A letter to my sons 20 years from now…
Dear boys-to-men,
To understand this salutation, go find my box of nostalgic things, dig out the CDs, what we called “compact discs,” plus a Walkman, and you’ll find yourself enjoying a little East Coast fling.
Now then.
If you’re reading this in 2038, that means you’re now in your 20s and starting adulthood/careers. You may also be for the first time beginning to wonder about big questions like where you came from and why your childhood turned out the way it did. You may be wondering why in the mornings your mother dressed like a professional and left to go to work, while your Dad stayed in jeans and a T-shirt and never seemed to leave the house.
Yes, starting when you were both toddlers, I like 2 million other American men, according to a 2013 Pew Foundation poll, took on the stay-at-home Dad role while your mother became the breadwinner.
The idea of writing this today was prompted by a letter surprisingly sent to me in 2018 by an anonymous person. He might as well have been from 1718. The man thought I should know how being a stay-at-home Dad undermined my credibility as a man, and because I am a man, law should mandate I go to work while your mother stays at home to raise you.
Haha. Right?
I want to make clear to you as you ascend into your adulthood that choosing to forego my corporate employment to be a stay-at-home Dad did nothing to undermine me as a man. Our bank account, well, that’s another matter we’ll get to.
I also want to make clear to you, my sons, how no one should define for you what manhood is. For me, it means doing the best you can with what you have, and in 2018, that’s exactly what your mother and I are doing with her running a small business and me running the dishwasher.
Simply put—your mother’s intellect, business acumen, and decision-making prowess supersedes mine, which is why she thrives as a business owner. I can sense the 2038 versions of you nodding in the affirmative. Good. Go be like her.
The choice we made may not be right for everyone, and it certainly is not perfect. But no path is.
It’s fair to say some stay-at-home Dads like me struggle with our role as caregiver when a different choice might provide more income and a steady career. No doubt some employers would turn my resume away, not willing to trust I won’t leave a job again.
I have my share of sleepless nights, worried I’ve irrevocably destroyed what was a pretty good career, unclear whether I’ll rebuild again. I push back against such agonizing by ensuring a good quality of life for you day in and day out, even if I’m not making any income. Again, do the best you can with what you have.
Am I doing a good job as a stay-at-home Dad? Maybe. How does anyone know as a parent? Some days I’m running around the back yard with you boys and taking my own turn on the Slip N’ Slide, and other days, I let Netflix Kids do its thing while I take a mental break scrolling through Instagram. As long as you remain polite, try hard, and you treat other kids and adults well, it’s a good day for all of us. A father couldn’t ask for more.
I do, however, feel a sense of insecurity every time I meet new people and they inevitably ask: “So, what do you do?” I feel compelled to say “I’m a stay-at-home Dad” and always add how I freelance for magazines and occasionally work as a photographer, as if I need to off-set an embarrassment about my caregiver role. I feel judged, but usually I’m the one doing the judging, not the other person.
I’ve seen friends become CEOs of agencies, get elected county judge, become doctors and nurse practitioners, celebrate promotions, become publishers, be happy in simply holding a good job. I’m proud of them, rooting for them, and sure, sometimes feel inferior to them. I’m jobless at 39 with no clear path to what comes next, except the doctor’s appointment I need to get you to this afternoon. Am I less of a man for that?
I get to be the one to patch you boys up if you fall on the sidewalk and take you on bike rides around the neighborhood. I wake up every day reminding myself to do the best I can with what I have, and if that means today simply making sure you arrive to and from summer camp on time, and tomorrow I wash and fold your laundry, then that’s my job.
Fellas, I hope as you read this 20 years from now you’re proud of me whether or not I have a job. That means more than what other people think about me as a stay-at-home Dad. I hope you understand there’s more than one way to live toward high ideals, and no one should make you feel less of a man just because you made a different life choice.
Now go into the real world and in everything you do, whether you work or become a stay-at-home Dad like me, try to emulate your smart, wise, determined mother. Just remember each day to do the best you can with what you have.
Dad
