Stay-At-Home-Dad; House-Husband; Homemaker; Primary Carer. There are a lot of things I could be called besides those names you wouldn’t use in polite conversation. Though far from unique, I am in that still unusual position of being The One Who Stays At Home With The Kids, whilst simultaneously owning a penis. I am a man in a predominantly woman’s world. Take me back in time seven years or so and you’ll find someone who knows sod-all about kids, except that they’re annoying, loud and have a tendency to throw up. So, having a complete lack of knowledge and experience regarding children, how did I end up looking after them? Basically, this was pre-determined. My wife Helen’s earning capabilities far outweigh my own, and so it was always going to be me ‘left holding the baby’, or in this case ‘babies’ – we have six-year-old twins. As a solitary bloke amongst the girls how would I cope?
A huge, help has been that we joined the National Childbirth Trust, an organisation which puts expectant parents living in the same area in contact with each other. As we were new to the area, and with no family living within a hundred mile radius, companionship and support would’ve been rather hard to come by. We met both the mums and dads, though for all the other couples it would be the mums looking after the kids. For a short while neither Helen nor I was working, so I did have the advantage of getting to know these girls with my wife present too, but after a while Helen went back to work and I was on my own.
Looking back it did feel really strange at first. I don’t think I was treated any differently, but I was still very conscious of the fact that I was different. A few of these girls have put up with me long enough to be considered fantastic friends, and we’re perfectly happy and comfortable in each other’s company. Frankly, they deserve a medal for their perseverance…
But of course, you don’t just live the life of a parent with a handful of friends. You go out into the big, wide world and see other people too, and this is where things can be a bit trickier. For example, what are you supposed to do when you see a woman breast-feeding? It doesn’t bother me at all, and I think that women should be allowed to do so wherever they like, within reason. But I was very aware that I might make them feel awkward. Maybe some mothers felt uncomfortable because I was there? Maybe some even postponed breast-feeding because of my presence? This is obviously a question I couldn’t ever really ask.
Another issue that cropped up when the children were younger was that of changing facilities. I’ve no need of them any more, thank goodness, but occasionally when we were out and the need arose, I would find that there was only a changing table in the ladies’ toilets. What was I supposed to do then? Just leave them in their nappies? Change them on the floor of the gents? Use the facilities in the ladies? None of these were particularly inviting options. It was another aspect of parenthood which made me feel a bit of an outsider through no fault of my own.
Of course, ‘looking after the kids’ doesn’t just involve looking after the kids. There’s the upkeep of a household to maintain as well. I have no problem with doing the things traditionally thought of as the woman’s role: the supermarket shop; cooking; cleaning; tidying up a million pieces of train track, Lego, and so on.. That’s not to say I enjoy the chores any more than a woman does, but I am happy to accept that this is ‘part of the job’. Of course, being a man I don’t actually do any of these things right, but that’s another matter. And I freely admit that my gender makes it impossible for my eyesight to register the presence of dust.
Another reason to feel more of an outsider is the fact that I’m not exactly inconspicuous. At 6’4” tall, with dashing good looks, and one of the very few blokes caring for the kids, I think I’m fairly recognisable. Quite often I might be at the park, or walking around town, and I’ll see a girl who I recognise and say ‘hello’. They probably instantly think “Oh, there’s that tall bloke who’s a stay-at-home dad.” Job done; person recognised. Whereas for me it’s often a more embarrassing case of thinking, “Where do I know this girl from? The gym? The kids’ gym? School? Swimming lessons? The park? Have I spoken to you before? Should I know your name?” Frantic calls to my brain for help are met with a stubborn silence, leaving me smiling politely and completely blankly.
As a bloke in a ‘woman’s world’, it can be tricky sometimes making new friends. It’s all very well having the odd polite conversation whilst waiting for the kids to tumble out of the school doors at 3.15, but how about pursuing more of a regular friendship? “Hey, why don’t we get together for coffee and a chat sometime?” “Why don’t you come round and play at our house?” I think a purely innocent suggestion can come across completely differently if it comes from a bloke. For the same reason I also believe I’m less likely to be invited to a get together by one of the girls. It’s something that I often feel awkward about, and is certainly an aspect of being a stay-at-home-dad that can be tricky to deal with. Outside of our NCT group there are very few girls with whom I could honestly say that I have made the transition from acquaintance, or friend, to a fully fledged mate.
This leads me on to the one definite social barrier which is too hard to overcome in my situation. I don’t believe it’s necessary to have a few drinks in order to have a good time, but, in the society we live in, I do think that’s where you really start to get to know someone, rather than remaining at the ‘polite friendship’ stage, and although I may be an ‘honorary girl’ most of the time, this is where it ends.
There may be the odd couples’ social events, but otherwise the boys go out with the boys, and the girls go out with the girls. It would be nice to get to know some of my girl-friends better on the odd night out, but it will never happen. I’m not invited. Of course, this may just be because I’m unpopular, but I’ll flatter myself by thinking this is not the case. But if, say, the mums from school have a night out, or maybe the NCT girls are doing likewise, I can’t go. Even though these may be very good friends, and during the day we share the experiences of childcare, it seems it’s socially unacceptable for me to spend an evening with them. How would my wife feel if I said that I was going out with the girls? How would their partners feel if they said that I was going too? I understand why this is, of course, but it is a shame. There is also a problem with going out with the guys. I may share the same genitalia with them, but my world is different; they usually live in a world of full-time work, and so might talk about business deals, rather than how much crap they’ve had to tidy up today. Obviously I’m generalising, but the result can often be that I am left in a social limbo-land.
All in all being a house-husband, stay-at-home-dad – call it what you will – can be immensely frustrating, heartbreakingly monotonous and fantastically rewarding all in the same day; just as it can be for stay-at-home-mums too. The difference for me, though, is that although I’m generally welcomed, whilst being a stay-at-home-parent is an acceptable role to undertake, being a stay-at-home-dad is a very different experience to that of stay-at-home-mum. I can never truly become ‘one of the girls’. That said, I’m fantastically lucky to be in the position I’m in; when it comes down to it, if someone’s going to irritate me, I’d rather it was my kids than an irate customer, or a pushy boss. After all, no matter how bloody annoying they can be sometimes, you’ve got to love ‘em, haven’t you?
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