You’re never ready to have children.

You can’t be experienced enough, wise enough, wealthy enough, plan well enough…and if you think you are ready, then actually having them quickly disabuses you of that delusion!

You have the loving desire to invest in a new generation, and the rest of it you learn by doing. Ready or not.

After a while, perhaps, when the kids get older and start their metamorphosis into young adults, you may start feeling ready NOT to have these children anymore! The teens years can be exceptionally trying, and just when you thought you had this parenting gig down (during the relatively easy years of, say, ages 3-11), all kinds of twists and turns and detours rattle your sense that these (formerly) delightful little offspring are going to be ready for adult responsibilities. And for you…maybe that empty nest idea starts looking really good. If you can ever get these proto-adults ready for what’s coming.

If you have multiple children, you also find out that they don’t all become ready at the same pace. But your yearning is the same for each one - that they’ll have the raw ingredients, the responsibility and the mindset, to leave the nest and succeed at whatever they choose.

Next week, my #2 son begins basic training with the United States Marines. We’ve been through the agonizing years of wondering if/when he’d be prepared to shoulder “big-person” responsibilities. But, he made a commitment as he turned 18 to join the service, and since then, we’ve seen some major changes - changes that we’d labored long to bring about, but couldn’t seem to make happen. So as I finally realized last week, looking at my square-jawed and forward-looking son, that he was, indeed, READY, great relief flooded my heart. He isn’t going to stumble out of the nest and flutter to the ground. He’s going to stride forward confidently, head high and shoulders broad enough to be a man.

The bridge has been crossed.

And that’s the reward at the end of “Phase 1″ of this parenting adventure. When you can let go and say, “this one’s ready.” When your little daughter is suddenly a woman, when your little boy has transformed into a man. You know you had a huge part in it, but also, something mysterious is at work in their growing souls. Something strange and wonderful that, in its own time and its own way, finally makes them…grown up.

And ready.

The #10 book on the New York Times bestseller list for the week of June 21 was one titled “Womenomics.” I haven’t read the book because, well, about the only time I ever get to read is when I’m on a plane by myself and I haven’t had the opportunity to travel in six months.

But, this news article on “Womenomics” has been an open tab in my Firefox browser for nearly a month now, as my own blending of work and life has prevented me from writing about it.

What made that article really jump out at me was that it mentions “a legendary ad sold working women on the idea they could have it all” and I have to believe the writer was thinking of this one that had so much influence on me growing up:

I grew up with images like that, and terms like “supermom” being thrown around, and I know it shaped me. I watched my own mother work part-time, then go back to college and begin working full-time - all the while doing the bulk of raising three kids and pretty much all of the the housework. And that shaped me, too. Reality looked a lot harder than the media messages I saw, and I became convinced that marriage and kids were not in my future.

My how things change as we grow older, huh? Toward the end of college I started to wonder what all that career success I anticipated would be like if I didn’t have someone with which to share it. And later, after several years of happy marriage, I saw another reality where someone I worked with really did seem to be living that supermom-career-woman life of perfume commercials.

So, I ventured into parenthood - and was reminded of my mother’s reality again. And, a few years later I watched that supermom-career-woman mentor leave a successful corporate career path for something this book now says we shouldn’t have it leave it to have - flexibility.

The Wall Street Journal’s Juggle blog says the message of “Womenomics,” by ABC News correspondent Claire Shipman and BBC World News America newswoman Katty Kay, is that skilled female workers have earned far more leverage at work than they’re using, by virtue of their educational credentials, experience and proven value in management.

I know I’m extremly lucky to have a job that affords me much flexibility without my need to push for it. I work online with teams around the globe, so much gets done over e-mail, IM and conference calls - all of which can be done from anywhere. And, I work for a manager that understands that and doesn’t require “face time” in the office as long as what needs to be done gets done. That sort of work schedule is not just something that women want, however.

When Shipman and Kay spent 90 minutes with Families and Work Institute (FWI) staff and Corporate Leadership Council members, they heard of FWI’s latest research that shows men are also making work/family choices. Men are making changes to take family responsibilities. The FWI National Study of the Changing Workforce shows that men and women are both less likely now to embrace traditional gender roles. Only 41 percent of employees in 2008 believe it is better “if the man earns the money and the woman takes care of the home and children,” down from 64 percent in 1977.

You can see it online in the DadLabs motto of “taking back paternity,” in the posts from the fathers that have joined us here on This Mommy Gig, and many of the other fathers who blog at places like Dad-o-Matic.

We’re experiencing it ourselves as my husband has recently made the decision to leave the workforce to stay home with our daughter over the summer. And whenever he re-enters the workforce, he plans to make flexibility a main priority, so he can continue to spend time actively parenting.

I think it is great, and it certainly makes it that much easier for me to not have to worry about the logistics of summer camps. But, that doesn’t mean there aren’t some adjustments we’re having to make as traditional gender roles get a little blurry.

Sure I want to bring home the bacon, but what happens when someone else frys it up in the pan?  I wonder if anything like that is covered in the “Womenomics” book? If you’ve read it, let me know. And, if you’ve got any tips for transitioning from two working parents to one, please share those, too!

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I thought we had the labels pretty well defined, Daddy Mark is the daddy in Heaven and Daddy is the daddy here. My son, Nicholas had just turned 2 when William (a.k.a Daddy) and I started dating and we’ve been married a couple of months now. Nicholas will turn 4 tomorrow, and suddenly the ease of knowing the difference between the two daddys is sliding a bit.

We’ve had confusion about Daddy Mark in the past year. We have photos up in N’s room of Daddy Mark holding N,

Daddy Mark & Nicholas

and there are two particular photos that N is fascinated with. They are both of Mark holding N just after delivery (see right), and N loves for me to tell him about his birth. For a while, N would get confused between his birth story and the story of Mark’s time in the hospital when he died. N thought that the picture of Mark and him was when “Daddy Mark was so sick in the hospital that the doctors couldn’t make his body better.” I spent quite a bit of time explaining the difference in why we were in the hospital for N’s birth and why Mark was in the hospital when he was sick. Nicholas seems to get it for the most part, but is still confused about it sometimes.

William and I began referring to him as “Daddy” after we got engaged. Nicholas didn’t seem to have any trouble with the transition (I’m sure it helped that he wasn’t quite 3 yet), and William has been Daddy ever since. In the past three or four months though, Nicholas has referred to William as “Pretend” Daddy a few times. When asked what he meant, Nicholas said, “Daddy is Pretend Daddy and God is the Real Daddy.” And who can argue with that. We had a brief discussion about how God created us all and so he is parent to all of us but that doesn’t make Daddy pretend Daddy or Mommy pretend Mommy. I should have known that wouldn’t be the end of it.

Now Nicholas is saying that when Daddy Mark gets better, Daddy won’t be his real daddy any more and that will make Nicholas sad. I think part of this stems from the conversations we’ve had where I told him I believe that Daddy Mark is healthy and happy in Heaven and his body isn’t sick any longer. But who knows, Nicholas could be making this up from whole cloth.

Daddy & N

I probably wouldn’t think too much about it, and just keep reinforcing that William is Daddy and that Daddy Mark is in Heaven, but I know it’s painful for William. I try to help him see that it’s not a preference or judgment on him as a father, that N is just confused; but, I can see how it would hurt. William is N’s Daddy, and nobody who sees them together would doubt it.

Any thoughts on where you think the origin of the confusion might be? Do you think there is a better phrase for Mark? Is it confusing for N to have two daddys? I would love to hear what you think!

*Photo of Daddy and N courtesy of Rebel With A Camera.

Damian Bariexca is a high school English teacher/school psychologist from Perkasie, PA.  He has blogged about education, technology, and psychology at Apace of Change since 2007, and has two children, Dylan and Kiera. Damian can be found on Twitter and Identi.ca as @damian613.

There’s this song by Ben Folds that brings me to tears whenever I hear it. “Still Fighting It” is essentially a love song to his son, and the line that hits a little too close to home for me is, “You’re so much like me… I’m sorry.”

I’m not shy about tooting my own horn when it comes to my strengths, and I’m always proud when I think I see them in my son. His love of books and puzzles, his problem-solving skills, his fairly early grasp of phonics - I’m proud to have helped laid the groundwork for this sort of thing, both through nature and nurture. Like any 3-year-old, of course, he has his moments - the temper tantrums, the irrationality, the occasional laser-like focus on certain elements to the exclusion of everything and everyone else around him - and we roll with the punches. I try to keep my cool and engage in all that positive behavior support that I learned about in grad school (and really, that many teachers learn simply from years of experience dealing with people). But there are some times when it’s even harder than usual to maintain that detachment - when I see him grunt or tic, when I see him whine incessantly about nothing, and when I see him terrified of the most benign things (e.g., soap bubbles). Those times, I feel like it’s 1980 and I’m looking at a 3-year-old version of myself.

I’m not sure if it’s more a sense of self-loathing or overprotection that makes me feel this way; moreover, I’m not sure which is worse. Maybe it’s the uncertainty of it all - for example, I had a variety of physical tics (including grunting and twitching) when I was young; and truth be told, I have never managed to completely kick them (I’ve just become an expert at masking them). When I see my son grunt for no apparent reason (like frustration) it scares me. I start to question myself - is he going to have to endure the teasing that I had to because of this? Is this my fault? Is he learning by watching me, or is this genetic?  What have I done? And I just go down the rabbit hole of anxiety and neuroses typically reserved for brand-new parents of infants.

I’d be lying if I said this doesn’t impact how I react to these behaviors. Yes, I’ll typically react more harshly when I see these than when he does something that wasn’t problematic for me as a kid. Intellectually, I know it’s no good, but I’m so emotionally scarred invested in what I believe people’s reactions to those behaviors will be that I sometimes find it hard to treat the situation with the cool head that it requires.

Looking down the road for my son sometimes feels like looking back down my own well-trod path. In looking into his future, my greatest fear is that I’ll see the same pitfalls and traps I went through – being painfully socially awkward and withdrawn for much of adolescence, and the resultant bullying and teasing (or is it the other way around?). I’m not here to say my childhood was significantly worse than anyone else’s – hell, I probably got off easy compared to what could have been – but to look at the larger significance of my concerns, I guess I kind of want him to learn from my mistakes before he gets a chance to make them himself. Not too unreasonable, right? Right?

Makes me wonder if I’m more concerned about protecting him from having to experience them, or protecting myself from having to watch him experience them.

(Note to Kate, et al.: next one’ll be more uplifting, I promise!)

Jon Becker started dating his wife, Jacqui, when they were 16 and 15 respectively.  Despite attending college separately, they got married nearly nine years after their first date.  Then, nearly six years after their wedding, they defended their dissertations (in different fields at different universities) 15 minutes apart from each other (no joke)! A couple of years after that, they welcomed their son Drew (Andrew, if you want to be formal about it) to the world.  In September of 2007, Jon, Jacqui and Drew (and their two cats Willie and Ubie) left the familial comforts of New York and relocated to Richmond, Virginia.  There, Jon works as an assistant professor of educational leadership at Virginia Commonwealth University (VCU); Jacqui works part-time in the VCU Counseling Center and maintains a small, private psychotherapy practice. Jon also blogs at Educational Insanity.  Read more about Jon on the Dads page…

Drew turned three a little over a week ago.  Apparently, he turned three and simultaneously turned on the “how come?” switch.  Nearly everything we say is met with an immediate inquiry…the same one…”how come?”  As an educator and avid learner, I love his new desire to understand the world around him.  And, Jacqui the psychologist assures me that this is a perfectly natural development.  But, parenting the “how come?” child is not easy.  Jacqui loves it and thinks it’s all a lot of fun.  I, on the other hand, am totally stressed out by it all.  I feel like I’m back in law school facing the Socratic teaching method (I’m thinking of starting to call my son Socrates, what do you think?).  I feel like I have to explain everything correctly; I can’t let him down.  Here’s a synopsis of what occurred tonight:

• Me: “Drew, come to your room so I can change your diaper.”
• Drew: “How come?” (what else did you expect?)
• Me: “Because you have poop in your diaper.”
• Drew: “How come?“

So, where do I go with that?  Do I have to explain the whole digestive process?  He’s only 3!

It’s pretty interesting because, at least for me, parenting has been a three-year-long (and counting) inquisition.  I loved fellow daddy blogger Christian’s point about how the neighbors are (in fact) watching.  Everyone, it seems, has strong opinions about parenting and nobody is afraid to share them.  Jacqui and I have been “practicing” (perfect word, because we are always working to get better) parenting in accord with many of the principles commonly associated with attachment parenting.  This, I believe, puts us at the margins as parents.  It has certainly caused many, including those closest to us, to question our judgment(s).  The “how comes?” are not usually spoken, but they’re pretty obvious.  Drew is still breastfeeding.  “How come?”  Drew often shares our bed with us.  “How come?”  We pick Drew up when he wants.  “How come?”

The generic answer to all or most of those unasked but obvious questions is that our parenting orientation is the result of careful deliberation and lots of learning.  More importantly, we parent according to what we believe, in our hearts and minds, is right for Drew.  And, I’m sure that same philosophy will get me through his current developmental stage.  I’ve already taken a page out of my professorial playbook and used the old, “I don’t know; that’s a good question, though.”  I believe that’s a better approach than making something up.  You might disagree.  Or, you might ask, “how come?”…

Today is all about the Dad side of the parenting equation and we’d like to mark the occasion by introducing you to the wonderful fathers who will be contributing to This Mommy Gig on a regular basis. We’ll have a daddy post about once per week to give you the OTHER side of the story - you can read the first dad post (by Christian) here: “Like Mowing the Lawn with a Weed Whacker“.

Now, let’s meet the daddy contributors! (More will be added soon)

Christian Long

Christian Long proudly claims the 3 greatest titles in the world: papa, husband, and teacher. On occasion, he also adds “think:lab” edu-blogger, consultant, speaker, school planner, and Red Sox Nation member to his list.

A few times a month at the break-of-dawn on Saturday mornings, Christian and his 2-ish kiddo Beckett can be found setting up their Cheerios, “whatever is strongest on brew” venti-sized coffee, yogurt, and sippy cup fort on a sidewalk table just outside of a Starbucks in Sundance Square located in the downtown center of Ft. Worth, Texas.

Started out as a chance to simply let Karla (lovely/hard-working wife, mama, and middle school principal) grab some much deserved weekend sleep-in time, this “boys only” adventure has evolved into precious time for the 2 fellas to enjoy breakfast and papa lap-bouncing, play “I spy” games with passing vehicles (”busz-busz” and “twuck-twuck” are current crowd favorites), stage “1-2-3-Go!” sidewalk sprinting contests, and roam around the city with camera in hand to re-populate the keep-grandparents–updated “Beckett-to-Be” blog.

When Beckett is rocking out at his amazing daycare (across the street from the middle school his mama runs), Christian teaches 10th grade English, coaches varsity soccer, oversees the student literary magazine, helps out with student council, is in the process of developing a student-led writing center, and tries to inspire his colleagues to dip their toes into web 2.0 waters at a college-prep independent school.

This is — as some have heard — a career re-discovery of sorts. Until the fall of 07, Christian was blessed to serve as President & CEO of DesignShare, an international school design consulting firm that worked closely with architects school leaders around the globe to develop innovative learning environments. Along the way, he keynoted and spoke at a wide array of design and education conferences that allowed him to see a lot of the world around us, not to mention was able to be part of some amazing projects that showed what communities could create when they re-imagined what ’school’ could look like.

The only catch was that as wonderful as it was to travel the globe, he grew a bit weary of keeping up with Beckett’s growth via his daycare internet video cam. Soul-searching and conversations with Karla led him to return to teaching in the fall of 07, a career he had done for 10 years before he went full-time in the school design world. Not only is he back doing what he loves best — working with kids/teachers daily — but he is also back on the same ’school’ calendar as his wife and son. Needless to say, having summer break again has made this proud papa even happier!

The only things left on his wish-list are to have a summer home on a lake in his boyhood state of Maine, take Beckett to see his Red Sox namesake pitch at Fenway Park, and re-add ’summer camp counselor’ (which he did for 17 summers before going ‘corporate’) to his list of titles in the years to come, especially if that means working at the same sleep-away camp as Beckett (and any other kiddos-to-come in the future).

You can find Christian on Twitter as @beckettsdad.

Jon Becker

Jon, when he’s not with his wife and/or 3 year old son, is usually an Assistant Professor in the Department of Educational Leadership at Virginia Commonwealth University. There, he teaches courses on research methods and school law. He also studies and writes about educational technology and school leadership. Before their son Drew was born in June 2005, Jon’s wife Jacqui introduced him to the ideas behind attachment parenting (AP). Since these ideas are entirely consistent with Jon’s beliefs as an educator and Jacqui’s beliefs as a clinical psychologist, they have been practicing AP with Drew for three extraordinary and wonderful years. Having moved from New York in August 2007, despite moving a considerable distance from their immediate families, the Beckers are now happily situated in Richmond, VA where they have found great support for their parenting. You can find Jon on twitter as @jonbecker

Corey Smith

Eight months ago, Corey left a job in corporate America to start his own business. Overnight, Corey went from Vice President of Innovation at a local copier dealer to building websites for copier companies all over the country. He is the chief web architect for Dealer Marketing Systems and Prospect Builder. With 30 websites to his name now, he finally sort of understands the process.

In addition to Corey’s full time work as a web developer, he maintains a business and technology blog where he talks about what he views as simply a common sense approach to running a business. With his IT undergraduate degree and MBA, he has plenty of education plus 15 years of graphic arts, copier dealership, marketing and business experience he can usually make at least a little sense in his posts. He also maintains a news source for the office products industry at OfficeProductNews.net.

Without a doubt, the joys of Corey’s life are his children. Boy, girl, boy, girl… what a perfect pattern. Each one gets to be a favorite… the favorite big boy, big girl, little boy and little girl. Among the challenges presented by four children, Corey finds the blessings far outweigh the difficulties. With an opportunity to learn something new every day, the children provide an opportunity to remember what is important in life. With Corey’s strong focus on work, they provide a base of reality and a reason to live. Never a day goes by when he doesn’t learn as much from his children as he teaches them.

You can also find Corey on Twitter @corey_smith, on FriendFeed, LinkedIn or FaceBook.

~This is the first post by one of our dad contributors - Christian Long. We welcome these great guys willing to share their side of the parenting story once a week!~

“Beckett’s Dad” (aka Christian Long) still proudly calls himself a “new papa” even as Beckett nears his 2nd birthday this September.  Christian lives in Ft. Worth, TX with Beckett, his middle school principal wife named Karla, and 2 furry dogs named Tucker and Flaco.  Beyond being a daddy blogger, Christian’s “think:lab” blog explores the future of learning, emerging technology, and his passion for school architecture/design (which he did professionally before returning to life as a high school English teacher in the fall of 07). Read more about Christian on the Dads page………….

Standing on the front lawn of the house the other night after putting wee Beckett to bed, I stood proud in papa land one week before my 2nd Fathers Day. This was one of those moments. Adeptly shifting from reading Richard Scary segments to my toddler one minute to tackling the lawn before sunset the next, I felt the very definition of the father archetype. Something 50’s television would be challenged to improve.

Well, save for that pesky lawn. And an equally pesky lawn mower.

Grass blades – normally short enough to keep the neighborhood landscape police at bay – had run a bit wild as of late thanks to a lawn mower with a faulty starter. In other words, no matter how long I stared at the lawn, it wasn’t getting any shorter. And the neighbors certainly weren’t going to be able to play pretend much longer. Thank goodness my kid was too young and too asleep to be embarrassed.

At least for the time being.

Eventually, a solution whispered my name. Seemed only logical to dig out the electric weed whacker from some dark corner of the garage. Figured, hey, at least I could trim the walkway & garden edges. This would allow me to fake it for another few days, keep the neighbors from gawking, pretend the 6 inch high island of grass spanning the width of the lawn was merely a trick of the eye.

With the pathway edges trimmed crewcut tight, I began to sweep the weed whacker’s blade further and further into the inner circle of the wave of unmowed grass. With each pass, the impossible suddenly became possible: the lawn was in fact being ‘mowed’, although by a decidedly incorrect tool.

Since the ‘mowing’ took decidedly longer than normal – thanks to having to rely on 2 spinning plastic cords rather than the full-on power of a Honda multi-stroke engine – my mind had plenty of time to wander. And wonder who was watching.

And it struck me:

This act of mowing the lawn in broad daylight with an electric weed whacker – both front and back, mind you – seemed the perfect metaphor for being a parent.

Here’s my thinking:

1: The Neighbors Are (In Fact) Watching:

Being a parent means exposing our greatest mistakes/weaknesses in public.

Whether bared on our front lawn as the kiddo jumps naked in and out of the blue plastic kiddie pool or while trying to explain why the young one is eating sand-covered raisins after spilling their snack cup at the playground, we parents are nothing more than a mis-cut construction paper scrapbook of social foibles waiting to be gossiped about by best friends and strangers alike.

Part of becoming comfortable as a parent of a little one, I’ve learned, lies in becoming Paris Hilton comfy with this public scrutiny. Sure, we may feel the hot gaze of a posse of strolling grandmothers when we fail to dress our sons/daughters in legitimate Sunday best as we rush out the door to church, but there’s a pretty fine chance that those same pursed lipped grannies long ago once handed their young charges rush-made mayonnaise sandwiches when they realized they had run out of lunch meat as the school bus pulled up.

Best thing we can do is to smile at our public watchers with something just shy of overt paparazzi-be-danged bravado, faked like a master thespian nailing well intended lines in front of a testy audience. Call it exhausted parent wishful thinking or a humble acceptance of our small part in the great human drama. Either way, our kids will do just fine if they head to daycare with their pants on inside out. It’s the nature of the new parenting beast.

And we might as well have an audience along the way.

2: Choosing The Wrong Tool for the Right Job:

Lately, my son has taken to calling butter (to be spread on his English muffins) as “mama cheese”. This grew out of a craving for more Laughing Cow cheese one recent morning when he demanded that my wife hand over the butter dish she was using. To his young eyes, her butter looked like his cheese. Logical. She merely shifted his attention by claiming it was “Mama’s”. He bought it. Butter has been known as cheese every since.

Like this odd on-the-fly rephrasing of basic dairy items, much of our 21 month experience as new parents can be described as using weed whackers to mow lawns.

Sure, we bought all the right new baby gear the books and endless baby shower guests suggested, from the odd Diaper Genie to to the silly intercom system we’ve never used to special pacifier clips ultra easy to re-attach in a pitch-black bedroom when infant cries robbed precious parent sleep. But we also have been faking it most days:

• Letting him use his sidewalk chalk on our lawn furniture rather than pull out the official Crayola paper.
• Reading Christmas storybooks in June because its easier than looking for something else.
• Calling all forms of water – whether a pool, a bath tub, a park fountain, or even cold toothbrushing faucets – “bubbles” because we’re too tired to figure out the language nuances he’ll grasp at this stage of the game.

It is, after all, our god given right as new parents to use the kids shirt sleeve to wipe his nose even if we could walk down the hall to get a fresh hankie.

And you ain’t gonna stop us, no matter what the perfect parenting books say.

3. Ingenuity is Everything:

There are 3 things we try to do every morning before tucking Becket into his car seat for the daily ride to daycare.:

1. Peek into his bedroom several times without interrupting the wee one throwing a mini-tantrum in his crib as he attempts to shake the effects of sleepyhead.
2. Ask Beckett to help feed the dogs, letting him pour the coffee cup full of dry kibbles into the bowls one by one before he goofy-walk carries them over to the official ‘spot’ where both furry ones settle in for mealtime.
3. Try to figure out what bowl – blue one, red one, white one? — he wants to pour “O’s, O’s, O’s” in (aka “Fruit-flavored Cheerios”) for the morning breakfast ritual with papa.

Lately, however, we’ve added a bit of a Vegas gamble to the picture:

Have kid stand on a ladder and play with a live blender.

What? Yup. Just ‘cause we like to keep our new parent selves on our toes. Gulp.

More accurately, with mindful eye, we have tried to integrate the tiny bugger into our quest for a healthy adult breakfast. You see, Beckett remains uber-fascinated by everything we do on the kitchen counter, which as you can imagine lies well beyond his convenient eye-scan given his sub-2 year old height. Cleverly, he figured out that the kitchen step stool could solve part of the problem. We thought it was well hidden between the fridge and another counter. He proved otherwise. And that meant that if mama/papa were going to make fruit smoothies, he was gonna fight to get his fingers on the blender buttons where the real action lay.

I’m not sure Dr. Spock had a when sharing the blender with junior chapter in his famed parenting texts.

I do, however, know that with safe mentoring and a teflon belief that there’s nothing with supporting the kid if he only wants to learn/mimick real world behaviors, there is no reason why Beckett can’t be part of the morning smoothie team. Not only does it ensure he willingly sips strawberry/banana concoctions, but it also means a potential tantrum morphs into a giddy-faced toddler raring to go to school. And if a bit of ingenuity at the kitchen counter is risky, the risk is IMHO worth it.

Unless someone has a nanny they’d like to donate!