In our home, my partner is in the kitchen, whipping up dinner while I tackle the challenge of organizing clothes in our bedroom. Just moments ago, our 7-year-old was right beside him, but now he’s standing at my door, asking for a snack.
Let’s take a moment to unpack that.
My husband is present, actively engaged in meal prep, while our child stands just outside the kitchen. Yet, when hunger strikes, it’s not Dad who gets the call. No, my little one seeks me out—his mother—because somehow, my husband appears to be invisible in their eyes.
I’ve often joked that I must possess some sort of superpower, as it seems I’m the only one capable of solving certain problems around here. I could be engrossed in work on my computer, helping another child with schoolwork, and yet my little ones will walk right past their father, who’s sitting in the same room, to ask me for help.
Let me clarify: my husband isn’t neglectful. He’s attentive and fully capable of slicing apples and answering questions. But when their needs arise, it’s me they think of first. It’s almost as if a mental image of me is hardwired into their brains.
Sometimes, my husband will try to assist by asking our child what they need, only to hear, “I need to ask Mom.” The irony is that he could easily provide the answer, but the kids can’t seem to acknowledge him in those moments.
Could this be a result of my extended breastfeeding, co-sleeping, or all that babywearing? Have I unknowingly forged a psychic bond that makes them naturally gravitate toward me for every little need? No one warned me about this in the parenting group!
It’s amusing when the kids finally decide to approach Dad for help, only to address him as “Mama? I mean, Daddy?” At this point, I think we need a new thesaurus entry for “father” that includes “Mama-I-Mean-Daddy.” It’s as if their instinct is to overlook his ability to help.
I know I’m not alone in this experience. Many parents have shared tales of the Invisible Dad phenomenon, which seems to be a common issue. This is part of the reason moms often find it challenging to enjoy quiet time—whether it’s reading a book, using the bathroom in peace, or taking a relaxing bath—without being interrupted. I’m convinced that the moment we find a moment of calm, the kids’ brains go into overdrive with demands and suddenly I’m their only source of support.
Take my morning showers, for example. They’re routinely interrupted by questions and requests. I’d estimate it happens three or four times daily. My favorite interruptions are when they come to me, explaining they can’t find something or that something isn’t working. Seriously, kids? 1) I’m in the shower, and 2) your father is right there!
It’s hard to know whether to feel sorry for my husband or a tinge of jealousy. I can tell he’s slightly hurt that they always seek me out, yet at the same time, it’s a little comforting to know I’m the go-to parent. He often tries to redirect the kids to him, but it’s almost sad—like he’s that kid at school trying too hard to get noticed. “Hey, I’m here too! Don’t you want to play? My mom made brownies!”
And just so you know, this isn’t because Dad is out of the house all day. He works from home, just like I do. His presence makes no difference whatsoever.
If you find yourself dealing with an Invisible Dad situation, there’s hope. My oldest, now almost 16, has finally started seeking help from both of us equally, despite her earlier years of only looking to me. So, it’s definitely possible to train the younger ones to do the same.
In the meantime, I’ve relied on a tried-and-true response: “Go ask your dad—he’s right there!” and trust that eventually, they’ll recognize him as a resource.
In summary, parenting often presents unique challenges, including the phenomenon of the invisible father. It’s a universal struggle that many families experience, but with time and persistence, balance can be achieved.