SAHD. Stay At Home Dad. You’ve heard of it, but it’s rare. That’s what my husband is. It was a decision we made when we sold our house and moved from the Mid-West to the Front Range (is that what it’s called here in Denver?). We moved for my job, for my career and maybe a little for the weather. My husband is a teacher by trade. Hypothetically a job that one can do anywhere, for any school district, for any kids. His experience is with minority groups at schools where people live with a lot less than you and I do. Moving in the middle of the school year with two pre-school aged children means his career is on hold until they're in school or daycare. Five days a week he cooks dinner and braves the grocery store with two almost, but not quite, four year old boys who have so much energy I believe they could power our entire apartment building. And yep, he’s still a man. He washes my clothes and knows that bras don’t go in the drier. A loving, smart, handsome hetero-normative man who sometimes wears nail polish because you don’t tell a 4-year old boy who does and doesn’t wear nail polish.
And me? I work in marketing. I write copy and take pictures and manage calendars, and follow up with Accounts Payable because someone wanted me to do that for their company. I work after my children go to sleep and I check work first thing when I get out of bed. I work hard, I get paid well and I love what I do. The breadwinner of our household has a vagina. Big. Fucking. Deal.
It's a sad state of affairs when we have to suggest to people that we #ShareTheLoad. Please don't think that because the following is made for a certain market that this doesn't apply to people that surround you. As for me, I'll continue to work hard to make sure I occasionally take out the garbage and fold the kids clothes, because I am oh so lucky to have a SAHD as a husband.