While I often joke about the mom-centric attitude of my children, it’s definitely started to wear me down.

Every day I endure three kids going out of their way to remind me that mommy is superior. Just a bit ago, I stopped writing this to take my daughter to gymnastics. She began to whine and complain. My wife gave in, and here I sit, typing away, reminded I’m the lowest-ranking member of House Lemon.

Most of the time we don’t give in. My wife and I alternate duties, and the kids have to accept it. This doesn’t stop me from hearing about it, though. The kids who stay home with mommy cheer. The kid stuck with lame old dad mopes, whines, and generally makes sure I know I’m the least wanted. My brain can fully rationalize this reality, and I know it’s developmentally appropriate. I know if I wasn’t a stay-at-home dad, they’d likely be clamoring for time with me and less time with mommy. If I was more the pushover and less the rule enforcer, this parental pendulum might swing in my favor. My brain knows this, but my heart remains wounded.

It’s unfair to blame my kids, and it’s particularly unfair to blame my wife for being easy-going and generally more fun to be around. The blame here, if blame is the appropriate word, is upon me. I’m letting my lack of self-worth increase the sting of my kid’s choices. Maybe if my inner monologue wasn’t so negative, I’d have fewer feelings about the kids constantly choosing my wife over me.

I am consistently floored at how often my children are a mirror, reflecting the best and worst of who I am. Not just when their actions mimic mine, but it’s particularly illuminating when my reaction to them gives me previously unseen insight into who I am. Or, perhaps more accurately, who I’m not.

Maybe I’m weaker than I realize? Perhaps my kids are right and I’m the problem.

Or maybe.

Just maybe …

It’s them.

It’s all them!

Truth is, I’m rather fun. And, if the weather is just right, and my back isn’t being too grumpy, I’m downright delightful. Also, I’m not sorry for enforcing the rules. I’m not sorry for saying, “Yeaaaah, that’s a bad idea,” when my son is dangling over a dangerous precipice. Nor do I feel guilty stopping my daughter from getting too close to the dinosaur-infested waters of our local swamp (we live in Florida – it’s all swamp). I’m particularly not sorry for consistently steering the family away from bad decisions which I know will result in tears, meltdowns, fiery bedtime debates, or just general bedlam and reckless tomfoolery.

They can all suck it! It’s not me. It’s THEM!

Folks, we live in strange times. Times that are extremely difficult to navigate. Genders are fluid, fluids are filled with poisonous microplastics, and I’m just on the edge of being too old to adapt to any of it. Some men believe I’m too soft. Some men believe I’m too hard (be proud of the inappropriate jokes I’m omitting here). Everyone has a digital megaphone from which they can loudly judge the decisions and lifestyle choices of others, and here I am just trying to figure out how far I can let my kids ride their bikes from the house, knowing I’ll hear, “Well, Mommy lets me ride my bike in the street.”

Do I look like Mommy?

Sometimes resistance is a sign you’re on the wrong path. Other times, especially when assuming your natural role as a parent, resistance is a sign you’re doing something right. As parents, we have to be a little annoying. One of us has to be cool, because doing cool stuff is fun, and a little freedom goes a long way. But one of us absolutely needs to apply the brakes. Someone has to speak up, take the heat, and be the sopping wet blanket that ruins all the fun. Some call it balance. I just call it my genetic birthright to be the Gloomy Gus dialing everything back.

Hold strong my fellow parents. Don’t be afraid to be the annoying one, and perhaps most importantly, remember that on the gloomiest of days, when the kids have beaten your ego so bad not even a friendly shaman could help you find it: It’s not you – it’s them!

It’s always them!

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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 Phil Nguyen via Pexels.

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.

Fathers are incompetent man-children who may be able to keep their kids alive (in a pinch), but not much else.

Mothers are incessant nags who wouldn’t know a good time if it tickled their collective behinds, but they do know to take care of business … around the house, anyway.

WTF!?!

It seems impossibly outdated, yet somehow this view of parenthood as a battle between the sexes rather than a partnership persists.

Give me a friggin’ break.

I know my situation is different than the norm. I’m a stay-at-home dad. When my children go to my wife for help, do they look around and ask, “Where is Dad?” No. They ask her for what they need. When we’re both home, do we magically revert to old stereotypes, that she knows everything and I’m just a dumb lug who scratches himself all day? No! We have a partnership in this whole parenting thing.

I’ve seen the memes about helpless dads countless times. For each one, there are a host of women commenting “oh, yeah!” and “preach it, girl!” I usually just roll my eyes and make a mental note of which of my friends is an idiot that day (or who is getting really annoyed at this silly B.S., which can also be amusing).

Parenting partnership is no joke

These moms are probably mostly joking or venting, maybe thinking back to particular instances when their men could have done more … or maybe these moms just weren’t thinking at all. Totally understandable. I’ve encountered my share of arguably sexist memes and, for an instant, saw a grain of truth in them or just wanted to empathize or bond with the dude who posted it. Then I think about the message I’d be sending to the world – about my wife and women – and I keep scrolling. There are better things to like on the internet. But I’m not mad at the women who click “like” and leave messages of support for this view. I feel sorry for them. Their “partners” are not holding up their end of the implicit parental bargain.

However, I’m willing to bet that most parents recognize how valuable their significant other is. If not, something is wrong in that dynamic. It’s possible that dad is slacking and needs to get his act together. Maybe mom is stressed because dad feels his role as a parent is to provide for his family, and not much else. It’s also possible that mom won’t let him participate as much as he’d like to because he doesn’t fold the laundry the “right way” or cook a “perfectly balanced” meal the way she would. A parenting partnership requires some give and take, particularly the giving up and taking of control.

As a stay-at-home parent, I absolutely depend on my wife. Just like she could not put in long hours at work if I didn’t stay home with the kids, I could not take care of the kids all day if she didn’t share those responsibilities when she was home. I would lose my damn mind!

By the time we pick my wife up at the train station, I am ready to hand over the reins. I am all too happy to take on some of those household responsibilities I shirked during the day. After a long day at the office, every minute with the kids is precious for her. Yes, she’s exhausted, but in a different way. What is something of a break for her is the very thing that threatens every day to break me: those crazy kids and all their questions!

Upon further reflection, maybe those memes aren’t as far off as I originally thought. If the moms who liked it are anything like me, they’re probably hiding in the kitchen once their spouses get home. The kids aren’t asking dad where mom is because dad is a useless idiot, they’re asking because there are times when mom doesn’t want to be found! It’s a good thing that, like me, she has a husband in this whole parenting partnership thing who is ready, willing, and able to take on whatever questions, requests, and demands are thrown his way.

Parenting partnership first ran in 2104 and has since been update. Photo by Katie E from Pexels

Three years ago, my daughter was born. The magical (screaming, agonizing and exhausting) miracle of birth ends with cutting the umbilical cord. I’m aware some dads do this themselves. I am not one of those dads.

Blood grosses me out. Cutting an actual flesh-tether connecting my wife to my daughter … um, yuck. Hard pass.

Come to think of it, how the heck did we, as a species, used to do this birthing thing before modern medicine? Did cavebabies stay attached, waiting for cavedoctors to invent a surgical knife? 

But I digress.

I didn’t cut the umbilical cord. Didn’t watch too closely as the doctors did either. And … maybe I should have. Because years later, I’m pretty sure that moment wasn’t done right. The umbilical is still there. 

Not literally, of course. But there’s more than flesh in those bonds.

Daddy’s little girl still attached to her mom

I’m a stay-at-home dad, so my kid is my responsibility alone for most of the day. Yet, for the first six months, I was not-the-mama.

My daughter wouldn’t let me feed her. Kid, let me feed you! Nope. No bottles. No hugs.

Wouldn’t let me change her. I know I’m not Mommy, but this is my job!

Not a smile or a kind word for six months. Fun times. Aren’t babies supposed to naturally love both parents? I think this kid missed a memo.

The umbilical tie to her mom proved to be stronger than just a preference. My wife works from home. If she wasn’t nearby, I’m not certain we would have survived those early months with my daughter. Some birds chuck their chicks out of the nest to watch them fly. Well, that wasn’t an option for us.

The year after that first one grew better. I became tolerated.

She knew Bandit Heeler, from the show Bluey, as “Dad” before she was willing to call me that word. Then again, Bandit’s introduced with song and dance shouting “Dad” whereas I was just … there.

And clearly, I was not Mom.

No quick way to cutting the cord with mom

So how did I do it? How did I finally cut the cord? My daughter’s 3 years old, and oh, she’s still attached to her mother, don’t get me wrong. And I’m grateful they’re close. But guess who else she’s attached to?

Yep, that’s right … still mom. But also, most times, this guy right here.   

Guess who she runs to, and clings to? Who she sits on as a chair? Who she pours water on? Guess who she smears with markers? Who she tries to share her favorite food (her own boogers) with? Guess who gets invite to every tea party? And, of course, guess who gets used as a personal wagon to get places?

Cutting the umbilical cord took time. Oh, we tried the quick, surgical approach. This involved letting a babysitter inside the house before running as fast as we possibly could out the door without turning back. Imagine the loudest, most desperate scream session you can possibly envision. Maybe a billion decibels?

Yeah, we wish it had been like that. It was so much worse. The entire Earth caved in and I’m pretty sure flames came out of my daughter’s ears when we tried that.

The “spend time with dad” approach wasn’t a clean-cut success either. For example, as a former teacher, I always try to incorporate education into my time with our kids. I use themes like “colors” or “space” and so on to focus the kids’ attention. Well, I kid you not, we spent a week of necessary education around a single lesson: “Dad exists.”

Again and again, I’d emphasize this one concept. Puppet shows. Songs. Even good-old peekaboo. I think that week did help. A little.

I’m not exaggerating when I say my daughter’s love had to be earned and won.

Create a unique bond with your child

Ultimately, what worked best was not working on cutting the cord between my daughter and wife, but instead working on creating a new one — a true emotional attachment — between us.

In his book, The Ultimate Stay-At-Home Dad, fellow SAHD Shannon Carpenter talks about the importance of “Dadventures” — the journeys fathers take with their kids. This was a turning point my daughter and I. We started going on at least one Dadventure a week: a hike in the woods, a trip to the zoo, a visit to the children’s museum, and so on.

These are moments of pure joy for both of us, and it is through these deep, meaningful connections that a new umbilical began to grow. Not the icky blood-and-fluid kind, but the emotional tether that now bonds my daughter and I together.

Once, while navigating the packs of unsmiling moms at the children’s museum, my daughter kept running back to me and asking to be picked up. She put her hands on either side of my head and pulled me close, to kiss me on the cheek. This was a signal. I wasn’t Mom, born attached. I was Dad, and through hard work, play, and constant, constant love … I’d finally earned my own umbilical.

A cord I will always cherish.

Photo: © Kirill Gorlov / Adobe Stock.

“OK, dad, do you need my help?” the polite medical assistant asked.

I assured her I was fine.

“Oh, ummm, do you want me to help with her pants?” she asked this time.

Once more, I assured the kind woman I was fine.

She would ask if I needed help two more times. By the final question, I was clenching my fist as hard as I could, hoping it would keep me from saying something ridiculous.

For the record, I’m always at risk of saying something ridiculous.

It’s not the medical assistant’s fault. She was trying to help a seemingly hapless dad handle a 2-year-old. A 2-year-old who really, really had zero interest in being at the doctor’s office. A 2-year-old who felt duty bound to wage a war of not-so-quiet resistance against each and every request made – no matter how politely asked.

This moment was a challenge for me, of course. It’s never easy to force your kid into doing something, but I was getting it done. I’m a professional father at this point, after all! This tiny, unruly, curly haired resistance fighter is my third child. I’ve got this. In fact, any time I’m in charge of just one kid, I’m having an easy day.

So no, I don’t need your damn help!

Gender roles and stereotypes

There are many societal forces at play when it comes to parsing out the origins of gender roles. I dare not dip my toes into that ever-expanding quagmire, but whether I like it or not, as a house husband, I am on the leading edge of redefining what it means to be a male caretaker of kids and home.

Despite this reality, it’s no surprise when a woman in a pediatrician’s office spots a dad alone with a kid, she naturally assumes something has gone horribly wrong: Poor ol’ dad is stuck taking the kid to an appointment! He likely has no idea what he’s doing. He definitely needs help. With EVERYTHING!

I admit, at one point in my life, I believed the trope. Maybe the slew of useless sitcom dads that populated my childhood evening TV time influenced my thinking. Those TV dads ALWAYS screwed things up. They were chronically unsure of how to handle young kids. Diapers? Comedy gold. Alone time with their kids was called “babysitting.” And, in general, they seemed completely unable to handle a pregnant woman. Household chores were a mystery. Without a female partner’s guiding hand, only bedlam followed.

Full confession: Sometimes I do need help. This isn’t the angry rant of a prideful male feeling emasculated by the woke mob. I’m simply suggesting the default response to a father out with his kids shouldn’t be to assume he is in over his head. Fathers aren’t babysitters. Fathers alone with their children are just parents parenting.

It’s not babysitting; it’s parenting

Once, I was at the zoo. At the time, I only had two kids. I had them in a stroller. I was wearing a backpack, and the stroller was kitted out with all the survival equipment one needs to endure an outing with tiny monsters. This was during the work week, so the other parents — equally kitted out, equally with their hands full — were mostly women.

I had dozens of people look at me and say, “Wow, you’ve got YOUR hands full!” Each time, I smiled and made increasingly smart-ass replies (remember, always about to say something ridiculous).

I noticed the same comments were not being made to the equally encumbered women around me. They had their hands full, too. However, only the bumbling dad needed encouragement.

I accept that the previous generation of men bare some burden for the bumbling dad archetype. Some may call the past generations the “greatest,” or behave as if they were somehow part of a time when the United States was “better,” but many fathers back then dropped the ball. A lot of absent dads discarded their children, either to chase careers or other women with whom they could procreate. So maybe men earned this judgment on their own. Whatever the cause, whatever the reason, I think it’s time society stop assuming that a dad alone with his child is in over his head.

Equal roles require equal help

I’m genuinely glad good people desire to do good things. It’s one of humanity’s most endearing qualities, but our broad assumptions need to become more enlightened. We need to start seeing a father as sharing parenting duties equally with a mother. (Well, OK — dads can’t grow humans, eject those humans, and feed same humans with our bodies, so, you now, there’s that.)

A father’s parenting duties isn’t limited to ball fields and arenas. It’s not just the garage and the backyard. A father can take his kid to the doctor, to ballet, and anywhere else his kids need him. It’s not punishment. It’s not a scheduling fail. People — it is called parenting, and dads do it, too.

And now I’m not sure exactly how to end this. I sure could use your help.

Just kidding. I got this.

Photo: © Jacob Lund / Adobe Stock.

“I want to apologize for my generation and the world we have created for you.”

A mentor of one of my teen daughters made this statement a few years back. When my daughter first told me about it I understood his mindset. His apology was well-intended. It had been an especially crazy media week featuring stories of environmental disaster, civil strife and political rancor.

But then I thought again: No! Don’t model such pessimism for the next generation! That just makes us part of the problem. If adults can’t envision a better future, how can we expect children to have hope?

Finally, a larger question emerged: How did we get to this defeatist point?

Neverending news cycle wears us down

No doubt one culprit is the media saturation many of us have allowed our families to experience. On the national level, the onslaught of the 24/7 news cycle is hard to tame. On the personal level, the onslaught of social media, texts, e-mails, snaps, posts, tweets, etc. is also hard to tether — especially for teens. In a sense, many of us are becoming human media outlets stuck in a forever “breaking” news cycle of our own lives. Even new brain metaphors like “my mind doesn’t have the bandwidth for that” and “my mental batteries need recharging” show the technological seepage.

The result? We end up living way too much in the present, with no time for reflecting on the past or envisioning the future. Hence the anxiety of my daughter’s well-intentioned mentor.

So what can today’s parents do? I discovered some answers in Madeline Levine’s recent book, Ready or Not: Preparing Our Kids to Thrive in an Uncertain and Rapidly Changing World.

Levine notes “it is the velocity of change that we find truly head-spinning” in today’s media-dominated culture. Consequently, anxiety “is now the number one mental health disorder for both adults and children.”

“Old” solutions to the media saturation problem

For Levine, one road to a better, less anxious future for children leads to the past. “For most kids, having something resembling an old-fashioned childhood — playing outside, meeting challenges without constant parental interference, being bored, having chores, taking some risks — is far more likely to build the kinds of competencies kids have always needed and that will be particularly important in the future,” she writes.

Another way of thinking about such “old-fashioned” remedies for media saturation is to divide them into body and mind strategies. Physically, parents can try to foster more non-tech, slowed-down family time. These strategies include:

• age-appropriate chores
• projects
• volunteering
• nature walks
• arts and sports.

Granted, technology has many beneficial uses at home. However, children need boundaries. Boundaries help their physical development beyond looking at screens.

Psychologically, Levine recommends parents revisit a tool from the past.

“While it may sound profoundly old-fashioned, never underestimate teaching your kids the value of a good attitude,” she writes. “That means teaching and appreciating optimism, empathy, gratitude, self-reflection, humility, and enthusiasm around challenges and diverse points of view.”

She calls for parents to model an optimistic “explanatory style,” or “the manner in which we habitually explain to ourselves why things happen and what they mean.”

In addition to expressing optimism, parents should provide context. This helps “reframe” media narratives for children to provide more balanced perspectives. For example, in our house we have talked about the eventual endings of the 1918 flu pandemic and the 1960s nuclear gamesmanship as ways to cope with recent scary headlines. Reflecting on historical traumas that eventually passed helps lessen everyone’s anxiety about the present and future.

The “new” power of increasingly involved fathers

Late in her book, Levine models optimism for the future by noting the positive impacts of increasingly involved fathers. The continued redefinition and expansion of modern fatherhood — whether working or at-home — bodes well for all families.

“In a popular quip, the scientist Alan Kay said, ‘The best way to predict the future is to invent it,’” Levine notes. This quote reminded me of years ago when I attended the Annual At-Home Dads Convention, which I highly recommend. At the conference, one of the presenters joked that full-time at-home dads are like “fathers from the future.”

It’s ironic that Levine offers some old-fashioned advice to “future-proof” today’s families. But in a statement that contrasts with my daughter’s well-meaning mentor, she practices the “good attitude” she preaches.

“We want our children to run toward adulthood eagerly, not cringe from it or burrow down in our spare room for years,” Levine writes. “We want to reassure them that, even in our unpredictable era, there’s always a way forward to a fulfilling life.”

In other words, “the future isn’t a tide that’s going to crush us, it’s a wave we’re a part of.” Don’t let media saturation make your family forget that.

Media saturation photo: ©photoschmidt/ 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.   

When you prioritize your wellness, others benefit

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:

• Do at least one thing a day just for yourself. Whether it’s carving out 30 minutes to exercise, read, call a friend or take a solo walk around the neighborhood.
• Listen to your favorite music. Turn it on when prepping meals, cleaning or anytime you have another task at hand.
• Step away from the screens. When you have a spare minute or two, take a deep breath and take in all your see, hear and smell around you rather than rapidly scrolling through Instagram.
• Get more sleep. This is a key to health in general. Aim for seven hours.

Prioritize wellness photo: © EVERST / Adobe Stock.

If you have young children, chances are you’ve at least heard of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation’s animated show Bluey (it’s on the Disney channels in the United States). This isn’t a show to simply entertain the kids, and it’s not some fad. It’s a show about parenting, written by a dad, produced by a different dad, and with a main character who is a stay-at-home dad character we should all strive to like.

Set on the outskirts of Brisbane, the show’s characters are all dogs, and the central family is the Heelers. The father, Bandit Heeler, is the primary caregiver. He’s a part-time archeologist (a dog who digs bones, get it?) but the only work we ever see is his main job: raising his two daughters: 6-year-old Bluey and 4-year-old Bingo. Bandit’s wife, Chili, completes the family, and is often privy to their crazy games. Even their adult neighbor, Lucky’s Dad, goes along with the fun.

But this isn’t just a silly kids show. Each episode is only eight minutes (there are more than 100 so far), yet in a mere eight minutes, you’ll see positive values, universal truths and the importance of imaginative play. To do all this and still appeal to infants, adults and every age between is impressive.

Bluey is full of humor and heart, but it’s also deep. In the episode “Copycat,” Bluey deals with learning about death by mimicking her parents. In “Grandad,” we see Chili begging her older dad to slow down, and how time passes differently for grandparents.

“I’m not taking advice from a cartoon dog!” proclaims Bandit, during the episode “Flat Pack.” But that’s exactly what we, as dads should do. Bandit’s real. And a refreshing change. He’s not the buffoon dad (a trope still in use in, from cartoons like Peppa Pig through adult sitcoms like Modern Family), or the absentee dad (another trope). And despite the wholesome feel, the show is pure fun. It’s not the “after-school special” feeling you’ll get from an episode of Daniel Tiger or Sesame Street.

Bandit, who was even named (canine) Father of Year in Australia in 2020, always puts his kids first, sometimes by letting them solve their own problems. When Bluey wants to quit riding a bike (in “Bike”) he doesn’t stop her or argue. He says “OK,” but then encourages her to watch all her friends persevering at other things, until Bluey gets on the bike again herself. Bandit is also a dad who ALWAYS plays games with his kids. The kids don’t leave him alone when he has to use the bathroom. The car is littered with food and toys. There’s always laundry and there are times he’s too tired to get up. In “Mount MumandDad,” the parents are so exhausted they can’t move, but still they play. In “Daddy Drop-Off,” Bandit doesn’t want to play because he’s running late, but he still plays. There is always time for play and for fun.

In fact, every episode is a new, imaginative, fully interactive game. Not just games to watch, but games my kids love to play with me now. Games to play with your kids. Yeah, it’s tiring. I’m not sure how Bandit is always so animated. Maybe it’s because he’s a cartoon. But it’s worth it.

Best of ‘Bluey’

Even if you don’t have young kids, you should still watch. In fact, this is the only show I enjoy watching without the kids. (Rolling Stone magazine listed it in its Top 100 sitcoms of all time earlier this year.) It’s that fun. If you’re a Dad wondering where to start, here’s my top seven episode recommendations (all can be streamed on Disney+) for dads, and why:

1. “Café” – This is one of the episodes that hits home to me. Bandit and Bluey meet a new dad and his daughter at the playground. The kids are instant friends. But the dads … well, sometimes it takes adults longer to make friends than it takes kids.
2. “Daddy Drop Off” – Bandit’s running late dropping the kids at school. He doesn’t want to keep playing but does. And we see that choosing to play matters, not just to Bandit’s kids, but to others.
3. “Baby Race” – All right, this is a mom-focused episode, but we all remember the struggles of when the kids were growing up and ‘competing’ with other parents over which kid walked first, etc.
4. “Fancy Restaurant” – One thing I think all parents struggle with, especially with little kids, is finding time for our relationship to our spouse, when our lives are dominated by the kids. Bandit admits he’s “forgotten how to romance” in this charming, fun episode.
5. “Takeaway” – Yeah, kids get bored. Yeah, life happens. Sometimes it all just goes downhill. But if you can laugh about it …
6. “Octopus” – Playing nonstop games isn’t for everyone. Heck, I’ve three decades of theater and improv training and still find these games exhausting. In this episode, Chloe (a friend of Bluey’s) has a dad who feels like he can’t play the way Bandit does, but he still wants his daughter to have fun. It’s okay to play differently.
7. “The Dump” – On a trip to the dump, Bluey and Bingo question if their dad is really the best in the world. It’s okay to not be perfect. 

Beyond just the episodes, I really try to get into the games shown. “Magic Xylophone” may be the simplest Bluey game. A ding (which can even just be someone saying “ding”) makes everyone else freeze. Pretty simple. Or “Shadowlands,” where the shadows are land and the sunlit patches are water. Kids have limitless imaginations. Everything can be a game, and kids learn best through play.

Bandit won’t take advice from a cartoon dog. But we should. It’s OK to be goofy. It’s OK to be a little crazy. It’s OK to teach through pure fun. As the Aussies say: wackadoo!

About the author

Chris Mannino lives with his wife and two children. As a full-time stay-at-home dad, he considers himself a lion tamer, cat herder, sanitation manager, personal chef, private teacher and more. Somehow, he also manages to squeeze in a writing career: crafting fantasy stories from picture books through adult. Visit him at www.ChristopherMannino.com

You may think being a stay-at-home dad is all snuggles and cartoons. Well, you’re wrong. All. Wrong.

I sure do miss going to work every morning. Trust me, being a SAHD is really overrated.

I miss tucking my button-down shirt into my khakis each morning and putting on the same pair of uncomfortable shoes day in and day out. As a stay-at-home dad, I’m now forced to wear blue jeans. Over and over again. And shirts — always untucked.

My mornings no longer have an adrenaline surge similar to what a pit crew feels during a car race. Waking up at 5:30 a.m., stuffing waffles in my sleepy kids’ faces; throwing them in the car at 6:30, slowing down just long enough at daycare so they can dive-roll without getting hurt; then pulling into work without a minute to spare. Good times.

Lunch time now is the worst. I’m forced to sit with my kids, watching them eat whatever I made, taking as much time as I want to finish my own lunch. I miss the joys of lunch at work. Waiting in line for the microwave during my 20-minute lunch. (Yes, I said 20-minute lunch. The glorious life of a teacher.) Inhaling my food out of microwaved plastic containers, where the center of the food is still frozen solid while the rest of it is burn-the-roof-of-your-mouth hot. Mmm, delicious.

And now I have to do my errands during the week when all the stores are empty. I no longer have the pleasure of waiting in long lines or playing bumper carts with the masses at the grocery store on weekends.

The thrill of driving during rush hour is gone, too. No more getting stuck in traffic behind an accident on the interstate. No more slip sliding my way home on snowy days, turning my 45-minute commute into an epic three-hour video game like experience.

As a SAHD at dinner time, I have to cook. Can you believe that? And eat homemade food! Gone are the regular meals of succulent fast food, such as my fave gourmet Italian — Domino’s.

So, don’t do it, guys. Don’t become a SAHD. Unless, of course, you like leisurely mornings, long lunches, story time with your kids, errands when no one is around, homemade food, no commute and comfy clothes. Then maybe it’s something worth considering.

A version of “SAHD Overrated” first appeared on Indy’s Child. Photo: ©Kirill Grekov / Adobe Stock.