“It moved,” muttered George Costanza, the contemptible yet lovable Seinfeld character, in terror. He had been receiving a full-body massage from an objectively attractive male masseuse, and, well, “it” moved.
I suspect I don’t have to spell this one out. If you grew up with “it” between your legs, you know it has a mind of its own. It does what it wants when it wants and, for the most part, we are passengers on the “please no one notice” train.
The Seinfeld episode in question first aired in 1991. I would’ve been around 11 or so. This is a prime age for uncontrollable and inexplicable, ummmm, swellings. Around that time, I would’ve been begging dear sweet baby Jesus to protect me from the Devil’s hormones raging in my body. The all-too-tight khakis I had been forced to wear at church offered no protection. I was exposed. I could do my best Ron Burgundy “It’s the pleats” defense, but I had no pleats. Only a snug, flat fabric stretched across my crotch, waiting to advertise an untimely pitched tent.
For as long as I can remember, I’ve been awkward about being touched, and since this Seinfeld episode, I have genuinely had a fear of massages. I feel compelled to report it had nothing to do with men or my sexuality, but it heightened my fear of accidental bulges – regardless of who or what may have been the cause. Now you understand why “it moved” has been a terrifying mantra bouncing in my brain for 30-plus years.
And so, at the age of 44, I finally had my first massage.
I tend to reject what’s new and popular. The self-care industry has become so full of snake oil and nonsensical claims, I barely pay attention. There’s an infinite supply of influencers and hucksters eager to prey upon our desperate desire to feel better. Through smiling, beautiful faces, they claim to care about us, when it mostly seems they only care about separating us from our money. Sadly, the preponderance of profit-obsessed businesses and products has made it hard to find the real people, the genuine healers, who truly devote themselves to helping others. This cacophony of profiteering has made it hard for me to believe there’s any value in taking care of myself. I’m a stay-at-home dad. My full-time job is caring for three (sometimes four) kids. Taking care of myself is low on my list of priorities.
After my hour-long massage, I’m questioning the ranking of my priorities.
Let’s address the first fear: Did it move?
Yep. Sure did.
A man didn’t give me my massage, but that was never my fear. I was worried about making things awkward and weird because I’m awkward and weird – which is exhausting, by the way. But, although blood was certainly flowing, and I did feel pretty dang good, nothing untoward happened. In the words of Costanza, “I think it moved. I don’t know. … It was imperceptible, but I felt it. … It wasn’t a shift. I’ve shifted. This was a move!”
My face was covered by a towel. In the background, there was meditative music. I was doing guided breathwork. Periodically a deep breath would be filled with some exotic aroma. All the hippy woo-woo shit the old me would mock.
The new me? I’m weary of being afraid of everything. I’m tired of being the frowning skeptic closed off from everything and everyone. “No one touch me. No one hug me. Respect my giant, ‘Merica-sized bubble, dammit!” I’ve always confused intimacy and sensuality with sexuality, and it’s a shame our society seeks to continue this confusion. Feeling good isn’t bad, but we’ve all felt so bad for so long that we’ve convinced ourselves it’s normal.
As fathers, how has all that impacted our children?
I don’t know about you fellow dads, but I don’t want my kids to feel bad. Ever. About anything. OK, maybe sometimes, like when I recently found tiny particles of “window crayons,” all over the house, but in general, I want my kids to feel great. Great about themselves. About their bodies. About feeling great. Why would I want anything else?
How can I make them feel great if my body is falling apart? How can I create a happy home if I’m tense, grumpy and in pain from being tense and grumpy? I want to be a better human so I can be the best dad I can be. I’m no longer going to reject some of the tools in the cosmic toolbox. [*Giggles* — tool!]
I’m not saying we all need to put on our tinfoil hats and stop getting measles vaccines. We should absolutely trust doctors and experts when appropriate, but they don’t deserve our blind allegiance – no ideology does. There’s a whole world of possibilities, and the only way to know what works, sometimes, is to give it a try. Imagine our hypocrisy when we frustratingly stare at a plate full of uneaten food we encouraged our kids to try while knowing we’ve rejected alternate solutions to our own problems because we didn’t have the courage to try.
While on the massage table, I felt transported into another realm. My recently departed mother and brother were there. They were laughing at me. It was ludicrous some silly episode of a 30-year-old show had isolated me from my fellow humans. They told me the only person standing between me and everything I ever wanted was me, “It’s me. Hi. I’m the problem. It’s me.” They were right. And I think I realized I’m also standing between my kids and everything they may want, and I desperately don’t want to be that guy.
Did I REALLY travel to alternate dimensions? I hope so, but it doesn’t matter. What matters is whether I’m willing to be better today than I was yesterday. While I can’t pretend I’ll always be willing to make my physical and mental health a priority, viewing self-care as a service to my wife and kids puts a whole new spin on it.
So get a massage.
Sprinkle some rosewater on your pillowcase.
Mediate and get a little dizzy trying to figure out some complex breathing technique.
Go stretch in a hot room and try not to fart.
Give it a try. It just might work.
If it doesn’t work, that’s OK too. At least you tried, and it’s probably your kid’s fault, anyway. It’s always the kid’s fault.
Author’s note: During the writing of this piece, “it” did NOT move.
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This blog post is part of the #NoDadAlone campaign. Fathering Together/City Dads Group, the National At-Home Dad Network, and Fathers Eve are joining forces to amplify messages that help dads recognize we are not alone! Follow #NoDadAlone on Instagram, and learn more at NoDadAlone.com.
Massage photo by Pixabay via Pexels.
]]>It’s been more than 15 years since Matt Schneider and I became at-home dads, knowing that we were headed into the most amazing and challenging years of our lives. We were amateur dads then, and even now, we are far from experts. Fortunately, we are surrounded by a large community of fathers of all stripes in our NYC Dads Group and beyond so we have a network to draw upon for some tips and best practices.
We developed these top 10 tips for stay-at-home dads back in 2011 at the request of HealthyWoman website. We sincerely believe these tips can still be a valuable asset to a parent of any gender who chooses to be the primary caregiver to his or her child.
By stay-at-home dads Lance Somerfeld and Matt Schneider
This at-home parenting tips article was first published 2011 on HealthyWomen. Photo: © Wayhome Studio / Adobe Stock.
]]>In one of the many memorable scenes in John Hughes’ movie Ferris Bueller’s Day Off, Ferris, his girlfriend Sloane, and best friend Cameron join a group of young children looking at the masterpieces in the Art Institute of Chicago. At one point, the very melancholy and anxious Cameron becomes captivated by Georges Seurat’s “A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte.”
The more he stares at the painting, the more the little girl at the center of the piece seems to stare back at him. Cameron zooms in on her to the point where she soon becomes a bunch of undefined splotches of paint. Maybe, in this moment, Cameron sees himself: a muddle of paint with no real beginning or end. Maybe he isn’t sure what he is looking at. Perhaps he’s lost in his thoughts about where he is in life and what his life will become.
I think we have all had encounters like this in a museum with a particular piece. This happened to me recently when our family visited the Whitney Museum of American Art in New York City to view an amazing gallery by Henry Taylor, a black California-based artist known for portraits depicting a variety of scenes from black life using mixed media.
One piece that caught my eye was Screaming Head. It is an acrylic painting of a black man sitting on a bench. His hands are clenched behind his head but somehow he is screaming out of the top of his head. Like his brain is screaming out because his mouth cannot. Or maybe this particular man feels like crying out but doesn’t want to because social norms dictate he has to be strong and keep it bottled up inside. Maybe he doesn’t have the freedom to say what is really on his mind. It felt like it was speaking to me.
I believe men often suffer in silence when it comes to issues we face. We want to stick to the old-school machismo: men don’t cry, men don’t complain, men aren’t supposed to be anything that makes us less of a man. We aren’t often given room to just scream out when facing any number of obstacles life throws our way. Not having that release valve can often lead to tragic results.
But I believe we need room to scream.
Men need room to cry.
We also need a shoulder to lean on when life seems overwhelming.
If we can be allowed to release our frustration and anger in a constructive and healthy way, we can be better men, fathers, brothers and leaders.
But how?
It means taking time for self-care. Like going to a movie by yourself or spending a few hours on a hobby. Maybe it’s eating some takeout from your favorite fast-food restaurant in your car without having to share your fries. Or maybe, it’s asking your partner to take the kids to school so you get an extra hour of sleep.
Sometimes just posting anonymously in a Facebook group of other dads who understand your strains and stresses can become your safe space. Letting others know you feel alone helps you realize an important fact: you are not alone. Someone out there is dealing with loss, with bills, with children who don’t want to listen, and so on.
Whatever your outlet for self-care is, it doesn’t mean abandoning your duties. It means taking a break from them for a little bit to get our heads straight. This is no different from moms giving themselves spa days or a night out with the girls.
As for me, in these last few years, I have transitioned. I’ve become less of a stay-at-home dad by taking on other roles. Being a father isn’t all that defines me anymore. I am also an author, a teacher, a husband, a friend, a son, a son-in-law, a heck of a cook and so much more.
I am defined, but the definition of me is always changing and I truly believe the same can be said about you.
You are defined.
You have depth and emotion.
You are loved.
Even if you feel like you don’t see it, know that others see it in you.
And never let yourself get to the point of feeling like an undefined muddle of paint splotches on a canvas. And like the Henry Taylor painting, don’t keep your screams bottled up because that can often lead to an explosive result.
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio via Pexels.
]]>Let’s admit it: Most of us hate going to the doctor. In fact, parenting and self-care are often at odds.
This is especially true in the chaotic early years when all parents struggle to find time to use the bathroom in peace much less exercise, see friends, and visit the doctor. Mothers in our culture are frequently reminded to practice self-care, but I’m here to urge increasingly involved fathers to do the same.
Though dads tend to feel less guilty than moms about taking time for themselves, one particular area of self-care we need to improve on is seeing a doctor.
A 2016 Cleveland Clinic survey found only three in five men, ages 18 to 70, get an annual physical. A little more than 40 percent go to the doctor only when they fear they have a serious medical condition. Those are some frightening numbers.
I can speak to the stereotype of men avoiding doctors from personal experience. I was one of those “I hate to go to the doctor” guys, too. But several years ago, I told my wife half-jokingly: “I’m either in the best shape of my life, or I’m dying.” I had finally been working out again, and I was excited to be losing weight. Freshly 40, I had spent nine long years as a stay-at-home dad, so it was thrilling to return to some “me” time.
But then I kept losing weight.
Over three months I lost 15 pounds. Also, I began to notice frequent stomach aches, often followed by diarrhea. I started to worry. Admittedly, as a guy with a hate for going to the doctor, it probably took me longer than the average human to notice these rather dramatic changes.
Then came the kicker.
I was in the yard and bent over to pick up a rake. On my way up, I got dizzy and nearly fell over. Finally, I knew this was more than just “how 40 feels.”
I saw a gastroenterologist who performed a blood test and biopsy before pronouncing the verdict: celiac disease. His nutritionist explained celiac disease is a genetic intolerance of gluten, a protein found in wheat, rye, barley and other related grains. Gluten damages the villi in a celiac’s small intestines, which leads to malnourishment and a variety of symptoms — e.g. diarrhea, weight loss, fatigue, migraines and depression among others. Symptoms can appear anytime during a celiac’s life.
What I remember most was the nutritionist’s statement, “It’s not that bad. Just avoid things like beer, bread and pasta.”
What?
For an Irish boy married to an Italian girl, she just eliminated 80 % of my diet! Immediately, I visualized an atlas of my past culinary pleasures I would never be able to revisit: the Buffalo chicken wing, the Philadelphia cheese steak, the Chicago deep-dish pizza.
But after researching the disease and the growing dietary options, I realized I was lucky this was my only problem. My good fortune was soon reinforced at my new hangout, the health food store.
When I mentioned I had just been diagnosed with celiac disease, an acquaintance asked, “Oh, does your whole life make sense to you now?” I nearly got dizzy and fell over. What? No, I thought. Now my life makes no sense. My whole life was going just fine!
But I learned she knew people whose lifelong health problems were cured after they were diagnosed with celiac disease. So then I felt grateful for 40 years of reveling in gluten. (Specifically, no beer in college would have been tough to swallow.) So if any unexplained symptoms apply to you, consider asking your doctor about celiac disease since many people go undiagnosed.
Now that I’m gluten-free, I’ve regained a few pounds and feel healthy. It’s also nice to fit back into my pre-stay-at-home dad clothes. However, you know you’ve been a stay-at-home dad too long when you put on a button-down shirt and your daughter asks, “Dad, why are you dressed all fancy?”
After my health scare, I consider such a moment a little reward for going to the doctor.
Editor’s Note: This article about men’s health and the fear of going to the doctor was originally published in 2017. Photo: “Doctor greeting patient” by Vic, licensed under CC BY 2.0)
]]>I reclined on the bed of the CT machine, ready for a close-up of my heart. I’d been waiting for this moment since August when an ultrasound failed to determine if I had inherited my family’s history of heart defects. A better picture was needed.
As the machine spun around my chest, I hoped the resulting image would show nothing faulty with my ticker. After all, just three days prior, I had completed a 5K race, and last year, a half-marathon. If something was amiss with my heart, wouldn’t I have known by now, after nearly half a century of living?
The path to this moment began in June when my uncle was hospitalized. My mother started talking about our family history of heart disease and defects. I knew the stories of disease (mostly the result of lifestyle), but tales of abnormalities present at birth were news to me. She even casually mentioned she had an extra heart cusp, a disclosure that triggered my decision to get checked out.
I needed to know if I’d been born with a congenital heart defect known as a bicuspid aortic valve (BAV). As the Mayo Clinic explains, “The aortic valve is the main ‘door’ out of the heart. Blood flows through the aortic valve to exit the heart, and supplies oxygen and nutrients to the rest of the body.”
A normal valve has three leaflets or cusps. Some people are born with one, two or even four cusps (like my mother) on their aortic valve. But the most common abnormality is an aortic valve with two cusps—a bicuspid aortic valve. This condition occurs in about 1 percent of the general population and accounts for more premature deaths than all other congenital heart diseases combined.
For better or worse, we receive a multitude of inheritances from our family. Some take the form of heirlooms like an antique pocket watch, a well-worn family Bible, or vintage family photographs. Others are intangible yet no less real. Think cherished family traditions, oral histories, or the cultural rituals that tether us to our ancestors.
But there’s also the messiness of our genetic inheritance. This legacy passed down through generations includes physical traits such as eye color or height, as well as health conditions, like a congenital heart defect. This inheritance is a reminder that our bodies are not merely reflections of our own choices; they are also the result of a genetic lottery in which we have little say.
During the CT scan, a cool sensation enveloped my arm as a contrast dye coursed through the IV port in it. This technique would enhance the visibility of organs in the images. Soon after, a wave of warmth swept through my body, signaling the end of the procedure. That evening, I received the results.
My aortic valve was healthy, devoid of any signs of coronary artery disease. But there was a twist.
The genetic lottery had struck again; my valve was also bicuspid.
No one wants to hear there’s something defective about their body, especially when it involves a vital organ. My first reaction was a mix of emotions, from gratitude to having lived this long with no heart issues to a sense of concern about the implications of this diagnosis. Would I have to make any lifestyle changes? What’s my likelihood of requiring surgical intervention in the future? How soon should I have my daughter screened?
Thanks to a cardiologist (and the privilege of having access to medical care), I have answers to these questions.
In the meantime, it’s just a matter of wait and see. As I age, my defective valve could begin to degenerate sooner than expected. It may eventually leak and/or narrow causing my heart to work harder to pump blood to my body. If left untreated, this extra work could increase my risk for heart failure. But with regular check-ups and proper care, I can expect to have a normal life expectancy, as most people with this condition do. Genetic inheritance is not neccesarily one’s destiny.
At 49, I’m acutely aware of my own mortality. I’ve likely seen more days now than I may see later. I’ve witnessed friends fall ill, some recovering, others passing away. I’m watching my mother age gracefully and have shouldered the responsibility of caring for my father, who died in July. I take my recent diagnosis as another reminder to live fully in the moment, to not delay dreams and passions, to seize the present.
As fathers, we often reflect on the legacy we’re passing down to our children through our choices and actions. While we can’t change the genetic traits we’ve inherited, we can choose how we manage and navigate them. By staying on top of our health, we enrich our lives and set a profound example for our children, modeling the importance of self-care, resilience, and the determination to live to the fullest.
That’s an inheritance any child would be proud to receive.
Operating on congential heart defect photo by Olga Guryanova on Unsplash
]]>If I’ve learned anything during my fatherhood journey thus far, I’ve learned that parenting is a 24-7 job.
There’s literally always something going on. The free time we once enjoyed as single, childless men is long gone. From the newborn stage where all your attention is focused on figuring out how to keep this little person alive through the early school years where calendars are filled with extracurricular activities, and on to the teenage years when you’re helping guide your children into young adulthood, fatherhood is a never-ending cycle of being here, there, and everywhere for the sake of your kids.
While stressful, tiresome, and thankless, it’s what we signed up for. It’s a calling. A responsibility for us as fathers to be active and involved every step of the way.
With that, however, we have to be sure we’re taking time for ourselves. Fathers have to prioritize mental and physical health so we can be the best version of ourselves possible for our children, especially as we age. For those of us fortunate enough to be in healthy marriages, relationships, and partnerships with the mothers of our children, it can’t go without saying how beneficial it is to have someone by your side to help share the load of parenting, because it gets heavy.
Even so, as men, we are wired to be “strong,” to not show any signs of weakness. No matter what we’re carrying internally, there’s no time for that. After all, we have to get the kids ready for school, for bed, and everything in between. That’s the priority. It has to get done, right? But at what expense?
I’d like to think I’m pretty good at taking care of myself. I work out regularly. Every now and then, I’m able to hang out with the guys and enjoy some time away from the kids. But, if I’m being honest, dad burnout smacks me in the face often. And when it does, it tends to simply stay there.
For me, it comes as a result of being in a constant state of “doing.” I pride myself on being an active father – coaching soccer, taking my son to swim class, picking my daughter up from daycare, and being available whenever my wife needs me. And not to mention the day-to-day household responsibilities of a husband and father. The “go go go” mentality I and other dads have is, yes, what we’re supposed to do. But it’s also a recipe for fatigue.
Simply put, at times I find myself stretched thin. And no dad wants to feel that. Even with the most routine challenges of fatherhood, we shouldn’t have our overall well-being put at risk. In looking for a healthy balance, we have to be sure we’re being intentional in carving out time for us. That may mean altering our schedule to fit in a walk during the day. Find a dad tribe to have a space to talk openly and honestly about your experiences. The connections made through other dads will help you realize that you’re not the only one going through it. We can be there for each other.
Most importantly, we have to be open with our partners. Just as we need moms to be open with us when they need a break, we as dads need to be vulnerable enough to say we need a break, even for a few hours.
We have to be there for ourselves so we can be there for our kids.
Caring for yourself photo: © Antonioguillem / Adobe Stock.
]]>The house had been quiet for half an hour, the air so still I could hear the high-pitched motor of the condensate pump in the downstairs utility closet humming through the air vents upstairs. The only hint of life came from the occasional swoosh of traffic out on the street. A sense of calm settled over me.
I was experiencing something unusual for a parent: a moment to myself.
For the first time in what felt like months, nothing and no one demanded my time and attention. There was no calamity to contend with, no housework to be done, no emails or texts in need of reply, no bills immediately due, no homework to be done, no dinner to be cooked, no child to be shuttled to and fro, no appointments to schedule, no phone calls to return, and no honey-dos to, well, do.
The world of endless demands had come to a temporary halt. I was damn near giddy.
My wife had left for work that Monday morning, taking our daughter with her to drop off at school. I stayed home, grateful for the privilege to telecommute, and another full half hour before I had to plug back into The Matrix.
Like the character Neo from the movie franchise, I began to see my thoughts as binary code forms of zeros and ones rather than their surface-level appearance. A moment of clarity seized me.
I’d been saying yes when I should have said no.
I didn’t just need a vacation. I needed a sabbatical.
It wasn’t just being tired from adulting; I was burned out as a caregiver.
It’s a byproduct of multiple stressors. Raising a special needs child with little family support. Supporting a spouse through long stretches of unemployment. Having a fulfilling yet demanding career. Joining the ranks of the “sandwich generation,” those 30- and 40-somethings who are raising children while caring for aging parents. You make sacrifices over the years to shoulder the load, to carry on, to do all that needs to be done, only to realize you’ve neglected to prioritize the most important component in the equation: you.
It reminds me of the ubiquitous Internet quote from author Alexander Den Heijer: “You often feel tired, not because you’ve done too much, but because you’ve done too little of what sparks a light in you.”
Why do some of us in our roles as fathers, husbands, parents and caregivers find it so difficult to practice self-care? I don’t just mean the glitter-speak notions of yoga, spa days, and walks in the park (I’m game for those, by the way). I mean the practice of taking time to simply exist with no expectation of doing something or getting something done. What has happened to the habit of pausing the busyness of our lives long enough to examine how we ended up with so much to do in the first place?
This is especially true for men. Research released in 2021 showed:
Researchers and experts say men think of self-care practices as either feminine or unnecessarily self-indulgent. This prevents men from reaching an optimal level of healthiness, mental and physical, to help them meet the demands parenthood, work and life bring.
So, like death and taxes, the exhaustion of life comes for us all — man or woman, parent or childless. But this unexpected hour of stillness helped me tune in to what sustains me.
There I sat at my home office desk, looking at the photos lining it. These snapshots are of the people, past and present, family and friends, who anchor my life.
There’s my cheerful daughter posing pretty in pink in a second-grade portrait. There’s my lovely wife flashing a smile as we walk through a nature park in Jamaica. Just over from her, I see my uncle Johnny, the pigeon fancier, in a loft tending to his birds. Next, I see my mother embracing 7-year-old me from behind as we stand in front of a grocery store display. Over there is my fraternity brother at his MBA graduation with his beaming parents. And there’s my grandmother in her younger years, footloose and fancy-free, strutting her stuff at a club. Reflecting on these memories tapped into the abundance of love in my life.
Filled with a deep sense of gratitude, I opened my work laptop and logged in.
I again felt ready to re-enter The Matrix.
Take a moment photo: © Antonioguillem / Adobe Stock.
]]>It is hard for me to believe November 2021 marks my sixth year as a stay-at-home dad. My journey began when my wife and I learned were going to have twins. Well, she was going to have the twins. I would spend most of the time binge watching as many series as I could on Netflix when not attending to her every need while she adhered to the bedrest she so rightly deserved.
This was our second time readying for twins. The stress of our loss of twins at 19 weeks in 2011 made us ever vigilant to get to the finish line this time. We were better prepared to do everything necessary to see our bundles of joy, Jackson and Sophia, arrive right on time in September.
The pending arrival of twins is the main reason we even discussed me becoming a stay-at-home dad. It made sense financially since my entire salary would likely be going to a nanny or daycare. And in the end, who better to be home with my kids than me (my wife will tell you plainly the stay-at-home lifestyle is NOT for her).
But, my first few weeks by myself with the kids, I felt very alone. I knew about “mommy groups” and often saw gatherings of mothers at the neighborhood playground. Very rarely, though, did I see any dads.
I am a very social person by nature, and while many moms I encountered on playgrounds or at library story times were friendly, I felt my journey as a dad was very different than theirs. Not being the main breadwinner and doing many of the tasks traditionally handled by the mother made me wonder: Am I the only man out here in this role?
So I did some Googling. A few searches and emails later led me to The National At-Home Dad Network, an amazing organization at-home fathers who support each other and offer resources to help make them the best parents and partners they can be. And somehow, in a sea of amazing dads who outshine my accomplishments in any number of ways, I was honored enough to be selected as a panelist at this past month’s HomeDadCon, the group’s annual conference.
Seeing all these dads, from various walks of life, who came armed with a number of questions on subjects from camping to mental health to gender and beyond, my most important take away of the weekends was this: Find your tribe.
It is so important to know that no matter where you are in life, it is likely there are many others out there who are in the exact same place. Once you accept this and that many of these people have the same struggles, the next step is to find them:
While you find your tribe, don’t concentrate on finding your own twin. Not everyone should blindly support or echo your way of thinking, your feelings and — worse — your own bad behavior. You can’t grow as a parent if your only reinforce the habits you already have, some of which may not be best to practice.
As parents, we should look to find others who can challenge our way of thinking or give us a new perspective on how raising our children. Maybe they will shine a light on where you truly excel; maybe they’ll help you find where you can improve. Taking a step out of your comfort zone will help you learn more about who you really are, where you really stand, and where you really belong.
Photo: © william87 / Adobe Stock.
]]>When my wife and I arrived with our youngest for his first tee ball practice, we noticed the parents all huddled in a circle. No kids were on the baseball field. They were enjoying themselves on the nearby playground.
“We can’t practice,” the team’s coach told us. “Practice is canceled.” She was unsure when practice would be rescheduled.
That was March 18, 2020 – the day COVID-19 got real in my small New Jersey town a few minutes outside of New York City.
Being a stay-at-home dad for almost six years, I felt better prepared than most when the pandemic shut everything down soon after. However, nothing really prepared me for having three kids home all day on devices trying to do remote learning for most of the next 18 months. One of the things I had been looking forward to, starting in September 2020, was finally having a single drop-off for all three kids at the same place for a FULL day of school. Ah, to dream …
That finally came true a few weeks ago when the 2021-22 school year started with all in-person instruction. When I dropped all three kids off for elementary school at 8:15 a.m. sharp, knowing I did not have to pick them up until 3 that afternoon, my heart was overjoyed. Over six hours to myself!
But part of me felt guilty. Should I feel bad about being so elated to have the day to myself?
Those feelings of doubt were quickly overridden by a simple fact: physically being in school was where my kids needed to be. School is where you make childhood friends, some of whom you might even have for life. It is the center of your most formative years and is crucial for healthy development into a well-adjusted adult (or some version of that). And, these days, if we can keep them in the classroom safely, I am all for it.
But I also realized that I need at least some of that time alone for myself. As parents, we try to put our kids’ well-being first, but how can we be good parents if we are not in a good place ourselves? So often, we get caught up in the daily duties of parenting and household management – from making meals to doing laundry to getting the car fixed and any number of tasks in between — that we forget about our own physical and mental health. If we are overwhelmed or stressed, we can easily pass those feelings onto our kids and family members.
We parents all need a break now and then. That doesn’t mean you should let your house get completely out of order, but the importance of prioritizing self-care — doing something for yourself and only yourself to rest, relax and rejuvenate – is vital to our ability to care for others in our lives.
For some, that means escaping to a quiet room to read a good book for a few hours. For other, it may be binge-watching a show for an afternoon or hitting the golf course or just taking a nap. We shouldn’t feel guilty about that. Sometimes that little break, that little recharge, can make all the difference in how the rest of your day will go and how you interact with your kids and partner.
So this is how I celebrated myself for surviving as those homeschooling months. As a huge Marvel fan I knew I had to see Shang Chi and the Legend of the 10 Rings in the actual movie theater as it also stars Simu Liu, one of my favorite actors from TV’s Kim’s Convenience. And, I had not seen a movie in person in FOREVER. I told my wife I wanted to catch a matinee (or How to Save Money 101). We hit on the idea of instead of me just going out on my own, we’d turn it into a family outing with my wife letting me enjoy my Marvel movie alone while she took the kids to see the new Paw Patrol flick. Win, win! Somehow, prioritizing my joy and need for a mental break by seeing a popcorn movie ended in being a memorable family day because back home after the movie we found ourselves eating hot dogs on blankets in our yard and playing Nerf wars the backyard.
I have come to realize sometimes it is OK to prioritize yourself from time to time, though never at the expense of others. Doing so might seem small or insignificant at the time, but sometimes, when you prioritize wellness through self-care, you end up prioritizing your family’s well-being without even knowing it.
Tips for better self-care
By Kevin McKeever
It doesn’t take a lot of effort to occasionally prioritize your wellness for the sake your family and loved ones. Here are some things to try:
Prioritize wellness photo: © EVERST / Adobe Stock.
]]>Take care of yourselves, men. That’s the crux of the latest Dove Men+Care campaign which features a partnership with the popular meditation and mindfulness app Headspace.
Dove Men+Care, a long-time partner of City Dads Group, wants to give dads the support they need to better care for themselves and their families by offering three months of free access to a selection of meditation exercises through Headspace.
Research has shown that when dads are fully present in caring for their families, the effect is transformative: on him, his partner, family and everyone around him. That is why Dove Men+Care teamed with Headspace to help guys practice a better self-care routine. People who take advantage of the offer will be able to choose from exercises with titles such as “Radical Self-Care,” “Compassionate Parenting,” and “Letting Go of Work.”
The initiative is based on recent research from Promundo — an international leader in advancing gender equality and preventing violence — in partnership with Dove Men+Care. The findings showed:
Researchers and experts say men think of self-care practices as either feminine or unnecessarily self-indulgent. This prevents men from reaching an optimal level of healthiness, mental and physical, to help them meet the demands parenthood, work and life bring.
To help bridge the gap between men and self-care practices, Dove Men+Care chose to work with Headspace because dozens of published studies in leading mindfulness peer-reviewed journals found the app helps with mental health and well-being by reducing stress, improving focus, increasing compassion and decreasing aggression.
Several City Dads members have helped promote the partnership and its call for men to take more time for self-care through social media. These include:
To get the 90-day trial of Headspace, you must upload a digital or image of a print receipt for the purchase of any DM+C grooming product made between June 1 and August 31, 2021, to https://www.dove.com/us/en/men-care/headspace.html. Once the purchase is validated, you will receive a code via email to unlock the offer.
After the free trial ends, the subscription renews automatically at $69.99 for a year.
About our partnership with Dove Men+Care
Dove Men+Care has long been committed to shattering stereotypes about being a man and a father. Some past campaigns, City Dads has worked with them on include advocating for universal paternity leave and recognizing father figures. Last year, in the wake of the death of George Floyd at the hands of police, the company established the Fathers Taken Fund to invest $1 million to support these families in need.
Meditation photo: © Konstantin Yuganov / Adobe Stock.
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