Kids' Voice December 2012

Page 21

Page 21

READER VOICE Fatigue and isolation were part of the daddy day care experience for Jamie Duncan – but he got to spend time with his girls most blokes never get. There were moments I thought I had bitten off more than I could chew when I took over caring for my daughters Sophie and Eloise five years ago. It wasn’t just the struggle of working nights and caring for the girls in a drowsy fog during the day, or the feeling my wife Caroline and I were ships in the night. It was the hair. A dad with very little of his own could never do justice to the flowing locks of two very fashion-conscious little girls. Caroline worked from home after our girls were born but, when her circumstances changed and she returned to the office, the dizzying cost of childcare wasn’t an option for us. The company I worked for was flexible and let me work nights, so for four years Caroline worked days and I worked nights to make sure our girls got the best care. Most days started at 8am and ended at 2.30am or so. I dressed and fed the girls, cooked the family dinner to reheat later and did some cleaning. I bundled the girls into the car about 4.20pm and drove for 45 minutes to the city to meet Caroline. We would swap cars (easier than moving the car seats). She would head for home and I drove to the office for my lone nightshift. I realised early on that daddy day care was still relatively uncommon. At the supermarket, with the girls in tow, I used to get the strangest looks. Some were surprised to see a domestic dad. Some women found the domestic dad a little bit alluring (and certainly not for his good looks). Older shoppers asked curious questions or, worse, their inevitable comment:

Photo - Caroline Duncan Photography “You’ve got your hands full today”. No, that’s every day. The attention made me uncomfortable, so much so that I avoided outings where I could. Instead, the girls and I tried to make the most of days in. The girls and I read stories and played games. They invited me to lounge room tea parties where Soph, a MasterChef addict, would whip up invisible scones with jam and cream. We dressed dolls, played in the back yard and shared dishes from the local noodle shop. I took them to play group (I was quite the hit at Eloise’s play

group story time sessions) and sometimes watched them play at kinder. On weekends, Caroline and I made up for all the days apart with family outings and cosy days at home. I spent four years on day care duty. I got to watch my toddlers grow to become precociously bright preschoolers. Eloise started school this year and, unlike many working dads, I was a big part of their development. I’ll treasure that. JAMIE DUNCAN


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