For seven years I held the best job the world has to offer. It’s the most fun job I can envision, and at times, one of the hardest imaginable.

I’m talking about my happy time as a SAHD: a stay-at-home dad.

For seven years, I was the MAN. The go-to parent for every joy, every heartache, every need. I oversaw food, fitness and fun. We would take “dadventures” — exploring nearby museums, parks, historic sites and more. I raised my son and daughter, loving every moment I spent with them. And life was amazing.

But the pay … it sucked.

This past fall, my daughter, the younger of our kids, enrolled in preschool. At first, I felt free. I’d have more time to focus on the housework, cooking and other responsibilities without feeling rushed all the time. Yet, those wide-open days started feeling a bit …boring. When you’re used to constant noise and attention, the quiet while your children are at school is both empowering and unsettling.

So I started working part-time as a substitute teacher. I enjoyed spending this time in my kids’ schools and even subbing in their classes. Subbing is good for the struggling school systems (I was a full-time teacher before our kids were born) and I liked being able to do it on my terms. School holiday? I’m off too. One kid sick? I don’t take a sub job that day. And so on.

It felt strange working part-time, though. It made me realize I had an even bigger decision looming ahead of me as my children got older: Should I return to work full-time?

I hadn’t had a traditional “office” job in seven years. Would employers even want to talk to me? Realistically, as sexist as it sounds, leaving the workforce for stay-at-home fatherhood is a tough sell to potential future employers.

Another thing to consider: What would I do for work? I didn’t want to go back to teaching, I knew that. And I didn’t know what the job market for my skills would be like. I did know I wanted to try something.

I dove into the job hunt. A hundred applications across months. A handful of interviews that didn’t pan out. And a lot of crickets.

Let me backtrack a moment. When you become an at-home parent, you experience an initial period of limbo when nothing feels right or normal. You’re used to being on someone else’s clock, but now you set the timetable. Rather than a boss who dresses you down, your “boss” is now this little person you have to dress daily. Instead of being surrounded by co-workers and other adults, you are now isolated on Kid Island—sometimes I needed reminding to go outside and be around others.    

I thought about that period because here I was in limbo again. I didn’t know what I wanted or how to get there. My kids still mattered the most, but I knew I wanted to be working and earning money. I wanted to still be there for them for intense, amazing play at least a little bit every day. So then, what could I do?

Well, I threw in the job search towel.

Instead, my wife and I decided to open our own business from home, working full-time to make it succeed.

It hasn’t been easy, but here I am … making more money than I ever did as a full-time teacher. I work from home, setting my own timetable. My boss is my wife. She dresses me down often, if you know what I mean, but I keep it PG in front of the kids. And since working from home is a bit isolating, we’re constantly putting ourselves in front of others. I’m even giving a TEDx talk in front of a crowd at Philadelphia next month.

In other words, we took all the elements we liked about my time as an SAHD and kept them then fit work around them. Every day, I spend time with my kids. Every day I spend time with my wife. I work on my terms and on my timeline.

Creating and running your own business won’t be for everyone, but for me, this scenario has been the secret to being “happy after SAHD.” I think the key is to find the priorities that matter to you and find a way to make them happen. My priority is spending time with the kids. Finding an employer willing to work with me on that, with a seven-year “gap” as a SAHD on my resume and a career change in mind … well, maybe my wife’s the only boss who that would work for. Still, find those priorities and stick to them.

Parenting, regardless of your work (or non-work) situation, doesn’t end. In my new position, our dadventures still happen, and so do the dad jokes and, of course, the constant care of kids. It’s possible to do all those, and still work. Being happy after SAHD means embracing the longer-term job of fatherhood, and recognizing that everything else is secondary.

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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.

Photo by Gustavo Fring from Pexels.

I believe most men have a drive to be a productive part of the economy and the world. But what happens if he becomes a stay-at-home dad?

Would his ego be helped with a part-time job?

What if that part-time job became bigger and bigger?

How would his priorities and identity as an at-home dad change if he were to have the opportunity to enjoy business and economic success that can be parlayed into a fulfilling career?

I’ve had to answer all these questions in the past few years. That last question, though, I’m still working through. In fact, until a few weeks ago, I thought I had worked out all my ego issues.

Since September 30, 2016, my primary “job” has been as dad to our one son, Franklin. My wife and I agreed on my doing this until he started school full-time because neither of us wanted to pay exorbitant childcare costs or wake up at 5:30 a.m. to get our child there. We also have the luxury of being older parents (37 and 40) and were able to prioritize time with the child over money. Since my wife made more money than me, we agreed that I’d be the one to look after our son during the day.

Being an at-home parent is a huge responsibility. It doesn’t have a daily quitting time. You’re parent, teacher, coach, mentor — all in one, all the time. Added to this, my underlying insecurities of being “just” the primary caregiver had already made steady footholds into my subconscious. They helped me justify my working part-time even while raising him. It’s “good for him,” I told myself, to see me holding down this second job. It allows him to learn business, responsibility, professionalism, and finance at a young age. He sees his dad as both the primary caregiver AND a hard worker who shuns fun and games to get ahead.

But these initial justifications have been growing into something more. I’ve let myself start thinking that “if it wasn’t for my child” I’d be able to do so much more. More clients, more money, more focus on business.

Part-time job takes on full-time duties

Recently I told my wife about my plans for my growing part-time job in real estate – task lists, business expansion, hiring more employees, adding more clients. If only I keep working toward it, it’ll be mine! I’ll be a success! I’ll even be able to “brag” about how I can do all these things while I raise a child.

Then my wife stopped me cold. “What are you doing with Franklin?” she asked.

I’d been excited about all the possibilities for me, but not for him.

My wife’s question made me think of all the times I turned down business or opportunities. All the times I said “I can’t” because he and I had things to do. Do I feel bitter about that? Short answer, yes. But is that justifiable? Normal? Did I let my ego take over my responsibilities as a primary caretaker? Has my self-centeredness bled over and impacted his connection to me? Did I just teach my child to be self-centered?

That’s what my internal conflict is truly about and, honestly, I’m still processing it. How can I balance my desires, my success, my ego, and my need for societal and self-acceptance, against what my wife, son and I think should be my main purpose – being a parent in these early years?

This may seem like a ranting of privilege, of someone well-off enough to have the option to stay home full-time while the other spouse works. It’s not. It’s really about losing focus on primary goals in favor of self-indulgence.

With the limited time I have left with my son at home, I have to remember to choose him first. In just 18 months, Franklin will be in school full-time. Then, I’ll have weekdays to myself to work for the next 40 years. But struggling to get out of my own way for the betterment of a greater whole — family harmony, my son’s development and well-being — is constant for me. However, my wife’s one simple question has made me begin to re-focus on the primary purpose of my life. And, I’ve realized the greater whole of “we” over “I.”

This article first ran in 2021. Part-time job/work-at-home dad photo by Ketut Subiyanto from Pexels

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.

It finally happened. The most magical moment of any stay-at-home dad’s career: ALL the kids are in school!

I thought I’d be more emotional about this. I was sure I’d be filled with crippling fears and worry. Would the house feel too empty? Would I roam silent rooms, clutching my pearls (or the male equivalent), while weeping over the loss of my precious babies and yelling, “They’ve all grown up and left me!”?

OK, I did cry. Not gonna lie.

But right now I’m writing while listening to loud, offensive, very inappropriate music, and it’s magnificent!

Sometimes the measure of success as a parent is dubious at best. Most victories come in small bites. A “Yes, please,” from your kid to a stranger. A gentle hug from your oldest to the youngest, followed by some encouraging words. These are powerful at the moment, but they feel small. Isolated.

It’s not that I want the world to know just how awesome I am as a dad, but, damn it, I do want the world to know, at the very least, I don’t suck at this! So when my youngest daughter leaped out of the minivan, chatty and excited to begin her first day of school, teachers nodded approvingly, and other parents with shrieking children frowned with a smidge of jealousy, I felt I had earned my reward. They could see. They could ALL see I didn’t suck!

Most of my time as a father has been spent pondering how I would cope with these types of moments. How will I react to the pivotal developmental milestones? I fail plenty, but in preparing my children to step out of the home and be independent, I feel I’m doing OK. Encouraging independence is not my best quality. I’m a hovering helicopter parent who has had to work extremely hard to let the baby birds fly, climb, swim and leave the nest. This does not come naturally, but I know it’s important.

Teach self-sufficiency, reclaim independence

My parents weren’t the best at this either. They gave me great freedom. In fact, when I ponder some of the things I did as a kid, I’m filled with anxiety. How the hell did my mom let me disappear all day without a cell phone? Feels impossible. Although I had great fun (and found lots of trouble), my parents did everything else for me. They never pushed me to overcome my anxiety and figure the world out for myself.

My mom had her reasons for behaving this way. Her childhood was much different than mine so she focused on making sure I had a proper childhood. She and my dad succeeded greatly in this, but along the way, I wasn’t really pushed to be independent. It took me a long time and a lot of hard lessons to find my way. I’ve endeavored to amend this approach with my kids – although I should probably sprinkle in some of my mom’s free-wheeling style every now and then.

My fellow dads and parents, I want to tell you it’s OK.

It’s fine to revel in the blessed silence.

It’s OK to get some of your independence back.

It’s fine to reclaim some of your life that was lost when the kids came around.

No, you’ll never be the same, but that’s a good thing. Kids change us forever in all the best ways. They are the adorable fiery cauldron that refine us into the people we could have never become without them.

So as they assert themselves into their own entities capable of existing without you, even if just for a few hours a day, it’s OK to chase after some of the old life you left behind. Give yourself permission. You’ll feel better.

But you better do it soon. Those little monsters will need to be picked up in a few hours, and that school car pickup line is a bitch.

Reclaim your life photo: © Maria Sbytova / Adobe Stock.

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our archives to find great articles you might have missed. This tale about an at-home dad finding new friends comes from 2018.

Someone at the park handed me their phone number today. I’m planning on calling tonight!

If you are a little confused, that’s understandable. I am a 35-year-old man with an amazing wife of six years and three awesome kids. Why am I still getting girls’ phone numbers?

I never said I was getting a girl’s phone number: the digits I’m getting these days are of fellow stay-at-home dads.

Finding new adult friends as an at-home father is no day at the park. If you thought it was difficult to ask a girl for her phone number in a bar when you were 21, try asking another grown man for his phone number at the playground. It is not just awkward, but a little creepy.

But that is exactly what it has come to. Finding friends as a stay-at-home dad means you start at your new hangouts: the local park, school playground or zoo. You see other dads at these places, too. Since most dads with full-time jobs are also not able to push their kids on the swings at 10:30 on a Thursday morning, so it quickly becomes apparent who the other stay-at-home dads are.

The interactions with other fathers usually start small, with some type of primal grunt in the general direction of the dad. That is most likely the only interaction the two of you will have at that time. If you see each other a couple more times, one of you may even get up enough courage to muster, “Hey, how’s it goin’?” After a few more encounters the conversations begin and usually happen in this order:

1. Which ones are yours?
2. So how old are your kids?
3. Do you stay at home with them full-time?
4. What did you do before you stayed home with your kids?
5. So what does your wife do? (Probably the oddest question of them all.)

After the obligatory questions have been asked and answered, then snap judgments must be made about this guy’s entire family.

Could I really see myself hanging out with this guy?

Do his kids seem a little weird? I’m not sure I want my kids hanging out with somebody’s weird kids.

What if all he is interested in are shotguns and NASCAR? Will we ever have anything to talk about?

What if this guy is really a psycho? I don’t want to invite some psycho to come to my house and hang out with my kids.

And I sure hope he’s not a Yankees fan.

After this quick assessment has been made and the dad is deemed acceptable, it’s time to make a move. Want to get our kids together sometime? Deep breath … here goes … “How ’bout we exchange phone numbers so we can set something up for next week?”

And that’s it. You and your kids have found some new friends to play with, even if they are weird, gun-toting, NASCAR-loving, psycho Yankees fans.

A version of this first appeared on Indy’s Child. Finding friends on a beach photo by Tyler Nix on Unsplash

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. This one comes from 2018.

An acrobat known as Red Panda has been a staple of basketball halftime shows across the country for more than 20 years. I once saw her at an NBA game years before I had children. I was stunned by her simple-in-concept yet seemingly impossible-in-practice act. In short, she rides a very tall unicycle, places an increasing number of bowls onto her foot and leg, flips the bowls into the air, and catches them in a stack on her head.

She never stops peddling her unicycle during this and she rarely ever drops a bowl. Her performances are mesmerizing.

But because I was a single, child-free adult when I saw Red Panda perform, I didn’t make the connection that she is the perfect metaphor for parenting. Especially when you have sick children.

As the dad of three children under age 7, I often feel like I am Red Panda. I’ve been an at-home parent for more than six years and, in that time, I’ve developed routines and methods that help keep the household running relatively smoothly. However, just like a momentary lapse in concentration or an unnoticed spot of perspiration on the basketball court could send Red Panda, her bowls and unicycle clattering to the ground, the slightest bit of misfortune can wreak havoc on a household filled with children.

Sure, the physical stakes aren’t as high for me. I rarely put myself at risk of a seven-foot plunge onto a hardwood floor. Except maybe when I’m climbing on the kitchen counter to hide snacks on top of the cabinets. The emotional stakes, though, certainly are.

My sick children bring out their vomit pots

Most recently, a seemingly routine bout of illness set our bowls (and bowels) trembling. It was perhaps the most dreaded of common illnesses: a stomach virus.

My 4-year-old brought it home with him from preschool. (For those with kids starting preschool soon, beware. In the first few months, your child will bring home lots of paper with smaller pieces of paper glued onto it and germs. Both are nuisances. The germs are probably slightly more disruptive.)

The first of our sick children, little Patient Zero, erupted late on a Sunday evening, just before bedtime. For someone only alive for four years, he has an impressive resume when it comes to vomiting. His tendency to vomit at the drop of a hat is unfortunate for him and was for me, at first, but it does have its advantages. Namely, he already has exquisite timing and aim. He knows when he needs his trusty vomit pan and he hits the target with a precision that would make Katniss Everdeen jealous. Recently, he managed to spew into the pan while we were dropping his brother off at kindergarten. Didn’t get a drop on our new car’s upholstery! I’m so proud.

From the first sleepless night, which Patient Zero and I spent together on the couch on top of some towels curled around a large silver pot typically used for boiling spaghetti and vomiting into, the plague ran its all-too-familiar course. Mostly it’s a waiting game. We go heavy on mindless television watching with brief flurries of cleaning and disinfecting interspersed between Handy Manny episodes.

Soon enough, all I could think about was sickness. Who was going to succumb next? Was I ever going to do anything normal again? Like leaving the house, sleeping in my own bed, or watching a non-animated television show.

And what was really going on between Handy Manny and Kelly, the Sheet Rock Falls hardware store owner?

Once one bowl is off balance, there’s no stopping the ensuing cascade.

The next victim falls

Later, the disease struck our youngest. The great thing about 2-year-olds and stomach viruses: there is not a second of warning before the terror is unleashed. Two-year-old children with sick stomachs are not like volcanoes or hurricanes; they are like earthquakes and tornadoes.

In the end, a whole week later, I was lying on the couch on a Sunday morning waiting for my anti-nausea medicine to kick in while my finally healthy kids watched more television and scampered around our living room. Perhaps I was dozing off just a little. I do, however, distinctly remember hearing one of my sons saying something about his 2-year-old sister having markers. By the time I roused myself sufficiently to stumble across the room to investigate, the boring, white ceramic tiles surrounding our fireplace had been transformed into an array of little Jackson Pollack paintings. The 2-year-old’s appearance was similarly colorful.

Such is the life of a parent whose routine, monotonous world has been disturbed by the most mundane provocateur — a sick child, or three. When the bowls crash down, boy, do they make a great clatter. And more often than not, the parent takes the fall, too.

But, eventually, when the wave has passed and the normalcy and motivation begin to return, you just have to get back on your unusually tall unicycle, arrange some bowls on your legs, and start flipping them up into the air so you can balance them on your head again. Because that’s just what parents do.

Sick children photo: © Viacheslav Yakobchuk / Adobe Stock.

February 2020:

It is 6:45 a.m. and, all still half asleep, I load my two youngest (Everett, 7, and Emersyn, 5) into the minivan. There are two other cars welcoming us as we wait for the “before school program” to open. I nervously check my watch and tap my foot, my impatience fueled by an impending 8 a.m. meeting at the office. 

Great news!  My meeting goes well. 

Bad news — it lasted an hour longer than expected. I am now late to pick up the kids from the same spot where I dropped them off nearly 10 hours earlier. Finally, whizzing into the school parking lot, I see my kids on the playground in the distance with their frowning teacher. 

They are the only children left at school. 

Both kids wave excitedly. I wave back, trying to find an excuse to soften the impact of causing the teacher to stay late. I tell her, “I’m sorry.”    

A feeling of failure washes over me.

February 2021:

Feeling fortunate to have been spared from the wrath of COVID-19, I finish a Microsoft Teams meeting, temporarily log off, and head to grab my two little ones from school.  Alongside a few other “remote” working dads and moms, we watch our children spill out of the school’s gates and into each other’s arms.

It is mid-afternoon, the perfect time for a quick recharge before an evening schedule full of Zoom calls on next year’s budget. I get to hear about Emersyn’s new student and Everett’s home run in P.E. class before sinking back into my home office as they finish schoolwork. 

A feeling of gratitude engulfs me. 

February 2023:

It is mid-morning, a normal Thursday of working from home when an email lights up my inbox. The subject line is ominous: “Return to Work Update.” 

I feared this day would come. Working remotely was no longer allowed by policy.  All employees were to return to the office and their assigned cubicles the following Monday.

A feeling of dread crushes this day’s motivation. 

Lethargy quickly turned into rage. How can anyone expect an employee to suddenly undo the two years of remote-working rhythm they’ve developed? How can “corporate” expect parents to find immediate childcare? What about the added household expenses associated with that care and transportation with a mandate to return to the office?  

My outrage, though, had to be checked – there were kids that expected to see their dad after school. As I walked toward the school this day, I started to notice fewer parents mulling around than before. It turns out that nearly half of us had jobs that were now requiring work to be done in the office. I should have felt like one of the lucky ones who lasted, I guess. Instead, I felt like I’d experienced a slow fall from a picturesque cliff.

I came clean with my kids (now ages 9 and 7) right away, saying, “Hey guys, looks like I have to start working at the office again. Not sure what that means for you, but I’m working on it. Picking you up is the favorite part of my day.” 

My kids looked crushed. 

“Dad, why?” my daughter probed.

“Man, that sucks!” said my son, Everett, who was less eloquent but equally as distraught. 

My stomach twisted. I hated that such an arbitrary rule would have an impact on my kids’ lives.

But we parents roll with the punches, right? That is what we must do – and that is what we teach our children to do in their lives. So, that evening, my wife and I talked and planned, got pissed off and cooled down, and, more than anything, just felt defeated.

I dutifully returned to work the following Monday, still searching for how to get Everett to his 6 p.m. soccer practice across town and wondering if my wife will have to quit her job given the prohibited price of childcare. I am heartbroken by this forced and unnecessary intrusion into our established new normal. 

For 10 years, I have worked for a company that, I thought, cherished its people, and celebrated an employee’s ability to do the job from anywhere, anytime. I feel cheated.

Mostly, though, I feel my version of being a “present dad” has been compromised. The return to office life means I cannot pick my kids up from school anymore. They are late to virtually every afterschool commitment now. The daily grind of “wake up, hurry, drop off, work, pick up, repeat” has yielded our quick game of driveway H.O.R.S.E a distance memory. 

I see my kids every day and, still, miss them all the same. 

Great news: I have a job. I am grateful.

Bad news: I am filled with daily regrets about things I’m missing (again). 

The return to the office, for me, is a return to regret. The kind of regret I thought had been permanently abandoned – like the idea of having to sit in a cubicle to be considered a productive employee.    

Photo: © M-Production / Adobe Stock.

This HomeDadCon 2022 article originally ran in January. It was updated July 25.

Tickets are moving and hotel rooms are quickly booking up for HomeDadCon 2022, the annual conference to help at-home fathers hone their parenting skills, bond with one another, and get a little R&R.

Main speakers for the Sept. 29 through Oct. 2, 2022, conference in Phoenix have also been announced. This marks the first time the event will take place in the U.S. Southwest after being held primarily in the Great Plains, Midwest or Southeast regions.

The National At-Home Dad Network (NAHDN) event is for stay- and work-at-home fathers who embrace parenting as their most important job. It allows them to network with other active and involved dads, learn from experts about various parenting and social issues, and take a brief respite from parenting duties.

HomeDadCon 2022 keynote speakers

The scheduled keynote presenters will be:

• Catherine Pearlman, a licensed clinical social worker, author and owner of The Family Coach parenting consultancy. She will speak on the responsibility, safety and etiquette involved in giving your child his first cell phone
• Matt Lofy and Shaun Ditty of The Dadass Podcast will talk about why it is OK to not be OK.
• Author and pastor Tim Wright will discuss how rights of passage offer strategic pathways for leading and empowering our kids into adulthood.
• Musician, vlogger and former fatherhood case manager Jorge Narvaez. He will talk about thinking about being a father not just for the present but for the future.
• Parenting coach Dustin Bruley will discuss practical and positive co-parenting.
• The Bro Dad blogger David Pidnacet will offer a talk titled “Embrace ‘The Suck’ and Wipe Some Butts!”

Breakout topics at past conventions ranged from dealing with picky eaters to teaching children about sexual consent. Outreach or social activities, such as attending a sporting event, are often part of the program.

Ticket, hotel information

A ticket to the three-day HomeDadCon 2022 costs $195. It includes access to all event programs, a convention eve party, three meals and a T-shirt. Discounted hotel reservations are available through August 29 at The Residence Inn by Marriott Phoenix Downtown, which doubles as the event venue. The cost is $169 a night for double occupancy.

+ Buy a ticket for HomeDadCon 2022 +

One change to HomeDadCon 2022 is you will need to be a member of the NAHDN to attend. In the past, the $35 annual fee to the organization was rolled into the conference ticket.

“The reason for the change is operational. We are working at becoming more than a convention,” NAHDN President Jonathan Heisey-Grove wrote in response to emailed questions from City Dads Group. “We offer more than just an annual event now, and there are operating costs associated with running the organization. So we are severing the association of the membership with the convention and making it a calendar year membership.”

The nonprofit National At-Home Dad Network is dedicated to providing advocacy, community, education, and support for families where fathers are their children’s primary caregivers. Its stated purpose is to empower fathers and champion a culture that recognizes them as competent parents.

In the past few years, the organization has added parenting webinars and podcasts to its website. It has also recorded some of the past HomeDadCon sessions, some of which will be made available only to dues-paying members, wrote Heisey-Grove. He noted those members will also have voting rights at the nonprofit’s annual meeting.

“There is also some small swag that we are going to offer, and who knows what kind of special deals we’ll have in the future,” he also wrote.

(DISCLOSURE: City Dads Group has been and is a long-time sponsor and partner with The National At-Home Dad Network for the at-home dads convention.)

In the Disney movie Encanto, the character Luisa has super-strength. Covered in muscles, she lifts boulders and just about anything else for the household and the surrounding village. When pressed by her younger sister, Luisa confesses through song that she feels burdened by her gift of strength, physical and otherwise. She feels constant weight from expectations to carry “all the heavy things [others] can’t shoulder” and, on the inside, she feels ready to crack. Yet she maintains a strong façade because she thinks it’s what everyone needs but, as the pressure never stops, she doesn’t know how much more she can take.

Her song struck a nerve for me and, I suspect, for many other dads.

Dad is supposed to be the strong one. Dad carries the weight of the house and the family. He’s supposed to be in charge — the guy who’s got it all together. But under the surface, how we dads handle pressure matters. Because, ultimately if dad does crack, it’s the kids who get hurt most.

As a stay-at-home father, I feel a lot of pressure. Stay-at-home parenting means being at work 24/7/365 with little sleep, lots of self-doubt, and the isolation from other adults that comes from being alone children most of the day. My jobs include making sure the kids are happy, healthy, engaged, entertained, educated, creative, fed, sleeping, not killing each other, not killing anyone else, not destroying the house, and so on. Then come the household responsibilities: grocery shopping, cooking, cleaning (which, for parents of young kids is the equivalent of constant post-tornado repair), home maintenance and million other things. All this for a job that isn’t particularly respected.

Oh, and don’t even try to wrap your head around the biggest pandemic in a millennium, political upheavals, climate change, or anything else of the global catastrophe variety.

For many dads, the worst pressure of all comes from within. As a self-acknowledged perfectionist, I feel a constant push to not just be Dad, but to be the “perfect” Dad. The kids have to be constantly engaged. They can’t be on screens, but should be completely tech-savvy. These children we raise should be artists, but Jackson Pollack-style doodles and smashed Play-doh in the hair isn’t good enough. They should be reading by the end of their first month, writing novels by age 2, and applying to colleges by 3. They should be popular and surrounded by friends, but of course can’t socialize with anyone these days because of COVID. And on and on the pressure builds. Life turns into an Instant Pot set on high, and that isn’t good for anyone: you, your spouse, or your kids.

You know the secret to good pressure cooking? It’s knowing when to turn the valve. There’s a moment when you flip the seal and steam erupts like a geyser. It’s the difference between a magnificent meal and a mutilated mush.

So how, as dads, can we turn the valve on our own pressure? How do we acknowledge that pressures are real and will always build, but relieve them before we burst?

Step One: Find the Quiet Moments

Look for times during your parenting day that can be lower key. If all else fails, and you’re overwhelmed, it’s not the end of the world to let them watch an episode or two of TV (try Bluey, dads – trust me). Yet, there’s a lot of answers beyond just screen time. Do the kids like to draw? Print out a mandala or complex illustration and color beside your kids! Coloring is proven therapy, and the adult coloring book industry thrives. Whatever your situation, and no matter how brief, try to make sure there’s a few down/lower energy moments in each day to vent that pressure.

Step Two: Mix It Up

Get outside. Get your kids on playdates. Go meet dads near you. Go on “dadventures and explore the many little things around you from the zoos and museums to the tourist traps and more. Too much monotony drains the soul and ups the pressure. If you’re inside everyday and the only conversations you have are with stuffed animals at tea parties, that pressure cooker’s ramping up. Talk to other human beings. Go to places outside the home. It forces you to stay active physically and that’s great for the kids, too.

Step Three: Find a Pressure Outlet and Maintain it

Almost every dad I know has an outlet outside of his kids. I’m a fantasy writer. That doesn’t just mean I draft fantasy novels when the kids are asleep. I take moments during playtime to put on some epic fantasy music. While I’m in a repeat of the tea party that never ends, I allow a corner of my brain to daydream about those next plot twists. Combine that with aforementioned drafting, and writing is my release, a meditative event I honestly need. Some dads woodwork, others game or paint or brew beer. Doesn’t matter what the outlet is, find it and guard it as sacred time.

Step Four: Ask for Help

If the pressure’s too hard, tell your spouse. Hire a sitter. Reach out to your local City Dads chapter or some other dad friends. Talk to a therapist.

As Luisa in Encanto eventually realizes, asking for help is strength not weakness. We all take on too much. It’s OK to share that burden if we need to.

Don’t let the pressure win. We’ve all felt it. And hopefully we all realizes there are vents to let off that steam before you pop.

Photo: © DeStefano / Adobe Stock.

The pandemic introduced a wide range of never-before-encountered issues for stay-at-home parents, but none so important — if not widely talked about — as adjusting to your partner or spouse working remotely alongside you from home.

Here are three tips I’ve pieced together from personal experience over the past 16 months:

1. Share your schedules

My now work-at-home wife frequently has high-level meetings with clients, and the last thing she needs is the loud sound of kids playing in the background. To prevent this, each morning we take time to discuss her schedule for that day so I can plan activities outdoors or away from the house during those sensitive work times. This is extra helpful when the weather forecast isn’t cooperative, such as during rainstorms, or in the winter, and simply playing in the yard isn’t an option.

2. Plan weekend activities in advance

The key here is to plan activities, not chores. We like to fill our weekends with parks, swimming or other outdoor adventures. Planning gives us both something to look forward to, especially during the long weeks of childcare and work. I do my best to take care of things like laundry and cleaning during the week so that we can both enjoy the weekends as family time.

3. Save store trips for evenings/weekends when possible

Before the pandemic, my wife had close to an hour’s drive, round trip, to work. Once she began working from home, it was common for her to go two to three days straight without leaving our property. By holding off shopping at the grocery store or a big box store until she was done with work, it gave her a much-needed break from the four walls of our home along with some family time. If she was in the mood to go alone on these shopping runs, it gave her a bonus — quiet time alone.

4) BONUS TIP: ‘Alone time’ is not a bad thing

It’s natural to feel guilty about wanting a bit of time to yourself, especially when most days are spent in the same house as your children and spouse. We make sure to communicate to each other our needs and desires for time by ourselves. Although they don’t happen too often, we both know it’s something that’s extremely important.

If you are a stay-at-home parent with a partner or spouse working remotely, none of these tips by themselves are perfect. Even used in combination, they don’t entirely relieve all the stress of these difficult times. If you’re a stay-at-home parent that’s struggling during this time, I hope they can offer a starting point for you and your family.

Spouse working remotely photo: © David Pereiras / Adobe Stock.