Paternity Leave

On the Friday before Father’s Day, I lost my job, and Chocolate Diapers had nothing to do with it. In an instant, my nine-to-five, half our income, and my livelihood were gone. I’ve been unemployed before, but not since I’ve been a father, so this was, in addition to being upsetting, kind of strange.

After the tears and the bat-to-the-face shock subsided, Amy said that now I could spend more time with Jake.

It occurred to me that I’d never spent a full day with Jake, just the two of us. I had run errands with just him, and we had our weekday afternoons and Sunday mornings when I didn’t voluntarily pass out on the couch, but never a father-son day. Amy is off Wednesdays and calls it her Mommy-Jake day. I tested the idea with Jake while he and I (not passed out) sat on the couch Father’s Day morning.

“Jakey,” I said. “Daddy doesn’t have a job anymore, but the good news is that we can spend more time together.”

He nodded slightly.

“You know how you have Mommy-Jake Day? Well, tomorrow is going to be Daddy-Jake Day!”

Jake handed me the remote without making eye contact. “Watch Sessie Elmo,” he said.

We started the next day by returning a mattress cover to Bed, Bath and Beyond. We came home and played in the basement, and Jake told me that,

“Mommy so so pretty. Daddy so so bald.”

“But am I also so so pretty?” I asked.

“No.”

“I’m just so so bald?”

“Ah hah.”

“So you’re saying being bald and pretty are mutually exclusive?”

“Yes.”

We took a trip to Costco for another return and waited in line with a man in a shirt and tie with a Blue Tooth in his ear—clearly on his lunch break— furiously scrolling his Blackberry. I tried a little too hard to pretend that I wasn’t unemployed. I began making shit up loud enough for Mr. Blackberry to hear.

“Isn’t this nice having the day off!” I yelled at Jake. “I’m so glad I’ve accrued enough PTO to have a day like this! I have to write SEVEN proposals tomorrow.”  I shook my head at Mr. Blackberry,  an engaging gesture that I understood his world. He just frowned at me.

You can’t just return something at Costco and leave. For a moment in the liquor section, I lost myself, casually grabbing a bottle of Macallan 12, which costs $40. I came to before placing it in the cart.

That’s right. Got to be more cautious now.

I put it back on the shelf. We bought nothing, and instead of stopping somewhere for lunch, we ate free samples of Swedish meatballs, Kirkland tortilla chips and hummus, Home Run Pizza triangles, Nestle Toll House chocolate chip cookies and Flinstones vitamins.

When we got home and went on a walk, Jake inquired about mushrooms sticking out of our neighbor’s grass.

“Jakey eat it?”

“No, you’ll hallucinate.”

“Hawoosnate.”

“Right.”

Before putting Jake down for nap, we did our customary rocky rocky time on the glider. He understands when we tell him that the babysitter is coming or that we’re leaving town or that we’re taking him to the doctor. I wanted to discuss my situation more, but he was being silly.

“Daddy is unemployed,” I said.

“Yeah,” he said laughing.

“Is that funny?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it going to be funny when we have to sell your crib and use food stamps?”

He went to sleep, and I filed for unemployment benefits and started applying for positions. Amy, ever the planner, got the ball rolling the moment I broke the bad news to her. She updated my profile on Monster, CareerBuilder and Indeed, and created job alerts. Lists of  good-looking corporate communication opportunities waited for me in my inbox, and friends were reaching out to their contacts on my behalf. I made good progress while Jake slept, and suddenly, I felt a little better. Jake woke up in a good mood, and that lifted me even more. Then he headbutted the shit out of me.

Amy and I discussed ways we’d need to cut back until I got a new job: fewer dinners out, babysitters maybe once a month, scale back daycare from three to two days a week, cancel Netflix and our wine club membership. I knew the wine club would be nosy, and when they inevitably asked why I was canceling, I’d tell them it was none of their fucking business. The call went like this:

Me: I need to cancel our membership for now?

Girl: Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask why?

Me: I lost my job.

Girl: Oh no. Are you doing okay?

Me: I am. Still kind of shocked, but I’m hanging in there.

Girl: Well, I’m sure you’ll find something soon, and you can always rejoin when you’re ready.

Me: Yeah, it’s still so new. I didn’t see it coming at all. It’s really tough to swallow.

Girl: Okay, well…

Me: I guess I’m kind of a stay-at-home dad now, which isn’t so bad because I get to see more of my son.

Girl: That’s great. Well, when you’re ready, just…

Me: At least now the job market’s better. A year ago, I would’ve been screwed.

Girl: Yeah. Okay well…

Me: So it looks pretty promising, you know?

Girl: Yep. Okay, have a good day Mr. Telisman.

I showed her.

Having been in this awful place before, I knew I had to quickly establish a routine, otherwise I’d drown. Like I would at work, I’ve been setting daily agendas:

• Apply to jobs
• Follow up with my network
• Update Linkedin profile
• Dishes
• Laundry
• Marinate chicken
• Swim

I’ve been operating from our home office, which Amy and Jake have decorated for me.

There is a silver lining to all this. There are a lot of neat jobs out there, and they seem to present bigger and better opportunities. Also, I’m really enjoying this time with Jake. I may never have this opportunity again. Jake is succeeding in wrapping me more around his finger. I don’t yell as much, and when he says he wants a sucker candy for breakfast, I give it to him.

I wouldn’t wish unemployment on anyone except the people who bestowed it upon me. That and scabies. It damages your self-worth, and that horrible moment when they tell you you’re out creates a new trauma for you. It’s enough to crumble you. But things are looking up for me. I have three interviews scheduled, and everyday I find job postings that excite me. I’ve got momentum, and I’ve got Jake.

I take one look at him, and I need no other motivation.