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Yesterday, my wife went to New York for a long weekend with a friend. It was much deserved as she finished her first year of graduate school. I am happy for her. I mentioned this to a friend earlier in the week, and he replied, “So you have to babysit this weekend?” He said it in passing, and though it wasn’t meant to be an insult, I was upset by the question. Why would I have to babysit my own child? Why, in 2018, is that even a thing?
Let me begin by saying that I am not the greatest husband, or father. I am not the most available, nor am I the most helpful around the house. I will admit, I have a very hard time using the washing machine. There are too many settings, buttons, places to put fluids, and I am overwhelmed. When our daughter was turning 6, back before I was part of her family, I made a deal with her mother where I would purchase a Barbie Dream House for her (single mothering is hard), and in exchange, she would do my laundry. Even twenty years ago I was terrible at laundry. When she agreed, she thought it would be a single time, not for as long as we both shall live. She reminds me of this fairly often, when I forget to empty my pockets or take the little plastic tabs out of the collar of my dress shirt, but I digress. Although I am capable of doing the dishes, this responsibility is split between the children. When I do set the dishwasher, I inevitably forget to add the detergent pod, or forget to push start before going to bed.
But I do have my own share of responsibilities around the house. I faithfully take out the trash, I do all the home repairs, I do the dirty deep cleaning—the tops of the kitchen cabinets, the planter shelves, etc.—and I change the litter box. When we got our first cat, some seventeen years ago, the compromise of me getting a cat was that she never had to change the box, which she never has. I say these things not to expose my faults, or weaknesses, or strengths as a husband and caretaker. I tell you these things to show how some households work. This is how our household survives.
Where I took offense to my friend’s comment was his reference to me as a “babysitter.” Had my wife told her friends that I was going out of town, not a single person would have had the thought, “Well, I guess Dana will be babysitting this weekend.” No one would have this thought because our society is based on a system where the woman is the primary caregiver, the nurturer, the parent who gets stuff done. It is a preposterous thought that a woman would be babysitting her own children because they are her children. However, if a man has to or gets to stay home with his children for a week while she is away on business, or for a weekend while she is in New York, or for a single night while she is teaching yoga to adolescent teens in recovery, somehow, he is a babysitter. I know that my role as nurturer is secondary to hers. I get it. Ask any child who they go to when they get hurt, or someone breaks their heart, or they are overwhelmed, and the majority will say they go to their mother.
When I told my wife about the comment, her response led to a conversation about a much deeper dynamic within society. “That’s typical,” she said. “But it’s part of a conversation about the role of parents that defines contemporary America.” The role of the father, since they started writing history books, has been to provide and protect. The role of the mother, meanwhile, is to raise and nurture the children and to pacify the husband so that he may protect and provide. Beyond that, how are the roles of single parents defined in society? When a woman is a single mother, she is often disregarded as an individual. She is not lifted up. She is not glorified or complimented as both mother and father. She is not congratulated for playing the parts of two. She is typically vilified, made out to be less than successful because she could not fulfill her roles as caregiver and steadfast wife – even if the fault is not her own.
Conversely, how does society portray a single father? How do we look upon a man raising children on his own? He, of course, is a hero. He is remarkable in his ability to juggle so many balls in the air simultaneously. How loving and patient and kind and brave he must be to raise children by himself, without a partner to ease the burden. Society bestows the ultimate level of esteem on the single father but not the single mother. I ask why.
So, the weekend is planned, and underway. We went grocery shopping, my son and me. I made a roast (because the crock pot is my best friend), and little else about Saturday or Sunday will change for him. He will play video games, and ride his bike, and explore the woods behind the house, and play more video games, and play more video games. And I will think about how society perceives the role of the father within the household, and what I can do to change that perception. Are we doing enough as fathers? Maybe. We can always do more. Is it our role to run out into the street and glorify ourselves, or shout about it on Facebook, or Twitter? I don’t think so. (Although, admittedly, here I am writing about it). Maybe, we just need to have more conversations.
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Photo credit: Getty Images
