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.

The most prevalent examples of fatherhood tend to be built around the same story. It’s one about lazy, uninvolved, and at its worst, abusive dads. These often come accompanied by complaints about men not taking on their fair share of the physical and mental load of parenting. These stories of weaponized incompetence fill pages and pages of books, magazines and social media. Rarely do these tales offer corrective advice or give solutions.

Meanwhile, the handful of positive stories about fatherhood that have made headlines in recent generations tend to center on people later discredited or found disreputable (hello, Bill Cosby!) or sports stars who are gone from home half the year. Not that you’d find even these or any stories about dads in parenting publications and websites — unless, of course, it’s related to that one day in June.

It can be quite refreshing when fathers are ignored, though. For a minute, we can at least imagine we are part of the parenting world. The quiet doesn’t last long, though. Soon, more words are written. Did you hear about fathers who go on fishing trips with the boys and — wait — they end up in a strip club? And the question that is asked, if one ever is, is this: Why are all fathers like this?

That’s where I want to push back.

Dads need support, inspiring examples

Richard Reeves of the American Institute of Boys and Men has written much about the issues our gender faces. (His Substack is fascinating. He also wrote the book Of Boys and Men which is also a great read.) One of his many concerns is the lack of environments where boys can exist and learn from each other. But not as some “old boys’ network” of the past, but as a new way forward. Somewhere young males can develop their emotional intelligence and build friendships. Sounds great, right?

Another upcoming book, BoyMom by Ruth Whippman, is another great read about the issues facing our sons. She is one of the first to actually go into the “manosphere” and talk to incels or “involuntary celibate” males. One of her major research findings is the lack of good examples of masculinity. But after reading it, I also noticed — once again — a lack of good examples of fatherhood.

Society seems primarily to want fathers who are stoic men of action. These are the dads who “man up,” ignoring their own problems while fixing the world for everyone else. Other times, it wants dads who can cook a 12-course meal, make $200,000 a year, and do so without so much as a thank you. What it doesn’t show are examples of a dad who simply exists in the same space as his children and peers, parenting the best he can without feeling like he is letting someone else down. Why? It’s not dramatic. It has no diabolical twists and turns. It’s a straightforward tale of a man who works hard to fulfill his paternal responsibilities and shows up. Every. Single. Day.

Positive fatherhood role models are out there — right out in the open — and everyone seems to miss them. For some reason, at-home dads are rarely held up as the example of what fatherhood and masculinity could be at their best. Instead of showing these fathers (and other good ones who are not at-home dads) caring for their family, giving out hugs like it’s a beer share, or spending countless nights sleeping next to a crib, we inevitably hear, “Why aren’t dads doing more?”

We are. But it’s not very dramatic and, thus, rarely headline-worthy.

The silent story of fatherhood

I recently wrote about football player Jason Kelce’s retirement announcement. In that article, I used the phrase “silent story of fatherhood.” It served as a nod to Jason’s description of his dad, Ed, who supported him every step of the way from childhood. No fanfare. No awards. No recognition. And that is fine. But this is a story I think is way more common than the clickbait articles that allegedly “speak for fathers.”

To me, this is what at-home dads are. It’s what single fathers are. It’s what married fathers who work 60 hours a week and come home and still find the energy to let a toddler crawl all over them are. None of us want condescending credit or hollow compliments. We just want to spend time with our kids, and we’d appreciate it if we got some support along the way. We would love to be part of a world that recognizes our difficulties without turning them into a competition with other parents. And, we would like to turn on our computers and TVs and see a better example of fatherhood — one that speaks more clearly and personally to our reality.

Using these fathers as springboards, we should be able to change the story of fatherhood. We can develop narratives that show what we do well, what obstacles we face, and how we try to overcome them. We will still need to call out the bad fathers who leave their kids and never come back or who refuse to change a diaper but because they don’t deserve our respect they will serve far fewer words in our story let alone headlines.

Fathers DO have their own support groups: either online or in real life. Some are even specific types of fathers: at-home dads, dads with daughters, and so on. In these places, men can come together, simply exist and support each other like Dr. Reeves recommends. We can talk about the latest sports news and, just as confidently, tell another dad, “Hey, I don’t think I’m doing so well.” It’s where we can be vulnerable and further develop our emotional intelligence, just as Ruth Whippman wishes for her sons. It’s a place where we can be whole human beings, not the fraction of ones that much of the world has taught us to be. We should hold these men up as examples of and role models of fathers working to be, if not acting like, strong, competent and caring parents. I know they are because I see them every day.

And we need to do all this in a way that does not demean women and mothers. They need to be celebrated for their sacrifices as much as we need to be recognized for ours. Parenting isn’t a competition, so we should stop treating it that way especially when we speak and write about it.

So come to a dads’ group gathering sometime. Talk to the single dad who is an expert at French braids and who can also build you a deck. Find the at-home dad who gave up his career for playdates, doctors’ appointments and volunteering behind the scenes at his child’s school plays. Listen to the divorced father who would rather have a tea party with his child than a tee time at the links.

We exist. You just have to look and listen.

Fatherhood story photo by Pavel Danilyuk via 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

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

When our family’s child care situation proved unworkable last year, we knew we had to make a major lifestyle change. For us, it was bringing an au pair into our home to help care for our two children.

Au pair comes from the French, meaning “on par” or “equal to.” Agencies we talked to repeatedly stressed this concept. Unlike a live-in nanny, an au pair is expected to be treated more like a family member than a salaried employee.

What is an au pair?

Au pairs in the United States come from a foreign nation to live in your house for one year. They have J-1 student visas which require them to take courses during their time in the States. Host families set their schedules with certain labor law limitations and requirements (up to 45 hours a week, no more than 10 hours a day, paid vacation). Their duties often include watching and teaching the kids, changing diapers, giving baths and bottles, doing the kids’ laundry, and cleaning playrooms. Other responsibilities are up to the family. These may include school pickup or driving them to appointments, tutoring, or preparing meals for the broader house. The key in all of these arrangements is the “equal to” mentality. They’re paid, but not as servants — more like a cousin who’s living with you for a year. 

Finding an au pair was an interesting experience in itself. Many au pair agencies exist and, once you sign on with one, the experience becomes similar to the online dating systems my wife and I used to meet one another years ago. We created a profile and looked at candidates through a search portal online. We scrolled through profiles, read compatibility tests, and eventually conducted video interviews. Our candidate pool was a bit unique and limited. As a vegan house, we didn’t want to ask a non-vegetarian to live with us. Yet, we still had many people to consider.

Costs to consider

At this point, you hit the biggest con of the program: the cost.

An au pair costs roughly $10,000. (We found a similar price among the many agencies and programs we investigated.) This money goes to the program itself. It pays for the search, flights to bring your au pair to the States, training, visas and insurance. Beyond that, by law, the family pays the au pair a minimum weekly $200 stipend.

Then come the additional costs. You are responsible for room and in-house boarding. If your au pair drives, your auto insurance will rise. Most host families also cover their helper’s phone. If you plan to travel with your au pair, expect more expenses. You must pay for flights, separate hotel rooms, meals, entertainment tickets, etc. It adds up fast. 

Yet, even with all the above, the costs can come out well worth it. A single au pair cares for all your children. If you send two or three kids to daycare, an au pair may be far cheaper.

Our experience so far

Our au pair, Stefanin, arrived from southern Brazil eight months ago. It took a few months for my wife and I, as well as our two kids, to get used to the arrangement. Another person suddenly always being in the house is an adjustment. At times it felt like we’d adopted an older teenager. At other times it felt like we had Mary Poppins, minus the British accent. Note: Many au pairs do not speak English as a first language, which is one reason they join the program — to improve those skills. 

The biggest pros for us are the consistency and the flexibility. We set Ste’s schedule before each month, but if something happens, like a child getting sick, we don’t have to cancel having a sitter. Just last week, my wife was out of town. My 4-year-old daughter fell and injured her head. I called an ambulance and rushed her to the hospital, but was able to leave my son home, knowing he was fine with Ste. Having that extra adult there made a huge difference for my peace of mind. 

I am glad my children get to interact with someone who can teach them a bit about Brazil and South America. I’m glad for the flexibility and reliability in child care she’s provided, allowing my wife and I to take fairly regular date days. I’m also grateful for the help she’s given when we have traveled with her, whether just for a day or for longer trips. 

Is an au pair right for your family? It’s a different way to spend a year, and a different option to consider. Not every match works well. Yet, many matches go on to be part of the family forever. The program changed how I parent and live. It helped my kids, too. If it works for you financially, it’s something to consider.

For more information:

• How to hire an au pair (BabyList)
• Pros and cons (Fatherly)
• Pocket money, working hours, contracts (AuPairWorld)
• How to find the right au pair (Cultural Care Au Pair)

Photo by Kampus Production via Pexels

Editor’s Note: We’re digging into our ample archives to find some great articles you might have missed over the years. These help your stay-at-home partner tips come from 2014.

If you are a stay-at-home parent, you know you and your working spouse handle things differently. I have noticed some issues are even more glaring when the primary caretaker is, like myself, a dad — something made clear by observing other stay-at-home-dads and their spouses during my time helping run a dads group in Philadelphia.

Here are some things bread-winning spouses should keep in mind that would help them and the men (or women) they leave at home with kids all day:

1) Let It Go

You are going to need to let your at-home do things his or her own way. I know it is hard and some things are going to bug you, like that he wipes the counter counterclockwise instead of clockwise, but let that slide. Suggesting how to make things more efficient is fine. In the end, though, he will want to do things his own way. Imposing your will on him may just shut him down more. Let him figure it out and come up with a style that suits him best.

2) Don’t Nag

Nothing is going to motivate him less than constantly asking him to do something. We are aware of our shortcomings. In most cases, we try to find that balance between caring for the kids and managing household duties. If you want to help your partner, give him some time. Sometimes, things go by the wayside because we get overwhelmed.

3) Set Clear Expectations

Sit down together and communicate what you expect to be accomplished each day. Some couples think just managing to keep the kids alive and healthy is enough, but others may have greater expectations about cleanliness, meal preparation, etc. Make sure you end up on the same page. This will help cut down on problems later.

4) Help When You Can

This is a big issue with most stay-at-home parents, male or female. We know you have been working all day and you may have to work into the night as well but any assistance you give us is going to be much appreciated. Men tend to internalize issues until they build up and are afraid to ask for help because we know you are doing so much already and don’t want to start a fight. This is where clear expectations come into play (see No. 3). Tag team the nighttime routine. Ask your husband how he usually does things so you can stay consistent. That is really going to help him the next day with the kids because deviation is going to cause problems with his routine.

5) Communicate Effectively

If something must get done and he hasn’t done it, tell him in a way that does not attack him. Men, in particular, tend to get defensive when their shortcomings are pointed out. I often have difficulty with criticism because I respond better to praise. “Sandwich” the request between some compliments about what we are doing right. That softens the blow and makes us more willing to work on our weaknesses rather than just pointing out what we aren’t doing right.

6) Pencil Us In

We know you are tired (and so are we) but please — work us into your schedule because WE want to be in your inbox. (See what I did there?) It relieves stress and helps you reconnect with each other despite all the stuff you have to do. Instead, do each other.

7) Give Us Some Space

We need “guy time” as much as you need a “girls’ night out.” Offer to watch the kids so he can see that action movie you would never watch with him, or suggest he get together with the guys at a restaurant or bar to blow off some steam. You know how it is at bedtime and on weekends. Imagine your incompetent co-workers hassling you all day. Same deal. Sometimes we just want to drive to Target to walk around aimlessly without someone asking us for something.

8) Take Time For Yourself

We want you to be as rested and sharp as possible because you are providing for our family and you deserve it. If you need some time alone or away from the kids, just ask. He can occupy the kids for a bit so you can nap, catch up on work, or head out to the store by yourself. Just know that eventually, your husband and kids will be coming back.

A version of Help Your Partner first appeared on the DadNCharge blog. Photo: © nicoletaionescu / Adobe Stock.

My 6-year-old son is normally the happiest, most high-energy kid around. Then, in mid-October, something shifted.

He was morose at pickups and unwilling to share anything about his day at school. The moping carried on for weeks.

I contacted his teacher, concerned something was happening in the classroom. Maybe he was being bullied or struggling with some learning concepts. The teacher said she had seen no evidence of those issues. 

Instead, he was picking up stress from his parents.

I finally realized this one November morning. My son looked downright depressed. I knelt down, meeting his eyes. I gently asked if he wanted to talk.

“It’s my zoo,” he replied.

While only 6, he has a keen interest in running a zoo and animal sanctuary when he’s older. Animals are his passion. He even requests time to “work on his life plan” as he calls it. This involves detailed sketches of his future zoo, along with notes about what the animals will require for care.

“What about your zoo?” I asked. 

“I’m worried no one will come. I’ll build a great zoo, and I’ll work really hard, but what if no matter what’s there, I can’t get any visitors?”

This sentence struck me hard. It even broke my heart a bit because I’d heard it before. Not about a zoo, but about a store. 

Our kids feel what we feel

This past May, my wife founded an online store dedicated to non-food vegan goods. Yet, like any new business, the store came with many challenges. At one point, while our kids were watching TV, Rachel told me she was frustrated.

“I’m worried that no one will come,” she’d said. “I built a great store, and we work really hard, but how do we get more visitors?” 

Inadvertently, we’d transferred our stress about starting a new business to our son with him internalizing it as his own worries about a future career.

This is not surprising, according to Dr. Shannon Renner, a school psychologist at Pine Bush School in upstate New York.

“Kids are sponges, they have big eyes and big ears that are always watching and listening,” she said in an interview.

But hiding our adult emotions in front of our children isn’t the answer.

“The most concrete plan a parent can have is to simply name and explain their emotions or the events, in an age-appropriate way, and model how they are going to problem solve when a child witnesses the stress,” Renner said. “For example, ‘My plan is not working, but I am not going to give up. I am going to try and come up with a new plan to get friends to visit my store.’” 

With this advice in mind, my wife and I talked to our son together. We told him we realized he was concerned about our store and that it’s OK to feel stressed at times. With that, the three of us came up with a plan focused on his needs — his zoo.

Explain, plan and beat stress as a family

We found ourselves in a similar situation recently.

This time, my son was excited about something he’d planned. He’d been writing long lists and wanted us to help him make a countdown. It turned out he’d planned to turn our backyard into a pond. When we gently told him this wasn’t going to happen, he got very upset.

Yet, we again realized he’d picked up on our stress.

We had recently lost the childcare provider for our 3-year-old daughter, flipping our lives in an unexpected direction. So, again, we had to discuss our feelings, our emotions, and our plans. We discussed needing to pivot when one set of expectations didn’t work out. And now, just as we were working out a plan about childcare, we worked with our son on coming up with a plan for something else to get excited about.

It’s not easy. Kids leech the emotions around them. And those stresses will keep coming. Be ready to share what you’re feeling and devise a plan with your kids. Hiding stress won’t help, but naming it might.

Photo: © Ella / 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.

Relieve the everyday stress, every day

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: 

• 23% of men spend less than 30 minutes a day on activities that relax, de-stress and recharge themselves.
• 44% of men report “they could do a better job of taking care of themselves.”
• 83% of men agree that they do not worry about self-care since they don’t think it’s important.

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.

The moment I realized

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.