The Father Moobs blogs were originally posted in 2014 and 2015 on fathermoobs.com, a now defunct website where Dani (my wife) and I processed the upcoming arrival of our first baby. This post was published on that site:
True confession: I might become a stay-at-home dad.
Who would have thunk it? Me. The man with a pink apron and curlers in his hair.
At least I’ll be the envy of the Cobb’s Hill basketball courts. They’ll gawk between slam dunks while I stand yards away among the wood chips, beside the monkey bars, in an un-cinched bathrobe with a juice box in hand.
Is that image too vivid for you? A full bodied man in such matronly estate? Well, deal with it. I’m sexy and I know it.
(*Alert*: You have just read four sentences of false bravado. The author is in fact terrified that he will lose his Man Card.)
See, I wanna be a great dad, but I wanna be a great husband too! And I know Dani wouldn’t mind if I made six or seven figures annually. As much as she loves nursing, she’d love philanthropy even more. She’d give away all the money I made to anybody who needed deodorant or wanted an X-box. She’d take MiniMoob to the park and the dudes would stare at her in a whole ‘nother way. But she’d give them all X-boxes and everybody would be happy.
The trouble is I don’t make enough cash with my writing (read: any) for Dani to give out X-boxes. That dilemma has forced us into alternative mapping about how to fund our future. Based on our recent projections – the fact that she has an actual career while I have a pipe dream career – we’ll be riding her train to Sugar Mountain.
And that leaves me with two big problems.
First, what am I supposed to do with a kid everyday? Like… cook and crap? That’s ridiculous. I mean, I’m very enthusiastic about cooking… but have I ever told you about the time I tried to make a casserole for Dani? We were newlyweds. I gave it my best shot. A real sincere effort to impress her. I won’t get into my gory efforts in the kitchen; I’ll just tell you the recipe I created and where it ended up:
1 jar of breadcrumbs, 1 brick of cream cheese, 1 topless shaker of salt, 3 pounds of ground beef, 2 cans of cream-of-mushroom soup, 2 jars of spaghetti sauce, 2 pounds of tater-tots, 1 jar of queso drizzled on top…. The garbage.
And second, will this mean that I never make it in the real world? Seriously! How has it come to this? I don’t even like the real world. The point was always to change it. To say something that mattered. To say it well enough that people would be inspired to reconsider everything. (With a dash of existential hope. And practical legs. Of course.) But what if this is just the next footfall on the long slow death of my bright-eyed ambition?
Can I be OK with that?
And can somebody please teach me how to properly heat a can of Gerber’s mushed carrots?