You Can't Bring Kids to Nice Coffeeshops

Thoughts on Stay-At-Home-Parenting

You can do anything as a parent.

“We can do anything!” you say to you partner.

“Our lives don’t have to stop!” You say.

Which is true. You can literally do all the things you used to do without kids—camping, going on hikes, to breweries, etc. BUT, that doesn’t mean it’s the same experience. You can do anything, but everything is infinitely more frustrating.

“Was it worth it?” is a question you should never ask yourself as a parent. It almost always was/is. But not in the moment. Not when your kid won’t sleep at the hotel or campground and keeps you up all goshdang night.

There are some things you really can’t do. You can’t bring kids to the nice coffee shops for instance. No, everything there is white and polished and made of porcelain or glass. The screams of toddler and the cries of infants do not blend well with the sounds of Tame Impala. I can barely bring my daughter to the library. The last time I did she pushed through the emergency exit only doors and set off the fire alarm. That was in a place they encourage kids to go!

Yet you have to get out of the house or else you will go even crazier inside the house. It breaks up the monotony. But sometimes you also need a coffee on your way between the various parks and playgrounds and libraries you are visiting. For life is tedious, boring even, (and yet so so busy and frustrating) as a stay-at-home parent.

That’s why I now finally understand the appeal of the Starbucks/Dutch Bros. drive-through now. If you have more than two kids drive-throughs become your best friend. Try taking a baby and toddler in and out of the car and standing in line for coffee at a nice coffeeshop. I dare you. Yet I can’t stand drive-thru coffee—whether it’s Starbucks or Dutch Bros—but every time I pass one I am tempted. So I have two options, take them in with me to the nice coffeeshop, or leave them in the car and hope no one calls the cops on the infant and the toddler whose dad has just left them in the car for an oat milk cortado.

In general, I love staying home with my two girls. Yet I have one day a week at least where I have a particularly rough day and immediately start applying for jobs. I even get a couple interviews. Yet I’m not very good in job interviews. I think the interviewers can see that the light has gone out from behind my eyes. That I have lost the will to live or exist, let alone smile at customers as they pay for their latte. My mushy brain tries to form words that aren’t some unintelligible thoughts. I try to explain to an interviewer when he asks how it is being a stay-at-home parent. “Sometimes you feel two feelings at the same time,” I say, quoting Daniel Tiger.

 I can just picture myself with the customers now:

“What size latte would you like?”

“12 oz.”

“And would like dino bites or mac and cheese with that?”

“What?”

“I mean, would you like your latte with almond or oat milk?

“Oat.”

“Great, coming right up with a side of goldfish. Here’s a bib in case you spill.”

 I’m too honest in the interviews perhaps. I tell them that of course I am “highly organized” and “detail-oriented,” something I am not and never have been and something that every job seems to post as a requirement. Yet I guess, for me, personally, it doesn’t really matter what I do for a “job” as long as I have time for exercise and writing.

So maybe, I think, being a stay-at-home-dad is perfect job for me? I’ve always hated working to be honest. I’ve just never found a job that was a great fit for me. Not to mention, the amount I’d have to make to cover sending two kids to daycare in the United States is costs more than the paycheck of any job I’ve worked. Granted, I’ve spent most of life in the arts and service industries. Still it makes me a bit depressed, the fact that I’m not good at anything that makes money for my family.

While parenting doesn’t make you feel happier or sadder necessarily, it does provide some sort of meaning, purpose, and satisfaction you can’t get from anything. Yet you often worthless as a parent. As if your life is devoid of meaning or purpose or contributing to society in any way, even as you are, in fact, doing arguably the most meaningful thing you can in this life—loving someone else. But since it’s not tied to capital or fame or fortune or good looks or anything society considers valuable (which in the U.S. does often not include children) it doesn’t feel particularly great, staying home with kids. It’s a humbling, ego-shattering experience.

My cousin-in-law Mari said that as a stay-at-home parent you do it for as long as you can. Sometime that’s two weeks and other times that’s ten plus years.

I think the questions every stay-at-home parent must ask themselves are:

How do you maintain your physical health? Your mental health? Your sense of purpose and meaning?

One morning I lose my keys, just as we’re about to head to daycare. I can’t find them anywhere. This happens to me now that I have kids. I used to never lose things. I used to call my mind a “steel trap.” Now I have to write things down and make calendar notes and I still forget about doctors appointment for myself. I lose things frequently. It doesn’t help that our house is a disaster or that the toddler has probably thrown the keys somewhere.

Evangeline now walks around all day asking, “Cause why?”

“You have to brush your teeth!”

“Cause why Dada?”

“Because Your teeth need to be cleaned”

“Cause why?”

“So that they don’t rot!”

“Cause why?”

Because that’s what happens!”

“Cause why?

Cause science, physics.”

“Oh, osay.”

It could go on forever:

“You have to put on clothes before you go outside!”

“Cause why Momma?”

“You have to wipe after using the potty!”

“Cause why Dada?”

It’s funny and cute actually. I don’t mind it at all.

To be a stay at home parent is also to exist in isolation. Sure, there are people around you to help support you. Moms and dads groups and family and friends. Maybe you even have a village. But you and you alone must go through the internal aloneness that comes with hanging out with and raising a child. It’s a personal journey you and you alone (and maybe your partner) must undertake. At least in the United States, no one else is around your kid 24/7 like you. You are the only one getting up at three in the morning, at five in the morning, at six, etc. the moments you can hang out with other parents and their kids are necessary and nice, but they account for a fraction of your total time as a parent.

I now understand why the Stay-At-Home-Parent frequents Target and stores like those get you out of the house. These stores offer you products promising to make your life at home easier. New kitchen gadgets in bright colors, a variety of storage accessories promising organization, sanity, an end to the clutter and chaos. Shiny new toys that will distract the kids (at least for an hour or two). No one cares if your toddler breaks down and has a tantrum  in the aisles of Target or Walmart. It’s expected even.

I guess what I’m trying to confess is this: I hate it, but I can understand the Target/Starbucks-Parental-Industrial Complex.  For I am now a part of it.