When Your Husband Is "So Hands On."

By Anneliese King/ @shittymomymoments

So here’s the scene: My husband and I went out to dinner with my friends. (Childless friends). I met them in a separate car bc I was coming from work, and he came with the kids. He ordered their dinner, cut up their chicken tenders, and changed Sullivan’s diaper when he pooped halfway through. All while I consumed 2 glasses of pinot grigio and laughed with my girlfriend and her boyfriend. Yes. Emerson sat on my lap at one point. And William was sitting with us chatting. But I was the secondary parent. And I didn’t think all that much of it in the moment. It was just happening. He just ordered for them bc he knew what they wanted, and he just took Sullivan to the bathroom bc he smelled the poop first. No one event by itself is all that significant, but all together, it was him solo parenting. Which is what most moms do in that situation. And it got me thinking: if I had done all of those things during a meal, it would not have got me thinking. It just would have been normal.

So fast forward, he ended up taking our kids home bc they were starting to lose it, and I stayed for a few extra minutes and waited for the check and visited with my friends. When he left, I found myself saying how nice it was to have a partner who is pretty much an equal parent. I also noted that I don’t really have any friends who have this set up: where they could enjoy an entire meal while their husband CEO’d the kids.

I felt the need to say this. Like, wow, isn’t he great?

They both agreed. I mean, they know him well so it’s not a surprise. They see our life together. But I still felt the need to compliment my husband’s help. It felt important to bring attention to the fact that my husband did all of these things for our children, like it was a really big deal. So I mentioned this to my husband later. And he said something along the lines of “yeah I mean I’m a pretty good dad. I know dads who aren’t as hands on as me. I’m definitely a good dad and I want to be a good dad.” And he continued loading the dishwasher. He never said “I think,” or hesitated, he was confident in the fact that he is, and he KNOWS THAT HE IS, a good dad. And it hit me, all of a sudden: HE CAN SAY THAT BECAUSE HES NOT COMPETING AGAINST SUPER DADS. He has so many mediocre examples of dads to think of that he knows he’s above average. WITHOUT A DOUBT. He thinks back to his childhood, where his dad (not mediocre, just traveled for work during the week) and his mom was home doing all of the child rearing. He thinks about dads he knows whose wives are pretty much always the main parents. And, lastly, but most importantly, he thinks about SOCIETY. He thinks about commercials that show moms loving the scent of laundry detergent, or hating mopping until they discover a swiffer. He sees how no one at work or in life has asked him how he is balancing fatherhood and a career. Because no one expects him to. He sees how when he is around other men they aren’t talking about whether or not their child needs speech therapy or is too young to potty train. Because it isn’t on their brains. He’s not competing against Instagram dads who have Pinterest perfect living rooms and are showing their meal prepped organic dinosaur shaped school lunches with the hashtag #lazymomhack.

Moms compete against the best of the best. We know we aren’t momming as hard as some other mom 12 minutes into the day. Thank you social media. But also, thank you societal standards.

Men’s standards? JUST DON’T SUCK. Don’t leave. Don’t ignore your family. Don’t cheat. Don’t make your wife do literally everything. When they don’t do these things, they are LITERALLY CRUSHING IT.

Our standards for ourselves are so much higher. And if you don’t believe me, here’s a little story:

I’ll never forget this pivotal moment in my motherhood. I had one child at the time, he was 2. And Dan took him on a flight alone. He was taking him to his dad’s wedding, and I had a conflicting event so I had to drive up the next day. I was a little worried, as the main parent, sending the two of them on their own. And I was proud of Dan. But I had no idea just how proud everyone else was about to be of him.

The entire week I heard phrases like “omg Dan did so great at the wedding with Will. Will was totally fine!”

“Omg your husband was so sweet with Will yesterday!”

“What a relief it must be for you that he’s so hands on!”

On and on and on. Our whole week. Praising Dan. Now listen. This was a big deal. I was proud of Dan. Neither of us had flown with a toddler before so of course I was proud of him. But these people were EXTRA PROUD.

I suspect no one would have said that to Dan if the roles were reversed. It would have just made sense. It surprised me. And tbh I was pretty irritated at the time. But that isn’t my point. My point is: How eye opening it was for me to realize that the reason my husband is confident in his fatherhood is because he’s the best that he’s seen thus far. He hasn’t scrolled through Instagram to see a dad dadding better than him. He hasn’t seen a commercial that made him feel inadequate. He hasn’t had other dads ask him questions like “but don’t you miss your kids when you are at work?” He hasn’t had anyone make him feel like he should feel so fucking lucky every day bc his wife “is so hands on, that must be such a relief!”

He falls asleep at night. Yes, he gets stressed, but not about whether or not he is completely screwing up his kids. And that’s the danger of the different set of standards. It’s how much we have to question whether or not we are enough. And it’s a part of motherhood I was never prepared for. And it’s dangerous. And we need it to STOP. For all of our mental health.

I’d like to stop comparing myself to what I imagine - no, what is thrown in my face- the pinnacle of motherhood to be, bc I ALWAYS fall short. And it’s unfair that my husband, who yes, I can say with confidence is one of the best dads I’ve ever met, can go through life being perfectly content with how he is as a parent bc society has given him so much kudos.

So next time you feel inadequate, don’t compare yourself to a mom who is only sharing the very best moments on her social media page. Compare yourself to a dad.