Full-Time Dads;
The E-Magazine for Caregiver Fathers
Issue 1, originally appeared in print - April 1991
I was standing at a front door. I did know there was a househusband on the other side. Earlier that day, I had called to see if we could meet and he said "Well,why not this morning. We are leaving for Australia tomorrow." Part of me did not want to get to know other househusbands because I didn't want to give up my "specialness," (I was the only househusband I knew.) Part of me had avoided it because I was assuming other househusbands were what feared I was; lazy, antisocial, mixed-up and worse. But I told him I'd be right over.
I knocked on the door instead of using the doorbell thinking that waking up his children would be a false-step. The house was quite nice; enormous, surrounded by trees and a nice lawn. Still I knew it was the father-in-laws home. "Maybe this househusband was one of those marrying-for-money types," I thought. "Yes, this waiting until the last minute was a good idea. What if he is real gushy and wanted to start a support group or something..."
A man opened the door and bid me to enter. He introduced himself as Howard, and used the word "Housefather," a word I had never heard before. I took a real breath and smiled. Housefather. I liked that. To me the name "Mr. Mom" sounds like a man who is being a full-time mother.
"Househusband" sounds like a man who might be married to a house. "Housefather, " however, means a man who is being a full-time father, the same intent as the name "Full-Time Dad." Howard showed me to the kitchen table, then excused himself to check on his youngest, who was napping. I remember breathing, with a "oh, well, here goes." There was a walkie-talkie baby monitor on the table. Howard came back to the kitchen and offered me a cup of coffee. With my cup he sat down and said "Well." As I sometimes do when I am nervous, I began talking about myself.
I told him that five years ago I had been working as a chemical dependency counselor, my wife was working toward her Masters degree in Bio-Medical Engineering and our child was spending my off-time with me, her off-time with her and the rest with an assortment of baby sitters. It seemed more like three college roommates (one was significantly shorter, with strange eating and sleeping habits) than the modern family we had in mind.
Then came a second son and not long after that my wife's back pain made it difficult for her to do the lifting involved during her time with them. As a result, we decided that she would finish her thesis, find a job and then she would be the primary-bread winner.
While my wife was finishing her thesis and also when she was working at her soon-to-be-found job, I was to be the primary-care giver for the two boys.
I left my job as a counselor and accepted the new responsibilities in the home for many reasons. For example, we projected that she would make twice the money that I could. In the back of my mind, I thought anything or everything is easier than being a counselor. I also figured there would be mellow mornings, a bit of nap time in the afternoon, and then, for my labors, I would be able to leave the kids with her in the evenings and pursue some of my other interests.
Other interests! We cut one career and assumed there would be half-a-day left over somewhere, and we have been looking for that extra time since. If, as I am beginning to suspect, there is no such "extra time," these "other interests," even practical ones like part-time jobs and exercise, can be had, often at the expense of sleep or the time for relationships. In the former case, the price comes due in a day or two, in the latter case, it is harder to say.
Howard pointed out the similarities between our stories. He and his wife had experienced the same initial set up, as I described: two people with two full-time responsibilities and a new baby, to care for. He spoke vibrantly, saying that his wife was working in a profession dominated by men, and he noted that his wife does the same work men do, but that she is paid less.
Another similarity between us was that we were both new to our respective communities, away from our families. He made a point about the decline of the extended-nuclear family, where there are, or were, relatives to (ask to) fill in the gaps and make parenting more manageable. I asked him about his wife's and his support system. He said it "was whatever we could make at the tame." This was the only time in our conversation that he was vague and I assumed the worst.
One difference was that he did the course-work and thesis for his Masters degree in his "spare time." I was in awe of his accomplishment. I had gone back to work for ten hours a week as a counselor and then a social worker with the goals of avoiding poverty and stir-craziness, but full-time grad school! I had a new hero. (It took me a long time to re-count my off-spring and notice that my spouse and I have three children in my primary care, where Howard and his spouse have two; (I guess I have been legitimately busy.)
Another difference was that his family's timing was better than my family's. He turned his thesis in the week before the second son was born and our second son came six months before my wife finished her's. The rest of the time we spent talking about our priorities and experiences and the unexpected education. We were along and spoke mostly about ourselves, but our children were almost as present as the baby monitor) which allowed Howard to listen to the stillness of the infant's room.
"Nobody cares as much for your kids as you do," Howard said and added that children are only young once; good reasons to put career aspirations on the back burner and stay home with children. At least, those two reasons sound better than "well, it seemed easier than the job I was doing at the time."
Howard also pointed to the priorities of our often materialistic society, where one's value is gauged more on what one does and has than one's human qualities. He put it succinctly:
"self-worth = paycheck."
We also had a bitter laugh about the comments we have heard from friends, relatives and strangers:
"Why Don't you get a real job?"
" How come you're sponging off her?"
"Women are hard-wired differently, they are made to do that stuff."
Well! "Mr. Mom"(who, in the movie, got fired and "fell" into his role as primary giver).
Howard, again wrapped it up in a line: the material aspect of our society doesn't appreciate what parenting is, what it involves, how important it is." From our culture's perspective, success comes from being victorious outside of the home. So then who are these male housewives? Georgie Porgies? Men who can't or at least don't want to play the man's game? Our culture lets us know what a man is supposed to do: to be in control of one's self, to be a mover and a shaker, to play by THE rules and win, quickly and continuously. These are the issues of (one of) my identity crisis(es). I felt recurring doubt, and even a sense of certainty that the reason that this "staying home-with-the-kids" stuff was so hard because it was the wrong thing to do.
In those times of panic, the solution that! was to "get a real job." But that solution meant giving up what I was trying to do inside my home to conform to what I thought others thought was right. This was compounded by the fact that I was fairly certain I wanted to change careers when I did go back to working outside of the home, so I didn't have a "real job" waiting. Another issue was that there was sometimes a distance between the kind of parent I thought I should be and the parent I acted like. I spent some time feeling out of control. Howard said,"when you lose control it is a terrible blow" and I assumed he had spent some time there too.
We also felt the same about being a housefather in light of the fact that we were crossing over the sex-roles stereotyping of our society. "We had no role model for what we had to do," he stated I do know there is at least one trick I learned from my father. Whenever I get stressed out and in a hurry (the same thing,) I bathe the kids the same way he washed my brothers and me, which is also the same way that we washed dishes; soap'em, scrub'em, rinse'em and get'em out of there.
I spend much of my time in the last four years doing things I have, primarily, seen only women do, like providing healthy meals, patting backs, kissing "owies," endlessly reading books to children. These are activities which feel right, but since my only role-models were women, the situation still adds to gender-identity confusion.
Talking with Howard helped me to realize that I had been trying to raise my children, yes, with my wife, but also alone, without a support system or an extended family. And without peers who had common needs and similar interests. I was used to doing things alone, but housefathering is much different, because, as Howard said, "to do anything I have to include the kids."
I remember that when I called Howard to see if we could meet, he calculated out loud when and how long his youngest would be napping. I realized that is what I must sound like, and how strange it must sound to a male friend who doesn't have kids to plan around.
I did know a woman who suggested that I ask her to watch my kids if I needed some time to do something, and then I could return the favor later. Up to that point, I had not taken advantage of her offer. There was something m my old rule book that said "Thou shalt do it yourself " There were other nice rules in that book, like:
CONTROL your children.
and
Parents are judged by their children's behavior.
and
Don't just stand there, do something (correctly).
Add to this my own demented credo "to be right is to be safe" and you, actually I, have a mess. Is this a mess only being a full-time dad could save me from (hoping the kids survive)? Maybe, but to survive as a functioning human and a parent with functional kids, I have to be developing a new book of rules.
For help i have attended three parenting courses. In one course I found that controlling kids is something I feel a need to do when I feel out of control. At one of the courses, I was told that there was no right way to patent, one has to go with what felt the best.
At another class, I was told about what is viewed as appropriate for the many age- groups. With this general information I found I have a choice; I could expect my kids to act like kids or I could expect my kids to act like adults. Guess which of these expec- tenons renders me dysfunctional. At one support group I heard "don't just do something, stand there" (in case you haven't already guessed, when I get stressed out, I do a load or two of laundry. I think Freud would make quick work of me.)
Although I have obviously memorized these new ideas, knowing and doing don't always enjoy a cause and effect relationship. The other point is that at most of these parenting classes, I was the only male. It never helps when a woman says "I'm glad some man is interested in parenting"
This sort of left-handed compliment lets me know that I'm not acting like other men, and since I can't rmby be "one of the girls" the end result is a feeling of isolation. Here is another place that talking with Howard was so beneficial for me. The fact that his experience was so similar to mine was validating. And he told me what he had learned.
One facet of Howard's education involved the joy he felt with his kids "sponging off their eye view." Another facet was an adjustment to caring for dependent, needy, even demanding human infants and toddlers. He said he had to discipline himself to avoid becoming frustrated. He reported that his efforts paid off, that he grew more tolerant. He said he had a sense of slowing his pace down to one more appropriate for the chil dren and more able to "just sit." He also said he had grown incredibly in his estimation of what he could do; "I became more diverse." We talked about our new found respect for what women who stay at home do and our hope that the sex-role boundaries would diminish as more men experienced more of parenting.
He also spoke of things he had found out about himself. He said, "I can empathize. I can nurture." This was important for me to hear. I no longer felt so alone or deviant knowing that I was one who did strange things like, on one hand, cried with an inconsolable infant in my arms and on the other hand, cried with an cried with an armful of blanketed, sleeping cherubim. Howard said he had experienced a sense of acclimation to his role as a housefather-,"this is my job."
I have since developed some of that sense and I believe that talking to Howard was the beginning of a big step toward owning my job as a housefather. It seems that a reward of this acclimation was the increased ability to see what "the job" of- fered me. Howard had the same idea when I spoke to him as he and his wife were packing their belongings to move to Australia where a full-time job as a teacher was waiting for him. He said he hoped he could be as supportive for his wife as she had been for him. And he said "I feel some trepidation about going back to work; (l know) what I will miss."
There is a final thing I received from my time with Howard. The baby monitor offered me a concrete image of what is a primary characteristic of parenting in general. As it stood on the table with my coffee cup, with its antenna close to one edge on top, the monitor looked like a hand with a long index finger pointing to the sleeping child upstairs. TV's image is, for me, a symbol of the ability to be healthy enough to have a priority for others in my life. What a gift that priority has been.
Howard let me know that being a housefather was good for him, and it has been good for me. Better yet, I am starting to believe I'll live through it. And, as I left his father-in-law's house feeling real gushy, I wanted to start a support group or something.
Copyright 1991 Matthew Bliton
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