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On the day after he was officially no longer the second most powerful man in the Ontario government, Greg Sorbara was on the phone, cheerfully outlining his domestic contributions: “I'm the guy who does the dishes. I don't cook very well – my wife and kids are magnificent in the kitchen. I'm the guy who cleans up and sets the table and takes the garbage out. I'm the guy who looks after some sort of order.”

Mr. Sorbara, until now Premier Dalton McGuinty's indispensable Minister of Finance, better known for dealing with deficits than dishes, shocked everyone recently by bowing out of the cabinet (he'll remain a Liberal MPP) to, as the headlines invariably put it, “spend more time with his family.”

Of course, that shopworn phrase can disguise a multitude of motives.

But Mr. Sorbara's eloquent and yearning statements about wanting more than “snippets” of the lives of his six grown kids and 10 grandchildren seemed genuine. He wanted to teach his grandkids how to throw a ball, he wanted to engage more in his kids' careers. He wanted to travel with his wife, Kate.

At 61, he just wanted more. And while Mr. Sorbara modestly asserts he's way too old to be a poster boy for the realignment of male priorities, his decision, made well before his political sell-by date, raises some intriguing questions.

Is there a time in a successful man's life when the hunter/gatherer impulse is trumped by something softer? Maybe a new hormone kicks in – let's call it testoster-home.

Mr. Sorbara is not the first high-profile middle-aged male to put family first. Hockey legend Jean Beliveau turned down a chance to be governor general because of personal obligations. And when single father Pierre Trudeau left the office many days at 5:30 p.m. to be with his boys, he was said to have once explained that anyone could be Prime Minister, “but only I can be a father to my sons.” (Show me a demonstrably “good” father and I'll show you a major sex symbol.)

Perhaps it is precisely because Mr. Sorbara has scaled the heights that he can rest, knowing he's accomplished more than many men. Yet there's always a subtext when someone decides to press the Off button in a high-wire career.

While his wife did not give him an ultimatum, Mr. Sorbara, in a clear understatement, says: “She is going to appreciate that when I'm home I won't be preoccupied.” She has always reminded him, he says, “that your job is not your life.”

Funny, we believe most women executives or politicians who say they want to spend more time with their kids, but not many men. After Mr. Sorbara's announcement, the doubters were mainly men.

“They said there's got to be something wrong,” recalled his good friend Charles Pascal, executive director of the Atkinson Charitable Foundation. Otherwise, how could someone give up the power, the perks, the adrenalin-filled life?

“He loved that job,” Mr. Pascal says. “But he also wanted the wonder of being in and around his family.” Indeed, Mr. Pascal's description of la dolce vita at the former finance minister's house – the garden-grown vegetables, the fabulous food and the fun of the large clan gathering – was so enticing that even I thought of quitting my job to spend more time with the Sorbara famly.

Yet our cynicism is often well placed. Men don't always mean what they say when they plead for more time with the family.

Recent studies, for instance, about the growing happiness gap between men and women – men now appear to be happier than women – show that what men really love about their home life is not relating but relaxing. They see home as an opportunity for endless downtime, while harried women now see it as a place of endless chores, both physical and emotional.

Still, there are, it seems, predictable stages in a man's life. Famed psychologist Erik Erikson described a phase called “generativity” in which as you age your love becomes unselfish and you concern yourself with its extension into future generations. After that comes “ego integrity” when you put your accomplishments into perspective and find the ultimate meaning in your life. To no one's surprise, it's usually not found on your BlackBerry.

And William Bridges, author of the self-help book Transitions, Making Sense of Life' s Changes, maintains that life's “second-half task” is always one of “homecoming.” Although, in Mr. Sorbara's case, he doesn't want people to think he's blown it with his kids up to now. “I was really close to my kids when they were growing up,” he says.

He's always been fascinated , he says, by how and when people make the “wrenching” decision to move on.

So let's give Mr. Sorbara the benefit of the doubt. He would at any rate appear to be the luckiest of men, a man in full, as it were – respected, successful, well-married and already beloved by his intact family.

Perhaps he's just made one of the smartest decisions in his life: not to take any of it for granted.

This launches Judith Timson's new column for Globe Life. It will appear every other Tuesday.