Vol. 115 - Outgunned. Outnumbered. Outmatched.

A two-on-one weekend.

Emily was gone all weekend.

In the third edition of what I hope remains an annual tradition, she headed to the beach with two of her closest friends from our years New York City. No kids. No husbands. No headaches.

Of course, her absence made my weekend signifincantly more difficult. Not nearly as difficult as it has been in years past. I mean, parenting a six-year-old and a three-year-old is a vastly different than parenting a four-year-old and an infant. For example, at this point in my kids’ lives, I’m able to leave them alone for five minutes, to do things like take a shower. Such luxury hasn’t been the case in years past. Still, two-on-one is never a walk in the park.

But we managed. In fact, we thrived. When faced with these kinds of (mis)adventures, my response is to absolutely destroy my kids with activities. As much as Emily and I believe that downtime and boredom is healthy for kids, when it’s just me, I try to account for every single minute Emily is away. Considering as much, there was bike riding and gardening, comicons and trips for ice cream. There was screentime, of course, but there was also near-nonstop action. Because that’s the only way to ensure my survival in the face of such odds.

Perhaps you’ve heard the saying that having a second kid is going from zone defense to man-to-man. Which is all well and good when you have enough of a roster to defend man-to-man. But have you ever seen a defender succeed in a two-on-one matchup?

Because unless they’re Ed Reed, they don’t. Because two-on-one is an unwinnable ratio. At least, it is over the longterm. For a weekend, it’s no problem. Well… not NO problem. But it’s doable.

A few times in the past, when Emily’s left me alone with our two kids, I’ve told people that I’m spending the weekend as a single dad.

But, somewhere along the line, I realized that’s just not true.

I’m not a single dad. I’m just a dad.

Because, even when she’s gone for a few days, I still have the support of my wife. I have her emotional support. I have her infrastructural support. I have her financial support. I’m not a single dad and saying as much is discounting the tremendously, unimaginably difficult job that actual single parents do.

If anything, I’m cosplaying as a single dad.

And that cosplay not only makes me appreciate my wife more, it makes me appreciate the work actual single parents do.

Parenting is hard enough with a partner-in-crime. I can’t imagine what it’s like without one.

When I’m alone for a day or a weekend or whatever, I also experience an abundance of parents—mostly moms and grandmas—telling me what a great job I’m doing with both kids. And that pisses me off because I know that Emily doesn’t get the same platitudes when I’m off playing shows or powerdrinking at my fantasy football draft.

Why do we expect so much less of fathers?

Why do we congratulate a dad when we see him shouldering the burden?

Why don’t we just accept it for exactly what it is? That is, doing the job that we signed up for.

Whenever someone tells me I’m doing a great job, I want to reply that I’m not doing a great job. I’m just doing the job. Instead, I just smile and continue on playing with my kids.

After all, I’m only cosplaying single fatherhood until my wife gets home.