- You don’t tell your kids to clean their room because then you would have to clean yours.
- You hate baby talk, and prefer to talk to your baby the same way you talk to any other human. You’re constantly asking people to please use real words and complete sentences when they speak to him.
- You’ve made Punnett Squares for your family for every observable trait. You know the probability of all of your kids being left-handed.
- You don’t like talking to other parents because they always want to talk about kids.
- Your kids are always running late for school, and it’s usually your fault.
- When your child is upset or fussy, you almost immediately know what he needs because of your extraordinary intuition, perception, and analysis.
- You’ve read twenty times more academic articles about child development and pediatric medicine than parenting books or blogs.
- You censor your children’s books for factual inaccuracies, grammatical errors, and educational value.
- Your children have more books than toys. You collect books for them that they won’t be able to understand for years.
- Your child frequently goes to preschool with peanut butter on her face from the day before. You can’t remember the last time you gave her a bath.
- While other moms talk about not having enough time for their beauty routine after having a baby, you never had a beauty routine to begin with and have always spent as little time on your appearance as you do now.
- You can always understand what your one-year-old is trying to say, even when no one else does. You’re so good at deciphering toddler speech that you often know what other toddlers are trying to say before their parents do.
- Every few months you decide you’re going to be totally organized and keep your diaper bag stocked with everything you could possibly need for outings with your baby. After a few days, you decide it’s a waste of time and a symptom of hyper-consumerist over-parenting to carry a diaper bag at all. Also, you forgot to buy diapers again.
- You choose baby clothes based on how easy they are to put on. All of your baby’s outfits consist of one article of clothing with no more than one zipper or three snaps.
- You are constantly analyzing your children to figure out their Myers-Briggs types.
- You started decorating your baby’s nursery while you were pregnant, but then you lost interest and now she’s three years old and still has bare walls and only two pieces of furniture in her room.
- Your 2-year-old can correctly identify photos of a nebula and supernova; knows the difference between a rocket, satellite, and space probe; and can name seven different species of whales.
- You hope your kid won’t be invited to any birthday parties, because then she’ll want you to throw one for her.
- You dread long holiday weekends because you can’t stand the noise and commotion of spending so many days in a row with your spouse and kids.
I once got into an argument with a coworker, an ESFJ. She had said something I found offensive, I explained why, we discussed it and made amends. At the end of the conversation she said this was a new experience for her because, “I’ve never had anybody not like me before.” That sentence stunned me. She really believed that out of all the people she had ever encountered, not a single one disliked her.
It seems pretty common for ESJs to believe that they are universally, or at least overwhelmingly, liked. They can have this confidence not only because their personality allows it, but also because it’s probably mostly true. The ESTJ and ESFJ personality types are dominant both in terms of proportion of the population and their status in American culture. Our culture idealizes these types, specifically ESFJ for women and ESTJ for men. People generally tend to like others who are similar to themselves, and SJs are definitely in the majority numbers-wise.
In addition, Judgers are generally less attuned to others’ perception of them than are Perceivers. Whereas Perceivers are input-oriented, taking in the maximum amount of information from their surroundings at the expense of action, Judgers will only take in as much information as they need to form an action or response, and then are less open to new possibilities. So it stands to reason that Judgers are more likely than Perceivers to believe that others have a favorable opinion of them, because people tend not to openly show dislike of a person, and it may take careful observation of their facial expressions, tone, and body language to figure out what they’re really thinking.
Since Sensors focus on sensory information, I suspect also that they may be more likely to take others’ perceived opinion of them at face value. Whereas iNtuitives focus on what can’t be seen, and are more likely to assume that others have unspoken underlying thoughts, Sensors may assume that others’ outward expressions accurately reflect their inner feelings.
It seems entirely foreign to me that a person could go through life thinking that everybody likes them. I have gone through life thinking nearly the opposite. I assume that most people don’t like me, because as an INTP I am very different from most people, and because I have encountered relatively few people who I genuinely like beyond a first impression. Because I am always taking in information and analyzing sensory information for deeper meaning, in social interactions I tend to interpret any negative cues as an indication of deeper dislike. I am very sensitive to tone of voice and the unspoken messages in other people’s words. (Ironically, I’m not so adept at controlling my own tone of voice, and I often seem to convey messages differently from the way I intended.)
(On a side note, while people generally don’t tell you to your face that they don’t like you, they usually do tell you when they don’t like somebody else. I’ve found that it’s pretty common for someone to say “I don’t like people who [fill in the blank]” without knowing that I also [fill in the blank].)
I wonder how life would be different if I went about life assuming that everyone liked me. Sometimes people who have that kind of confidence (or overconfidence) think they can do no wrong, and use it as license to say things that are rude or offensive, believing that anybody who was offended would say so. I’ve encountered a few people like that. But I also think that if I believed others always had a positive opinion of me, I would have a more positive opinion of myself, and be less eager to mold myself for the sake of pleasing others.
To try to get out of my blogging rut, I thought I would share more of my experiences and stories from everyday life. I usually think this type of blogging is boring to read, but it seems to be what most bloggers do, so why not.
Last summer when we lived in Colorado, my husband and I saw a bat flying around our house late one night after AJ was asleep. We chased it around for awhile until it disappeared, then KJ did what he always does: he googled the shit out of it. He read about how bats are the number one source of human rabies transmission in the U.S., how they can squeeze under doors and through tiny gaps a quarter of an inch wide, how they can bite people while sleeping without them ever knowing, and their teeth make such tiny puncture wounds that you could never know you’d been bitten. Rabies is nearly 100% fatal, has an incubation period of anywhere between a week and a year, and is 100% preventable if you get the vaccine before symptoms appear. We decided that we would all need to get vaccinated, unless we could capture the bat and have it tested for rabies. Continue reading
I mean, I really hate cooking. I hate everything involved with cooking, including thinking about what to make, grocery shopping, food prep, and the actual cooking itself. There’s a long list of things I would rather do than cook or prepare food, and it includes doing laundry, changing diapers, and getting a rabies vaccine.
What I hate most is the fact that the entire process of getting food ready to eat takes so much longer than it takes to eat it. And then you have to do it all again a few hours later. As an INTP I really don’t care about sensory things like how food tastes or how it looks, so I get no enjoyment out of this Sisyphean cycle. I try to do as little as possible, and let my husband or the slow cooker do as much as they are able. Even so, eating happens so often in our family of four that I pretty much have to constantly think about or work on getting food ready to eat.
These days, people are always trying to talk to me about cooking. “Do you like to cook?” is to moms and married women what “What kind of music do you listen to?” is to the high school and college set. And when I answer “no,” they look at me and laugh uncomfortably as if I’ve just said something shocking.
I used to enjoy cooking. When I was single, childless, and had tons of time to pursue all of my interests and then some, cooking was one of my hobbies. I made all of my meals from scratch using produce from a CSA, baked bread and made granola every week, experimented with recipes, and baked cakes to give away just for fun. With an enormous amount of free time and energy, I can enjoy just about anything.
Becoming a parent is a great magnifying glass to identify the things that actually are important to you and the things that aren’t. Now that my free time and energy levels are always in deficit, very few things make my priority list. In fact, I now actively hate a lot of things that I used to enjoy or care about. In addition to cooking, they also include shopping, making things by hand, occasionally going to parties, keeping up with politics, and recycling. (Okay, I don’t hate recycling, but I don’t have the energy to care about it anymore.) Taking care of young children is too exhausting and all-consuming to spend an extra minute doing anything that either doesn’t have to be done or doesn’t fill my tank. Or to spend an extra minute being apologetic about it.
This is part of an ongoing series on the differences between INTPs and INTJs, and how those differences are evident in myself and my husband. If you’re not familiar with them, you should first read this primer on Myers-Briggs and cognitive functions.
In my recent interactions with a number of INTJs, I’ve noticed a trait that they all seem to share: in casual conversation, INTJs often seem incredibly smug. This holds true for my INTJ husband, who often seems like a completely different person when he’s interacting with other people compared to when we’re alone. He tends to come off as a smug asshole when talking to people he doesn’t know well.
I thought this air of smugness might be because INTJs think they’re smarter than everyone else, but according to my husband it’s actually a façade of false confidence meant to hide their insecurities in social situations or when interacting with people they don’t know well. (When INTJs actually do think they’re smarter than you, it’s usually so obvious to them that they’re more matter-of-fact or exasperated than smug.)
This got me thinking about the differences in how INTJs and INTPs approach social situations. Continue reading
I had a baby boy in December. He’s awesome. He’s named after a glacier in Alaska, but on this blog I’ll call him Buddy. (We actually do call him Buddy often, so much that he probably thinks that is his name.)
I have two kids! Holy crap.
I’ve always thought it was hokey to celebrate dating anniversaries, but our first date is the only anniversary that my husband and I celebrate. We can never remember when we got married, and I prefer not to think about it because it was one of the most stressful days of my life. As an INTP who hates all kinds of parties and being the center of attention, I should have known better than to have a wedding at all. So I like to pretend it never happened.
At the time I thought that the day we became husband and wife would be a special occasion. It was really important for us to write our own vows and say them in front of our friends and family. Words are important to me, and I thought our wedding vows would be the most important words of our life, sealing our lifetime commitment to each other. But they turned out to be pretty insignificant, just as our wedding day turned out to be pretty insignificant.
The more time goes on, the more I realize that some words we said to each other X months after falling in love and deciding to spend our life together don’t define what our marriage means now or what it will mean in the future. The words that matter to me are the ones of consequence– the conversations we had at the beginning of our relationship that showed each other who we were, the first time he told me that he wanted to grow old with me, the words of support and reassurance spoken over the years in moments of crisis, the words of love we share daily over the din of toddler shouting. Those words are the touchstones of our commitment, and all of them hold more meaning and weight than our wedding vows. All the days we’ve spent together in the past five years are more important than our wedding day.
It’s too bad that we only recently moved to a state with common-law marriage, because that’s how I view our marriage. It didn’t start with a ceremony or a certificate on any particular day. When someone asks how long we’ve been married, I answer “five years,” as I think of the entire time we’ve been together as being part of our marriage. (And also, because I can’t remember the actual year our wedding took place.) Our love and commitment to each other grew continuously from the first moment we saw each other. If there was one day when everything changed, it was that day five years ago when we met with a handshake.