There are a few toys that, when my daughter Louie turns them on, immediately crank up the Sunday Scaries in me.
When she was nine months old, I switched from full-time, in-office work to a hybrid job where I worked mostly from home. This meant that the sounds of her toys bounced around my home office, replacing the cubicle cacophony of keyboards.
At face value, it was amazing. Less time stuck at work and in traffic and more time with her felt like the winning formula. I loved being able to support my wife, Katie, more consistently during her maternity leave. Being home during the day meant I could help pack Louie into the car, eat lunch as a family, or simply give Katie a moment to go to the bathroom in peace.
The coefficient I didn’t always factor in, however, was the growing pains of not having that clear separation of church and state. I could no longer easily leave my workday at the office. I didn’t have a predefined time when “work James” could be switched off. I remember feeling torn in so many directions in those early days.
A year later, I feel like I have it much more under control. I lock myself away for meetings so I can actually focus on those and then emerge quickly after for a hug. I am more open about my boundaries with work and at home, and have more confidence to let my colleagues know when I’m logging off for a bit. As I wrote last month, your capacity grows in all facets. Luckily, I have felt this to be true even in my work and have surprised myself with some of the wins I have had. It’s almost like those early morning bottles I fed Louie in her first months have created another gear for me even now.
I remember being particularly concerned about the whole lack-of-sleep thing in the newborn phase. Ironically, it was the thing that kept me up at night even before Louie was born. Once she was earthside, I fell into a nice routine of taking the morning shifts with her.
Starting within a week of her arrival, and continuing to this day, I wake up when Louie does. In those early days, that sometimes meant my day started at 3:00am. While that felt daunting when I returned to work, I really loved that time with her—and that it allowed Katie to catch up on sleep. The cherry on top? I was pleasantly surprised by how manageable it felt. When I returned to my five-day, 40-hour workweek grind, I felt fully capable of tackling each day.
Pre-fatherhood James could never. I could barely stay up long enough to finish watching the end of Canucks games. And here I was, feeling pretty good on just a few hours of sleep. I even remember smiling ear-to-ear when Louie started sleeping in until sometime in the 4:00 hour.
Now, I will admit that during this time I also had a favourite Starbucks en route to the office to acquire much-needed (and oft-desired) caffeine. And I would doze off a bit when I got to snuggle Louie after work, catching up on extra rest with weekend naps (I still do!). But I remember reading about the hormonal changes that can occur in non-birthing parents. I naively thought that was reserved for birthing parents alone. Yet while I was giving Louie those bottles first thing in the morning, her mere presence was giving me life—quite literally.
In a similar way, I firmly believe you can use working parenthood for good, even when it feels like the cards are stacked against you.
The founder of the company I work for once called his role as a father his “superpower.” At the time, I loved that idea but didn’t fully understand it. Now I do—and I see how it can mean different things to different dads.
For me, it materializes as built-in breaks during my day. I have to close the laptop, and I know it makes me a better version of myself when I open it back up (even if that’s three hours later, when Louie goes to bed). I also think advocating for your needs goes a long way. A simple “I’ll dive into this when my kid goes to bed” almost always gets a thumbs-up emoji—and more often than not, encouragement and support.
My wife and I both work, and we’ve been incredibly fortunate to have Louie’s grandparents support us with childcare during the week for almost a year now. It’s something we know most people don’t have access to and that support makes a real difference. Those valid, complicated feelings around first birthdays and first daycare days soften a little when there’s a routine to anchor them.
I do the morning drop-off at my parents’ place, and it gives me that old in-office feeling: 40 minutes to an hour with just my podcasts or playlists. But a few months ago, my parents were having work done on their house, which meant Louie stayed home during the day instead of only coming home as I was logging off. Toys don’t always have staying power with a toddler, but sometimes—seemingly inexplicably—the old becomes new again. She pulled out a few forgotten favourites, and suddenly I was right back in that earlier chapter. This time, though, it felt like a blessing instead of a disruption.
