Features
It's A Dad's Life
It's 6:09am and the alarm goes off. Our daughter wakes up and cries out, until my wife goes to get her out of her own bed and brings her in with us. I'm not really a morning person, and I'm in denial, burying my head under the duvet.
"Daddy, read Kipper," she says, thrusting the book between my face and the pillow. She pokes my eyes until I open them and look at her.
"Daddy, I fell out of bed."
"Yes, you did." At three o'clock in the morning.
"I was sitting on the floor."
She was asleep again as soon as her head touched the pillow and I pulled the covers back over her. But I couldn't get back to sleep for hours, and now I'm so tired I can't believe it's morning already. But today, I'm lucky. Kristin has got dressed and brought Phoebe her milk and me a cup of tea. She kisses us both goodbye. It's shortly before seven.
"Mummy's gone to work!"
And so begins another day as a home-dad.
Even though we're up so early it never ceases to amaze me just how long it takes to get going and get of out the house in the mornings, especially as Phoebe is two and a half and is becoming very independent. She will insist on trying to do everything for herself, and I'm having to learn to be even more patient.
On Monday mornings we go to a toddler group at the church hall. Many dads tell me that they feel quite intimidated by them, even though most have now changed their name to 'Parent and Toddler Groups'. But I've persisted and have been going for two years, and almost everyone has been friendly. A mother who joined the group recently told me it can be quite daunting for a woman to go to a new group where she doesn't know anyone; at least as a dad everyone recognises you the next time you go. Group organisers are usually appreciative of anyone who offers to set up, put away toys, or make the tea; and quite a few dads end up as treasurer. Some dads have also taken the initiative and set up a playgroup specifically for dads. But toddler groups aren't the only activity on offer. I try and go to the gym a couple of mornings a week and so Phoebe goes to the creche and does lots of crafts. We also go to the toy library, a musical group and a baby-gym session at the YMCA.
Wherever we've been in the morning, we're usually home in time for lunch, and if I'm lucky Phoebe will have a sleep afterwards. That's when I try and update the HomeDad UK web site, catch up with my e-mails, or write articles such as this one. We have a small team running the web site which began in September 2000 as a way for dads at home with their children to get in touch with each other. The Office of National Statistics says there are about 100,000 dads in the UK bring up their children, and the number has more than doubled in the last few years. But we're spread out, so it's not very easy to get to know other men in the same situation. We have a newsletter and a discussion board and we're always looking out for contributions.
Before I've finished, Phoebe wakes up from her nap. In the afternoons we might go swimming, or to the park with friends. Or more likely (and less enjoyably) we go shopping. Another common complaint from dads is that many shops and leisure centres still don't cater for men with young children. It's amazing how many baby changing facilities are found only in the ladies' toilets, so dads end up having to change nappies on the floor in the gents (never a pleasant situation) or in the back of the car. Many swimming pools still don't provide family changing rooms. One dad even tells me that if he can't find a disabled toilet he takes his little girl to the ladies and most women don't seem to mind! Being a man out with young children does have its advantages, however. Older men will open doors for me, older women will stand aside and let me go first, and I always get my bags packed at Waitrose.
The evening is just a manic reversal of our morning routine, only now we have a tired toddler who is excited by Mum's return from work. We try and eat together, and while I tidy away Kristin will bath Phoebe, give her milk and read her a bedtime story. It's their time together at the end of the day before Kristin takes Phoebe up to bed.
"Give Daddy a goodnight kiss," she says.
"Nope," Phoebe replies, laughing, as she runs to the stairs.
"OK," I say, "I'll come and check on you later."
And when I do she's sleeping like an angel, until the alarm goes off again at 6:09am.
© Nick Cavender 2001 This article was originally published in the newsletter of the Thames Valley branch of the National Childbirth Trust (NCT).