I’m Not a Male Nanny! The Stay at Home Dad

[4honor]

I'm Not a Male Nanny!
The Stay at Home Dad
by Kristopher Kaiyala

There we were at the mall, my two kids and me, pumping quarters into the mini merry-go-round when I noticed a grandmotherly woman staring at me askew. She watched us for a little while and then seemed to get up her nerve to approach us. "Are these your kids?" she asked.

I looked around. "Are you talking to me?" Uh-huh, she said, her eyes curious and piercing behind wire-rimmed glasses.

The thing is, it's kind of hard to mistake them for anyone else's children. The youngest—who just started walking—is a dead-ringer mini-me and demands that he be held pretty much wherever we go outside the house. The other—a natural-born shopper at age 6—loudly proclaims, "Daddy, daddy, daddy! Look at this!" whenever she sees something that catches her interest in a store, which is about every six seconds.

But I figured this woman hadn't observed any of the above behavior, so I wasn't particularly bothered. (Although, granted, she could have been a stalker-grandma. I once had a grandma follow me all around Costco only to finally catch up with us near the seedless watermelons, whereupon she reached into her purse and presented my son with a newly knit pair of white, boot-high yarn slippers. Another grandma once tailed us around the grocery store with a tissue in hand until she saw her chance to wipe my daughter's nose. Stalker-grandmas are out there, beware. Fortunately they're generally very nice.)

I politely told her that yes, they are my kids, the cute little buggers. It may have been an odd question for her to ask, but I wasn't too surprised by it. I get it every once in a while. The question usually comes when we're out and about during traditional working hours. Apparently there's something about seeing a dad with his kids during the day, when other men are at the office or power-lunching with peers or co-workers.

The grandma smiled and then hit me with another familiar comment. "Well, you don't look a lick over 18." Then I knew she must have thought I was a male nanny.

So, to all grandmas and others who ask The Question or who stare at me oddly when I walk into crowded downtown restaurants at lunch time with kids in tow or in arm: No, I'm not a male nanny. I'm a stay-at-home dad. There are quite a few of us around now, you know. You ought to take a closer look.

Male nannies do exist, and not just on reruns of Friends, but there aren't many of them—at least not compared to their female counterparts. Kind of like the ratio between SaHDs and SaHMs (stay-at-home moms), I suppose.

Perhaps I'm alone in this, but I doubt it. I suspect other SaHDs are similarly questioned or looked upon strangely in public during normal working hours. "Took the day off to be with the kids, huh?" "Is it take your kids to work day today?" The idea that I do this every day may not occur to someone until Job-Related Questions 1 through 7 are asked and answered. Of course I rarely get quizzed at the playground, where I'm likely to find a couple of other random dads—not exactly dressed for business—goofing off with their kids. But the world of retail and business lunches is another realm altogether.

There was a brief time, in my SaHD salad days, when I rarely ventured beyond the neighborhood with my kids, unless it was an evening or weekend. Even going to the grocery store on a Tuesday afternoon with my then-toddler daughter was an exercise in social valor. Fresh out of the business world, enjoying but slightly wary of my new lifestyle, I just wasn't prepared to deal with a culture that I was sure would look down on me for shopping for organic winter-squash baby food instead of attending an editorial meeting.

Fortunately there are some understanding people out there. Among the odd stares are a few faces that wear an expression more like acceptance. To those people, a SaHD going about his kid business in public any time or day of the week is cool. The response I often get from these people isn't "Too bad for you," but "Man, I wish I could do that" and "Your kids are lucky to have you around so much."

Sure, there are still days that I think about trading in my diaper-changing duties for a desk and an executive washroom key. The daily grind sometimes looks pretty good from this side of the fence. But overall the SaHD lifestyle is highly rewarding. I get to see my kids grow up one hour at a time. I'm not a slave to a cubicle. My wife is happy knowing the kids are under my direct care.

Besides, if it wasn't for being at the mall with my kids during the day, I'd never know the thrill of being stalked by a grandma.

Columnist Kristopher Kaiyala writes this feature from his home in Western Washington.

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