Dad's The Word
When my wife and I decided the logical arrangement was for her to return to work three months after our daughter was born, and me to become the primary care-giver, I felt both privileged and nervous.
Nervous for a raft of reasons.
Was my daughter’s maternal connection going to be so strong that I would feel like a second-rate replacement mum? Would she take to drinking milk from a bottle? Would I become a hermit trapped in my own home with a screaming infant?
Those initial shots of terror that bounced around my head were tempered by the prospect of spending my daughter’s formative years bonding, teaching and playing together. Being there to see her first steps, hearing her first words, feeding her solid food for the first time.
Outside the home, there were also challenges to face.
Mothers groups are the most common resource for new mums to socialise, share stories and complaints. I’m sure most would welcome dads into the fold, but the prospect of endless discussions about breastfeeding didn’t sound appealing. The best solution I found was to venture out into the world of playgrounds as quickly as possible.
It mattered little that our daughter could barely sit up, let alone crawl or walk.
The nature of children and parents meant that it was easy to strike up conversations with other parents, picking up wanted and unwanted advice, and seeing firsthand what you may be in for in terms of tantrums, falls and the actions and reactions of caffeine-wired, lack-of-sleep parents.
Organised playgroups serve the same purpose, with the added advantage of making you feel like you’re part of a club with regular meetings. In these types of environments, it mattered little that you were the minority gender – the playing field felt level, and not once did I feel any eyes of condescension silently judging the absence of our daughter’s mother.
I would estimate the percentage of dads to be around ten per cent in the area where we live, purely based on the numbers at playgrounds and playgroups during the working week. That low number means that when you pass another of your kind in the street, with a stroller permanently attached to them, there’s often the mutual eyebrow raise or subtle nod to say, “Hey fellow Mr Mum”.
It’s a gesture borne from the infant management skills gained and honed from food preparation, nappies, baths, bribery and negotiation, and a rediscovered ability to revert to our own childhood: rolling on the floor, talking in silly voices and inventing strange games.
Ultimately, the reward for being so intimately involved in your child’s early years, aside from the obvious joy in seeing them grow and learn, is that it keeps us young.
It reconnects us to our own youth, it keeps us active and the resulting satisfaction – for me at least – is more valuable than any sense of self worth and emotional remuneration I could get from a regular job.
Chris Familton is a regular contributor to Germinal Press, and the proud father of a young and typically feisty daughter.
Comments
On Monday, August Aug 2012 Scott Richardson said...
“Great post mate!”
On Tuesday, August Aug 2012 Simon said...
“I've been doing something similar for the last eight months, but am due back to work prior to Christmas. I'm going to miss the interactions and so glad I had the opportunity to be part of my son's earliest experiences. Looking forward to getting the book - I know of plenty of mates who could do with it!”
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