It’s not always a walk in the park (Picture: Liberty Antonia Sadler for Metro.co.uk)

Adopting the traditionally female role of full-time childcare has been rewarding and uplifting. But at a price.

Riding the 149 bus from London Bridge to Shoreditch back in the chilly winter of 2013 I was startled to learn, via a feverish phone call, that I’d got my girlfriend up the duff.

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It would be misleading to say we’d planned to have children, but we’d been together four happy years, done a bit of travelling, found a part of London we liked and learned to tolerate each other’s crap taste in music.

Basically, we were as ready to spawn as anyone ever is, and so quietly laid off the contraception.




One balmy evening that following summer little Toby was born.

A glorious honeymoon period of sun-drappled maternity leave followed, before my wife went back to work.

My ladyfriend was (and is) a rapidly rising doctor specialising in oncology – essentially curing cancer.

For my part, I’d only just come to terms with my failed music career, and was starting out as a freelance writer.

There was never any doubt who would be the breadwinner, and who the stay-at-home parent.

Ladz (Picture: Andy Hill/Metro.co.uk)

It’s now two years later.

The upsides of being a stay-at-home dad – in constant contact with my cherubic little imp – are many.

Toby said ‘daddy’ months before he said ‘mummy’.

Old ladies smile at us in the supermarket.

He follows me around everywhere with his absurd doddering gait, like a hilarious midget sidekick.

That said, however, it’s a bit of a lonely life too.

Our families live three hours away, in opposite directions.

We just moved to a new city, and it’s harder to make new friends when you’re constantly tethered to a wailing pooh machine.

Of course mums have dealt with this since the dawn of time.

But women, I find, have a better established culture for dealing with it, like coffee mornings or impromptu conversations at the swings.

Those groups in church halls, call them ‘mother and toddler’ clubs or whatever, are actually quite intimidating to a lone chap.

While the ladies scoff custard cremes and indulge in their cheery henhouse banter, I’m often sat on the rug with my boy playing fire engines, or making Play Doh elephants.

Deffo worth it (Picture: Andy Hill/Metro.co.uk)

Aside from nappies, first words and sleeping patterns (the dullest conversations ever) I really don’t have a great deal in common with them.

Hopefully in time being a stay-at-home dad will become more common.

Then, naturally, things will get easier.

Towering institutions like Mumsnet and endless Facebook groups and forums have mummies falling over each other to share support and advice, in a way that simply doesn’t exist for dads.

Some of us dads try and get similar sorts of forums off the ground, without much success.



Maybe we’re too scattered. Or not so good at making friends.

Anyway, not sure what you’re doing today, but I’m off to play trains with my little best mate.

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