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Sometimes when I see stay-at-home dads being all competent and relaxed, hoisting their toddlers one-handed while making realistic elephant sounds, I feel a little threatened.

Outwardly, I’m supportive and feminist.   Inside, I’m more like Kit De Luca in Pretty Woman when she confronted that hooker for encroaching on her Hollywood Boulevard turf:

“Yo, the moms and me, we work Mickey Mouse.  We work Elmo.  We work Barney.  We work all the way down to Dora the Explorer.  This is our turf.  We got seniority.  You better get off our corner.”

The number of stay-at-home dads has doubled in the past decade, partly due to the economy.  But rather than bumbling through an awkward shift brought on by circumstances, the stay-at-home dads I know seem to be taking it all in stride.   Thriving, even.  Seriously, stay-at-home dads, your ability to just ease into the primary caregiver role like it’s a job folding sweaters at The Gap is making the rest of us look bad.  At least Michael Keaton’s Mr. Mom had the courtesy to feed the baby raw chili and overflow the washing machine.

Today’s SAHD’s make parenting seem too easy and fun.  And that’s no good for me or my stay-at-home mom job security.

My partner and I have a fairly traditional arrangement.   He wins the bread and I butter it, staying home with our 21-month-old daughter.  I like it this way.   But if I complain about anything – a missed nap, a melt-down, a chunky bout of car sickness – instead of sympathy and appreciation, I get wistful jealousy.  My man swears up and down he’d switch places with me “in a heartbeat.”  And that’s your fault, stay-at-home dads, what with your cute baby Bjorn photos on Facebook and your weekday games of tag at the park.

Continue reading at the newly redesigned and very fancy Dad or Alive where I am guest posting….

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