Photo credit: Kenzie Morgan Photography
As a dad of two young girls, I do so much parenting that sometimes it feels like that's all I ever do.
It starts first thing in the morning. During the school year, we're up at the unreasonable hour of 6 a.m. so my oldest can catch the school bus before the little one heads off to pre-K. In the summers, we get a tad more sleep, but the mornings are still a frantic race to get everyone off to their various activities, sports, and camps.
As the kids have gotten older, our bedtime routine swallows up more of the evening. My 9-year-old often stays up late, which can be really fun when we play games and hang out, but it has started to carve into a time that used to be reserved for my wife and me to relax, spend time together, or catch up on chores — and yes, doing chores sadly sometimes passes for me-time these days.
Then come the weekends — finally, a "break!" A break from work, but also a break from structured childcare. We feed and entertain the kids from dawn 'til dusk and often re-enter the grind on Monday more exhausted than ever.
I love every chaotic moment of being a dad, and I wouldn't trade it. But in all the madness, it's easy to lose sight of who I am on my own.
Simply put, there's just not much time for my own hobbies, time with friends, or many of the things that used to make me me. But that doesn't mean I don't try! There are a few key areas where I've really dug in my heels and refused to let that part of me slip away.
One thing that never fails to invigorate me is time spent with my friends who either don't have kids, or who knew me before I did.
Don't get me wrong; as parents, our little village of other parents who are struggling with the same things we are is critical to our survival and our mental health. But there's something so refreshing about being around people who remind you there's more to life than bowel movements and cartoons, more to talk about than drama at day care and how hard it is to feed picky eaters.
I feel like a different part of me comes alive when I'm around old friends, and I let myself get swept up in nostalgia or fall back into the rhythm of familiar inside jokes. In short, it's pure, easy joy.
It's not always easy to carve out adults-only time with friends, but it's always worth it.
I'm 37 and have no delusions about chasing the elusive six-pack, but exercise still has an important place in my life. It's one of the very few times during the week that's just for me, and while I'm probably more likely to hurt myself than set a new personal record at this stage, the mental benefits are massive.
Of course, there's some vanity to wanting to look my best, but I think it's also about wanting to stay attached to my former self — who would probably be appalled if he knew when the last time was that I bought myself clothes or had a long, relaxing shower.
I spend so much time listening to music with my kids that my own tastes can get swallowed up. There's the obvious stuff that I can't wait to turn off once they're out of the car, like Doc McStuffins jingles (though, I admit, they're catchy).
But then there's Taylor Swift, who we all love. But that's not really my music, it's a shared interest with my girls. I have to proactively remember to put on stuff that's only for me (2000s pop-punk, for the record) with no hope that anyone else in the family will like it (they won't), because it's purely for my own enjoyment.
Hobbies? Most parents I know have forgotten what a hobby is. But I pick them up frequently, even if they usually fall by the wayside quickly. What's important to me is that I keep trying, whether re-downloading that Chess app or dusting off my acoustic guitar.
I usually don't stay interested in the same hobby for long, but I like to give myself permission to pursue one when the itch strikes and the schedule loosens up. I don't feel guilty for wasting time on it or abandoning it once again, either.
I rarely seem to have enough time or mental energy for these things, even though I know they're worthwhile.
And then, of course, most of the solo time I do get often comes at the expense of my wife, who has to work double-time in my absence. I do the same for her so she can go to yoga on the weekends or catch up with friends. These quid pro quos work great, but they make it almost impossible for us to get quality time together. And, crucially, that's probably the most important area of our pre-kid life we want to cling to.
It's so important to both of us that we see each other as more than just "mom" or "dad." That's a battle we're always fighting, but at least we're fighting it together.
I think it's essential to feel like I'm my own person and not just an automaton whose sole mission is to provide meals and entertainment to my children. Doing things just for me makes me a happier human, and being a happier human will — hopefully — make me a better parent in the long run.
