On the Home Front - Life as a stay-at-home Dad
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*photo taken by Andrea Whelan photography
‘My god! He’s done a s*it the size of a cowpat…’
…I observed as I untaped Jack my 11-month year old’s nappy.
Our swimming class had started 10 minutes ago. A combination of road works on the route and no parking spaces meant we were on the ropes. Now in the changing rooms, I was dealing with what could be the knockout punch; an unexpected ‘number 2!’.
I was sweating with stress and goosebump angry. Scrambling, I lunged for the wet wipes however in doing so my arm passed under an unfortunately positioned hand dryer. It fired up like a rocket. I was in even more trouble. Jack hated hand dryers. For him, it was the equivalent of a bomb going off and he went mental! Taking control of the scene I made safe the nappy and gradually calmed him down. Tossing the loaded nappy bag into the bin I took a welcomed deep breath, and in the reflection of the ridiculousness of it all, began to laugh.
Jack felt my emotional shift and started to giggle too. This micro-moment of joy was exactly what we required to get back on track. There was an objective to achieve, by hell or high water we would make the class. Re-focusing I efficiently geared us both up and calmly strolled with Jack through the doorway into the pool area. The eyes of the other parents locked onto us, but without judgment, they knew the deal. There isn’t a baby class attended where at least one parent-baby partnership isn’t late.
As we got into the water the drama of recent events evaporated. A sudden dream partnership we joyfully worked through the remainder of the lesson. A shit show with a happy ending. Another afternoon on the home front as a stay-at-home dad.
June 2019 and I and my wife Jen were about to begin a significant change of roles. She would be going back to work 4 days a week and I would be leaving my role of 15 years as an analyst working for the police. I would be continuing to operate as a men’s coach part-time, however, for the next 6 months, I would be operating primarily as a stay-at-home dad. I was entering the unknown.
I felt excited and fearful.
I’d been hungry for a career change and new challenges for years. However, I had a significant amount of my identity attached to the role I was leaving. Who was I without it? What was I going to become?
Jen was torn.
She'd grown into her role as a stay-at-home mum, becoming part of a new community. Giving this up along with being away from Jack for long periods made her anxious. However, she was looking forward to claiming back some independence and regular adult conversation.
I remember my last day in the office vividly. I returned my staff pass and left the building, homeward bound to immediately take up my new post. To help smooth the transition we facilitated a one-month crossover period. I would shadow Jen during this time, a micro-apprenticeship of sorts.
A few weeks into the process I completed a 24-hour stint on my own with Jack. During the operation, I blew up his dinner in the microwave and rescued him from certain death as he rolled off the sofa. Testing, but I’d passed out of training school.
July, and into my squadron of two proper. One of the positive habits I took from Jen would be scheduling a time-bound commitment in the morning. This gave me something to aim for in terms of getting ready and ensured I made it out of the house. One of these commitments would sometimes be a baby class. For those new, to the concept, they’re 30-45 minutes long and involve everyone sitting with their bubba’s engaging in an activity (often musical). Nearly all of them have a name that has an animal reference; bunnies, monkeys, frogs… You’d probably have Noah’s ark if you listed everyone in South-East London.
I remember sitting down for my first class. I counted 16 mums and a female teacher. I hadn’t expected an even gender split but in a world of shared parental leave, I’d expected at least a couple of gents in with me. Internally I felt very self-conscious but also a weird proudness of my unspoken status. I’d remained pretty innocuous up until the ‘wheels on the bus’ song where the dad’s on the bus say ‘I love you’. In synchrony, the heads turned and it was all eyes me, the solitary male. I looked down and froze, but thankfully (not for the first time) Jack saved me! Looking up at me, rocking from side to side, and generally being very cute. I followed his lead, sang along, and raised my gaze to observe mummy, and teacher smiles around the room. Thankfully as time passed my gender seemed to become less of a factor. I was simply another stay-at-home parent with my own angle on things.
Into August and a turn for the worse. The majority of baby services were term time only so a significant part of my daily routine went to the wall. I was also mentally struggling with completing my day without any hard ‘tangible’ results to show for my effort. Jack’s development over the mid/long-term was clear to see, however, I found short-term childcare performance difficult to measure. I missed the ‘productivity’ endorphin hit I used to get from my previous job and coming to terms with its loss was one of my biggest challenges.
Talking this through with other men helped. Not soon after Jack’s birth, I’d set up a local ‘dad’s with babies’ group and these regular meets were of great support. Simply talking about what’d been going on with my fellow man helped lighten the mental load. There was a variety of sharing’s at these meets. From a projectile vomit incident in Asda’s to concerns regarding how to manage future nursery fees.
I wasn’t on my own.
Autumn, and with baby services fully back online I began to feel more settled in my post. I began to see us as more of a partnership rather than simply my being Jack’s carer. His immediate needs still came first but for us to be a thriving team I recognised the importance of scheduling at least part of the day primarily for me. For example some afternoons we’d go for a jog for with me pushing the pram so I could exercise.
So the days were good, but there would be an unforeseen challenge that would push us all to the edge. In September Jack’s sleep improved and we assumed we were over the worst. However, in October he went back to his ‘night waking’ ways. This led to Jen (still breastfeeding to settle him) up at various points throughout the night, Then off to work the next day. I was also often up. Then up early to cover the first shift whilst Jen caught up on sleep. It felt like being in a pressure cooker and with the roles biologically defined we couldn’t rotate.
It all came to breaking point. Jack was ‘going for it’ for the third night running and Jen broke down. 11:30pm, both shattered, it was all too much. Thankfully he resettled for the night, however, the following morning we agreed something had to change. That shift came in the form of a baby sleep consultant. The next day we were on a call with her co-designing a new sleep plan. We’d gotten into some bad habits. Inconsistency with bottle/breastfeeding and who’d be in the room with him at any given time.
Thankfully, restructuring our bedtime routine along with having a night-hours game plan led to quick improvements. By November we were under control and getting at least a half-decent amount of sleep.
By the end of the year and I’d been on the home front for 7 months. I still had frustrations but was struggling less with the lack of daily measurable results. Spending so much time with Jack had taught me to let go somewhat and in this way, he has proven a fantastic teacher. With his underdeveloped neocortex, he operated in blissful ‘being’ mode all the time. An ongoing reminder to me about where the real magic is; in the ‘present’, right now!
During this period I had been working on my coaching practice one day a week. Keeping engaged with my vocation had been an important part of navigating everything else and provided a welcomed secondary focus. Without this, I’d have certainly found the ‘stay-at-home’ process much more challenging.
Moving into 2020 I would relinquish a portion of my childcare duties. I would now be looking after Jack two, not four days a week. I was excited about expanding my coaching practice however grateful to be remaining a stay-at-home dad on a part-time basis.
They say life happens when we’re making other plans and that could never be more true than when you’re a parent on the home front.
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