My partner is in the kitchen, whipping up dinner, while I’m in our room, sorting through laundry. Just moments ago, our 7-year-old was in the kitchen, but now he’s standing at my bedroom door, asking if he can snag a snack.
Let me emphasize that.
My partner is in the kitchen. Our child is in the same kitchen. I’m in the bedroom. Yet, when my little one decides he’s hungry, he doesn’t ask his dad—who is literally right there surrounded by the snack stash. No, he seeks me out, his mother, as if my husband is a ghost.
I’ve joked that I must possess some kind of superpower because, according to my kids, I’m the only one equipped to handle certain requests. I could be juggling work on the computer and assisting another child with homework, while my husband sits nearby, and the kids will bypass him completely, heading straight for me.
Don’t get me wrong; my partner is far from a lazy dad. He’s engaged, attentive, and just as capable of slicing an apple as I am. But somehow, when the kids’ little brains trigger a “need,” it’s my face that pops into their minds, leaving Dad completely off their radar.
Interestingly, when my husband does ask a child what they need, they often respond with, “I need to ask Mom a question,” even when it’s something he can easily answer.
Is it because I breastfed them too long? Or was it the co-sleeping? Maybe all that babywearing forged some kind of psychic connection, leading them to instinctively seek me out for everything. Nobody mentioned this at the attachment parenting group!
The funniest part is when our kids, tired of hearing me say, “Ask your dad! He’s right there!” finally turn to him for assistance. Yet, they often start with “Mama? I mean, Daddy?” It’s as if “father” has been redefined to mean “Mama-I-Mean-Daddy.” Somehow, they just can’t grasp that their dad is just as capable.
I know I’m not alone in this experience. I’ve chatted with many parents about this phenomenon—it’s the Invisible Father syndrome, and it seems to be a universal struggle. This is why moms often lament their inability to find a moment of peace, whether that’s sitting down with a book, going to the bathroom in solitude, or enjoying a bath without interruptions. I’m convinced that the moment a mother finds a sliver of relaxation, the kids’ “need” radar goes haywire, and suddenly, it’s all about Mom again.
My morning showers are frequently interrupted by requests from the kids. On average, I’d say three or four times daily, they come bursting in with their dilemmas. My favorite? When they can’t find something or claim that something isn’t working. Really, kids? 1) I’m in the shower, and 2) your father is right there!
Sometimes, I feel sorry for my husband; other times, I’m a tad jealous. I can tell it stings a bit when the kids always seek me out. He tries to redirect them, but it’s almost sad—like he’s the shy kid at school trying to fit in. “Hey kids, I’m here too! Don’t you want to play with me? My mom made brownies!”
And if you think this happens because Dad is away at work, think again. My partner works from home, just like I do. His presence makes no difference—it’s as if he’s invisible.
If you find yourself living with an unseen dad, there’s hope. My oldest, now almost 16, has finally learned to seek help from both of us. So even if your little ones primarily turn to you now, there’s a chance they’ll learn to include Dad too.
In the meantime, I suggest using my tried-and-true response: “Go ask your dad—he’s right there!” and trust that eventually, they’ll recognize him.
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Summary
The article humorously explores the phenomenon of “Invisible Father syndrome,” where children tend to seek their mothers for help despite fathers being present and capable. It discusses the common experiences shared by parents, particularly mothers, regarding this dynamic and offers hope for change as children grow older.