Latest bout of SAHD-ness

Once upon a time, my family was structured according to that age old model wherein the guy goes out to work at some job to bring home the bread while the woman stays at home with the kiddos. Every morning, I kissed the family goodbye and headed out into the world dressed in my fedora and a Brooks Brothers suit. I arrived at the office where my secretary, Bunny, would faithfully greet me with a smile and a piping cup of joe, which she’d replenish no less than 16 times before lunch. The poor girl only types about ten words a minute, but she looks great in a pair of six inch heels. I spent my days in my office, dictating memos, smoking my pipe, playing darts, and doing shots with the occasional client that would swing by to bullshit about this or that account or whatever. I take my job seriously. I’d arrive home at night to find an elaborate dinner on the table, prepared and presented by my perfectly coifed, dressed, and accessorized wife. I took my place at the head of the table where I dispensed fatherly wisdom between bites, all of which my perfectly behaved children would listen to with the attentiveness of ninja trainees. After dinner, I always enjoyed a pipe in the den, where I was not to be disturbed except in grave emergencies.

Okay, so portions of the above paragraph may be lies.

In fact, I work in a cubicle, usually wear jeans, and my secretary’s name is Sven. He’s a red sockpuppet that hangs over one of my speakers, so he’s not much good for coffee fetching, and he can’t type for shit. At night, he and the other action figures on my desk hop down and meet all the other toys from everybody else’s desk in the breakroom where they have some kind of big office toy party. And any fatherly wisdom I may have dispensed in my time has typically been shouted over.

Whoa, enough tangent chasing. Sorry.

Like I was saying, I used to be our household’s sole breadwinner while my wife stayed home with the kid, which later became staying home with the kids (plural). Then her student loan debt came due and she had to find her way back into the workforce, thus ending her life as a stay at home mom. It’s been a tough transition for her. She misses being home with the boys all day, even if it was often an insanity-inducing experience. I came home many times to find everybody still in their pajamas or naked, but well fed and very much alive and well, even happy. She was often tired, stressed and exasperated. All the same, she misses it.

Somewhere in there, I developed this crazy idea that I would be a fantastic stay at home dad (heretofore referred to as a SAHD just to let you know that I’m familiar with the lingo). It’s not that I thought my wife was doing a bad job or that I could do better. And it’s definitely not that I imagined it as a cush job. I’d never dream of making such ridiculous statements. In fact, I thought she was doing great with a really tough job. When I came home every day, there was no doubt in my mind who had been working harder.  Our situation came about strictly because of finances: my job paid more. Had the paychecks been switched, it would have been me staying home, simple as that. And I couldn’t help but think I’d be pretty good at it. At least as good as my wife, even if our, ah, methods differed. And beyond being just good at it, I thought I’d really enjoy it.

In spite of the fact that I’m still a 9 – 5’er, I’ve had plenty of chances to put this little theory of mine to the test, and it was usually pretty much a party, the kind of party with lots of macaroni and cheese and dancing in the living room in your pajamas and chasing the dog around the back yard and getting to see what kinds of people you can find at the grocery store at 10:00 in the morning, which is party in and of itself. Last week though, I got my ass handed to me. It was spring break and the boys’ daycare was closed, so I took the week off to stay home with them.  Everything was cool until Tuesday when both of them got sick. And then I got sick. I woke up one morning feeling like dogshit, knowing that I was facing a full day of taking care of two sick little dudes, even though I felt like a sick little dude myself. The end of the day looked a million miles away.

This post is evidence that we made it through. The wife ended up getting sick too, so she was able to take one day off, which was like having a bit of weekend in the middle of the week. I toughed it through the rest of the week solo as the boys health gradually came back to normal. By Sunday, everybody was cool. I couldn’t believe I was thinking it, but I was actually glad to be going back to work.

I still think I’d be pretty okay at the SAHD gig. Maybe not great, but okay. And who knows, with the economy in the state it’s in, I might get to do it some more someday soon. I’m kind of glad to be back at work where I can slack and ignore people who are acting like children. And yet, part of me would still kind of rather be running around the back yard. With my boys. All of us in our pajamas.