- I was a stay-at-home dad to my daughter 20 years ago.
- I joined her school's PTA and was the only man in a group of 30 women.
"Your poetry is still on my wall."
The voice came from behind me as I sat down to put on cloth booties over my shoes. My wife and I were about to enter one of the century homes on a local house tour, and booties were required to protect the original floors.
When I turned around, I recognized the speaker and smiled. She was a mother I'd known when I was in the throes of stay-at-home parenting nearly 20 years ago.
She and I had been part of our local early-childhood PTA, an organization that practically saved my life when I was new to the area and struggling mightily as an at-home father of a 1-year-old daughter.
I was the only man in the group
Upon moving in, my wife and I were approached by a few female neighbors about joining the ECPTA. They asked my wife first, but when they learned I was the primary caregiver, they extended the invitation to me as well. I decided to give it a try.
The first meeting was daunting: There were about 30 moms and me. Most were stay-at-home mothers, with some working mothers as well. As several welcomed me, my anxiety dissipated. A stay-at-home dad had recently moved, so they considered me a kind of replacement.
Through a flurry of potlucks, playdates, and programs, I quickly became active in the organization. The moms and I helped each other navigate sleep schedules, teething, and potty training, among other joys.
Because I was usually the only man in this new phase of my life, I heard some jokes about promiscuity, especially from my male childhood friends. My stock response was "I've never met so many women but been so unavailable."
On rare occasions when my gender made anyone uncomfortable, humor helped. For example, at one of our meetings, a guest speaker seemed dumbfounded that I was the only man among the attendees. Before beginning her presentation, she singled me out and said for all to hear: "I'm so impressed that you're here. You must be so attentive to your wife's needs." After an awkward pause, I replied: "Not really. I'm still a guy." We laughed and moved on.
I have so many good memories
Signing up for ECPTA volunteer duties, I found myself with unlikely titles like summer-activities coordinator, co-organizer of a babysitting co-op, and person in charge of providing an "inspirational thought" to begin meetings.
I admit that because I'm a writer, I overdid the inspiration on my first try; I didn't realize people usually just read a brief quote. I composed an original poem about parenting and read it to the group of women. They were kind enough to smile appreciatively, but gradually I could tell they were wondering what the heck I was doing.
My writing became more relevant when I started contributing short humor pieces to the organization's newsletter about my adventures as a stay-at-home father. One story involved my volunteering as a babysitter for the ECPTA's vision-screening program.
I'd figured it would be easy to take care of a few kids waiting to be tested. But then we entered a playroom with the most massive Lego structure I'd ever seen. A sign in front of the masterpiece read "PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH."
The next 60 minutes were the most inventive of my life. To distract the children from the Legos, I became an entertainment center. We sang songs, played games, and even began to create a new language. With luck and gentle guidance, the children managed to play ever so close to the structure without damaging it, enabling me to live happily ever after.
Stories like these led one mom to tell me, with the kindest of intentions, "We love laughing at your life." So did I, I realized. Such validation of early parenting foibles by my female witnesses meant so much to me.
I eventually joined dad groups
I continued to thrive in the ECPTA, but I also craved some dad camaraderie. So I gradually found some like-minded dads.
Fortunately, over the past 20 years, many groups for dads have emerged. But before then, for me, it was all about the moms in the ECPTA. At a crucial time in my young parenthood, they gave me confidence in my parenting, as well as in my writing about parenting.
That's why it was so gratifying to hear that mom say my poetry still hung on her wall. She was referring to a framed poem I'd donated to one of the ECPTA fundraisers. The poem is called "Moving Pictures" and includes a space to insert a picture of the owner's children. It's a tribute to the irony of cherished early-parenthood memories: The last line reads, "What the children cannot possibly remember, the parents cannot possibly forget."
It seems fitting that we were on the porch of a century home when we reconnected. It felt like it'd been 100 years since we were trapped under something whiny — but it also felt like yesterday. Seeing her made me lament that many of us had inevitably drifted apart as our children aged. The intense bonding of young parents as they struggle together is hard to sustain.
That's what made my time with the moms of the ECPTA so unforgettable, and I thank them for that.