In our bustling household, my partner, Tom, is busy preparing dinner while I’m in the bedroom sorting through laundry. Our 7-year-old, Lucy, had just been in the kitchen moments ago, yet she now stands at my side, asking if she can have a snack.
Let’s take a moment to unpack that.
Tom is in the kitchen. Lucy is in the kitchen. I’m in the bedroom. Yet, when it comes to satisfying her hunger, Lucy chooses to seek me out instead of asking her father, who is, quite literally, within arm’s reach. It seems Tom has become invisible in her eyes.
I’ve often joked that I must possess some sort of superpower, as I’m the sole family member capable of fulfilling specific needs. For instance, I can be working on my laptop while simultaneously assisting another child with homework, and yet, my other kids will walk right past Tom, who is doing nothing, to come directly to me with their queries.
Let me clarify: Tom is not a lazy dad. He is present, engaged, and more than capable of slicing an apple or answering questions just as well as I can. However, when their little minds light up with a sense of urgency, the only image that appears is mine. Their father is effectively off their radar.
Occasionally, Tom will ask our kids what they need, only to have them respond, “I need to ask Mom a question.” It’s baffling, considering he could easily provide the answers they seek.
Could this be a result of my extended breastfeeding? Maybe it’s the co-sleeping? Or perhaps all that babywearing forged an unbreakable bond, causing them to instinctively seek me out for every need? No one warned me about this phenomenon during my parenting classes.
The most amusing part is when our children finally get so exasperated with my constant reminders to ask their father instead, that they muster the courage to approach him. They often address him as “Mama? I mean, Daddy?” It’s as if “father” should come with a synonym: “Mama-I-Mean-Daddy.” The idea that he too is equipped to assist them seems to challenge their very instincts.
I know I’m not alone in this experience. Many parents have shared their tales of the Invisible Father syndrome. This is why moms often find it impossible to enjoy a quiet moment, whether it’s reading a book or taking a bath without interruptions. It seems that the moment we carve out a little time for ourselves, the kids’ radar goes haywire, and they immediately seek us out with demands.
I can attest to this, particularly during my morning shower, which is frequently interrupted by kids needing help. On average, I get interrupted three or four times daily. My favorites are when they come to me with issues like not being able to find something—even though Tom is just a few steps away.
I find myself torn between feeling sorry for Tom and a twinge of jealousy. He appears to be a bit hurt by the fact that the kids always gravitate towards me, and while he tries to redirect them, it can be disheartening. It’s almost like he’s that kid in school desperately trying to get attention: “Hey kids, look! I’m here too! Let’s play!”
And let’s be clear, this isn’t because Tom is absent. He works from home, just like I do. The proximity doesn’t seem to make a difference.
For those of you grappling with an invisible father in your home, there’s hope. My oldest daughter, Emma, who is now nearly 16, has finally learned to approach both Tom and me for assistance. Despite her years of seeking only me, she has become more balanced in her requests. I believe we can train our other children to do the same.
In the meantime, I stick to my tried-and-true response: “Go ask your dad; he’s right there,” hoping that eventually, they will recognize him as a source of help too.
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In summary, navigating the dynamics of parenting often leads to humorous observations, especially when it comes to the perceived invisibility of fathers. While it can be frustrating, there’s hope that with time and patience, children can learn to appreciate both parents equally.