have to maintain a constant chorus of “that’s
wonderful,” “that’s great,” “good
my job. All I need is a title: “Ego Maintenance Engineer?” It’s better than “Mr. Mom” at least...
Of course the artist thing can cut both ways. If I was in any other profession and didn't work for long periods of time, I would just be unemployed. My artist story works great with lawyers or accountants and the like who don’t have a clue about art or artists. They just look on me as a wacky bohemian and are even a little envious.
Unfortunately for me, when we moved from the city to an artsy suburb there were successful artists all over the place and they all had big houses and au pairs, I was suddenly transformed into a schnook.
My nightmare of course is my High School reunion. I’ve already explained to my family that under no circumstances can I attend this event; they have “pull the plug” powers to ensure that I do not go to my reunion. Unless of course I win the lottery or become a success - roughly equal probabilities.
Actually I would love to attend my reunion.
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