The Stay-at-Home Dad

By Joe Barker
 

In this month's issue we're talking about dads, which gives me a chance to focus on someone I really care about rather than those pesky kids I normally have to talk about: me. The only problem is what to talk about. Do I talk about what kind of dad I am, or what kind of dad I'd like to be? Angry and shouty vs calm, patient, and kind. Do I talk about the joys and challenges of being a stay-at-home dad? Basically the same as being a stay-at-home mum but with less breastfeeding and a more involved partner. None of these seem to reflect particularly well on me. So perhaps I should focus on how by staying home I am enabling my wife to continue her stellar career. Although, in reality, I'm not doing anything our nanny doesn't do considerably better and a lot cheaper.

Dad reality vs dad dreams

Let's start on an unusually positive note. My wife says I'm a great dad, although in the interests of honesty, I must admit she only said it once when she wanted me to do something. Nonetheless, even while bursting with pride at that endorsement, I’m still painfully aware of the huge gap between the father I imagine being and the father I actually am.

One thing that I have achieved is lots of physical activity. Marty may not be responding to my attempts to get him playing sports, but that doesn't mean I'm not kicking balls at him, encouraging him to throw things, and applauding his every fumbled catch. In hindsight, and more worryingly, wifesight, I should have focused on instilling our key philosophy of only throwing soft things and balls, before teaching him to throw. The bruises, broken china, and wifely comments are a constant reminder of this unfortunate oversight.

It's not just balls that get thrown: Marty himself loves being chucked into a swimming pool or bounced on the couch. Chase is a go-to game, as are piggy backs and bike rides. I already have to sprint to keep up with a pedaling Marty, but fortunately, every twenty meters or so he'll stop to admire a cloud or a particularly fascinating piece of roadkill, which gives me a chance to catch my breath and contemplate my life choices.

Being a parent is an exhausting exercise regime, which is lucky because since the arrival of our second child, all other exercise has stopped. I love how energetic Marty is and I look forward to playing, running, and exploring with both him and Alice until I'm too slow to keep up with them.

These activities are joyous on a good day, but the problem with parenting is that not every day is a good day. Far too often I've been woken in the night, slept badly, and then dragged from bed at the crack of dawn. On these days it's hard to muster a smile when Marty demands that I transform myself into an elephant and carry him trumpeting around the house. Then the calm, loving, energetic father of my self-image is replaced by grumpy dad who is as likely to shout and sulk as gleefully leap into tickle-monster action. Where then is the patient papa I want to be?

Staying at home

Being a stay-at-home dad is both amazing and deeply frustrating—much, I'm sure, like being a stay-at-home mum. There are so many wonderful memories to cherish, of first steps, new books and toys, bike rides and playgrounds, smiles, giggles, and laughter. Days that warm the heart and feel like the most precious days of my life. But then there are the days that drag with endless hours of desperately trying to keep a child entertained. Days when it seems impossible to fill the ten hours till bedtime let alone do this again tomorrow, and the next day. On those days, childcare feels like the most futile, frustrating, and thankless of tasks; until they smile or giggle, and my heart melts all over again.

I stopped work just after Marty turned one. While I was working online because of COVID, fatherhood was easy. I was able to do a satisfying job and see Marty turn from an immobile baby into an energetic little boy. Plus, any time I got bored of holding the baby or changing nappies, I'd just say I had a lesson and disappear back into my office. Then we went back to school and I went from a loving and engaged father to a distant and disgruntled daddy. I'd leave before Marty woke up and get back from work too exhausted to play. Quitting work and becoming a stay-at-home dad was undoubtedly a great decision. Yet there are days when I miss work and feel jealous of my wife's job.

Being at home with children, especially in a foreign city, can be incredibly isolating. No real conversation, often no reason to leave the house, and boy is it hard to make friends once you've forgotten the basics of adult interaction! During these moments a job sounds amazing. How nice it must be to talk to adults every day and do work that is valued by others. Just imagine having grown-up conversations, or even getting to gossip with colleagues. Oh! How I miss gossip.

Then there is the stress of knowing that it will get harder and harder to get back into employment. Have I really retired at 39? It's starting to look terrifyingly possible. So much for all that time I spent at university. This also means I'm financially dependent upon my partner. You'd think I'd work harder at being an adequate husband given I'll be destitute if my wife ever realizes how much better she could do—please never point this out to her.

Of course, these fears, frustrations, and challenges are no different to those faced by stay-at-home mums. What feels tougher is meeting other parents. Where mums can bond over the frankly horrifying traumas of pregnancy, childbirth, and breastfeeding, I can only say that my wife found them awful too, and apologize for the terrible unfairness of the human reproductive system. At playgroups I'm an outsider, not part of the tribe of mothers. Even as a baby, Alice readily recognizes my inherent inferiority. What use is a parent without breasts? you can see her think. If Alice cries, my wife just sticks a nipple in her mouth and perfect peace reigns, while I need to boil a kettle and mix the powder to a cacophony of screams. Screams that instantly restart when the bottle is finished. Breasts are clearly best according to this baby.

On my better days, when Alice is sleeping quietly and Marty is playing noisily but alone, I think about how lucky I am to get to spend so much time with my children, and I reflect with pride on what a difference I am making to my family's life. Martin and Alice get to spend quality time with a parent, while my wife gets to continue her career. I feel like a loving father and a heroic and supportive husband. Then I remember that we have a nanny who does most of the heavy lifting, and that we are incredibly lucky to be able to live on one salary. This rather punctures my vainglorious posing, but at least I'm left with the happy glow of spending time with my children. What more could any father want?

Photo courtesy of the author.

About the Author

Joe and his wife Diane moved to Thailand in 2018. Since the arrival of their son Martin in 2021 and daughter Alice in 2024, Joe has been a stay-at-home father. The whole family enjoys BAMBI playgroups and Thai beach holidays.