The circumstances that find me a stay-at-home Dad (you won’t catch me calling myself a SAHD because sad is the last thing I am—more on this later) are simple. My employment situation is very flexible, and my wife’s isn’t. Long before NJ was born, in August 2009, we’d decided to do it this way. I would stay home for the first year of her precious life, and by the time she turns 1 we’ll have a good daycare situation lined up. Once I’ve been at home with her for a while and get the ins, outs and nuances figured out I’ll scrape up some freelance work.
Or, at least, once I’m close to getting the ins, outs and nuances figured out. That happens, right? Parents learn as time goes on and more and more different events occur? Seems like it ought to be that way. That's how I improved playing different sports: time, practice, repetition. Doing it over and over until I got it right.
D-Day is Thursday. The Wife goes returns to work, reluctantly. She has been off for a very long time, thanks to maternity leave and lots and lots of vacation time. It's been easy to take care of NJ for a while and then hand her off, for feeding or play time or whatever. That's going to be over pretty soon, though. In just a few days.
This is the child that, hopefully, I won’t be screwing up. Isn't she adorable? Wish her luck.
And me. Wish me luck, too.