The Only Stay-at-Home Dad in First Class

Secluded at 30,000 feet with the only entertainment option a Matthew McConaughey film, one definitely finds time for reflection.  The SF trip was a great deal of fun, but only mildly productive.  The good: wonderful time with friends and family; my heart is warming to SF again (the pull of NYC is strong) and I’m rediscovering what I love about the city by the bay (like the SF Giants!).  The bad: was passed over on a great apartment.  Current score:  Steve Kemp: 0 – Crazy older self-employed contractor landlady who would rather sit on two empty apartments than rent to a family from NYC with impeccable credit, references, and employment: 1.  No, I’m not bitter.  Whatever gave you that impression?  

The trip did, however, do wonders to set my mind at ease about finding an apartment when Sumie and I move out officially at the end of July.  The neighborhoods I had pegged as possibilities for us clicked with me, and I think they will with Sumie as well.  We’ll have close to two weeks after arriving to find something that suits us.  It’s doable and, happily, Sumie and I will be making the decision together.  We found our first apartment in NYC together, as well as our current home, so I’m thankful we’ll get to come to a conclusion as a couple once again. 

The night before my return to NYC I received a pleasant surprise.  I checked in with Continental, as I always do before a flight, and found that I had been upgraded to first class.  This is likely to be the last significant perk from my working days and it’s got me to thinking about this new role of mine – the stay-at-home dad.  I think I’m going to be good at it and that I’ll enjoy it, but I still don’t really know how to talk about it.  For the past ten years, for better or worse, I have been predominantly defined by my job.  Of course, my wife, family, education, hobbies, etc. all played a role in how the world viewed me, but for the vast majority of those who met me, it was my day-to-day duties that made “Steve Kemp” Steve Kemp. 

This is not to say that I am ashamed by this.  I was, and still am, quite proud of the work I did in education, making a difference in the lives hundreds of educators and thousands of children.  My job now, however, is simply to make such a difference in the life of one little girl, and this does not make for effortless small talk. 

It really goes back to the question, “So, what do you do?”  It’s a common and innocuous question, but one that, when asked of a man, still anticipates an answer related to the work world, not the domestic.  I’m still working on honing a proper response.  Here are some of the answer options and the challenges that come with them.

“What Do You Do?” Answer 1:

Instigator of Boring Chit-chat:  So, what do you do?

Steve:   Well, I used to work for an education company.  I helped to develop their educational materials, national training, and headed up their publications.

Challenges:   

First off, I’m starting off chit-chat in the past tense.   If you love mindless, shallow back-and-forth, this is a great strategy.  However, if you’re like me and you just want it to move on to something at least vaguely interesting as quickly as possible, you’re sunk.  It’s not fun for either party to sit through the minutiae of a role that neither party really cares about. 

Once I get through the history, the real challenge begins.  “Why’d you quit?  Were you fired?  Or is that a rude question?”  I then need to explain that I did, in fact, quit, which only forces me to make some eventual value judgment on the company, my success within it, my own professional hopes and dreams, the impact my family had on the job or vice-versa, or everything above.  Good lord.  I just met this person and, up until this moment, our deepest connection was a shared appreciation of the cheese platter.  Now I’m going into this?  Obviously, I need a new tactic.  So, what happens when I meet the question head on?

“What Do You Do?” Answer 2:

Instigator of Boring Chit-chat:  So, what do you do?

Steve:   I’m a stay-at-home dad.

Instigator:  Oh.  O.K.  So, uh, how did – um – did you – uh, did you, like, choose to do this?

Steve:  (Recognizing that the instigator has automatically assumed that because I do not have a traditional job I was fired or laid off)  Yes, I quit my job of almost 10 years recently to spend some time with my daughter.  It seemed like the right thing to do. 

Instigator: (Who has now shifted his view of me from “poor sod” to “luckiest guy on earth”) Wow!  I’ve always wanted to do that.  You’re so lucky.  How were you able to do it? 

Steve:  My wife, the cute one over there, she’s a doctor. 

Instigator:  Well buddy, you’re set for life.  Wish I could live like that!

Steve: (Now quite annoyed)  Yeah, I bet you do (you hosebag). 

Challenges:    

These conversations tend to start off well, but almost always degrade into me being made to feel like some kind of privileged slacker.  I’m quite proud of what I’m able to do for my daughter, wife, and family by staying home.  It is a rare person, though, who will not automatically view me as an adult Charlie Bucket who has just won his Golden Ticket to the chocolate factory.  Yes, I do think I’m lucky, but I take great exception with anyone who insinuates that I would take such luck, and by extension the most important people in my life, for granted. 

I think the reason the “what do you do” question can never be answered adequately by the stay-at-home dad has to do with pride.  But this isn’t pride in how one is recognized in the work world.  It’s pride in simply being a father.  When I was working, I had a great pride in being a father; the same level of pride I have now.  My job kept me away from my daughter, but that didn’t mean that I didn’t want to do absolutely everything I could for her.  No father ever wants to think less of himself, or what he does for his family, because he is working.  Being a stay-at-home dad, though, rather forces that kind of analysis – both for the stay-at-home dad and any employed father (or mother for that matter) he may be talking with.  This is why, I think, the primary reaction I get when I tell people straight out that I’m a stay-at-home dad is the tired “Well, aren’t you lucky?” routine.  There may be, however, a way around it. 

I have a few solutions I am hoping to try out over the upcoming months.  The first, and most serious of these, is to simply say that I am an educational consultant and writer.  Though I’m not paid, for the time being, for either, they are two “jobs” I take quite seriously and work at on a daily basis.  I’ve even thought of having business cards made up with my name, e-mail addresses, blog address, and, of course, the two titles above.  A close friend of mine thought this was a silly idea – and perhaps one spurred by insecurity – but I rather like it.  Presenting someone with a business card allows me to guide the “What do you do?” conversation wherever I want it to go.  I can also use it to stop boring conversations before they begin.  “Oh, what do I do?  Here’s my card. “ (Steve then goes back to his book.)

My favorite solution, however, involves lying.  I would simply make up titles.  Here are a few I’m keen to try at my next dinner party / wedding / plane trip should my business cards not arrive:

·      Corporate ninja

·      Velcro advocate

·      Professional laxative evaluator (for when I want to be left alone)

·      Rogue Canadian

·      Crappy Will Ferrell impersonator

·      Rather good Philip Seymour Hoffman impersonator

·      Litmus tester

I’ll be letting you know how it goes. 

The plane is beginning its descent and as this last ride in first class comes to a close, I can’t help but smile at the reason it’s all ending.  Maybe I’ll just answer that pesky “what do you do” question by pulling out my iPhone, opening up the photos, and saying, “I take care of this.” 

-Steve