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As a stay-at-home dad， I am the economic equivalent of a zero.
This revelation came to me at my local Costco where， upon checkout， I am often asked to apply for their new cashback credit card. Usually， I politely decline， preferring to leave the crowded store with my bulging shopping cart.
I finally gave in. “Sure， why not？” I said when asked for the umpteenth time.
A kind lady escorted me to Customer Service. We began the application process cheerfully.
“Just a few questions， sir，” the kind lady said， starting with name， address and postal code. She worked down the list toward “occupation” .
“What do you do for a living， sir？”
“I’m a stay-at-home dad，” I replied confidently.
She paused， unsure of what to write， and temporarily left the field blank.
“Employer？”
“My wife，” I laughed. The kind lady chuckled.
“Income？”
I do some odd jobs here and there so I told her “about$10，000.”
She looked at me， hesitant again， and queried： “Per month？”
I laughed heartily. “Per year.”
“I’ll tell you what， sir. I’m gonna write you in as a student with an annual income of $15，000.”
That’s kind of weird， I thought. “Do they give cards to students？” I asked.
“Oh yes， sir. No problems if you fill the form this way.”
“Alright.”
I shrugged and walked away， thanking the kind lady. It didn’t hit me at first， but as I was pushing my cart， an indignant voice rose from within. I didn’t want to lie about my occupation. I’m proud to be a stay-at-home dad. I finally became comfortable telling people what I do， so now， I won’t be marginalized！
I went back to the kind lady and said： “Listen， I don’t want to lie on my application.”
She said she was only trying to help. If she wrote the truth I’d be rejected. I thanked her for her efforts but asked her to tear up my application. “Absolutely， sir，” she said.“Sorry for the trouble.”
I left the store feeling unloved by our Gross Domestic Product. Don’t get me wrong， I’m not too hung up about this. Stay-at-home moms have faced these types of issues a lot longer than I have. But it can sure feel like a thankless job， sometimes. （Yes， I am comparing the work of stay-athome parents to that of paid positions.） Our work—cooking， cleaning， taking care of the kids—is important.
Why do I feel a bit insecure at times when I declare my status as stay-at-home dad？ Why do I occasionally feel compelled to append： “I’m a writer， too”？ Is it not enough to be simply a stay-at-home dad？ Sometimes， the caveman inside me wants to jump out with his big stick and grunt：“Me man！ Me should support family！” Years of cultural conditioning are hard to cast aside. Then I ponder： What does it really mean to be a man？ I have concluded that it isn’t about how much money you make， or how well you can frame a stud wall （though that is a useful skill for anyone）. To me， it’s more about being true to yourself and to those you love; to be responsible， caring， honest and patient. And it is possible to be more than one thing. Yes， I am a stay-at-home dad. Yes， I am a writer.
As for the economic merits of paying stay-at-home parents， I will leave that debate to the policy makers and special-interest groups. While my work is not counted by the economy， it is acknowledged by those who matter most to me： my family.
By staying at home， I had more time to teach my sons how to ride their bikes. I learned to cook a mean homemade chicken noodle soup. I’ve been fortunate enough to attend every school concert or performance my kids have been in. I’ve developed a unique bond with my children， one I don’t think I would have achieved within the same time frame had I gone back to work.
I am okay with being financially dependent on my wife—we made that decision together. We made a monetary sacrifice. It works for our family， but I don’t claim the arrangement is better or worse than anyone else’s.
One day， when our kids are a bit older， I’ll jump back into the paid work force. When that day comes， I’ll miss cutting the crusts off their sandwiches every day， and picking them up at the bus stop. I’ll think fondly of the day my youngest son said： “I wanna be a stay-at-home dad and a writer when I grow up.”
And next time Costco asks me if I want to apply for their new cash-back credit card， I’ll smile and say： “No thank you. But you could try asking my wife.”
作為一个全职爸爸，我的经济价值等于零。
在我家当地的好市多结账时，我认识到了这一点。他们经常会问我要不要申请他们的新现金支取信用卡。通常，由于更想带着我那满满的购物车离开拥挤的人群，我都会礼貌地拒绝。
我最后还是投降了。“没问题，为什么不呢？”当第N次被问到这个问题时，我这样回答道。
一位亲切的女士把我带到了客户服务中心。我们在愉快的氛围下开始了申请流程。
“问您几个问题，先生，”亲切的女士说道，从姓名，地址以及邮编开始。她接着往下问到了“职业”。
“您从事什么职业呢，先生？”
“我是个全职爸爸，”我自信地回答道。
她停了下来，不确定要怎么填，就暂时把那处留空。
“雇主是？”
“我妻子，”我大笑道。亲切的女士咯咯地笑了起来。
“收入？”
我有到处做一些零工，所以我跟她说：“1万美元左右。”
她再次迟疑地看着我，询问道：“每月？”
我哈哈大笑：“每年。”
“请注意，先生。我要把你写成是个年收入为1万5千美元的学生。”
那有点奇怪，我想道。“他们会给学生开卡吗？”我问道。
“会的，先生。只要你这么填就没有问题。”
“好吧。”
我边耸肩离开边向那位女士表示感谢。刚开始，我并不觉得那有什么，但当我推着购物车的时候，我的内心响起了一个愤怒的声音。我不想就我的职业撒谎。我对自己是一名全职爸爸感到自豪。我总算能自在地跟别人说起自己是做什么的了，所以现在，我不要被边缘化。 我掉头回去找那位亲切的女士，对她说：“听着，我不想就我的职业撒谎。”
她说她只是想帮忙。如果她照实写的话，我会被拒绝的。我对她的努力表示了感谢，但同时要求她销毁我的申请。“当然没问题，先生。”她说道。“抱歉给您造成了麻烦。”
我离开了商店，感觉自己是个被国内生产总值唾弃的人。不要误会，我并不对此十分介怀。比起我，全职妈妈很久以前就开始遇到这些问题。但能肯定的是，有时候，这真是一份吃力不讨好的工作。（没错，我是在把全职父母的工作与有报酬的工作相比较。）我们的工作——煮饭、打扫、照顾孩子——是很重要的。
为什么有时候当我说自己是个全职爸爸时，我会感到有点不自信呢？为什么我有时会不由得加上一句：“我也是个作家”呢？难道仅仅做一个全职爸爸是不够的吗？有时候，我心里的那个野人想要提着他的大棍子跳出来，大声嚷嚷：“我是个男人！我应该要养家糊口！”长年的社会文化熏陶是很难去除的。
然后我想：一个男人的真正含义是什么？我得出的结论是：这并不在于你赚多少钱，也不在于你能把立柱墙架得有多么好（尽管这是个对任何人来说都很实用的技能）。对我而言，更重要的是要真实地面对自己以及自己所爱的人。要有责任感、体贴、诚实和有耐心。此外，身兼多职也是可行的。没错，我是个全职爸爸。没错，我是个作家。
至于给全职父母支付薪酬的经济价值何在，我还是把这个问题留给政策制定人和特殊群体利益代表小组去争论吧。虽然我的工作无法用经济价值来衡量，但却受到我最重要的人的认可：我的家人。
留在家里，我有了更多的时间教儿子骑单车。我学会了做好吃的家常鸡肉面汤。我儿子参加的每一场学校音乐会和表演，我都有幸到场。我和孩子们培养出了一份独一无二的感情，如果我回去工作了，我不認为自己能在同样的时间内做到这一点。
我可以接受在经济上依靠我妻子——我们共同作出了这个决定。我们作出了金钱上的牺牲。这在我家行得通，但我不会因此就说这个决定比其他人的要好或差。
总有一天，当我们孩子长大一点的时候，我会重新参加有薪酬的工作。当那天来临时，我会想念每天切掉他们的三文治硬皮，到公交站接他们的那些日子的。我会愉快地想起我小儿子那天说出的那番话：“我长大后想当一个全职爸爸和作家。”
当下次好市多再问我要不要申请他们的新现金支取信用卡时，我会笑着说：“不了，谢谢。但你可以问问我妻子。”
This revelation came to me at my local Costco where， upon checkout， I am often asked to apply for their new cashback credit card. Usually， I politely decline， preferring to leave the crowded store with my bulging shopping cart.
I finally gave in. “Sure， why not？” I said when asked for the umpteenth time.
A kind lady escorted me to Customer Service. We began the application process cheerfully.
“Just a few questions， sir，” the kind lady said， starting with name， address and postal code. She worked down the list toward “occupation” .
“What do you do for a living， sir？”
“I’m a stay-at-home dad，” I replied confidently.
She paused， unsure of what to write， and temporarily left the field blank.
“Employer？”
“My wife，” I laughed. The kind lady chuckled.
“Income？”
I do some odd jobs here and there so I told her “about$10，000.”
She looked at me， hesitant again， and queried： “Per month？”
I laughed heartily. “Per year.”
“I’ll tell you what， sir. I’m gonna write you in as a student with an annual income of $15，000.”
That’s kind of weird， I thought. “Do they give cards to students？” I asked.
“Oh yes， sir. No problems if you fill the form this way.”
“Alright.”
I shrugged and walked away， thanking the kind lady. It didn’t hit me at first， but as I was pushing my cart， an indignant voice rose from within. I didn’t want to lie about my occupation. I’m proud to be a stay-at-home dad. I finally became comfortable telling people what I do， so now， I won’t be marginalized！
I went back to the kind lady and said： “Listen， I don’t want to lie on my application.”
She said she was only trying to help. If she wrote the truth I’d be rejected. I thanked her for her efforts but asked her to tear up my application. “Absolutely， sir，” she said.“Sorry for the trouble.”
I left the store feeling unloved by our Gross Domestic Product. Don’t get me wrong， I’m not too hung up about this. Stay-at-home moms have faced these types of issues a lot longer than I have. But it can sure feel like a thankless job， sometimes. （Yes， I am comparing the work of stay-athome parents to that of paid positions.） Our work—cooking， cleaning， taking care of the kids—is important.
Why do I feel a bit insecure at times when I declare my status as stay-at-home dad？ Why do I occasionally feel compelled to append： “I’m a writer， too”？ Is it not enough to be simply a stay-at-home dad？ Sometimes， the caveman inside me wants to jump out with his big stick and grunt：“Me man！ Me should support family！” Years of cultural conditioning are hard to cast aside. Then I ponder： What does it really mean to be a man？ I have concluded that it isn’t about how much money you make， or how well you can frame a stud wall （though that is a useful skill for anyone）. To me， it’s more about being true to yourself and to those you love; to be responsible， caring， honest and patient. And it is possible to be more than one thing. Yes， I am a stay-at-home dad. Yes， I am a writer.
As for the economic merits of paying stay-at-home parents， I will leave that debate to the policy makers and special-interest groups. While my work is not counted by the economy， it is acknowledged by those who matter most to me： my family.
By staying at home， I had more time to teach my sons how to ride their bikes. I learned to cook a mean homemade chicken noodle soup. I’ve been fortunate enough to attend every school concert or performance my kids have been in. I’ve developed a unique bond with my children， one I don’t think I would have achieved within the same time frame had I gone back to work.
I am okay with being financially dependent on my wife—we made that decision together. We made a monetary sacrifice. It works for our family， but I don’t claim the arrangement is better or worse than anyone else’s.
One day， when our kids are a bit older， I’ll jump back into the paid work force. When that day comes， I’ll miss cutting the crusts off their sandwiches every day， and picking them up at the bus stop. I’ll think fondly of the day my youngest son said： “I wanna be a stay-at-home dad and a writer when I grow up.”
And next time Costco asks me if I want to apply for their new cash-back credit card， I’ll smile and say： “No thank you. But you could try asking my wife.”
作為一个全职爸爸，我的经济价值等于零。
在我家当地的好市多结账时，我认识到了这一点。他们经常会问我要不要申请他们的新现金支取信用卡。通常，由于更想带着我那满满的购物车离开拥挤的人群，我都会礼貌地拒绝。
我最后还是投降了。“没问题，为什么不呢？”当第N次被问到这个问题时，我这样回答道。
一位亲切的女士把我带到了客户服务中心。我们在愉快的氛围下开始了申请流程。
“问您几个问题，先生，”亲切的女士说道，从姓名，地址以及邮编开始。她接着往下问到了“职业”。
“您从事什么职业呢，先生？”
“我是个全职爸爸，”我自信地回答道。
她停了下来，不确定要怎么填，就暂时把那处留空。
“雇主是？”
“我妻子，”我大笑道。亲切的女士咯咯地笑了起来。
“收入？”
我有到处做一些零工，所以我跟她说：“1万美元左右。”
她再次迟疑地看着我，询问道：“每月？”
我哈哈大笑：“每年。”
“请注意，先生。我要把你写成是个年收入为1万5千美元的学生。”
那有点奇怪，我想道。“他们会给学生开卡吗？”我问道。
“会的，先生。只要你这么填就没有问题。”
“好吧。”
我边耸肩离开边向那位女士表示感谢。刚开始，我并不觉得那有什么，但当我推着购物车的时候，我的内心响起了一个愤怒的声音。我不想就我的职业撒谎。我对自己是一名全职爸爸感到自豪。我总算能自在地跟别人说起自己是做什么的了，所以现在，我不要被边缘化。 我掉头回去找那位亲切的女士，对她说：“听着，我不想就我的职业撒谎。”
她说她只是想帮忙。如果她照实写的话，我会被拒绝的。我对她的努力表示了感谢，但同时要求她销毁我的申请。“当然没问题，先生。”她说道。“抱歉给您造成了麻烦。”
我离开了商店，感觉自己是个被国内生产总值唾弃的人。不要误会，我并不对此十分介怀。比起我，全职妈妈很久以前就开始遇到这些问题。但能肯定的是，有时候，这真是一份吃力不讨好的工作。（没错，我是在把全职父母的工作与有报酬的工作相比较。）我们的工作——煮饭、打扫、照顾孩子——是很重要的。
为什么有时候当我说自己是个全职爸爸时，我会感到有点不自信呢？为什么我有时会不由得加上一句：“我也是个作家”呢？难道仅仅做一个全职爸爸是不够的吗？有时候，我心里的那个野人想要提着他的大棍子跳出来，大声嚷嚷：“我是个男人！我应该要养家糊口！”长年的社会文化熏陶是很难去除的。
然后我想：一个男人的真正含义是什么？我得出的结论是：这并不在于你赚多少钱，也不在于你能把立柱墙架得有多么好（尽管这是个对任何人来说都很实用的技能）。对我而言，更重要的是要真实地面对自己以及自己所爱的人。要有责任感、体贴、诚实和有耐心。此外，身兼多职也是可行的。没错，我是个全职爸爸。没错，我是个作家。
至于给全职父母支付薪酬的经济价值何在，我还是把这个问题留给政策制定人和特殊群体利益代表小组去争论吧。虽然我的工作无法用经济价值来衡量，但却受到我最重要的人的认可：我的家人。
留在家里，我有了更多的时间教儿子骑单车。我学会了做好吃的家常鸡肉面汤。我儿子参加的每一场学校音乐会和表演，我都有幸到场。我和孩子们培养出了一份独一无二的感情，如果我回去工作了，我不認为自己能在同样的时间内做到这一点。
我可以接受在经济上依靠我妻子——我们共同作出了这个决定。我们作出了金钱上的牺牲。这在我家行得通，但我不会因此就说这个决定比其他人的要好或差。
总有一天，当我们孩子长大一点的时候，我会重新参加有薪酬的工作。当那天来临时，我会想念每天切掉他们的三文治硬皮，到公交站接他们的那些日子的。我会愉快地想起我小儿子那天说出的那番话：“我长大后想当一个全职爸爸和作家。”
当下次好市多再问我要不要申请他们的新现金支取信用卡时，我会笑着说：“不了，谢谢。但你可以问问我妻子。”