Diaper Daddy

This generation of fathers is more involved in childcare than ever. Newsweek8217;s Brian Braiker spent a year at home with his daughter. His report from the front

One afternoon, when my daughter, Freya, was 6 months old, she was sitting in my lap at my parents8217; kitchen table. I caught a familiar odour. I did something that my pre-fatherhood self could never have envisioned: I sniffed her bottom.

My father flinched. 8220;Did you just stick your nose in her butt?8221; Well, yeah, I replied. 8220;In 30 years of parenting I don8217;t think I ever sniffed a single butt 8212; yours or your brother8217;s.8221;

There, wrapped in Huggies, is the difference between my dad8217;s generation and my own. At 32, along with many of the guys, I am part of a broad generational shift: I took nine months off from work and am still home every Monday feeding, changing and exploring with Freya, now nearly 2, while my wife works.

The women of dad8217;s generation were the first to choose to pursue a career in large numbers 8212; my mom never considered trading her real estate job for diaper duty. Still, it was Mom who drove carpool and made sure the fridge was full.

When Freya was 3 months old, my wife who out-earns me by several glorious miles went back to work, and my own extended paternity leave began. I initially took six months8217; unpaid leave. This drove my dad nuts. 8220;What do you do all day? You are going back to work, aren8217;t you?8221; But Freya and I were getting along so well that I asked for 8212; and was granted 8212; three more months off.

I fell into a predictable, if occasionally dull, routine. We spent a lot of time at playgrounds or on playdates. I did the shopping and the cooking, the diaper changing and bathing. I became fluent in sleep schedules and stubborn dietary whims. It was the most rewarding time of my life.

When I took time off to be with Freya, some dads, and quite a few moms, questioned my sanity. For me, beyond a sense of obligation, there is also the simple desire to get to know her. Also, she8217;s ridiculously fun.

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Don8217;t get me wrong. I8217;m no saint. Ask me when my kid8217;s next appointment with her pediatrician is. No clue. Want to know her shoe size? You8217;d be better off asking Mom. I8217;ve been known to leave the house without a sippy cup. Or snacks. Or extra diapers. Once I locked my napping child along with my keys inside our apartment for an agonizing hour.

Still, the bottom line is today8217;s guys are procreating, parenting and pleased with ourselves. Some of us will give our kids offbeat names like Freya and diligently document our every self-important, profanity-laced insight on our blogs. And it will be another generation who will tell us if this grand experiment has worked. But one thing is clear: at least we can tell you whether their butts smell funky.

-BRIAN BRAIKER Newsweek