I am now the “man” of the house and I carry all the weight of the past with being the “man.” Which is why when my life’s partner, Susi, came home one day and stated that she had the opportunity to work full-time at her school and would I consider a half-time job share I jumped on the idea. I could do it; I’m the “man.”
The idea of working until eleven forty-five each day, picking up my daughter, who was going to start kindergarten at my school of work, then picking up my one year old son from childcare sounded very appealing to me. By accepting this role of primary caregiver I could shed the weight of the past. I realize now that it’s easier to gain weight than to lose.
First, I had to try to convince the superintendent of the importance and value of family so he would approve the job share. When the importance of family didn’t impress him enough I brought up the straight money saving facts. He bought into the family part after that.
Next, I consider myself a father who takes an active role in my children’s upbringing. On further reflection however, there were very few instances where I was the jump-start mechanism for the family time. Mists from the past started to emerge from the dark recesses of my soul as I came to realize that I wasn’t the “master” of the house. I was the “man” and that didn’t mean squat when it came to the dynamics of the family. I was on the outside looking in.
As I prepared that summer for my debut as the primary caregiver, I had to field questions and doubts from almost everyone. Most of my male friends, when they heard I was only working half time, brought up the great opportunities for “man” activities. Hunting, fishing; just being male. They had trouble accepting the truth from me when I said I would have the kids all afternoon. “What, no daycare?” was the most common response. My mom wasn’t the pillar of support I thought she would be. She told me good luck keeping the house clean and having dinner ready with two little ones to watch. I assured her it was no problem; everything was scheduled in so I would have child time, work time, and dinnertime. She just laughed in a hysterical, maniacal way. Through all this Susi just merely smiled a knowing smile. How was I going to change the past with all this doubt? My own included.
First day. Doubts assailed my normally calm facade. Will I be up to the task of primary caregiver? I knew deep down I could play, clean, cook. What concerned me was letting go of “how” I was raised. My father was of the old school that was beat first and command me not to do it again second. Was it true that I would emulate my upbringing with distance and physical discipline, or would my ideals overcome? Was there a beast lurking within waiting for this chance to come to the surface? If there was I was determined to slay and conquer. One of my mantras when growing up, and I believe many children have the same, was I will never raise my children the way I was raised. Now was my chance to be the dad instead of the “man.”
The first couple of weeks went by smoothly. My daughter was getting used to kindergarten and my son ended up taking three-hour naps as soon as we got home. During my son’s naptime my daughter and I would read, play cards, play sort the laundry, cook, and play in the backyard. Life was going smooth until one of the moms asked me one day when I was picking up my daughter, “Why don’t we arrange a play date for our daughters?” I was stumped. What would I do?
When Susi got home that evening I explained what was asked and mentioned that she should call and arrange a playtime. She looked at me and stated that that wasn’t her task since I would be the one to drop off and pick up. I was a little tentative when it came time to call. I called the mother of my daughter’s friend and said it would be great if we could arrange a play date. I got silence for a moment and then some laughter. After the laughter the mom said she wasn’t used to a man calling and asking for a play date. I guess it all depends on who you are.
My main problem during this play date time was when the husband would come home and see the mom and me talking and laughing. Conversation would stop for a moment and then I would be introduced. My memories of the looks that followed these introductions were very vivid. First, the father would look to see if there was anything wrong with me. Then, he would inquire as to what my wife did for a living. Usually when they heard she was a school counselor they gave me an odd smile. For some reason I never quite bonded with most of the male parents.
At this point I was being a dad instead of the “man.” Still, I kept thinking of how I was raised and about the beast that may be lurking. However, whenever there was a disagreement between my son, daughter, or myself we always managed to talk it through. I’ve thought about this and decided that it didn’t matter that I was being switched into the primary caregiver role; whatever was working had been started before birth and been built upon trust and dialogue. If I had to give credit to anyone for this transformation it would be Susi.
Early in our relationship I would get angry sometimes. In one way I would act like my father. I would get real quiet and have to internalize the problem to let it fester or run its course. Susi used to hop in my lap during these times and ask me to explain what I was thinking. At first I would sit there with her on my lap still using my fester time. After a while I would open up. She taught me how to talk out problems and issues before they ate me up. This just naturally carried over into how we started raising our children. Without even knowing it I had broken that scary bond of emulation. I was being just me.
Even my extremely male friends noticed I hadn’t changed that much. I could still out fish them, beat them at pool, and keep up with other assorted “just being male” activities. The one change they did take note of were all the stories of interacting with my kids. After a while many of them were saying, “if only I could go part time..."
My mom couldn’t believe I was getting along just fine. I could tell her, after I myself realized, that it wasn’t me doing everything, it was the whole family working together that was making it work. We were getting along just fine.
As for Susi, I believe that knowing smile was one of belief in me as a person. I still see it when she comes home, plops down in “her” chair, pops open a Hamms beer, and reads the paper while I prepare dinner. I guess the past sometimes does emulate the present.
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