Post written by James Matthews
We’ve entered a new era of change in the Matthews household. Katie—my incredible wife and Louie’s devoted mom—is officially back at work after a year of parental leave. Her leave happened to line up with summer, which makes this transition feel strangely like back-to-school season, even though it’s not quite spring yet. The air has that crisp energy of something new and demanding on the horizon.
We’re once again leaning hard on our rock-solid support network of grandparents. We are so lucky to have all four of them close by and genuinely eager to help. Their presence doesn’t just make things easier—it softens the emotional blow of change.
I often joke that our parenting journey has been like playing a video game on “easy mode” because of all the help we receive. But this latest shift—Katie’s return to work and Louie starting daycare—definitely levelled up the emotional and logistical difficulty.
Katie and I felt every emotion in the book during the lead-up and first week back. Speaking for myself, I think the emotions were twofold. On one hand, I was sad that this era—my favourite ever—was coming to a close. On the other hand, I felt a wave of stress around the impending schedule demands of two working parents.
My role? Listen, validate, and then listen some more. It felt so important to be open with each other about how we were feeling.. Where I felt I could truly shine, though, was with that scheduling chaos on the horizon.
Now, let’s be clear: Katie is the Chief Planning Officer in our house. She’s got planning spreadsheets for dream trips to Barcelona and Tokyo. But mapping the fastest route to her parents’ place at 6:32 a.m. on a Tuesday? That doesn’t quite spark the same joy.
So, I took the reins in the realm of day-to-day logistics. As the self-appointed VP of Logistics, I’ve been:
- Scouring Google Maps for time-saving shortcuts
- Maintaining a shared Google Sheet of who’s where, when, and how they’re getting there
- Prepping Louie’s daycare backpack every night
- Monitoring the family group chat for any last-minute questions or clarifications about Louie’s care
It’s a dance, honestly. A constantly shifting rhythm that I try to match beat for beat.
All of this has reminded me of something I learned during a very different kind of transition—Katie’s labour. When she was in active labour, a nurse told her to get into bed. Now, if you know Katie, you know one thing: she hates tucked-in sheets. I’ve seen her untuck them immediately in hotel rooms across the world.
In that hospital room, with Louie on her way and pain and adrenaline flooding the air, Katie couldn’t speak. But I saw the discomfort on her face as she climbed into the bed. No words needed. I reached over and yanked the sheets free. It was such a small act, but it felt big—because it was deeply us. A quiet shorthand built over years.
That same kind of knowing is what helps guide me now. Logistics have the same energy. While Katie can plan a perfect multi-country itinerary, I’ve always been the one to time our day-to-day arrivals and departures. From Langley to the Law Courts? I’ve got that on lock. Langley to Lisbon? I’ll leave that to her.
So, as Katie returns to work, this is the rhythm that makes the most sense for us. My way of easing her transition back. A quiet act of support. A way to make our days feel a little less like September 1st, and a little more like August 1st.
I’ll end it with a question for the soon-to-be dads out there: “What small, everyday acts of support come naturally to you? How do you show up for your partner in ways only you can?”
