Stay at home dad: this is my temporary title. It doesn’t show well on LinkedIn. The title shouldn’t last long, and I have convinced myself that remaining focused on this irreplaceable time with my son is paramount in maintaining sanity, and a high level of satisfaction. However, thoughts and fears of not filling the traditional role of provider for my family creep into my mind far too often, and create unnecessary anxiety. My wife’s career is progressing expeditiously, and we have made the best decision for our family. Our initial discussion and subsequent decision caused my manliness to shrivel for a short time, but we never hesitate to make a big family decision.
Our motto since day one has been “Never Slow Down.” We want a life in the suburban fast lane, and we married each other with the understanding that we would never accept a boring lifestyle. On day one, the excitement came as finding my son destroying a box of tampons while Sugar Mama laughed and Snapchatted. Dad daycare is fun stuff.
Day one was not as I expected. I was so anxious to start my new assignment that I woke up at four in the morning, and patiently waited for the distant “da-da”, while gorging on my daily dose of news. “Da-da” is his way of saying, “you better come get me and change my diaper, or I will wreck your morning with hateful screams and broken things.” He was courteous enough to spare me a morning poo on my first day, so the first diaper change was a breeze. I accepted this peace offering, and we played the piano while listening to a Steve Winwood record. Dear Mr. Fantasy, find me a job.
We went for a walk, played with Vito (the dog), cried, and he actually snuggled with me before taking his afternoon nap. He hadn’t snuggled with me since he figured out how to crawl. It had to be his way of letting me know that he wants this time with me, and that he is happy to spend this time at home together. I don’t want to tell him that this won’t last forever.