THIS POST IS ALSO POSTED AT THE HUFFINGTON POST. Yes, Ethel. THE Huffington Post. Feel free to read it there and comment on the bottom. Let's have a discussion!
My wife and I entered parenthood
later than most of our peers. We married
young, twenty-two and twenty-five respectively, but coming from Salt Lake City,
Utah, that seemed perfectly normal. We chose not to start a family right away;
it was just the two of us against the world, we were enough and, frankly, we
had plans.
Big plans.
My wife wanted to be working for the
Secretary of Education by thirty and I vowed I’d have a mantle covered with
TONYs, Oscars and Emmys by the time I was forty.
My wife has been successful in her
career but, while creatively fulfilled, my mantle is surprisingly void of
golden statuettes. However, it is
covered with Play-Doh dinosaurs and colorful finger paint landscapes… or maybe
they’re elephants… or cars.
And they’re the most important
treasures I have.
Plans change.
When we found out we were expecting,
we immediately began planning. My wife works at a university in New York and I
was working at a cable network during the day and performing in the evenings. We began pulling together as much paid leave
as we could. (A tragic reality for those
of us living in one of three
countries (of 178) without paid maternity leave... but that’s another post.) We came up with twelve weeks for my wife and
then I would stay at home and take over.
There was no discussion. It was decided. She makes more money and, since insurance is
tied to employment in this country (again, another post) we certainly couldn’t
rely on the wing-and-a-prayer weeks-of-work system Actor’s Equity or the Screen
Actors Guild provides. Rather than keep
my temporary day job to pay someone else to raise our child, I would stay
home. It has not only become my full
time job, it is my calling. I can’t
imagine doing it any other way. My only
regret is that my wife can’t experience it.
However, first big movie, we have a
second child, we switch roles… That’s
the deal.
In the two years since our son, whom
we have nicknamed Turtle and Mr. Man, came into our lives, I’ve learned much
about children, parenting and myself. I
work hard NOT to be that parent who gives advice to other parents; I’m a firm
believer that everyone has their own journey.
However, it’s Father’s Day and I get to do whatever I want. (That’s the way it works, right?)
Here are a few things I’ve
learned.
Ready?
It's all about logistics and the big picture.
I come from the world of the theatre.
You have to be on spot X by line A or the big picture, the story, gets
muddy. As a parent, I find myself
thinking about logistics all the time.
“I’m going into the city today.
Should I wear Turtle in his Mei Tai or should I lug the stroller
around? How hot will it be? It’s 80 degrees now. Short sleeves. Might rain later? Jacket and a stroller cover. How much milk do we have? Where can I stop and grab more? Do I need to take some with me? Should we just wing it? Will I be near Shake Shack or Milk Bar? How can I alter my route to ensure I am?” (You don’t need to suffer, right? This is supposed to be fun.) This will take five minutes as you prepare
yourself for your day, but it makes all the difference when you’re out on the
road.
It’s not a contest.
So, your friend’s child is the same
age as yours and can walk, talk and do quadratic equations at six months… Who
cares? Turtle was the last of his birth
class buddies to crawl and walk. He’s
also four inches taller than most two year olds. Big deal.
By the time he goes off to college he will be running, potty trained and
able to put on his pants by himself.
This is also applicable to
“stuff.” You don’t need that $1000
stroller. Sure, drool over the one your
friend got from that rich uncle, but take that $1000 and put it into a college
fund or something. A fancy baby bag is
nice and I have one that has literally come apart at the seams in just six
months. (The company has been kind
enough to replace it.) My army/navy
store Alice pack? Bulletproof. Holds two baby bottles, a water bottle,
diapers, pads, jackets, swaddles, toys, it’s cavernous, kind of ugly… and $20. (It was also the perfect counterweight to Mr.
Man snuggled into his Mei Tai.)
In parenting, gender doesn't matter, skill sets do.
There’s been a lot written about what
Mothers and Fathers do better. It’s all
nonsense. Skill sets are more important
than gender. I am a better cook than my
wife, always have been. I worked in
kitchens from the time I could legally hold a job and I spent much time at my
mother and grandmothers’ sides, learning.
That’s part of my skill set. My
wife is amazing when it comes to the evening routine: take a bath, comfy comfy,
sing songs, story-time, sleepy sleepy.
She is quicker to get silly with him, tells better tales, nurtures
differently – gentle, quiet. It’s part
of her skill set. We are great at
stepping in with little fanfare when our skill set is needed. Perhaps it’s because we came to be parents after
15 years of figuring out how best we work together.
Think like a Marine (adapt, overcome, improvise).
No face wipes? Do you have a handkerchief and a bottle of
water? Nothing is so dire that you need to
freak out. Take a breath, assess, you’ll
be fine. As my mother used to say,
“Don’t sweat the small stuff… P.S., it’s
all small stuff.” Breath. Assess.
Find a solution. Move on.
Forget pride and ask experts.
Dr.
Sears, Dr. Harvey Karp, the ladies at Metro
Minis in NYC, my mother and mother in-law. These were some of my resources. What are yours?
Love is limitless.
You will believe yourself incapable
of loving someone as much as you love your child in this very moment - then you
wake up the next morning, see your kid wake up, fuss, ask incessantly for a
“bobble” and your love grows exponentially.
This happens every day.
Note to SAHM's:
"I am not a predator and I’m not
invading your turf. I'm just a dad.
Also, you are much sexier than that 25 year-old nanny. Just ask your husband."
No, being an SAHD does not lead to weaker men.
There are people who contend that the
increase in SAHDs is giving rise to men losing their rightful spot in the
hierarchy of the workplace and that the role is emasculating. This is utter hogwash. These are also the same people who insist
women are worth 25% less than men and are laboring to undermine the ability of
American women to make autonomous health care decisions. These people should be actively ignored.
Yes, being an SAHD does up your sexy factor.
Not just to the flirty barista, but
to your wife or partner. Ask my wife.
You are raising a small adult. Remember that.
They are learning from you every
moment of every day. They learn your
habits, your most colorful language, how you hold your fork, the way you brush
your teeth – and they emulate it all.
You are their master teacher, their Sifu. This also means they are learning and
emulating your biases, bigotry, ignorance and hatred. These are taught. Now is the time to address these things in
yourself.
Taking care of yourself IS taking care of your child.
I'm the 40 year-old father of a two
year-old. I'd like to see him graduate college, get married, and, someday,
hold his children. Take care of
yourself. Join a gym, start Crossfitting,
ride your bike, pick up something heavy every day, stop eating meat, go paleo,
whatever. Do anything and everything to
keep yourself alive. Take your
vitamins. My vitamin and supplement
regiment would make Robert
Downey, Jr. smile.
Meditate, pray, or just find quiet time to read. You can find the time. Trust me.
If you can’t or won’t take care of yourself, there’s no way you can take
care of your child.
What things have you discovered? Let me know.
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