This is the first guest blog post from a dad, a very funny, insightful and elusive one who is well known these days for his fictitious press releases on his blog 6000. This is how 6000 describes himself: “Born in the UK just early enough to be forced into 1970s fashion, 6000 studied forever before moving to Cape Town in 2004, marrying a cute blonde and helping to make a family. He considers South Africa to be home now, although he still has a South Yorkshire accent, especially after a few beers. A full-time scientist and dad, in his 30 seconds of spare time each week he enjoys football, 80s music and blogging, but rarely simultaneously.”

Women must make their minds up. Society must make its mind up. I can’t cope with this dichotomy anymore. Do you want dads to be equal parents or not? And before you all dive in with a deafening affirmative roar, and the incredulity that it’s taken me this long to ask (I’ve always been a little backward at coming forward), I have to just say, you’ve been sending us some very mixed messages.

Let me explain.

I’m well aware that there is that special bond twixt mother and child. We had our 9 minutes of fun, you had your 9 months of pregnancy. That’s not our fault though. That’s just nature. We didn’t make the rules. But even before the baby is born, we already believe the line that you mothers out there are the only ones that ever do anything for the kids.

And yet, it continues, no matter what we do. Breast feeding – believe me – I would if I could, but the drugs they’d have to give me might have lasting side-effects that I’m not willing to risk.

It’s pervasive as well. From some sort of conditioning – probably through continual exposure to this matriarchal myth – society now believes that mums are the only ones worth communicating with when it comes to parenting matters. There are “mother and child” parking bays at malls across the greater Cape Town area. It’s like dads just don’t exist, or at least, if they do, they won’t be bringing their kids to the mall. Or at least, if they do, they won’t have all the kiddie paraphernalia which makes going to the mall with your kids so taxing. Or at least, if they do, they won’t mind carting it to the shops from the furthest corner of the parking lot.

When Woolworths brought their littleworld card out in 2009, the terms and conditions contained this line:

“Mothers of children between the ages of 0 to 6 years are invited to join the littleworld programme, as are mothers-to-be, grandmothers, aunts or anyone who loves shopping for little ones.”

Anyone notice anything missing there? Like any reference to dads? Seriously – do we really rank below aunts when it comes to shopping for our kids?
I was outraged and immediately pledged (mentally, at least) to drag Woollies kicking and screaming to the Constitutional Court. In the end, I just wrote a blog post about it, but it was a really, really angry blog post. Woollies have since changed that line to read:

“Anyone can join – mom, dad, granny or aunt – anyone who loves shopping for little ones…”

Promotion above aunt was the minimum requirement, to leap into second place ahead of granny as well was a completely unexpected bonus. I pretended that I had something to do with this change and counted it as one small victory for dadkind.

To be honest, I’m being pretty brave writing this. My wife – and the mother to our two little bundles of joy, Alex (5 going on 50) and Kristen (3 going on 15) – works unbelievably hard, not just at her full time job, but at being a brilliant mother as well. I would write a list of all the things she does for the kids, but then all the mums reading this know that she does everything for the kids because they do everything for the kids as well.

Not true. I do try to do my fair share. And apparently, I’m better than most. Or so says my wife when comparing me with certain of her friend’s husbands. If any of those husbands are reading this right now, obviously, she doesn’t mean you. This is a guest blog post, not a declaration of pity for her friends’ marital choices.

My hands are tied on certain things though – picking them up from school for example. Our house, the kids’ school and my wife’s work are within one kilometre of each other. A round trip to school and back for me takes well over an hour. So yes, practically, it just makes more sense for her to do that. I’d do it if I were in her geographical situation. Honestly.
And I do, from time to time, if she can’t because she’s in a meeting. With someone hugely important. In Johannesburg. I’ll make the effort. I’m that kind of dad.

However, it seems that my efforts are still being ignored. The school email contact list defaults to the mothers’ email addresses. Letters continue to come home each Thursday using the word “mum” where “parent” would surely have cost only a tiny amount more to print.

And then, last week, as a dad who proudly and happily makes his kids’ lunches every single school day, (voted the best packed lunch in my daughter’s class last year, nogal), came the final icing on the coffin which broke the camel’s back, as I was pointedly not invited to join the “little cooks club” [http://www.littlecooksclub.co.za/] – a movement whose sole aim is making packed lunches better. My expertise – and indeed my existence – was wholly overlooked as I dropped behind “children aged 2-15, moms, school leavers and domestic workers”.
The only consolation was that granny didn’t make the list this time either.

“Something I know most moms struggle with: healthy lunch boxes. Right?” continues the condescending blurb. Well, actually not my wife, because she’s still tunelessly singing Whiney Houston in the shower while I’m nutritionally balancing the kids’ midday snack.
Really, how difficult would it be to put in “parents” instead of “moms”? And more to the point – why didn’t they?

Some – well, most actually – say that I’m being silly over this. But I work damn hard too and I do all that I can for my kids. I’m annoyed by society being oblivious to my efforts and those of hard working dads everywhere. And I’m irritated that I’m automatically grouped with all those dads whose lack of endeavour in the parenting department assists in keeping the stereotype alive and well.

I’m not stupid. I realise that this heinous and unjust situation isn’t going to change anytime soon and so I take my annoyance and irritation and I hide them under a thick layer of Black Label. All I ask of you, dear reader, is that you judge us dads on individual merit, rather than lumping us all together under the broad heading “useless”. Some sort of recognition would likely be the first step towards more equal parenting partnerships generally.

And that would make everyone happier, right?