Surviving as Mr. Mom

My wife started working earlier this week and it was likely one of the hardest decisions she’s had to make as a mother.

May kicks off the start of my ninth month of unemployment. It also coincides with the month where most of the world celebrates Mother’s Day. Coincidence? I think not. Feel free to call me Mr. Mom.

Over the past 215 days, I’ve lost count of many things:

• The number of hours I’ve spent interviewing.

• The number of steps I’ve clocked circling the neighborhood to accompany for calls so that my kids wouldn’t account for the background soundtrack.

• The number of times I’ve been ghosted by contacts like I’m some Bumble match.

• The number of people who’ve told me to “browse their LinkedIn connections to see if there’s something or someone that might be interesting”.

• The number of Disney+, PBS, & Netflix episodes my boys have sat through to entertain themselves during my calls. The streaming services might be the real heroes of COVID.

But this post isn’t meant to be about me. In fact, it’s a #proudhusband moment for the woman who has been playing full-time mom since 2017 and is now learning how to make space for herself again.

I read it right off her face all week. The guilt of feeling like she’s stepping away. Having to shift her priorities. Make room for new adjustments and routines. And more so, having to accept this role reversal of her husband now playing “stay-at-home dad,” while she’s out there balancing motherhood, employment, marriage, and finding a sliver of independence.

Until now, we’ve managed the parenting process more or less as a unit; but now with her work commitment, the dynamic changes from our typical norm.

My observations as a stay-at-home dad thus far:

• Meal prep is an absolute bitch. Not sure if that word is apropos anymore, but I’m sticking with it. All of a sudden I forgot how to make pasta; especially for a 3.5-year-old who currently doesn’t appreciate the finer things in life – like marinara sauce. Stanley Tucci would be appalled.

• You’re always on. There’s absolutely zero downtime. Even using the bathroom privately becomes impossible.

• Getting kids ready and out the door or prepped for nighttime routines likely strips you of probably 70% of the day’s energy. By the time the kids are asleep you just want to limit the brain activity.

• Following a regimented schedule is tough. I missed the baby’s nap on the first day. Likely because I forgot to put the noise machine on.

• Kids talk a lot. If my older son had a resume it would state that he speaks 700 words per minute.

• I’m also ready for him to move past his poor taste in ice cream.

• Toddlers should be hired to handle foreign affairs negotiations.

• Men need their own version of yoga pants.

• Women are beasts. My wife, in particular, is a beast. And I’m in awe of what’s she’s capable of taking on.

Ok, I gotta go. My son’s yelling for me to clean up his pee all over the bathroom floor because he missed the toilet again. Little does he know that after all these years, even his father can’t help him there.