In Defense of Dads

Last night we watched the first episode of a new show on NBC called, “The Baby Borrowers.” In case you haven’t heard of it, it’s – wait for it – yet another reality show. Wow, big surprise. But the premise is actually kind of cool. They take five teenage couples. All of them think they’re ready for parenthood and they’re like wanting to have a baby now. (That should clue you in on the serious brain damage they already possess.)

So what they do is take these five couples and give them each a house on a cul-de-sac. They’ve never lived together before, so the first couple of days are a new experience just getting along together. Then they introduce – dun, dun, dun – the babies. They each get a real baby for a few days. (The babies’ parents are in another house watching it all on closed-circuit TV in case the teenagers freak out or something.) In future episodes, they will get to try their hands at parenting pre-teens, teenagers, and finally taking care of senior citizens. The tag line for this show is, “It’s not TV, it’s birth control.” Funny.

Of course it’s hilarious to sit and watch these kids totally freak out and be completely overwhelmed, but I started to notice a trend. It seems that the girls were the ones freaking out and the boys were being responsible. That’s roughly 180 degrees from what I expected. I figured the boys would just want to play video games or watch TV and the girls would jump in. But four of the five acted like spoiled little princesses.

Here’s an example. The girls were supposed to wear a “pregnant suit” all day before the babies arrived while the couples attended parenting classes. Most of the girls took it in stride and had fun with it. One of them, a preppy little brat from Georgia, threw a big fit and said she would never wear that suit because it made her look fat. I got news for ya, little Georgia peach, when you’re really pregnant, you’re not gonna be playing tennis all day and you’re gonna look fat for a lot longer than one day!

After some back and forth, she decided that she wasn’t going to go to the classes at all, and locked herself in the bathroom. What did the boy do? He left and went to the classes alone. He was late because of trying to get her to go, but he took responsibility and did it. He even put on the pregnant suit himself.

When the class was over, they all went home and found that there were a lot of baby supplies and some baby furniture that needed to be assembled. Boy, that brought back memories of assembling a crib, high chair, swing, playpen, and about 20,000 other “essentials” for the baby. All I heard from the girls was, “Oh, but I wanted to lay down and take a nap.” Fine, go for it. The boys didn’t whine and complain, they just got down to business.

Once the babies came, the boys went out grocery shopping while the girls stayed with the babies. OK, not exactly the Lewis and Clark expedition, but they were contributing. They changed diapers, took turns feeding, and sterilized bottles when the bratty princesses didn’t want to break a nail. I was very impressed with all the boys, and very unimpressed with nearly all the girls. I hope they get a clue and grow up fast.

It made me think about my own experience as a new parent. I had no experience with babies at all. I had never held a baby, fed a baby, or changed a diaper at all. There’s a picture of me holding my son in the nursery just after he was born. That picture signifies the first time I ever held a baby. And yes, I was scared to death. I was convinced that this delicate little thing was going to disintegrate in my hands if I breathed on it.

But I figured it out. I learned to put alcohol on the cord and lotion on the circumcision, not the other way around. Ooh, that would have been painful! I learned how to change a diaper, and eventually had it down to a science. I could change a diaper in less than 30 seconds, including powder and/or lotion. I learned to tell the difference between cries. “I’m hungry” is different from “I need to be changed” and “If I don’t burp I’m going to explode.”

I was the primary caregiver for both my son and my daughter, a purely financial arrangement. She made more money, so I made the adjustment. I would do it again in a heartbeat. Not to brag, but I think I was damn good at it, too. So why the knock on Dads?

I can’t tell you how many times I would be pushing the stroller to the park, and someone (a Mom, of course) would say, “Oh, are you babysitting today?” No, I’m not babysitting, these are my children and I’m taking care of them like I do every day. Besides, babysitters generally get paid. Do I have to do your job for you, too, or are you going to pull that dirt clod out of your baby’s mouth?

One time, at playgroup, was the worst. We were living overseas because my wife worked for the government. It allowed me to stay home full time with my son, and later, my daughter. My son and I were at playgroup with a room full of military wives. (If there’s a ruder, more condescending group of cackling hens on Earth, I haven’t seen them.) But I digress.

Anyway, my son and I were off playing by ourselves in the corner, as usual, because the other children had been instructed to ignore us. (I know, the whole point of playgroup was for him to interact with other children. Don’t tell me, tell them.) There was a new Mom in the group, and the other Moms were talking to her, when I clearly heard her say, “How can he call himself a man, when he lets his wife support him?” I stood up and walked right over to her. I said, “I was man enough to father this child.” Then I looked behind her. “How can you call yourself a mother when you let your baby climb that bookshelf?” She turned and screamed. Her baby was fine, no harm was done, except to my ego. That was the last session at playgroup for us.

This stereotype has gone on long enough. Men are just as good at parenting as women. Just because I didn’t give birth to them doesn’t mean I can’t take care of them. They’re happy, healthy, and smart. They’re well adjusted and polite. I couldn’t ask for better kids, and I would stack them up against any of the brats in that playgroup. Just remember that the next time you ask a father if he’s “babysitting.” He can probably change a diaper faster and better than you, and I’d feel safer putting the baby down in the crib he assembled.