When I first became a stay-at-home dad, I was prepared for the stares, the awkward questions, and the raised eyebrows.
But nothing could have prepared me for the way people would treat me once they knew I wasn’t out there working a “normal” job like most men.
My name is Tom Parker, and I’ve always loved the idea of being hands-on with my family.
When my wife, Rachel, and I had our son, Lucas, I was working a steady 9-to-5 job, but it never felt quite right.
Rachel had a demanding career, and she was constantly traveling for work.
After a lot of discussions and careful consideration, we decided that I would stay home and take care of Lucas while Rachel continued to build her career.
It wasn’t an easy decision, but it was the best choice for our family at the time.
In the beginning, I was proud of what I was doing.
I was getting to experience every moment with my son.
I was there for his first steps, his first words, and every milestone in between.
But when I went to playgroup or met other parents, the reactions were never quite what I expected.
Some people were genuinely curious, asking me how I liked being a stay-at-home dad, but there were others—mainly other dads—who seemed to mock me for it.
At one of the first playdates I attended, I met a few dads who seemed to think I was a little out of place.
The conversation started innocently enough, with the usual “How’s the baby?” questions, but quickly turned into something more judgmental.
“You’re staying home with him full-time?” one of the dads, Mike, asked, a chuckle in his voice. “I guess you don’t mind missing out on all the good stuff, huh?”
I smiled awkwardly, trying to brush it off.
“Well, I’m actually enjoying spending this time with him. It’s been great.”
But Mike wasn’t done. “I don’t know, man,” he continued, glancing at the other dads.
“If I stayed home, I’d be bored out of my mind.
You know, you could be making real money instead of—what is it you do again? Just stay home?”
I could feel my face flush, and I quickly changed the subject, but the damage was done. From that moment on, I noticed the subtle (and not-so-subtle) judgments.
A few weeks later, at another playgroup, I overheard one dad say to another, “I mean, no offense, but how is a guy supposed to respect another guy who just hangs out at home all day?”
It stung. Of course, I knew I wasn’t just sitting around watching TV or playing video games.
But I also knew that, to some people, my role as a stay-at-home dad wasn’t taken seriously.
The fact that I wasn’t working outside the home seemed to diminish the value of what I was doing, even if it was a full-time job in its own right.
Then, one day, everything changed. It all started when one of the other dads, Brad, invited me out for a casual coffee after the playgroup.
I agreed, thinking it would be nice to finally break the ice and get to know him better.
We sat down, and after a few minutes of chatting about the usual small talk, Brad leaned in, his voice dropping a little lower.
“So, Tom, I’ve been meaning to ask you… I know you’re staying home with Lucas, but what exactly do you do for a living?
I’m guessing your wife’s the breadwinner, right?”
I nodded, not offended by the question but still feeling the sting of it.
“Yeah, Rachel’s got a great job. She works in marketing, and she’s really successful at it.”
Brad grinned, clearly not expecting my response.
“So what about you? Do you have a job? Or are you just kind of living off her salary?”
I could feel my patience starting to wear thin.
I had been asked this question so many times before, but for some reason, that day, it bothered me more than usual.
I leaned back in my chair, meeting his gaze directly.
“Actually, I do have a job. I’m a freelance graphic designer,” I said, my voice steady.
“I work with clients all over the country, designing logos, websites, and branding materials. I make a good living doing it.”
Brad’s smile faded slightly, and I could see the realization dawning on him.
“Wait, you work from home? Like, full-time?”
“Yep,” I replied, enjoying the shift in the conversation.
“I have a whole setup in my office upstairs, and I’m usually juggling multiple projects at once.”
He blinked, looking slightly embarrassed. “I didn’t realize.
I just assumed you were… I don’t know… just a stay-at-home dad.”
“Well, I am a stay-at-home dad,” I said, my tone calm but firm, “but I’m also a professional.
Just because I work from home doesn’t mean I’m not working hard.”
The conversation shifted after that. Brad started asking more questions about my work, clearly interested in what I did.
He even asked if I could help him with some design work for his business.
It felt good to be recognized for the work I did—work that wasn’t immediately visible like a traditional office job.
Word got around quickly after that coffee meeting, and soon, other dads at the playgroup began treating me differently.
The same dads who had once snickered at me for “doing nothing” were now asking me about my design work and even complimenting me on the quality of my portfolio.
It felt like a shift in perception, and I could tell that they now respected the value I brought to the table—not just as a dad, but as a professional.
Eventually, I even started taking on more freelance clients, and my income grew to the point where I was bringing in as much—if not more—than Rachel did.
What had once felt like a career of little significance was now thriving, and I had proven to myself and others that being a stay-at-home dad wasn’t just about watching the kids—it was about balancing family life with a meaningful career, one that gave me pride and fulfillment.
One afternoon, a couple of months later, I ran into Mike at the grocery store.
He looked at me, his eyes widening as he recognized me.
“Tom, right?” he said, scratching his head. “I just saw some of your work online. You’re a graphic designer?”
I nodded with a smile. “Yep, that’s me.”
He paused, clearly flustered. “Man, I had no idea you were doing all that.
Honestly, I thought you were just, you know… staying home and not doing much.”
I chuckled, feeling a sense of satisfaction. “It’s easy to assume, but you’d be surprised what people can accomplish from home.”
As I walked away, I couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride.