On Friday I spent my first ever full day as a stay-at-home father. It was rather overwhelming. The daughter is now at an age where she’s learnt to both sit and crawl, and wants to try stand up holding whatever support she can find. And on that very day, she found a fascination for sockets, which are at floor level in our house.
So the morning was spent just making sure she wasn’t trying to reach out into a socket (and one of them is right next to the heater), or hurting herself in other ways. Putting her in the middle of her toys didn’t help – those toys, it seems, aren’t half as interesting as the kitchen floor or the sockets. And so I kept running.
Presently it was time for her breakfast. There’s this Heinz porridge we’ve found which she doesn’t seem to mind, and I tried feeding her that. Midway through her breakfast, she refused to open her mouth, and started crying. It was time for her to sleep, I figured, and put her on my chest. She was soon snoring.
That one time, it wasn’t much of a challenge to transfer her from my chest to her crib (it’s usually an issue, and she cries as soon as I move her away from me). And that little time she slept gave me an opportunity to shit, shower, shave and have my breakfast. Presently she woke up, presenting that cute smile of hers, and it was running all over again.
The second third of the day was the hardest. She was sleepy, and I was supposed to make formula milk for her! And making formula milk is a real bitch, in terms of cleaning the bottles, heating water to the right temperature, etc. I somehow managed it with the background noise of a screaming baby. And then she drank and slept. I was only halfway through making my lunch when she woke up crying (I ultimately ate some old rice with curd for my lunch).
There were many points of time during the day I almost gave up, except that there was no bailout – the wife was far away at work in meetings. I cried a couple of times when the daughter wouldn’t sleep. I sometimes screamed back when she screamed. I nearly went mad.
And then, in the final third, she became normal once again. She’d rediscovered her toys, and sat in the middle of them, playing. She banged out some jazz tunes on the ancient keyboard we’ve set up on the floor for her. And she felt so happy when I carried her on my shoulders, and demanded that I do it, again, and again, and again!
Finally the wife returned early from work to provide me a bailout, and then cooked dinner for me, and asked me to go out, in order to compensate me for the troubles during the day!
Suddenly, after that day, my respect for the wife shot up, for having taken care of the daughter mostly by herself for the first five months. My contention back then was that she was on “maternity leave” (though she was yet to start work, and though she was running Marriage Broker Auntie then), so it should be okay for her to take care of the baby. My contention had also been that since it was relatively easy for her to feed the baby (no need to prep bottles, heat water, mix formula, etc.), and comfort her, it was okay to take care of the baby alone.
One day of house-husbanding, however, has changed my perspective on this. Babies demand a LOT of attention, and the only way you can do this job well is if you completely give up on doing anything all all of your own in that time (including cooking or eating your meals). And it can be bloody exhausting – though it’s possible that with experience you learn to manage things!
So yes, massive respect now for the wife for having taken care of the baby all by herself for the first five months, when I’d be mostly out either working or meeting people or other such stuff! She is awesome!