With my research associates Anne’ Machung and Elaine Kaplan, I interviewed fifty couples very intensively, and I observed in a dozen homes. We first began interviewing artisans, students, and professionals in Berkeley, California, in the late 1970s. This was at the height of the womens movement, and many of these couples were earnestly and self-consciously struggling to modernize the ground rules of their marriages. Enjoying flexible job schedules and intense cultural support to do so, many succeeded. Since their circumstances were unusual they became our “comparison group” as we sought other couples more typical of mainstream America. In 1980 we located more typical couples by sending a question­naire on work and family life to every thirteenth name—from top to bottom—of the personnel roster of a large, urban manufactur­ing company. At the end of the questionnaire, we asked members of working couples raising children under age six and working full­time jobs if they would be willing to talk to us in greater depth. Interviewed from 1980 through 1988, these couples, their neigh­bors and friends, their childrens teachers, day-care workers and baby-sitters, form the heart of this book.

When we called them, a number of baby-sitters replied as one woman did: “You’re interviewing us? Good. Were human too.” Or another, “I’m glad you consider what we do work. A lot of people don’t.” As it turned out, many day-care workers were them­selves juggling two jobs and small children, and so we talked to them about that, too.

We also talked with other men and women who were not part of two-job couples, divorced parents who were war-weary veterans of two-job marriages, and traditional couples, to see how much of the strain we were seeing was unique to two-job couples.

I also watched daily life in a dozen homes during a weekday evening, during the weekend, and during the months that fol­lowed, when I was invited on outings, to dinner, or just to talk. I found myself waiting on the front doorstep as weary parents and hungry children tumbled out of the family car. I shopped v/ith them, visited friends, watched television, ate with them, walked through parks, and came along when they dropped their children at day-care, often staying on at the baby-sitter’s house after parents waved good-bye. In their homes, I sat on the living-room floor and drew pictures and played house with the children. I watched as parents gave them baths, read bedtime stories, and said good night. Most couples tried to bring me into the family scene, invit­ing me to eat with them and talk. I responded if they spoke to me, from time to time asked questions, but I rarely initiated conversa­tions. I tried to become as unobtrusive as a family dog. Often I would base myself in the living room, quietly taking notes. Some­times I would follow a wife upstairs or down, accompany a child on her way out to “help Dad” fix the car, or watch television with the other watchers. Sometimes I would break out of my peculiar role to join in the jokes they often made about acting like the “model” two-job couple. Or perhaps the joking was a subtle part of my role, to put them at ease so they could act more naturally. For a period of two to five years, I phoned or visited these couples to keep in touch even as I moved on to study the daily lives of. other working couples—black, Chicano, white—from every social class and walk of life.

I asked who did how much of a wide variety of household tasks. I asked who cooks. Vacuums? Makes the beds? Sews? Cares for plants? Sends Christmas or Hanukkah cards? I also asked: Who washes the car? Repairs household appliances? Does the taxes? Tends the yard? I asked who did most household planning, who noticed such things as when a child’s fingernails need clip­ping, cared more how the house looked or about the change in a child’s mood.