I was talking to my sister, a SAHM. She was excited because she knows a SAHD now just like her big brother. She says he’s a great guy and the kids seem to get along really well. She said she was about to give him her number so that they could do some playdates together but then stopped. She said that she felt that the wife of the SAHD might consider this a little, um, wierd. So she didn’t. She was calling me for advice.
I was pondering this as I was once again rocking the play place solo. You know the place. Some bounce houses, bad pizza, some paint to ruin clothes, and lots of stay at home moms and nannies.
I thought maybe I should ask one of them about my sisters situation. But of course, to do that I would have to be acknowledged which is a bit difficult as many of us know. 20 women with kids and 1 stay at home dad. The ratio is a bit off unless it is a frat party with the theme of “MILF Night.”
I run into this the same as everyone else and even after 3 years I still find it difficult to start a conversation with a group of stay at home moms.
You all know the way it goes. The kids play together and you smile at the mom. You might make some witty comment which is a really a plea for “DEAR GOD I NEED ADULT INTERACTION!” But most times it goes no where. They smile and perhaps give me a chuckle before finding something else to distract them. With kids that’s not hard. I might even get some eye contact from time to time.
I know what’s going on. They are making the assumption that since I am a dad at a play place in the middle of the day that I must be some kind of weirdo. That I should be at work with all the other productive dads. But of course, I must be unemployable, accepting disabilty checks while I smoke piles and piles of Meth.
I do not know if Meth comes in piles. Perhaps it’s sold in Costco like boxes in bulk. I should find a drug dealer and ask him.
This is the part of our life that I’ve always had a hard time accepting. The assumption that something is defective with me because I stay home with the kids. Honestly, half the time I don’t know what to do about it and I’m not sure what to advise my sister. And besides, I only do Meth on the weekends when my wife can pick up the slack.
But today I’m going to make assumptions myself. I am assuming that most moms won’t talk to me at places like this because I am one handsome chunk of man meat. No my brothers, it does not come easy. Do you know how many hours of not working out it took to get my gut? And the hair? It’s not like it fell out all on it’s own. Nope. That took years of cussing genetics to jinx myself. That, my friends, is dedication. I understand if few of you can share in my level of will power. This must be the cause since I find it so difficult to break into the mom pack at times like this.
But then I remember my sister and her attitude. She WANTED to talk to the dad and invite him for a playdate. She wanted the conversation the same as I did. She wanted the interaction.
And because of this, I realize that the real assumptions that are being made are on my part, not the SAHM. I’m the one being stand offish. Quite simply, I have bought into my own wierdness. I’m guessing that I will find more SAHM’s like my sister than the other way around. Let’s be honest here, Mom’s are awesome. It’s me that needs to get over myself, not the other way around.
I call my sister and tell her to invite the guy over for a playdate. I know my wife wouldn’t think it weird and would love for me to have the interaction. My last assumption is that this wife will be the same as mine.
But through it all, there is one constant though:
I am still a beatiful piece of Maness.
And I don’t do Meth on weekdays.