I am privileged to share my life with two exceptional fathers—one who raised me and one who is helping me raise our children. They are very different parents, but their parenting is founded in unconditional love.
David chose to stay home with our girls—it is one of the most consequential decisions we've ever made. It defined the quality of our daughters' childhood, and continues to shape them in ways that are beyond our comprehension.
For David, fatherhood is a full contact experience—he took it on with his typical energetic enthusiasm. I love being a mother, but David thrives on fatherhood—it is his defining achievement and his most proud accomplishment. 18 years ago, stay at home dads were not nearly as prevalent as they are today and he faced confusion and misjudgment on occasion, often having to explain himself. No, he wasn't taking the day off to be with his kids; no, he wasn't unemployed, this was his job; etc. And he routinely reported a level of prejudice as he took the girls out—a disconcerting wariness amongst the (mostly) women he encountered at playgrounds and parks. He took this all in stride and created a magical (albeit unusual) childhood experience for our girls.
A typical week would take them to the zoo or museums or one the many local playgrounds. Or to more unusual spots. A favorite outing included watching the planes land at the Philadelphia airport, enjoying the thrill as 747s bore down on them, just above the treetops, the compressed air from the engines swirling the leaves of the trees. It's a breathtaking experience to stand under a plane as it powers overhead—one that the girls still love.
Often, though, David simply created a unique experience out of a mundane task by engaging the girls—talking with cashiers and trash truck drivers and park rangers—he was 100% absorbed with them, answering questions as thoroughly as possible, creating an educational experience out of each encounter. He has always erred on the side of truth, believing that giving the girls a forthright answer was better than euphemisms...which lead to a few somewhat uncomfortable moments for the girls and, quite possibly, the people around them. I recall his taking them to the zoo when Megan was four or five. They discovered the giant tortoises doing what animals often do in the zoo and she asked the question every child asks. This lead to a dissertation on tortoise sex including talk of penises and vaginas. He called me at work to tell about the trip and his response to her (really the first of many uncomfortable questions). My response was, “Couldn’t you just have said they were making babies?” after learning that there were several other children enjoying the tortoises and getting enlightened via David Carey’s sex education. I often wonder what their parents told their them after they left the zoo…He certainly has never shied away from the tough questions and I do believe that the girls know they’ll get straight talk from their dad whenever they pose questions. Except when it comes to Santa, but that’s another essay…
David loves a good game and his joy in play was evident to the girls—he was Megan’s first playmate, Ally’s favorite buddy—a constant source of fun and laughter as they were little, a cause of smiles and eye-rolling as they got older, but always delighted to participate. He is a pied piper in a room full of kids—they seem to know that he is the source of the fun.
His made-up games were simple in execution, complex in imagination, and provided hours of amusement. He was always creating opportunities for them, from digging holes at the beach to creating snow mountains in our yard for them to sled down to building bonfires on the rocky coast. And he was far more lenient with them than I would have been—
allowing the girls to play in puddles and mud, to throw the folded laundry around and jump on the sofa, to create strange concoctions out of flour and cereal and dried pasta and water, to paint on the kitchen floor.
And he acquiesced to them bringing home all kinds of creatures—from tadpoles to parakeets—we have had more pets than I would ever have allowed: 3 hamsters, 3 parakeets, 5 hermit crabs, 7 guppies (one who lived nearly 6 years), a bunny and, of course, our beloved Schoodic the Dog. This doesn't include the fish and tadpoles in the garden pond. From those pets they learned about life and loss, a little bit of responsibility, the virtue of taking care of something helpless, the joy and sweetness of unconditional love.
From their dad they learned the power of showing up and participating, the joy of a simple walk in the woods, to savor play and fun. They learned to create art and music. They both understand the value of hard work and a good deal. He taught them to listen to soundtracks—both the natural soundtrack around us and the ones in the movies. He cultivated in them an appreciation of photography, both as artwork and as an expression of love—their favorite childhood moments are captured on film, for even as he was engaged with them, he was recording every minute, both in stills and on video, creating enduring gifts to his family. A treasure of sharing and absolute love.
I don’t know how these things will continue to shape the girls. As they’ve gotten older, they tend to turn to me more—a natural progression, I think. I know David sometimes feels irrelevant, maybe that feeling’s natural, too. But I know it’s not true. I see daily his influence on them and I know how his guidance has shaped them into strong, smart, savvy, talented, caring young women who love music and photographs, the rocky Maine coast, and the way the light plays across the water. I know they are passionately sentimental and will bear those memories into whatever future they make for themselves. And, though they love and appreciate him now, I know that only when they become parents will they fully realize how very lucky they are.
