Grasshopper New Media Presents...

Ever since I became a father, I’ve been the primary care-giver for my children, as well as the primary domestic engineer. My wife is happy to do housework, but she is far more capable of bringing home the bacon. This is perfect for me, as I happen to love what I do for my family: I love raising the kids, I love taking care of the house, I love solving home-based problems (especially the “We’re only available on the phone during normal business hours” problems - my wife is *way* too busy at work to deal with that stuff), all of it. I even find joy with certain basic domestic tasks, such as laundry, as it makes me smile knowing that I’m providing clean, comfortable, soft clothes for my loved ones.

This is why, when people ask what I do for a living, I say that I am a housewife. Most adults get it immediately, some need a walk-through of the definition of societal labels and such. I’m proud to call myself a housewife - especially as my bride is such a traditional husband: She works all day at an unbelievably difficult job, and when she comes home, she’s really just too tired to help out with much. And I don’t resent it one bit (out of a normal 40-hour work week, my wife spends approximately 32 of them in meetings, so she has to work an extra 10 to 20 hours a week to play catch-up). She has my deepest respect - if it was me, I would have quit years ago.

So if that means that I have to do the laundry and the grocery shopping and the house-cleaning and the bill-paying and the drop-off/pick-up of the dry cleaning and the rest, I am more than happy to do it.

But the best part is the child-care. There’s nothing that compares to being at home when the kids come back from a tough day at school. To provide them with a smile and an honestly caring “How was your day?” and a snack, to help with their homework, to clean and dress their scraped knees, to chase and capture (and release) a spider, to take their bikes to the shop, to just be there when they need me - nothing in the world brings me such joy.

So, therefore, at our house, my kids celebrate Mother’s Day with *me* - Awesome! Certainly they also celebrate it with their mother, but they provide for me on that special day. They get me comic books instead of flowers, they get me CDs instead of bath salts, they get me a new frying pan instead of a spa day… Well, you get the picture.

Being a “Mom” to my kids and a “Wife” to my “Husband” is everything I could want. I appreciate that some folks might blanch when I use these terms, but they are very real and very appropriate. These words are my chosen labels - They are who I *am* - They define my very soul.

So, to all of you men and women who take your parenting earnestly, I salute you and wish you joy. As my mother said to me, “Every day is Mother’s Day.”

by Stu Mark

Photo graciously provided by Nikonrobin, through a Creative Commons license, some rights reserved