It’s time for another Dear Concerned Reader—because you know what happens when one of my articles gets popular on another platform besides my own: all the comedians start coming out. This time it was my “A Dad is Not a Helper or a Babysitter. He’s a Parent.”
So. Enjoy.
“In the grand scheme of parenting this is pettiness. Why would you worry that someone wants to praise your husband for being a good dad and doing what he is supposed to do? So he gets more credit than you…It’s not that big of a deal, lighten up. I think it’d be nice if dad’s that do parent didn’t have to feel shamed into silence about their role for fear of seeming to be too expectant of praise.”
I’m Better Than You
Dear I’m Better Than You: I would like to whine and complain about how I don’t ever get any recognition for all the things I do for my kids, because, after all, I’m inherently selfish and can’t do a single thing—not even lift a finger, if you want the God-honest truth—unless someone notices my efforts. That’s why I wash forty thousand cups every day in the dishwasher, only to have kids complain that they weren’t the RIGHT forty-thousand cups. That’s why I put their school folders where they belong so that the next day they can bemoan the fact that they can’t find them, because they were on the floor last time they checked. That’s why I change diapers and wipe bottoms and clean out noses and cook dinner and wash clothes and read stories, because I want the credit. All I’m really looking for is a little affirmation, a few simple accolades, because I don’t do what I do just because I love. Who does?
Now. Is that really too much to ask?
“As a responsible caring adult of two kids (and very little to no support from my ex) that having kids and doing what you naturally feel is one of the biggest thankless jobs in the world…so just deal with it…you are not getting a pat on the back for it.”
Pessimism Has Always Worked
Dear Pessimism Has Always Worked: I live for pats on the back, so I guess I’ll just…well. Keep living my senseless, purposeless life. No one’s going to pat me on the back. Poor, forgotten me. It’s not fair. Husband goes out places with the kids and doesn’t even have to try for that pat on the back. You know who deserves it more? Me, that’s who.
“So back to the author…do you want some cheese with that whine.”
I’m a Clever Devil
Dear I’m a Clever Devil: Yes, please. I love cheese. Please make it sharp white cheddar. Also, you misspelled the last word. Just thought you should know. I believe the correct term is “cheese and wine.”
Wait. Were you saying something passive aggressive? Did I miss that?
“She sounds very angry to me and I personally find it insulting that she seems to group all dads together as lazy or unhelpful. I work full time and my wife is an at home mom but I take every minute I can get with my little lady so I suggest you keep your essay to yourself because there are a ton of us FATHERS who are exceptional parents.”
Bone to Pick
Dear Bone to Pick: Believe it or not, there is such thing as Reading an Article, which you clearly did not do. So settle down, start at the top and read it all the way through.
“If the writer is this stressed out over child-rearing, she should see if her husband can babysit so she can have a night out.”
Ha Ha I’m So Funny
Dear Ha Ha I’m So Funny: No, you’re not.
“Typical fem-nazi bs, if men were to raise children like women then we would have vaginas, want equal pay, get away from answering phones and build a skyscraper or a bridge, are there some women worthy of equal pay yes there are, but 90 percent want equal pay for doing nothing which is why we laugh at you and yes when your husband is working all day while your sitting on fb or the phone, your job is to watch the kids cook and keep the house clean, his job is to climb said building everyday for your ungrateful asses, and you wonder why your kids dads are not around. But of course you will have men who stick up for this sort of behavior they are called ‘Pussies’.” (stet, to all of it)
Anti-Feminist
Dear Anti-Feminist: Wow. Rage much? Yeah, so I guess you could call me a feminist, because feminism isn’t what all you anti-feminists make it out to be (not even close to evil—it’s just about equal rights). Some men understand that. Some men, present company included, clearly don’t. I feel sorry for you.
That said, there is this neat little mind-blowing concept called Working Outside the Home. Most of the women I know choose to do it, which means they are not, in fact, sitting at home on Facebook or on the phone or not working their tails off around the house. But thank you for confirming that I sure am glad my husband is the father of my six boys and not someone like you. God help the world.
“Probably written by a woman sitting at home typing on her computer in her robe already worrying about making sure her husband can’t sit down when he gets home until 10PM because she’s had such a hard day socializing and taking care of those children for the 2 hours between school getting out and dad getting home. ‘Oh sorry honey I couldn’t do dishes or laundry in the 6 hours the kids were at school so you watch them while I sit here and pretend to fold laundry while playing on social media.'”
I Make Great Assumptions
Dear I Make Great Assumptions. You sure do. You totally nailed it, because here I am, sitting in my robe, playing on my computer (mostly Facebook), scribbling down the honey-do list for Husband when he gets home (oh, wait. He works from home. So…I guess when he’s done with his workday?) so he can’t sit down for a single minute (he’ll thank me later) and I can go out with the ladies. You know, adult interaction. I’ve been sitting alone in the house all day (SO BORING!). A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do, right? Here, honey. You take the kids. Thanks! Don’t wait up.
You missed one thing, though. Before I leave to go out with the girls, I usually sit in the car and pretend to be doing something really important on my phone when I’m really typing out a nasty comment to an essay I didn’t even read. So maybe you’re not as great at assumptions as you might think.
“There are plenty of men out there that do everything for their kids. You picked him now stop bitching and take a little responsibility for your own actions.”
I Don’t Know How to Read
Dear I Don’t Know How to Read: I’m sorry you don’t know how to read. I have some great resources for mastering this important skill, if you’re interested. The first is a pamphlet called “How to Read the Entire Thing.” I think you’d like it.
“Wasn’t aware men were put on pedestals, but it is a fine idea. I’ll want a pedestal to stay above the whiny din of those that liked this ‘article.’”
Witty Guy
Dear Witty Guy: May I please build your pedestal? Watch your step, now.
“No… Dad babysits while mom takes a shower or cooks dinner. I love him but he doesn’t have a clue what he’s doing. Lol. When my hubby can lactate and feed our baby at 3AM from his body so it not only fills her tummy but fills her heart, I’ll change my opinion. Until then. It’s a mom’s world; stop trying to act like a man can fill my shoes.”
Part of the Problem
Dear Part of the Problem: Dad doesn’t babysit. Maybe your husband really does know what he’s doing. Maybe he doesn’t feel the need to, because you don’t trust him to take care of things the way you’d take care of them. Maybe he just needs the chance. I bet he could figure it out. I hope it’s not a mom’s world. I don’t want to live in a mom’s world, because I want to be more than just a mom, so I’ll let Husband fill my shoes any day. He can do it just as well as I can.
“I stopped reading before the end of the first paragraph.”
Sometimes I Get Ideas
Dear Sometimes I Get Ideas: Welp. There’s 99 percent of your problem.
“It would be nice to live in a world where women quit bitching about shit.”
It’s a Mad World
Dear It’s a Mad World: Well, THAT’S never going to happen. You’ll never live in a world without women bitching because you’ll never live in a world without women. In the words of Meredith Brooks: “I’m a bitch, I’m a lover, I’m a child, I’m a mother…”
“Someone’s tired.”
I Tell the Truth
Dear I Tell the Truth: I am. I’m so tired.
“Get over yourself.”
I Heart Myself
Dear I Heart Myself: Meh. I’d rather not.
“What’s next, a piece to educate women about their proper role vis a vis burned out light bulbs?”
In Vague
Dear In Vague: I don’t even know what this means. Women’s role facing burned out lights? All I know is I change them when they’re out.
Here’s a little secret: Sometimes we appear more intelligent when we speak in simpler sentences.
“Well Rachael and hubby, good luck with the double-parent burnout. Why are people so ashamed to be a stay-at-home Mom and working Dad couple these days? Do what works best for you but I would bet the husband only goes along with it because the wife will leave if he doesn’t.”
What’s Your Name Again?
Dear What’s Your Name Again: Hey, man, my name is right there. It’s RIGHT THERE. R-A-C-H-E-L. You added an A. That’s, like, my pet peeve from my school days. And it was right there. You didn’t even look.
Anyway. Sorry I discredited you there for a minute. I spent a decade in journalism, and misspelled names were the mark of lazy reporting. Now that we’re past that, you’re right. I don’t know how you people know exactly what happens in my house, but it’s astounding how much you know just from an article I wrote on a whim. Husband is on a leash (and it’s a pretty short one). The only reason he stays married to me is because he’s terrified I’ll leave and his whole life will be over (you should see me in yoga pants. You’d understand). Because that’s the healthiest way to live in a good, long-lasting marriage. Isn’t it?
Thanks for commenting! If you have any personal issues with any of my answers, please email idontcare@babymakingfactory.com.
See you next time I write an article about my big family or…anything!
