Last week, I returned to my job at CBC Vancouver for the first time in over 15 months. I took a full paternity leave to spend time with my now one-year-old daughter and my three-year-old son. Yes, I know it’s a period of my life that I’ll look back upon and cherish. But, man, it was hard work, and I learned a lot. Allow me to share.
If you’ve ever heard me on CBC Radio, you’ll know I’ve spent the last 18 years or so talking up Canada’s hottest new bands. Being on paternity leave made me realize there are a lot of similarities between looking after tiny children and talking to bands every day. I spend a lot of time looking at disheveled people in stained clothing, repeatedly asking them when they think they’re going to have something coming out. There’s also all the grunting and unintelligible half-sentences (and those are just my questions).
Very late at night, during my paternity leave, I also finished my new book, which is about my old band. Writing the book made me realize that being in a touring rock ’n’ roll band inadvertently prepared me to be a parent: Sleepless nights, tantrums, barf, and the shitting of pants are really nothing new for me.
In the first few months of my parental leave, I spent most of my time with my three-year-old son, Josh, while my newborn daughter clung closely to my wife. Josh and I did everything together, while I observed him doing his very best to master the English language. He still gets confused occasionally, like when he loudly mixes up the words “lasagna” and “vagina.” That can make for some awkward moments at the Old Spaghetti Factory.
When Josh wasn’t by my side, he was at his daycare. Even then, on some days I would prolong my drop-off or pick-up just to hang out with him and the other kids, because when else would I have the time? One day, the teachers were asking all the kids about their favourite food. Josh proudly looked up at me, pointed, and blared out, “MY DAD LOVES BEER AND PILLS!” The teachers glared at me while I suddenly felt like Daycare Johnny Cash. They’re probiotics, people! Sheesh!
Nearing the end of a long parental leave, cash can get pretty tight. In my case, that meant I would wander around the house in nothing but my boxer shorts and a Mac jacket, not having showered in days, looking for stuff to sell on Craigslist. (Word to the wise: Three-year-olds are terrible wingmen when someone comes over to buy something from your ad. “But Dad – wait! You said that was so broken!”)
But if there’s one lesson I’ve learned above all others over the past 15 months, it’s this: Going to work is actually the break. That’s right – it’s staying at home and parenting your child that’s the hard part. What I really gleaned was a newfound and massive respect for stay-at-home parents. It’s beyond any other full-time job, because it’s not about you, it’s about them. And one more poopy nappy.
