Hero on Father's Day

On the day I flew to the Netherlands to visit my family, I dropped my daughter off at daycare. I gave her an extra tight hug and said “see you in ten days. I love you.” I saw the two instructors exchange looks. Those looks said something like “what did she say? Is she really leaving her kids for ten days?” I sure was. It was glorious.

On my drive to the airport, I thought to myself that I probably had assumed the judgment in their looks. Maybe I was being hypersensitive because there was a teensy part of me feeling guilty about not seeing my kids for a while. What if they were going to miss me? What I wasn’t worried about though, was whether my husband was going to be okay. He was going to rock it, because that is what he does every single day. There wasn’t a single thing he would have to do with me gone that he doesn’t typically do. Except for lacking an extra pair of eyes to check what havoc our 2yo was wrecking.

Apparently, I was the only one not worried about my husband. I can’t even count the number of times I was asked how he was faring without me, both during and after my trip. Sure, this could be just one of the questions we ask during small talk. But I wondered how often my husband is asked how I am doing with the kids when he is traveling (I asked him later, the answer is ‘never’).

While my husband was already met with a great deal of implicit suspicion and doubt about handling the care for two kids on his own, he soon received more explicit comments suggesting he wasn’t enough. One day at pick up, one of the instructors told him that our daughter had been crying more than usual. “She just needs her mommy”, she had added.

Meanwhile, while my daughter was desperately needing me, I was road biking in the hilly landscape of Limburg, enjoying a three-day trip with one of my best friends. There was lots of rain in the forecast, but we had about 15 minutes left and were optimistic about getting home on time. After our final climb of the day, a devilish 100 meters with a maximum steepness of 17.4%, we felt the victory. Until I biked downhill too fast and hit several rocks hidden under the mud. My front tire instantly deflated. I looked at the ominous skies. “Let’s call the bike rental” I suggested to my friend. They had told us to call for a pickup if we ran into any trouble. “No way” she said resolutely, “how hard can it be to change a tire?” I had changed many bike tires in my life, so I knew the answer. She was right. I thought about the smirks on the faces of the guys in the bike shop if they got a call from two helpless damsels in distress. “Let’s do this”, I replied.

Changing the tire really didn’t take us that long. But it took us long enough for the downpour to start. We got soaked. So soaked that it really didn’t matter anymore if it rained any harder. It started raining harder. When I returned the bike to the mechanic, a puddle formed around my bike shoes. He gave me a concerned look. “Be sure to take a hot shower or put on some dry clothes soon, or you’ll get sick”. How wrong was I with my picture of a smirking guy?

We are constantly judging others and thinking that others are judging us. And while doing so, we are making each other’s life a whole lot harder. Many working mothers already have enough guilt about on missing out on time with their kids (see here for a recent study on parental guilt), they really don’t need others to tell them that their kids need them. Many working dads have the same feeling but are then either judged for spending time with their kids if that goes at the expense of work (see here for a recent study on judging fathers and stereotypes). Or they must hear that they will never be as good as mom. This made me wonder how many fathers spend less time with their kids than they would like, just to avoid the judgmental looks from coworkers or supervisors. I am on to a new research project. But before I start that up, I need to get my daughter up from her nap, as I am the only one who can do that properly. Plus, my husband is off being a hero somewhere. Our (female) friend’s car didn’t start, so he had to go out there with his startup cables. No, I am not making this up.