How did I Get Here?

In the wake of Father’s Day, it occurred to me that I’ve never really explained how I became a father. Well, it should be obvious how I became a father, but how did I become a stay-at-home father?

In case you missed society’s omnipresent expectations of gender roles in the family, women generally take care of the kids while the men provide for the family by working long hours and schmoozing on the golf course. Even mothers who work outside the home generally do the heavy lifting in taking care of children while dads step in occasionally to share knowledge on things like riding a bike and why the Yankees suck. There’s no real reason for these gender roles, besides tradition, and the more extensive support network already existing for stay-at-home moms. Oh, and functioning boobs. So why did our family reverse these gender roles?

It’s not because I grew up caring for other children. I’m an only child. The first child I spent any time in a caretaker relationship is Abbie. Plus, I wasn’t a popular kid, so before Abbie I never spent much time around other kids period. Ellie grew up in a similar situation on a farm and having to rely on parental transportation to see other children. She does have one sister who’s 11 years younger, so she has some prior experience with small children. What this means, besides the fact that our kids will grow up in an environment devoid of cousins, uncles, and aunts, is that neither of us was comfortable around small children when Abbie was born. No, the reason I became a stay-at-home dad was simple economics

When Ellie and I graduated from college together as an engaged couple in 2000, we had vastly different career paths ahead of us. I had a degree in journalism, which meant I faced a lifetime of being underappreciated and underpaid in crummy jobs unless I hit the employment lottery, which seemed a lot more plausible six years ago. Ellie had a degree in biology, effectively pre-med, giving her another four years of school followed by three years of residency before she could be referred to as, and paid like, a doctor.

While Ellie prepared for yet more school, I entered the workforce literally the day after I graduated. I had a good job, as defined by the fact that it was in my field of study and it wasn’t in television news. It had its drawbacks, though, since it was an entry-level job at a small company where my only hope for advancement was if my boss died. Still, I used my meager pay to support our two-person family while Ellie went to school, or rather I supported myself; Ellie had student loans to support herself.

About a year from graduation, Ellie started thinking about kids. Our answer to the “do you want any?” question has always been “maybe later.” With residency approaching, she realized that “later” had arrived. We decided, “Why not have kids? How much could they disrupt our lives?” Nine months before graduation, without putting any thought into who or how we would care for a child, Ellie became pregnant with Abbie.

As the due date approached, we started looking at our childcare options. Ellie couldn’t be a full-time parent since she had to work to afford the amortization on her student loan debt that was fast rivaling the national debt of Namibia. Plus her job paid about a third more than mine even though I had four years of tenure at my company, and residents are worked and paid like dogs. I could have kept working, but after doing some math we discovered that, after paying for childcare and transportation for my 72.4-mile daily commute, my job would essentially be a hobby. Also my job required that I travel about a week every month, meaning we’d have to frequently find childcare while Ellie worked irregular shifts that could last as long as 36-hours.

So I decided for the simpler life of a stay-at-home dad. I imagined I could play Playstation during the day while the baby napped, then I’d feed the baby when she woke, and afterwards she could watch me play more Playstation.

When Abbie was born literally the day after Ellie’s graduation, I was as ready as I could be, which is to say not even remotely ready. Two years, two more kids, and a whole lot of on-the-job training later, I can’t imagine a different life. I’d go insane trying to juggle childcare and a full-time job. Ellie, who works long and difficult hours to put a roof over our heads and an occasional Gymboree outfit on our children’s backs, has said the only way she can spend so much time away from home is the knowledge that the kids are in my hands.

A year from now, our lives will change. Ellie will graduate from resident to full-fledged doctor. Abbie will start preschool, assuming she starts talking. The twins will be getting into everything. We’ll move to a different home, one that had better have more than two bedrooms and one bathroom. I’ll still be at home, wherever that home is, and I’ll still be a stay-at-home father. I’ll probably start working again in some capacity someday, probably when the twins head off to school, but until then my full-time job is drill our values into our children and make sure they head off into the world hating the Yankees.