Waving Sadly and Yet Joyfully Goodbye

This blog is dedicated to all of you stay-at-home parents. I now COMPLETELY understand your contribution to our youth and society. And I sincerely thank you!

A Little Backstory

My wife started back to work full-time in January of this year. After admirably serving seven years in the trenches of child warfare on the not-so-tropical resort island known as Imagonna Pullmyhairout, she joined the ranks of the millions who deserve to be awarded a “Stay-at-home Mom” Medal of Honor. What her updated resume didn’t share with her new employer, however, was her innovative abundance of life experience which now included countless warp speed diaper changes, an engineering certificate in quantum laundry theory and endless hours serving as a Tim Gunn inspired fashion consultant, taxi driver, tutor and chief cook and bottle washer to our sometimes somewhat evil progeny. She finally was able to escape from the often socially isolated rat race that comes with being the stay-home parent. The whole family was and still is proud of “Mom” for making this move.

With a nonconventional not so 9 to 5 job as a tenured professor, however, we decided that I (the guy with a little more flexibility during the work day) would pick up the majority of extra daytime responsibilities that come with being parents of two active kids (one now starting second grade and one starting 8th grade). Given my son likes to make believe on occasion that I am possibly Indiana Jones and only work part-time as a teacher aka professor, this decision made complete logical sense at the time to the first-grader in the household. I will admit, however, that my daughter, wife and myself had our doubts. But after a successful probationary test period of employment as Professor Mr. Mom, the discussions then turned to how I could possibly handle a more labor intensive parenting experience in the coming months, given I have summers “off.”

Honestly, though demanding and time consuming, I found the new daytime parenting expectations during the late winter and spring to not be as painful or exhausting as I suspected it would be. In fact, I enjoyed it. I enjoyed helping my son navigate a few developmental milestones, which included— I might add—finally learning to tie one’s shoes with cool looking double knots. I embraced spending more quality time with my kids, which was long overdue, and looked forward to walking them to and from the bus stop. I was even prepared for when they came home. My wife had a good routine already in place where they would relax for a while after school with a snack and a little screen time, but then move on to either attending their sports’ practices or tackling the mountain of daily common core homework. Basically, I had the opportunity to learn a lot more about my kids as well as what my wife had experienced for years on end. Most of all, my kids were finally receiving what nearly every child needs more of in our society, more quality dad time.

Miraculously when this daddy daycare gig started, I was able to manage my research, teaching and consulting demands as a psychologist, and somehow stay a little in front of my never ending to do list. “I got this,” I remember assuring myself with a soft internal whisper during a few moments of doubt. As it turns out, however, I was probably suffering from a slight case of Delusional Disorder.

Reality Set In

With the end of the school year fast approaching, we made the final decision that I would take care of the kids for the three months of summer during the day, and we would not look for extra help. No biggie right? I was large and in charge, and our kids were growing more independent on a daily basis. I remember confidently walking down the driveway that last day of school in the month of May singing with a tone of excitement “School’s… out… for… summer”; thanks Alice Cooper. About a week or so after school let out, however, my confidence began to digress as the magic of being with their sibling 24/7 began to wane and yet loudly sound more like a constant earpiercing whine. Sadly, the summer break honeymoon had already started its tumultuous decline. Day by day, and then hour by hour, I began to second guess as to “what the bleep” I was thinking when agreeing to be Professor Mr. Mom.

As the classic Michael Keaton movie portrayed the Mr. Mom role, I imagined it would be frustrating at first but fun at times, and fine in the end. I could invite some fellow Mr. Moms and neighbors over and play cards daily as the kids ransacked the basement play area or ran around outside like feral creatures. But my experience did not follow such a joyous Hollywood script. Getting together with friends and other families, or trading daycare duties (e.g., “You take my kids for a day Dennis and I will take your kids for a day.”), apparently was not going to happen. Whenever my kids called their friends for a “play date”, everyone else often had plans already, someone was sick, day camps were in session or vacations were underway. And when they called us, it was much of the same, scheduling challenges.

Also, it did not help matters that this summer was one of the heaviest consulting summers I have ever experienced, and I had three research grant proposals to write with rather short deadlines. It didn’t help that here in the Midwest it rained for more consecutive days than Noah could have prepared for, and as a result my kids began to chant the dreaded mantra “We’re bored… there’s nothing to do!” Sadly, my stumbles along this part of the parent learning curve lead to putting the TV in charge as the babysitter. I will admit with some shame they watched the classic movie Napoleon Dynamite and a few other choice films a few too many times. Which then lead to Napoleon Dynamite-like responses when I asked them at breakfast what they had planned for the day such as “Whatever I feel like I wanna do… gosh!” It was a summer of classic one liner exchanges from an assortment of semi-PG movies that I suspect most Moms would never allow and yet my kids will never forget.

There is something else you should know. Similar to nearly every other boy his age, my seven-year-old son apparently has a built-in internal vibration system. After a summer of close observation, I am convinced there is a motor inside young boys that does not allow them to sit still for very long without moving. Like most living creatures confined in a small indoor environment, when such internal mechanisms are left unattended to, it can lead to displaying involuntary movements similar to a whirling dervish. As a critic or expert if you will on ADHD, I noticed these signs at an early stage luckily, and began efforts to keep him from becoming the next poster child for the American Psychiatric Association. Drugs are bad, m’kay.

Meanwhile, even our large White German Shepard, who sometimes comes to the name of “Jack,” began to twirl, chase and snap at his tail endlessly while our slightly more sedated Rottweiler Bloodhound mix (aka Appalachian Pounddog) looked at him with bewilderment. Even our sweet intelligent daughter, with her babysitting certification in hand and her social circle of friends just an infinite series of texts away, digressed briefly into the world of “OMG it’s LOL funny to tease my brother constantly” (aka #youshouldhearmyDadsighinginthenextroom).

My children, dogs and the house were vibrating and whirling out of control. I could feel my mind being sucked in by the gravitational pull the chaos had created. All I could hear was a buzzing-like, irritating white noise augmented by an eerie Pink Floyd like recording of constant conflicted childish chatter emanating in the background. If the CIA turned this noise into a recorded loop track, I am confident it could semi-humanely torture terrorists into submission. I was reminded that the hardest job in the world is not out there in the “real world”. The hardest job is being an effective, caring and responsible stay at home parent. And as if the psychological toll my mind, body and soul were feeling was not enough, then reality exposed its little ugly head.

Summer was just starting. I still had more than two months left of this duty, yes I said doodee. Obviously, I needed to step up my game if I, my kids and now my overworked wife were to survive the summer mentally and physically.

This Too Shall Pass… Right? Please God?

Without admitting such desperate feelings of panic, concern and guilt to my wife, I made the executive corporate decision that all would be better if I could work with the mental acuity and speed of a Stephen Hawking like Academic Superman, and somehow fit my eight hours of daily work into four hours. I also decided it was time for my kids to learn how to cook or at least make their own sandwiches and prepare their own cereal, because this would theoretically save me at least 60 minutes a day. These somewhat flawed ideas paid off for a short while.

But after working faster and delegating responsibility for a week, I then discovered that such efforts eventually lead daily to many additional hours of doing dishes and cleaning counters, as well as ridding the house of a plethora of mysteriously appearing debris consisting of dog fur, plates, cups, far too many napkins and tissues, toys, balls, bicycles, socks, pajamas, underwear and those pesky flying couch pillows. I then decided it was time for my kids to once again start truly earning their allowance, and reinforced the “cleanup your own mess” law so that the weekly chores they were paid to do were actually completed. A novel idea, right? I also gave them a short lesson in Government and explained what a dictatorship resembled, and the price the citizens pay if they do not follow the demands of the dictator.

Like most dictatorships, however, my reign only worked for a short while as well, and then a rebellion began to incubate. I felt like I was watching a modern day non-animated reenactment of Animal Farm. I could see the revolution coming. In desperation one evening, I came clean with my wife and warned her of the impending doom. We quickly devised a plan for an island get away for the week after the 4th of July. The logic was that this short respite would help us, ok… help the kids and mainly me, get through this survival test which I am fairly sure that even Bear Grylls would fail miserably. It helped… for a short while. The anticipation of the vacation served as an essential carrot to dangle for several weeks. Plus it made the kids feel like summer vacation actually included a vacation. They got out of town. They played on the beach and swam in the pool for days on end. We saw sharks and ate dessert twice a day. All was good again… for a short while.

But luckily, with some good advice and therapy from my wife during vacation, I was better prepared this time. Before the kids could fall back into the all-consuming vortex of the whirling dervish cyclone, I pulled out the packet of “Brain Games” the school sent home for my son to work on. Much to my astonishment, he actually liked the activities and it kept him practicing his math and reading for hours on end. I took my daughter to the library and pleaded with her to find a book to read this summer.

“A Book?” she asked begrudgingly.

“Yes a book, you know, those things people used to read prior to Pinterest and Instagram when smartphone-less children lived in little houses on the prairie,” I replied with ample sarcasm.

I encouraged them to use the Video Star app on big sister’s smartphone, and become Hollywood directors and actors. And they did make some pretty cool videos. With the daily Midwest monsoons subsiding, we also started our own soccer camp in the backyard and spent an hour or two doing conditioning and drills outside every day. I even put a basketball hoop in the driveway. We took excursions to the zoo and an occasional indulgent trip to the buffet in Amish country. We went on hikes, walks and watched funny movies together. I will admit that I didn’t get in the normal amount of golfing, fishing or work I usually accomplish during the summer, but we stayed busy, structured our days, and found a way to endure and enjoy each other’s company. Together we weathered the storm, and grew as a family.

What I Learned

First and foremost, I learned that if your spouse is a stay home parent, you should thank them immensely today for their efforts to salvage a sliver of sanity in your home. It should go without saying that being the bread winner also is very hard, and comes with a comparable amount of stress. But in many ways it does not even compare to the workload and demands of a Stay at Home Mom or Mr. Mom!

I learned how hard it actually is to try being that go-to parent. I have researched, evaluated and taught the subjects of child development and educational psychology for many years. I have lectured and wrote journal articles and books about the importance of structure and providing children with a wide variety of support resources and rich diverse experiences. The research in child development and educational psychology is spot on, and holds much more promise for helping kids socially, emotionally and behaviorally than any of the methodologically flawed clinical studies on the effectiveness of drug therapy. But I also learned or realized this summer, however, that knowing what to do when it comes to such research, and actually putting such research to work and accomplishing what we need to do as parents, is in the words of President George W. Bush, “… hard work!”

What the textbooks and peer-reviewed studies don’t always mention is how to actually accomplish providing the sensory, support and structure kids need. They don’t take into account the weather challenges, the other day to day demands parents encounter, juggling multiple kids’ personalities, and how to afford the expenses, time and other resources required to be that Mr. Mom, Kool-Aid Mom, or even Nanny McPhee. And trust me, I wished for Ms. McPhee several times this summer. Unfortunately, no ladies with a hairy facial mole or crooked tooth ever knocked on my front door. Well, I guess one did, but she just kindly handed me a flyer on Jesus and quickly left. I think she heard my kids screaming inside the house, the dogs barking and chomping at their tails, and the desperate look in my eye that cried “rescue me, please.” I think the short visit might have triggered an unhealthy flashback to her previous life as a Stay at Home Mom. “Vaya con dios” I mumbled softly as she fled to the safety of her idling car in my driveway.

I have stated in my writings on many occasion, I am not a perfect parent nor are my children perfect. The reflections I have shared with you today, that might cross the line of TMI, serve as ample evidence of such claims. Our kids are wonderful to us, our family and many who know them, but they are not perfect. They are unique individuals that we encourage daily to just be themselves as they navigate this thing we call life. But we also tell them to never settle for normal or average; aim for something higher or different. I guess perfection is also a good goal, but probably a delusional outcome for 99% of us as parents and for our kids. But this does not mean we should throw in the flag and give up.

This summer I came to the conclusion that parenting is similar to seeking a healthy body, aka buff-ness or that goal the Special K cereal folks have pushed ladies to achieve that I have coined as short black dress braveness. We can try to reflect the photo-shopped, steroid or hormone augmented bodies we see in the magazines, on TV and those pop-up ads on the Internet, but with father time not on our side we probably will not reach such goals.

But even trying to get there is better than just letting our bodies and health go to the wayside. Like our health, we can’t just give up on our kids or ourselves as parents in training. We cannot let the lunatics run the asylum just because they have psychologically beat us down. We owe it to kids to never give up and find whatever way possible to help them become that perfectly slightly abnormal, semi-annoying and yet wonderful individual we will always love and hold dear to our heart. And much of these efforts require us to keep a tight hold on our own development and behavioral challenges as adults.

I share these thoughts today, because I was thinking I am probably not alone or the only one experiencing somewhat melancholy reflections and yet strange emotions of joy as the summer comes to an end. Plus the house is so damn quiet, I just felt the need to write. As my editors will attest to, it’s been awhile since my brain could hear itself think and tell my fingers what to type. Plus, I would like to believe that I am not the only Mr. Mom, or marvelous female Mom, who ran into such challenges this summer and possibly will experience again even today when the kids return home.

Now I am sure a few of my critics who do not like my stand on stopping the unwarranted drugging of our children, will enjoy sending this blog around. “Professor Corrigan finally got a dose of his own medicine!” But I also should share, I still believe the behaviors the vast majority of kids display during such summer challenges, which the psychiatrist’s bible (DSM-5) wants to label as symptoms of mental disorders, can typically be treated effectively with better and more strategic parenting efforts. The behaviors are not much different to challenging classroom behaviors. The fact still remains that most of these behaviors some want to call symptoms of a mental disorder are only common reactions to one’s environment, and can be treated more effectively and safely with holistic alternatives, health focused activities and a double dose of more inspiring instructional and parental guidance.

Can I get an Amen?

I watched a video on Facebook a month or so ago about a guy who took his kids to the bus stop on the first day of school, and after the bus drove away he threw a little party for one in his yard with balloons, a bottle of champagne and confetti. My mother-in-law sent me another one of an orangutan or something who was dancing when the kids rode away that first day of school. The videos made me laugh. I thought I would do something similar once my kids got on the bus today and rode away. I didn’t.

Instead I waved sadly and yet joyfully goodbye. I walked back up our driveway with a big smile on my face while letting out a well overdue sigh of relief. And then with every other step, thought about how I will actually miss my crazy mischievous kids today. I walked into the abnormally quiet house, and began planning for what will need to happen when they return from school so we can get them to the Taekwondo and Soccer practices on time and somehow provide a decent nutritious dinner before they went to bed at a reasonable time given it was a school night.

Ahhh… wait a minute… “school night”… now that does sound good… “It’s a school night kids… you know what that means?”

Being a good parent (a responsible parent), and diligently doing whatever one can to help kids progress through the child development process while managing social and behavioral challenges, can seem like a never ending cycle. Just like our kids, we will learn through trial and error. And for both parties, parents and kids, we must try to be forgiving of our shortcomings. None of us are perfect and all good things (the best things in life) require a lot of time and hard work to figure out and accomplish. It’s ok to stumble along the way. And it is ok to even stumble across the finish line. The important thing is that we help our kids understand that we will accomplish these goals as a family, a team who love each other.

Well, it looks like my dog has finally caught his tail with his teeth and now has drawn blood apparently. And oh wait, he’s wagging his tail furiously as a squirrel taunts him from the front yard. White walls and a barking, bleeding, tail wagging white furred dog, oh joy. And wait, there are some socks and pillows to pick up. And the counters are covered with clutter and crumbs, and the dishwasher needs unloaded… and now it’s time to meet the kids at the the bus stop. I must go now, doodee calls.

I hope you and your kids have a wonderful school year. You both deserve nothing less.

Copyright © 2015 by Michael W. Corrigan, Ed.D.

Professor Corrigan’s most recent book, Debunking ADHD: 10 Reasons to Stop Drugging Kids for Acting Like Kids (link is external), goes deeper into child development and ideas for parenting children with behavioral or developmental challenges. Join him on Facebook, Twitter or YouTube to learn more! Corrigan and his colleagues also are organizing a series of one day seminars for parents, educators and practitioners. The educational and inspiring events are being scheduled in major metro areas. Please take a moment to learn more about the Project #ForTheKids on Facebook, and make plans to attend.