Confessions Of A “Mister Mom”

Los Angles, California — I get up at 7 a.m. and make coffee. By 7:30 a.m., my wife is looking for her keys to jet. By 8 a.m., my 10 month old son is already rolling around in his bed, waiting for me to change his diaper. We gargle syllables for a spell, then I change his outfit and get him ready to meet the day.

Shortly thereafter, I plop him in his bouncer and play a “Baby Einstein” video while daddy sips his coffee and seeps into his e-mail accounts. By 9 or 9:30 a.m., I switch on the Pandora or NPR and let him crawl around on his stomach. He works up an appetite and I mix some cereal and banana baby food in a plastic saucer and crane it into his mouth. If it’s not too hot, we walk to the park three blocks away, and go on the swing for a bit. By the time we get back, he’s ready for a nap.

After noon, it’s pretty much the same drill of changing diapers and feeding until my wife walks through the door and I can be relieved.

Sometimes,  I go jogging and push my son along in his carrier; I am taken aback as middle aged women give me a thumbs-up  as I jog by. Truth be told, I also get a lot of looks of derision from my masculine contemporaries who feel that I’ve turned soft, somehow, by stepping up and raising my child while my wife works. I am sure I am the but of many jokes as I jog on by. Those people don’t pay my bills, so I am not really interested in what they’re trying to sell.

At the same time, should I thrust my head into the nearest ostrich hole because I can’t find work and now have to raise my child with the utmost of my affection and caring? I am most happy when I know that I am giving my son my contiguous, undivided attention as he grows from infant to toddler.

According to the Department of Labor’s Bureau of Labor Statistics, as of June 3, “the unemployment rate was essentially unchanged at 9.1 percent.” Therefore, if at least almost one in 10 Americans is currently unemployed, then there must be many more men in my situation. I am a stay-at-home-dad due to unforeseen consequences, but it has turned into one of the most fulfilling accidents of my career as a human being.

After teaching high school in the Bronx for several years, I realized the best thing I could do was bestow the best of my attention, creativity, and patience to my son so that he does not grow up maladjusted, and helpless. I have been there every morning he’s ever woken up, and there are few diaper changes I have not had a direct hand in. I had seen too many kids that were going to end up statistics. And so, thanks to this happy accident, instead of a statistic, my kid was going to become a statistician.

Raising an infant is a full-time job, and there are many days when the whimpering, the crawling-over-everything, the Elmo songs and sippy cups are enough to drive one bonkers. But, then, I also understand that having this time to raise my son the right way is a temporary gift, the effects of which will show into his adolescent life, and beyond.

Yago Cura is a writer based in Los Angeles. He edits the online journal Hinchas de Poesia and moderates the blog Spicaresque. Follow him on Twitter @theshusher

[Photo By rocketjim54]

Subscribe today!

  • This field is for validation purposes and should be left unchanged.

Must Read