Parenting Without Support

One of the hardest things I've learned since having kids is the toll they have on my adult relationships. The ones I shared weekly margaritas or taco Tuesdays. The ones soldiering through similar circumstances, so we'd meet up and battle on together, often taking hikes or joining each other for workouts together. Then, last, but certainly not least, you begin to have fewer and fewer friends that could be up for Best New Scene at the AVN Awards, that get together to regale you with their last walk of shame.

I also couldn't tell you the last time I went to K-town and was greeted with a wonderful, warm, "Yeoboseyo." My friends and I would go and sing karaoke, joining in on the only three or four words of a verse we'd know then butcher the rest. You might know the place I'm talking about. It's in the shittiest part of town. The man who parks our car, sorry, stacks the cars, looks to have been born about the same year as Lao Tzu, and he will be taking our keys.

I get why so many women try to get pregnant at the same time. That way, everyone is going through similar experiences together. Like I am right now. My daughters and my wife have almost synced their menses. There are now three weeks of blood-letting. Three, long, arduous weeks of a washroom trash receptacle that looks like it belongs in a trauma surgery bay.

In the beginning, as a father who chose to stay at home and raise twins by myself, I needed a support group. As I quickly discovered, I was also not on any map. There were only mom groups, many of whom told me I was welcome to "tag" along with my wife when I wasn't working. When I explained I was the one raising my daughters, several mom groups suggested I try the alternative lifestyle groups found in Hollywood where they would be more accepting of my lifestyle.

I never did try their suggestion. But, I can only imagine the hand-me-down exchanges must be amazing and sippy cups are probably regularly filled just for the adults with an amazing Malbec.