About Distracted Daddy
Distracted Daddy is a working father with a two-year-old daughter, a focused wife and a flatulent pug. When he’s not distracted he blogs about poop, parenting and other things at distracteddaddy.com.
Staying at Home
the fatherlode: post-baby social life canada
(Jan.27.11)
I’m a stay-at-home dad. Yes, I have a full-time job that takes me out of the house every weekday. And yes, my daughter attends daycare five days a week. But I’m a stay-at-home dad.
I’m a stay-at-home dad because that’s what I do almost every night. I stay at home. I don’t go out. My wife doesn’t go out. She’s a stay-at-home mom. Together, we stay at home and we watch our daughter’s monitor.
We stay at home because grandparents live too far away. We stay at home because hiring a sitter is for special occasions. We stay at home because we’re exhausted.
Like the acronym for stay-at-home dad, it’s sa(h)d. It didn’t always used to be this way. I remember a time, our social calendar was full. We stayed out late, woke up late, and vividly retold our weekends to coworkers.
These days, if coworkers are going to ask me about my weekend, they should be prepared for Indiana Jones 4 style disappointment. No matter how I tell it, my epic struggle to stay up until Saturday Night Live is not entertaining.
There are exceptions, rare weekends where I go out. My wife will offer to be the sole stay-at-home parent, and I’ll gladly accept. I always imagine my night unfolding like The Hangover minus the baby. Except it ends up more like an episode of Golden Girls.
I leave the party early, to go home, to sleep. I used to leave parties for other parties. I used to be invited to more parties. And not ones that involve loot bags, clowns or indoor playgrounds.
Event invites seemed to drop the moment the baby did, especially invites from my single friends. You can only give the middling answer of “if I can get a sitter” so many times before they stop asking. Unfortunately “if I can get a sitter” became the real life version of “maybe” on a Facebook Event invite, it inevitably meant no.
And so my nightlife withered.
My day-life, however. My day-life has blossomed like Audrey II in Little Shop of Horrors. I have a toddler. My toddler wakes up at six in the morning fully-caffeinated. She wants to be entertained. She doesn’t stop. She always wants more. And like the aforementioned plant, her appetite for the world is insatiable.
Is it any wonder I’m exhausted?
Follow @DaddyDistracted on Twitter.