My 3-year-old, R, returned from preschool one day and squeezed a giant turd right into his underwear.
“Let’s-go-let’s-go-let’s-go!” I yelled, hoping the worst was yet to come. I whisked his 1-year-old brother, K, into my arms and climbed the steps into our house. R waddled behind me. In the bathroom, I surveyed the damage. Oh, it was a nasty one. His underwear could not be salvaged. The leg holes were like a playdoh fun factory, spewing poopy patterns into his pants. I started to wipe him off when K offered to help, reaching toward the pile of shitty underwear on the white tile floor. I stiff-armed him just in time. He cried loudly. R threw his poopy pants across the room. And that’s when I heard it.
Laughter.
Beast Wife was in the next room, yuckin’ it up with her colleagues from work. Zoom Happy Hour. Drink in-hand, she was oblivious to what was happening just a few feet away. Only in the pandemic could I be so close to Happy Hour, yet so far away. I could hear it. I needed it. But, poop in-hand, this stay-at-home dad was working overtime that night.
I’ve been a stay-at-home dad since mid-pandemic. I soaked in the early, unearned praise that I was a “great dad” for doing so. People at the office went out of their way to tell me how much they respected me for “putting family first.” The timing was perfect. The pandemic, while scary and stressful, gave me cover. A gap on your resume in 2020 is explainable. It’s the “COVID-gap.” Childcare concerns, right? Family First. Blame COVID. People would understand.
After six months, though, I’m still not sure I understand.
Here I was on the bathroom floor, between two screaming kids, poop in-hand, and Beast Wife was sharing a drink and a laugh with friends within earshot. In that moment, like many before, I longed for my former life. Six months ago, I took pride in my resume. I had broad skills and experience as an engineer and a leader. I was going somewhere. I had regular contact with other adults and poop-free happy hours to look forward to.
The cost of that freedom was being a working parent, stretched thin, like everyone else. You can make it work. Ask for help. Outsource your childcare and your chores. Everyone else does. Especially men. I could do that again. Tomorrow. I could just wipe the poop off my hands and head back. Grab a drink at Happy Hour on the way home to celebrate. Men work. People would understand.
I wiped up the poop. Threw out the underwear. Stabilized the toddlers. Took a deep breath. Glowing with a little hard kombucha buzz, Beast Wife walked over. I smirked and told her a funny story about what just happened. She cringed. “Sorry!” I shrugged it off. I love that my new role at home gives her the freedom to go hard at the career she’s so passionate about.
What I tend to forget, though, especially in the grossest, or the loneliest, or the most boring moments, is that she gave me freedom, too. I was one of countless people in an unfulfilling, but great, career. And who leaves great careers? With her support and encouragement, I did. Not because I had to, or because I felt pressured to. I was free to try something different. To try on a new, perhaps more fulfilling, more satisfying self.
Stay-at-home moms don’t feel “free” when they suddenly find themselves at home with the kids, do they?
I’m guessing they don’t. I commiserate with them more than I ever did before. Stay-at-home dads have their own unique challenges and burdens. More isolation. Less community. Internal, existential turmoil (at least for me). But that feeling of freedom is unique and satisfying, even among the struggles. As I continue to join stay-at-home moms in this tough, rewarding, and often thankless career, I’m grateful I have that feeling to hold onto. I hope more men join me. If you can make it work, the freedom is worth it, for us and for our partners. Plus, I need some buddies to join me at late night Happy Hour, after we wipe the poop off our hands.
You’re so amazing! You are definitely a natural, very gifted author and I can already picture your book sitting in the window of Barnes and Noble.
You’re very kind! I used to spend a lot of Friday nights at Barnes & Noble in my high school days in Valencia, so that would be quite the story.
I am glad I found your blog! I became a stay at home dad July of 2021, mainly due to the pandemic. (I have identical twin boys born in Feb. 2020.) Your posts are so relatable to me right now. It’s nice to know I am not alone.
Wow, this made my day! Thanks for the comment, I’m stoked you found it and and so glad it’s helping (though two twins is next level, you’re crushing it). Welcome to the brotherhood. For even more of that “I’m not alone” feeling, check out Shannon Carpenter’s book “The Ultimate Stay-at-Home Dad” and head to the convention hosted by the National At-Home Dad Network, if you can swing it. I link to both of them here: https://thebrodad.com/index.php/sahd-resources/
Awesome, thanks! I’ll check those out.