A daily tug-of-war plays out in my house. And I’m not referring to kids yanking a much-desired toy out of a sibling’s hands, although that pretty much happens every day, too.
One day last spring, I became aware of a news report about a train accident in Kentucky that caused injuries and a local media frenzy. Such an event a year before would’ve put me in high demand, my phone and email bursting with requests from news reporters for information and comment. Back then, I had a job that made money, provided health insurance, and put me front and center of cameras, microphones, and questions from the press.
This particular day, however, my phone stayed silent, and no one emailed me. In fact, when I would otherwise be holding court with the media, I was instead on my hands and knees scrubbing out a stain on the living room rug from what I think might’ve been a discarded strawberry under the couch, but given its decaying state and gray, beard-like fuzz, only a hazmat team could properly identify it.
Plus, I was late for picking up the kids at school.
The daily tug-of-war in my house breaks out when I think about how I make no money to support my family, my professional career is essentially kaput, I’m largely isolated from the world outside of my house, and I’ve begun to consider watching Days of Our Lives as a means of either distraction or comfort. And yet I’m also aware how—without question—I’m doing the most important, consequential work of my life—as the primary caretaker of our two boys.
If you’re considering quitting your job to become a stay-at-home dad, you have two vital matters you’ll need to get right: money and your heart. They are of equal importance.
I speak from a position of experience because, oh yeah, there’ve been mistakes. The choice my wife and I made came about not because we felt financially ready but because we knew there’d never be the “perfect” time to make the leap. I was unhappy at my job, and my wife owned a small business she wanted to grow. We dithered on this choice for years, thinking we couldn’t do it financially, until we finally looked at one another and said it was just time to try.
Hit the buzzer. Ehhhhhhhnt. That was wrong.
You simply cannot ignore the reality of a loss of income. Even simple things like grocery shopping and trips to Wine & Spirits get stressful, and if the tooth fairy is scheduled to fly in tonight, that money’s gotta come from somewhere. Seriously, when did losing an incisor require a small business loan?
And you won’t be saving for retirement. There isn’t a matching 401(k) while employed as a stay-at-home dad. Somewhere my financial advisor is enjoying an I-told-you-so kind of moment.
Before trying out this stay-at-home dad life, why not go on a strict budget for a couple of months before quitting your job? Not only will you save money, which you’ll need later when you lose your income, but you’ll also discover whether you’re ready for and comfortable with such a frugal lifestyle.
There’s something else, though, embedded in every basket of laundry I fold, every soggy Cheerio I clean off the table, every story I read, every broken toy I repair, every scraped knee on which I put a Band-Aid. Quitting your job to be a stay-at-home dad requires not just a financial sacrifice but an emotional one, too.
Back in 2012, Gallup polled parents and found stay-at-home moms were more likely to suffer depression than those moms who worked. I believe that’s true for dads, too. It can be eerie and disconcerting during the first weeks or months when you transition into the life of a stay-at-home dad. You live in a bubble—pretty much the space between your house, the grocery store, and a playground—while your schedule revolves around naps. And in what little time you have (after the kids fall asleep at night), you end up just passing out on the couch with Hulu on the iPad. I’m still not quite used to it a year later.
That’s the downside. Now here’s the best of it.
Ask anyone who’s between the ages of 55 and 85 what they would give to go back to when their children were toddlers. What would they give to spend one day, even just one hour, playing with their little children again? To hear the laughter. To receive a hug or play Uno around the table or witness their kids learn to ride a bike again. To forget about time and the weight of responsibilities, and as an adult simply play with their kids.
Time is our greatest commodity, and it’s fleeting. The worst days are not when we struggle with finances or self-worth; they’re when I sense I’m taking a day for granted. I know big questions about our lives and money remain unanswered, and I think about them every day. But I also get the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to guide my children through each day before they learn to guide themselves and don’t need me anymore.