A Work-From-Home Dad's Perspective into How The Other Half Lives
“Coming together is the beginning. Keeping together is progress. Working together is success.”
It’s 6:00 AM. Carly wakes me because Linden is screaming and banging on his door. I pull myself out of a sleepy daze, cursing my youngest under my breath. When I enter his room, I see a little crying face covered in blood and whatever anger I felt dissipates immediately. Instantly, I realize he is having yet another nose bleed. I call to Carly, who springs into action, taking Linden to the bathroom to stem the bleeding and clean him up while I head to clean the mess in his room. I scrub the blood-stained carpets, wipe down the walls and door, and strip his bed. Carly and I operate like a well-oiled machine. We are exhausted, but we manage. As I crawl back into bed, Carly is cuddling Linden (toilet paper stuffed into his nose and all). With only 30-minutes until I need to be up for work, my thoughts turn to what would have happened had I been on the road. A few weeks ago, Carly would have handled all of this on her own - she wouldn’t have had someone to call for help.
When I became a father in 2014, I had no understanding of life as a parent beyond diaper changes, late-night cuddles, and tummy time. I was unknowingly naïve to all the intricacies of raising children but thankfully, I was able to learn with Carly as my guiding partner. It was tough, but she made it look easy. By the time Linden was born in March of 2017, I felt like a seasoned veteran who had been in the trenches, only to find out that two is infinitely harder than one. Once again, however, Carly and I tackled things together and were stronger as a team.
Five months later, our family dynamic completely shifted when I quit my job as an Engineer and pivoted into consulting. Since then, my weekly routine has remained largely consistent: fly out on Monday mornings, fly back on Thursday evenings, work downtown on Fridays, spend Saturdays and Sundays with the family, repeat. Goodbye normalcy, hello 70-hour workweeks. Gone were the days of being home at 5:30 PM to help with night-time routines. Gone were the days of getting up in the night to help when one of the kids was sick. Gone were the days of work being 20-minutes away in the event of an emergency.
The demands of my new job required Carly to take on a much larger role at home and for me to witness the majority of my family’s life through Instagram and FaceTime. Sleeping in hotel rooms and eating dinners alone (or with my team members), I was far removed from the day-to-day challenges. Over time, I lost sight of what I once knew to be true – the difficulties of parenthood were best handled in pairs. It’s not that I forgot, but the reality is when you aren’t in the middle of a fire it’s hard to describe what it feels like to be burning.
Recently, however, I have been reminded of how the other half lives due to the very real COVID-19 situation that we are all facing. On March 13th, my consulting firm made decided to suspend all domestic and international travel, resulting in a shift to the work-from-home model. Suddenly, I found myself in a very eye-opening situation – I was truly witnessing my family’s end-to-end daily routines for the first time and not through the manicured lens of an Instagram post or a 20-minute check-in during dinner.
Here’s a rough agenda for their day – which day? It doesn’t matter. They’re all the same.
7:20 AM – Maelle and Linden wake up and demand milk; I get up and set them up with some morning shows
7:45 AM – Carly is downstairs, war paint on, ready for battle (AKA breakfast)
8:30 AM – after what must feel like running a marathon, Carly has fed the inmates and it’s time for education
9:00 AM – the kids gather at the dining room table where Carly guides them through reading, writing, colouring, painting, science, and math exercises; tears are sometimes shed
10:30 AM – time for exercise; Maelle does gymnastics while Linden does “gymnastics”
12:00 PM – lunch; they’re eating again?
1:00 PM – a few minutes of reprieve while the kids watch a show… just kidding, they’re fighting over what show to watch while Carly tries to enjoy a coffee in less than 4-minutes
2:00 PM – outdoor time; apparently, children need fresh air and sunlight to grow – are they plants?
4:00 PM – back inside for more activities; Carly has an art station or Lego or imaginary game going and again, sometimes tears are shed
5:00 PM - bath time
6:00 PM – dinner; how much food do these damn kids eat?
6:45 PM – a few minutes of shows before bedtime
7:00 PM – I emerge from my office to help with the night-time routine
7:30 PM – the kids are in bed
Once the kids are in bed, one would think that Carly now has time to relax and have some much needed “self-care” time, but that isn’t the case. Five days a week she heads downstairs to work out while I’m putting the kids to bed. We often eat dinner together at around 8:30 PM before she takes care of the house - maybe starts a load of laundry, vacuums, or does the dishes. With the last remaining time before the day ends, she sits down to plan for tomorrow, prints the kids’ education materials, and blogs if she can muster the energy. And to think, during a regular workweek, she would have been doing all of this on top of completing the night time routine.
Here’s the thing: Carly would look at this schedule and think that I’ve minimized exactly what is being done. That a simple schedule could never highlight the intricacies of the day. And she’s right. What you don’t see is what I hear going on while I’m buried in work. I hear the fierce battle between Maelle and Linden over which morning show to watch. I hear the oft-raised voice of my wife telling Linden that he “better not go into Daddy’s office or he will be on a BIG timeout.” I hear the dropping of Legos on the ground as one child cries before Carly corrects the problem. I hear her thoughtfully planning at the end of the week as she asks me questions that pertain to meals for the coming days. I hear how Carly guides our kids' through school lessons, gently (and sometimes not so gently) encouraging them to do more, think harder, and try something new. I hear the printer working overtime on Sunday night as she copies out the list of assignments for Maelle or gathers activities for Linden at the same time. I hear the laundry machine constantly running, the scrubbing of dishes, and the vacuum cleaner buzzing around the house several times a day. I hear Carly building our children up, shaping them into kind, resilient, and caring individuals through methods I can’t quite comprehend. I hear her reason with the kids over outfit choices, shoe options, sunscreen applications, and bathroom breaks. I hear the roar of our bouncy castle, the hose filling water balloons, the noise of the trampoline, and the comforting laughter that only contented children raised in a happy home could possibly vocalize.
I feel exhausted writing this down – the amount of energy and effort is extraordinary. The insanity of the day-to-day is finally dawning on me and although I am just next door, I’m largely absent from the storyline except for some bookend reinforcement at 7:00 AM and 7:00 PM. In the intervening hours, I’m at my job and have a limited capacity to support Carly or the kids. Mentally, this dichotomy is draining. As I put my kids to sleep each night, I wonder what they think of Daddy locked away in his office, being so close but yet so much farther away. I feel sad, scared, and angry that I’m not capable of supporting Carly more without jeopardizing my work. I am heartbroken at the end of the day when my wife sarcastically says she is going to quit her job. She is tired, nay exhausted. She is running on caffeine fumes and the unconditional love of a mother. Although a career as a full-time mom is not new to her, the daily stress has been compounded by zero reprieve - her time stolen by COVID-19 and the social distancing norms. No one-on-one time with Linden while Maelle is at school. No adult interactions during playdates. No classes to entertain the kids so she can answer e-mails or make important phone calls. No small talk during a school run or quick shopping trips. Nothing.
The truth is, to my stay-at-home wife, the schedule I described above isn’t extraordinary – it’s just life coloured by social distancing. For myself, I am finally seeing her day-to-day for what it really is. When “normal” life returns and I go back to traveling and being physically absent, I will remember how much it takes to run this household. How Carly is as dedicated to her craft as I am to mine. How my 70+ hour workweeks are just as lengthy and unrelenting as hers. If there has been one positive out of COVID-19, it’s that I truly see what I should have seen all along, and for this I am grateful.
As I put Linden down for bed that same night, I am acutely aware that his sheets have been washed, dried, and his bed has been has been redressed. The bloodstains have been spot-treated and all of his stuffies are set up just how he likes it. When I get ready for bed later, I realize that our bathroom garbage has been emptied, the blood streaks removed, and counters wiped down. And, finally, when I crawl into bed after my own long day I realize that our bedsheets have been laundered as well. Carly has taken care of all of this without a second thought; no salary to match her work and no year-end bonus for going the extra mile. In McKinsey terms - she’s truly Distinctive.
