My day is not so different from yours...

So I'm reflecting on the days of when we were childless and my typical workday routine back then. I may no longer be an "employee," but I bet I can find similarities between how I operate throughout the day as a SAHD versus someone who goes to an actual place of business.

Starting with our mornings. Like you, I wake up to an alarm. Yours may play the soothing sounds of Dave Matthews, Coldplay or Snoop Dogg. My alarm is a tiny video monitor. I wake to the pterodactyl-like sounds of Ava screaming and staring right into the camera willing someone to release her from her crib-prison. You have a snooze button that may wake you again in five or ten minutes. I have a video "on" button that shows me if Ava is laying back down, in which case I, too, may have five, ten or even 60 more minutes.

You wake and greet the day, roll out of bed and go to the bathroom. I wake and greet the day, but don't have time for the bathroom - my boss is already at work and I must punch in. You and I head to the kitchen. You walk in with the morning paper in hand. I walk in with a 20lb child in hand. We both grab our bowls of cereal and head to the table. You read the morning headlines or grab your Blackberry to check e-mails. I read Sandra Boynton and give my Blackberry to Ava so I can get three minutes to go to the bathroom.

You go to the living or bedroom, start getting ready and flip on the TV to see the morning traffic. Nothing like getting stuck in NYC traffic. I go to the living room or bedroom and flip on the TV to channel 622 for Toddler Tunes and make sure my diapers are ready. Nothing like getting stuck at the change table with no diapers close by.

It's time to leave. You may kiss your significant other goodbye, grab your laptop bag and head to your wheels to go to work. I kiss my significant other goodbye, grab my diaper bag and head out to my wheels (Uppababy stroller) and proceed to the park. This time may be very scary for you and I. We fear almost reaching our destination and realizing we forgot something really important. Yours could be some files or your laptop. Mine is Pampers baby wipes or my child.

Here we both are now at work. You're at some tall building with many floors. I'm at the park. You pray you have your badge, check in with security and proceed through the turnstile. I get to a big metal fence and pray it's unlocked so I haven't just tormented my child with just a visual of the swings. You head to your desk, nod and say hello to some people whose names you don't recall. I head to the jungle gym, nod and say hello to other parents whose names I don't even know. But I do know their children's names.

Between 10 am and noon is crucial for both of us. This is generally the hours where our boss is most grumpy. Yours is cranky because they were on a conference call until 1 am this morning. My boss is cranky because she's been up for four hours and now needs her morning nap. You tiptoe around the office and avoid your boss's open door and try to go covert ops until after lunch. I tiptoe around the house and avoid passing my boss's door because human shadows are a sure bet to wake her up. But these few hours can be productive for you and I. You e-mail or call back your clients, check in on how they are doing or apologize for not responding sooner. I e-mail or call back and apologize to all the random people in my contact list who Ava may have crank called while she had my Blackberry so I could go to the bathroom.

It's afternoon and lunchtime! You head out to go get an hour in at the gym. You grab your Blackberry and gym bag. I also head out to the gym. I grab Ava's lunch bag, diaper bag, stroller, favourite toys, her sippy for the ride, my Blackberry and finally my gym bag. We get there and you get angry at the single lane lineup to get through the door because of all the parents not courteous enough to fold their stroller at the entrance. I get there too. I cruise right in because I am that parent who has not been courteous enough to fold their stroller at the door. You jump on the bike and hope you don't get a phone call from your boss who needs you back at the office right away. I jump on the bike and hope I don't get a call from daycare downstairs cause my boss just needs me.

Its now 3 pm. You're still full from the tuna roll and salad you picked up on the way home from the gym. I'm full too. I picked mine up off the kitchen floor, as this is Ava's way of telling me she is done. I believe I had toast, cheese, peas and what may have been raisins. There are only three hours left in the workday and neither of us have really gotten any heat from our boss. Then out of nowhere, we hear a big crash. For you it's the door of your boss's corner office. She or he is standing there, arms waving and yelling across the office wondering why the report they asked for three hours ago is not on their desk. For me, it's the corner bedroom door of Ava's room. She is sitting there, arms waving and yelling across the house wondering why she has not eaten in the last eight minutes.

Ahhh, and here we are, it's six o'clock. Time to wrap up. You will make a call or two to confirm an appointment with a client or colleague for tomorrow. I will make a call or two to confirm an appointment with the pediatrician or play date for tomorrow. You will tidy up around your desk and put files away. I will tidy up around the living room and put toys away. You will shut off your lights, computer and close the door. I will shut off the lights, turn all toy computers off and close the door. We will both leave our work areas and think the same thing..."crap, did I phone my significant other back?"

Today has been an important day for the two of us. For today marks the last day of our three month probationary period. You can leave work knowing that in some way, although maybe not spoken or written, the company values you enough to keep you on and see what you will bring to the table. I can leave work (aka Ava's room) knowing, that although she can't speak or write, her smile is enough to tell me how much she values my efforts and looks forward to seeing what I bring to her highchair.

So that's it. I am not a hedge fund manager, a salesperson or general manager. I am a stay at home dad. Maybe not the same job responsibilities but close enough to the same routine I feel. You get paid in cash. I get paid in leftover baby food. Either way we all go to bed at night and do it all over again the next day.