On Saturday, June 15th, I took my four children to the anticipatory Mass at our parish. One of the ushers noticed
wasn’t with us, which prompted this person to say: “Oh, you’re babysitting today.” I assumed the best intentions, brushed off the comment, and didn’t think much of it—until now. To babysit means to look after a child or children while the parents are out. I’m a parent, so I can’t babysit; I care for my children. Most times with my better half, and on rare occasions, I fly solo.Why am I telling you this? Because, in the past, I would’ve been bothered by someone saying that I babysat my kids. I’m not used to being alone with them as the only caregiver, and trust me; it gets intense. I’ve been building up my tolerance, and my kids’ ages are between eight and three, which makes it a bit more manageable. Before, I would get frustrated for “not being good” at taking care of my children by myself. I would get sensory overload and constantly lose my temper, and whenever Diana would bring up the idea of her taking a weekend off, I would get apprehensive.
In therapy, I realized that this was a newly discovered wound. I fear being left alone to my own devices and feeling crushed by the massiveness of the challenge. It has nothing to do with Diana and has everything to do with how I perceive things. So, me being me, I decided to make a plan and work on building my confidence in taking care of my children by myself.
Instead of telling you what I did to get there, I’d like to present a chronicle of the three days Diana was in southern California for a homeschooling conference, and I stayed home with the children.
Begin With the End in Mind
Diana would leave early on Thursday and return on Sunday morning, Father’s Day. The children usually wake up at 5:00 AM and go to bed at 7:00 PM, which meant I had three fourteen-hour days to plan and execute. I challenged myself to do a morning outing with them and chill out in the afternoon when it’s hotter. Options included the aquarium, the indoor play place, the movies, mini golf, a splash pad, the pool, or the trampoline park. I bulk-cooked some breakfast potatoes, and Diana left me two batches of pancake mix. She also did all the laundry in the house the day before she left, so I just had to do one load the day before she came home. She set me up for success.
Thursday
The day started with our daughter having an accident overnight and having to wash her sheets. We loaded everyone in the car, drove Diana to the airport, said goodbye, and returned home. I made pancakes and bacon for breakfast. I wanted to switch things up and add blueberries to their pancakes, but only one of the four liked them—more blueberry pancakes for me.
My six-year-old had a tummy ache right after breakfast, which threw a wrench in our original plan of going to the aquarium as soon as it opened. I played hide-and-seek with the little ones while the older two were entertained playing with Legos. Next thing you know, it was lunchtime. The children and I agreed that we would watch one movie a day after lunch while Diana was gone. I put a movie on, laid the baby down for a nap, and my daughter fell asleep in the living room halfway through it.
Since the two younger ones napped, I knew I had to do something to tire them before bedtime. Otherwise, the day would go on for longer. I called an audible, got a couple of diapers and wipes into my Cotopaxi fanny pack, loaded everyone in the van, and headed over to the indoor play place. My kids made friends with a sweet girl who wanted them to have her last four Cheeto puffs. I thanked her and politely declined her offer, knowing they would fight over the crumbs. This girl's mom turned to me and said: “Are all four of them yours?” I wish I would’ve said something witty, but I just said yes and took everyone to the bathroom to change the baby’s diaper and have everyone go before we left.
We needed to stop by the grocery store to pick up milk and some other things to bribe motivate the kids to behave. The time it takes you to complete a task is directly proportional to the number of kids you have with you. We make it to the self-checkout lane with three packs of Oreos, a gallon of milk, and other things. Everybody wants a turn scanning the Oreos, so I let them. I tell myself I should’ve taken the regular checkout, but here we are; there is no turning back. We paid, we got home, and we had dinner.
My oldest got in the shower because he had run his little heart out at the play place. He was sweaty and started to stink. Having kids who can do certain things independently is huge. Bathing the three little ones was more manageable, and I did it in quick succession with zero shenanigans. After bath time, they all got in pajamas (except the baby), and then I read books to them, and we watched soapbox races.
Bedtime went smoothly. My plan to get the children tired, fed, and bathed worked, and a few minutes after they laid down, they were sawing logs. I cleaned the kitchen and called it a day.
Friday
The natives’ chanting woke me up at 5:00 AM. After a brief puppet show, we had breakfast, and since my six-year-old’s tummy ache was gone, we decided to go to the aquarium. I stuffed many snack-size Ziploc bags with goldfish and pretzels, grabbed string cheeses, made sandwiches for lunch, filled everyone’s water bottles, got ready, and headed to our destination.
We made it there thirty minutes after it had opened, and the first thing I saw was a school bus. My immediate thought was: “What the hell!? A field trip?” But the big group from the bus was going to the butterfly conservatory next to the aquarium–thank God. We have an annual membership to the aquarium thanks to my parents and sisters, who gifted it to us for Christmas last year. We’ve put that thing to good use, especially after it started to warm up. We can easily burn a couple of hours, maybe three, depending on whether everyone has snacks and it’s not near naptime.
It amuses me to tell the aquarium employee taking pictures at the entrance, “No, thank you,” whenever they say, “Hey guys! We’re just going to take a quick picture here.” Sorry, I know it’s your job, but I won’t buy the picture. I’m here at least once a month. I’m basically a regular. After we zip right by the photographer, we get in line, and one of my kids will invariably say, “It smells like fish in here.” I don’t even think they’re trying to be funny.
After scanning our card, we pass America’s Best Bathroom and take the escalator to the first floor. This time, we saw two Gila monsters instead of one. For the longest time, I thought they just had a toy Gila monster as a stand-in while they got a real one because the one in the exhibit, every time we would visit, would be halfway inside a cave, and you could only see its tail and it would always be very still. Very suspicious. Seeing two of them definitely tipped the scales (please don’t unsubscribe).
I had to change a poop diaper in the middle of our adventure. Thankfully, it was around the stingray tank where we usually spend a good chunk of time since my kids love to touch the rays and ask questions to the aquarium employees. A few steps away is a Starbucks and a bunch of tables and chairs where parents ignore the “No outside food allowed” sign all the time. After a snack break, we glanced at the penguins, who were more active than usual.
Right before the escalator to the ground level is a sandbox and a water table where my kids have to stop, sometimes for a very long time—long for my liking anyway. But since they were content, playing well with other children, and we didn’t have anything better to do, I let them play there until they didn’t want to play there anymore.
On the ground floor, we always visit the octopus, who usually puts on a show for us, camouflaging when we get close to the glass. Three huge jellyfish tanks in bright colors are some of our favorite parts of the aquarium. But the pièce de résistance is The Voyager, a rotating auditorium that shows you different tanks with sea turtles, sea lions, and sharks. I like it when employees are animated; bonus points if they have good comedic timing. For example, they ask you to fasten your seat belt before the ride. There are no seatbelts; that’s the joke. Some employees won’t wait long enough for people to realize it, but one guy waited the longest to deliver the punchline and got the biggest reaction because he built so much tension.
We had our packed lunch outside the aquarium and headed home. Around noon, my two youngest children fell asleep almost instantly. I let the older two watch a movie, and we hung out until it was time to go to our friend’s house. They invited us to do a family rosary at 6:00 PM, and honestly, having fellowship, food, and prayer with friends sounded like a great idea.
Bedtime was delayed until 8:30 PM that night, and I had a celebratory cigar and drink after the kiddos went to sleep.
Saturday
The natives hate sleeping in, so I got up and made them pancakes and bacon for breakfast. We had to hustle that morning because all the Cantu men were getting haircuts. My barber has been cutting my boys’ hair their whole life, so it’s our little ritual. On the way there, the kids asked me if they could have prickly pear, and I told them we could go to Sprouts to see if they had any. They didn’t. However, they had French bread, avocados from Mexico, and a few other things we needed.
I had promised them donuts in exchange for good behavior at the barber's. However, they baited me and switched me, requesting Crumbl cookies instead. I’m a sucker for a good cookie, so we got some, and since we were already outside, we got a carwash. The excitement that the car wash provokes in my children knows no boundaries. From choosing the scent of the air freshener to noticing the foam falling on the windshield, the things that spin, the rainlike rinse, and the compressed air that pushes the water around, it’s like a Disneyland ride to them.
Once we got home, we relaxed. Everyone devoured some avocado toast and watched Kung Fu Panda 4. The plan was to go to the anticipatory Mass at 4:30 PM, so I got them in the bath, picked their clothes, and got them ready. I told them they could watch a show while I showered and got ready–this, my friends, was a critical mistake. I laid down my toddler, and he napped just fine, but my daughter didn’t show signs of being tired. Or so I thought. She fell asleep in the living room, and I had to wake her up to go to Mass.
There were so many meltdowns during Mass, but we lived to tell the tale. It’s challenging for Diana and me, so I knew going in it could be disastrous. Jesus was there, and that’s what counts. I was shocked at how matter-of-fact I was after Mass. I think I said something like, “Kids, you were terrible today, but we’ll try again next week.”
Leftovers were on the menu for dinner, and everyone went to sleep relatively fast that night, which was nice. I was starting to see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Sunday
The natives woke up extra hyper. I was drained on Sunday morning and couldn’t wait until Diana was home. I lost my temper that morning, one of maybe three occurrences during the weekend. This feels like a significant improvement, to me, at least. After breakfast, I packed everyone in the van and headed to the airport. We picked Diana up and came back home. Diana joked about me kicking everyone out of the van without stopping and going to get coffee by myself. Instead, I got my Father’s Day card, and we had the rest of the Crumbl cookies to celebrate.
I did escape for a few hours later in the day, though.
Final Thoughts
If you have read this newsletter for a minute, you already know that Diana and I strive for traditional roles. However, there are times for men to be strong and times to be tender. Women are naturally more nurturing, but that doesn’t mean men can’t strive to be good caregivers. Some are good at that. I have had to develop those skills.
Diana has been good at challenging me to grow and praising me when she sees me trying to improve. It has been satisfying to see how much more confident I’ve become in my vocation as a f has been satisfyingather. I like feeling tired at the end of the day, knowing what I did was worth the effort. One of the key things I’ve learned is to be comfortable with being uncomfortable.
I like to think that I’m sowing seeds. Although I may not enjoy the fruit of my labor, it’s still worth the effort. If you’re a single parent, I don’t know how you’re doing it, but I have a lot of respect for you. If you’re a parent and you’re struggling, hang in there. Lean into the discomfort and push through. If I can do it, you can do it.
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Beautiful and inspiring post! Thanks for writing this Walther