Don’t treat me like the default parent

Ever since my husband and I welcomed our daughter into the world, I’ve been talking about my role as the “default parent.” I actually coined the phrase at home before realizing it was an actual thing.

Early on I’d have to plan ahead for an evening out {I was still nursing/pumping} and we’d joke that my husband was “babysitting” that night. As both of our responsibilities grew at home and at work, the babysitting comment became less funny.

To me, it was frustrating to have to coordinate with his schedule to make sure he was available to watch our child when he seemed to come and go as he pleased.

And to my husband it was condescending, as if he wasn’t worthy of the same parent title I held {which is ridiculous and untrue}.

So how did I become the default? Is it because I chose to breastfeed and was immediately – and physically – tied to my children since birth? Is it because I’m the planner in the family and coordinate everything from doctors appointments to holidays? Or is it simply because I’m the mom?

I have no doubt that there are a handful of daddy-defaults out there. But I’m also willing to bet that the majority of the time the default parent is the same person who carried around that sweet babe for 9 months in her uterus, regardless of what her story is afterwards.

Just yesterday I had an eye opening experience with my children’s preschool. Now that my work-week is a bit condensed so that I can spend more time with our tiny tots at home, I take those working days very seriously. I typically do not answer my phone and have even nearly forgotten to eat lunch {gasp!} because I was so focused on what I needed to get done.

Around 2 p.m. I heard my phone go off in the kitchen, but figured it was likely A. a sales person reminding me for the 3,000 time that the deadline is approaching for health insurance through the exchange, or B. my husband. I decided that both could wait until I left the house an hour later for carpool line.

Around 2:45 I popped up to freshen my water and glanced at my phone. Crap.

It was the preschool calling to say that poor Henry had woken up from his nap with a high fever and needed to be picked up as soon as possible. I immediately grabbed my keys and headed to the garage.

Before calling the school to let them know I was on my way with my parent-of-the-year award, I called my husband to make sure he wasn’t heading that way already, too. As it turns out, the school didn’t call him. Or either grandparent listed as a family contact. Just mom. The default.

For some reason, this made me really, really frustrated. The school is well aware that I’m a working parent. They request that information on all of the paperwork. So why did they assume I was the only one available to pick up my son in the middle of the day? {Disclaimer: we are very happy at our kids’ school and do not hold them accountable for relying on the default.}

At home, I’ve come to terms with the fact that I will likely always be the one in charge of our children’s whereabouts, school paperwork, appointments and activities unless otherwise communicated with dad. And let me be clear that this isn’t because my husband wouldn’t be capable of doing so if he’d been coined the default, because he would totally rock it. Just like he rocks trash day, making breakfast every morning, reading books with my daughter every night and a million other things he does for our family.

When it comes to the bigger picture, however, I think it’s time for others to stop relying on the default. In a world where women comprise 50% of the workforce and nearly 3 out of every 4 moms are working outside of the home, maybe we could start calling dad on sick days.

 

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