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In a former life, before I went back to my old job, before I was a stay-at-home dad, before my old job was just my job, I was a consultant. This involved a lot of travel, the kind of fly out Sunday, fly home Friday travel eagerly tolerated by recent college grads who see it as a sign of prestige, but the kind of travel that slowly grinds you down until all the airports feel the same, no one concourse or food court or rental car counter in Chicago different from another in LaCrosse, Wisconsin.
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When I decided to quit my IT job four years ago to stay home with my son Carter, and then later my daughter Sadie, I knew I’d go back to work someday, just not when. My wife, Debbie, was building a successful business as a realtor, enough so that she could support the family on her own, and I was bored and frustrated with my job in corporate America. The choice was obvious. Instead of hiring a nanny, I would take care of the kids, and when I didn’t need to be at home anymore, I would go back to work.
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On the corner of Jefferson and Polk, South Loop, Chicago

I’m guessing that I attended the only party for Barack Obama’s inauguration where someone came out of the bathroom with his pants around his ankles. I watched the ceremony at my son Carter’s preschool yesterday. The group of three- and four-year-olds were amazingly patient and sat dutifully through most of the proceedings, but as the ceremony wore on, they started to get restless. During the new President’s acceptance speech, one little boy got up to use the restroom, and then hobbled back into the room to ask for help when he was finished, unconcerned that he was naked from the waist down.
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The Museum of Science and Industry was crowded on January 2nd. The day after the New Year fell on a Friday, so any adult with a choice had taken the day off, plus the schools were still out on holiday break. But the museum exhibits are dispersed widely enough that the mob wasn’t claustrophobic, and my almost four-year-old son Carter and I had a nice time. We toured the U-505 submarine, Carter gawked at the Great Train Story model train exhibit, and we each posed for pictures in a fake Apollo space suit. We shared a snack in the cafeteria, and he didn’t even complain when I didn’t buy him a toy at the gift shop. I judged the trip a success. Then we tried to leave.
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