I’m heading out of town for a four-day conference, and while I’ll miss my kids and my husband, I’m sure they’ll manage just fine. My youngest has been extra clingy lately, and I remember the last time I left for an early meeting without saying goodbye; it resulted in an epic meltdown that lasted an entire hour. My husband, who’s used to sharing parenting duties with me, will have his hands full as he takes on solo responsibility for a few days.
Despite this, I never worry about him. I recall the first time he ventured out alone with our daughter, Lucy, when she was just a baby. He took her to visit his parents, while I stayed home—probably buried under a grad school assignment or just catching up on sleep. He packed a cooler with her bottles and set off for what became his inaugural daddy-daughter road trip. His parents were so impressed, and when my mother-in-law called to rave about how great I was for letting him go, I couldn’t help but think, “Isn’t he great all on his own?”
This notion that I somehow made him a great father is a recurring theme I’ve encountered over the years. Most recently, as I prepared for my trip, acquaintances asked if he needed help while I was away. I found myself explaining that he’s not babysitting—he’s parenting.
In our household, we’ve consciously chosen to share parenting equally. Sure, I cook and he takes out the trash, but when it comes to the kids, we’re in it together. It’s a partnership we both committed to early on. Yet, even now, when he’s alone with the children, people still ask if he’s “babysitting.” If I’m out, I often get inquiries about where the kids are and if their dad is watching them. My close friends know better than to ask, and I always respond, “Nope, he’s parenting.”
Men are often still expected to do less when it comes to childcare, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t actively engaged. The more we label their time with the kids as “daddy daycare,” the more we undermine their role as fathers. My husband is an amazing dad—fun, silly, sometimes serious, and always learning, just like I am.
Recently, I had several evening commitments that coincided with bedtime. As I prepared to leave one night, my youngest asked, “Is Daddy going to babysit us?” I was taken aback. I gathered the girls for a little chat. “Listen up, kiddos. A mommy is a parent, and a daddy is a parent. A babysitter is someone who takes care of you when your mommy and daddy can’t.”
They understood, but I wanted to make sure, so I quizzed them again. “What’s a mommy?” My oldest cheekily replied, “A babysitter!” which led to a chorus of corrections. I need them to know that their parents are a team, that we trust each other, because they will hear different messages elsewhere.
Tomorrow morning at 6 a.m., I’ll be on a flight. I’ll miss my family, but I won’t fret about them. Instead, I’ll be wishing they could join me on this trip!
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Summary:
This piece emphasizes that fathers are not babysitters but active participants in parenting. The author shares her experiences of equal parenting responsibilities with her husband and challenges the stereotypes surrounding fathers’ roles. She encourages open discussions with children to reinforce the idea that both parents are equally involved in their upbringing.