Succeeding as a Stay-at-Home Dad
By
Mikey Brooks
When people find out I’m a
stay-at-home dad I get asked questions like these: “How are you doing with the
kids? Are they driving you crazy all the time?” or “How do you survive being a
stay-at-home dad?” or “How do you still manage to work and be a stay-at-home
dad?”
My answer is normally, “I just do.
And no they don’t drive me crazy—at least not all the time.”
But really? How do any stay-at-home
parents survive?
Let’s rewind time to the first three
weeks that my wife returned to the workforce and I became a stayed-at-home dad.
Those first three weeks I was so set on making sure that everything was perfect.
I don’t know if I was trying to prove it to myself, to my wife, or to the
world, but I wanted to be the super-dad of all dads. I still had work to do
(I’m a writer and freelance illustrator) so I had to wake up hours before the
kids got up to tackle that. Once the kids got up, I was full on super-dad-mode.
I made sure the house was absolutely
spotless (including the toilets—which I’d negotiated my way out of years ago),
the laundry wasn’t just all washed, it was folded and put away (something even
my super-wife struggled with), I made sure the kids were dressed and picture
ready, and that meals were made (all of them since I live in the land of picky
eaters). I drove around town like an unpaid taxi service with a smile screwed
to my face like it was the best thing in the world to arrive at the school 45
minutes early just to get a good place in line. I was baking chocolate chip cookies
and using smelly candles to make the house all cozy, and I even taught our
co-op-preschool twice a week. Somehow I had transformed from a typical man to a
Stepford wife (apron and all).
THEN week four hit me … it hit me hard.
Honestly I’m surprised I didn’t
crash and burn long before week four. I can’t really pin point what particular straw
it was that broke the camel’s back. But, man, that was one heavy straw. Like a
domino, it caused my perfect house to fall. Somewhere between trying to do
everything that week, I managed to do nothing. Or so it seemed. Thanks to the
8, 6, 4 and 2 year-olds, the house looked like the set of an American Ninja
Warrior episode; only the obstacle course was maneuvering your way around what
felt like thousands of toys, shoes, backpacks, and discarded “art” projects.
Laundry was everywhere. I didn’t know what was clean and what was dirty
anymore. The dishes we’re piling up all over the counter, so forget about
trying to make anything to eat, so it was McDonalds for the fifth meal in a
row. And I looked like a sleep deprived grizzly bear that’d just been struck by
lightning (I know this because I caught a brief reflection in the driver’s side
window and thought someone was hijacking the car, but no, it was just me).
When my wife came home that Friday,
probably expecting a weekend to relax from work in a hot bubble bath or
something, she didn’t say anything about the mass chaos on display, she didn’t
question me about the over filled garbage, or how the kids were practically
naked because I was too tired to look for clothes, or how she had to complete
two full rounds of the obstacle course just to get over to me. I expected her
to ask what I’d been doing all day—or all week for that matter, but she didn’t.
She came over, kissed me on my unshaven cheek, and told me I was doing a
wonderful job. And she actually meant it!
For a moment I thought she was out
of her ever lovin’ mind. Or perhaps she’d gone temporarily blind. How could she
not see the hot mess her house and husband had become? It was at that moment I
wondered to myself how often I’d come home from work, tired and ready to rest,
only to find the house slightly skewed. How had I reacted? What had I say to
her? It was at that moment I knew I had to thank her for the eight years prior
that she’d been the stay-at-home parent. Sometimes we all need a cheerleader in
the corner encouraging us on, and that little kiss of encouragement was all it
took to rejuvenate me.
“How did you manage to do it all?” I
asked, after she helped me clean the kitchen.
She shook her head and said, “Mikey,
you don’t have to do it all.”
I didn’t say anything back. I just
let that declaration of truth sink in. Had I failed because I was expecting too
much? Was I trying too hard to be so better that I was setting myself up for
failure? Then I realized something: I hadn’t failed! At least not in my wife’s
eyes; she saw nothing but beautiful chaos. Despite the house being an awesome
wreck, the kids were all still alive. Wasn’t that my ultimate goal, taking care
of them?
Someone once told me that “doing
better doesn’t mean doing more.” I had somehow overcomplicated the whole
stay-at-home thing, and thanks to my wife, I knew I didn’t need to do it all.
So what did I need to do? I needed to prioritize my stay-at-home world. I knew
something about prioritizing. For 13 years before I’d successfully managed a
bakery. I knew that in order for anything to succeed, I needed to put the big
things first and let the little things follow, and sometimes the teeny tiny
bits, like making cookies or dusting the plants, can go away all together.
Obviously everyone’s list is going
to be different than mine. No parent should parent the same. We’re all
individuals and should parent individually. Don’t let me tell you how to be a
stay-at-home parent. This is just what works for me. I really only have two top
priorities. The minor list of priorities (what I call the little bits) changes
a lot. But knowing I don’t have to do it all allows me to feel successful in
what I can do.
Put
yourself first: I had to put myself at the top of my list. Not just for my
own personal sanity but for everyone else. I think of sitting on a plane and
the flight attendant telling me to put on my air mask first THEN help others.
If I’m not breathing, soon the kids won’t be. I needed to take a moment to find
peace of mind. That moment can come just by locking the bathroom door and
taking five minutes to breathe. Also I had to shave my face so I felt more
human and less animal. It also helps my wife remember I’m still a good looking
guy (at least I think so) who craves her attention. [Stay-at-home parents,
you’ve got to keep the marriage ticking too].
The
kids are your main focus: The kids were obviously next on my list. The
reason I was home at all was to care for them, to see to their needs, and keep
them alive. The more I involved them in what I did the more time I spent with
them, the more they learned to help me as I helped them.
Everything
else is little bits: Take them or lose them, it’s up to you. I know I can’t
do all the housework alone so I figured out ways to incorporate the kids. I
give the littles rags and I attack the floors as they attack everything else.
Sometimes the house is a mess and “oh, well”. As my wife says, “people live
here.” I also figured out I can wash and fold the laundry and get the older
kids to put their own clothes away. We have chore charts and we reward the kids
for helping out. It might not work for others but it works for me.
So how do I survive being a
stay-at-home dad? I just do. Some days are better than others. Somedays I rock
it and the house looks good enough to invite company over, and other days I
might just chat with company on my front porch. The kids are alive and they are
happy. Looking back I’m not going to think about whether or not the dishes were
clean or how I totally ruined my wife’s LuLaRoe shirts because I accidentally
dried them in the dryer, it’s not going to be about the way the house looked,
it’s going to be about the memories I made with the kids. It’s all for them
because they are what truly makes me happy. What else matters?
