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MR. MOM

Quote from Erma Bombeck: My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.

In 1983 I found myself jobless. I had been teaching art to Jr. High students for three years. 

 

 



As art teaching jobs frequently went back then, I was laid off. Or as the school board said, “eliminating the unnecessary classes that are not important for learning. After all, it isn't like you are really teaching." 

 

YES. I KEPT MY MOUTH SHUT IN FRONT OF THEM,

but I really steamed once alone. 

 

 



 

 

 

I took it in stride, (my joblessness, that is).  I became a stay at home dad for Marty, age 4 . “I can be a free lance artist," I told Frances... I should have kept my mouth shut at that point...but I didn't. “I even have better plans as to how to run the house.” I smiled, clueless. “Why I bet I can keep the house cleaner and neater!”  

 

Darts flew from her eyes and she gave me an evil smile as she whacked me upside my head.

Week one and two: Frances left for work at her school. I took Marty to preschool, whipped back home for a quick cleaning and straightening up around the house (including making his and our beds and doing laundry), then I sat down to draw and create before having to pick him up at noon. I even set the table ahead of time for his noon meal; soapy water at the ready for dirty dishes. I picked him up at noon, fed him and put him to bed for his nap and went back, joyfully, to my free afternoon drawing and creating again. It was a breeze. The second week,I even lined up carpooling with a friend down the street. Marty and I would sit and swing on the front porch singing silly songs while waiting for him to be picked up. Then off to drawing until noon when I did the honor. The afternoons went smoothly. By the time Frances came home, Marty was awake and everything was wonderful. I bragged about how efficient I was. The house was spotless.

Again, that evil smirk from Frances.

 

 

Week three: There were school parties. I didn't know about school parties! Frances said I should volunteer. I reluctantly attended, and, yes, even volunteered to help. 

The mothers all gathered in one little corner, huddled together. 



 Every now and then one of them would turn her head in my direction, stare and then go back to the huddle like football players planning the destruction of the enemy, or better, like a gaggle of hens trying to oust the rooster.  They were discussing what to do with me! I was an anomaly. The only male present.  I was relegated to taking care of trash and cleanup. Man stuff. I felt out of place. I tried to make conversation but was met with awkward silences. This was before stay-at-home dads were cool...also just before the movie, "Mr. Mom".  I didn't have as much time to draw or paint either. Meanwhile,Marty started skipping naps. Life began to unravel. What happened to my perfect plan? Didn't he read the memo? I had to sit and entertain the little rascal every day. When Frances got home, the toys were still scattered all over the living room. The breakfast and noon dishes were still sitting dirty in the sink. I forgot to wash the clothes.   Frances,with that ever present smirk asked how my drawing was going. 

Week four: I left his bed unmade. After all, he would be back in it at noon, and there was no point in making it because he would be in it again that night. I eased up on the cleaning routine . Frances could do laundry after supper, I reasoned. Besides I had art work to do. I was behind on my schedule AND I was tired! I forgot about cleaning his noon dishes. I kicked toys off the sofa. I was cranky. I was exhausted!

  I napped while he played around me.

 

 

   Art stopped. He no longer was taking naps!   I discovered the TV. It could entertain him while I fixed lunch.

 

Soon I found myself watching “Days of Our Lives”while Marty played at my feet.

 

 



 My life was falling apart and I was clueless. Frances complained about coming home, making supper, having to clean dishes and laundry while I excused myself to my studio space. I said the little one never gave me time to myself and when he did I was too tired so I napped. Frances gave a sinister laugh. I promised to get my life back together. I still watched “Days of Our Lives”, however. I was hooked. Besides he was busy playing.

One year later: I was still unemployed and still following that same Mr. Mom routine. The ladies, however, had accepted me more and, during parties, assigned me other duties besides clean up. We had meaningful conversations concerning the education of our children and life in general. I had more to talk about when Frances came home instead of complaining about how hard it was being at home all day with a 5 year old. I cleaned up my act and kept things neater...well most days. I was good at laundry. I learned to love straightening up the house before Frances returned.   But, I was still watching soaps while Marty “slept” in the afternoons. I still was not getting much accomplished as far as art but I didn't really care. I was into this routine of watching the boy grow up. I enjoyed his company. I knew that soon he would be going all day to kindergarten and I could have my rest and possibly find a real job and if not, then I would continue concentrating on free lance art.

  Sure, this staying at home with a preschooler was a lot of work and I was gaining a tremendous amount of respect for stay at home parents.





Kindergarten: Since Marty's school was just two blocks away we decided to walk. I was excited about having the whole day all to myself. I could create again. Hallelujah! The first day, at home, I found it hard to concentrate, wondering what the little bugger was doing. At 3:00, I stood outside with other mothers, waiting for Marty, anxious as to his day and excited about mine. I was thrilled. “He can't wait to tell me how he loved school,” I told the lady next to me. She smiled. The bell rang. Marty came running out all animated, yelling, “Dad, Dad! What happened to Stefano?” Heads turned. Stares bore through me. Unkind remarks burned my ears. The mothers moved a few steps further away. My heart sank. He had NOT been sleeping those afternoons. “Mr. Mom” was busted. I haven't watched a soap opera since then. Lesson learned.

I know, you're saying, “What were you thinking?” Well, apparently, not much. I blame it on my lack of sleep.   Staying at home is exhausting work! I have total respect for anyone, especially moms who have to endure this exhausting job of staying at home and taking care of all that tremendous work that is unappreciated. And then doing it again and again.

That evening, Frances just smiled and shook her head wondering why I was bowing down kissing her feet when she returned home. 



 

 I took her out to eat that weekend and learned to do my share of household chores even better. I became a good, no, make that... a great, husband.

 

Now that I am retired I have all the time in the world to create. Frances has since trained me to cook and I have a meal on the table when she returns from her part-time job tutoring. NOW the tables have turned. Marty is now a stay at home dad taking care of a 4 year old and a 2 year old. He feels the same frustrations I did except that his generation is more accepting of stay-at home-dads. He is not an anomaly. And NO. He does not watch “Days of Our Lives” and he limits the children's TV time. He has become a better dad than I ever was. Kudos to you son. I must have taught you well. But truth is Frances taught us both.