10 Things I’m Normalizing (for the sake of myself and my daughters)

It's time to modernize fatherhood

Tidy Dad

May 28, 2025

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I left my wife in Pennsylvania.

It’s one of those, “If I don’t laugh, I’ll cry kind of sentences.”

Right now she’s there, in charge of fixing our 2000 Chevy Malibu, which currently leaks coolant and is not safe to drive. As Memorial Day weekend wrapped up, we made the decision that she’d stay behind with the car; I’d take the girls back to NYC on an evening bus so that we could all make it to school the next day.

As I balanced three kids, and a major change of plans I texted her, “I’m so glad we’re both capable people.”

And that’s how we keep things spicy via text.

I like to share some of these conversations between my wife and I, because in 2025, conversations around gender roles, domestic labor, and the mental load are louder than ever. I’m a dad of three, a full-time teacher, and writer behind Tidy Dad. My wife works from home and runs multiple businesses. Our relationship and family garners attention online, and I’m glad to share how we manage it, because even now, women still shoulder much of the childcare and housework, even while building careers.

This conversation matters.

Which is why, in a world still clinging to outdated expectations, I’m ready to more boldly share the things that I’m trying to normalize in my household for the sake of myself, and for my three daughters who are always watching me do life.

Here’s the list:

1. Cleaning (like, scrubbing actual toilets)

Let’s start with the dirt: yes, I clean our toilets. Regularly. With a brush, pink gloves, sometimes while wearing under-eye patches. We all make messes, we can all learn to clean up messes, and I do not consider cleaning to be a feminine task.

And for that matter I wrote a book with entire sections devoted to teaching other people how to clean their spaces, and include the sections on the “Dirty Dozen” in each room.

Why? Because I want my daughters to see that a clean toilet doesn’t require a woman. It just requires a scrub brush and a little bit of know-how.

2. Organizing Like a Boss

I like to know where my things are. There’s this pervasive stereotype that men are messy, and women are tidy. That’s often far from the truth.

I genuinely enjoy creating systems, labeling bins, and testing out the latest organizing hack…why? Because I like to know where my things are! (Yes, I’ve repeated the same sentence in this one section!)

I want my kids to know that finding your stuff shouldn’t be a gendered activity. It’s frustrating when you can’t find something. Frustrating when you realize you’ve just purchased an identical item that you already have. Frustrating when you feel like you’re carrying the mental load of remembering where everyone’s things are!

3. Skincare is Self-Care

Newsflash: Men and Women should care for their skin.

I keep my under-eye patches in the fridge. I roll an under-eye stick below my eyes before I walk out the door. I have my own set of skincare products. (And I’m not talking about those “three-in-one” products that are marketed to men because they can’t be bothered to figure out how to correctly use items.)

My morning and evening routine involves a multi-step process that would make the beauty experts at Good Housekeeping Magazine weep with pride.

Because guess what? Dads get tired. Dads get dull skin. Dads age. (Shocker, I know) And dads deserve to glow.

And I want my daughters to know that taking care of your body doesn’t make you vain, it makes you human.

4. Choosing a profession that provides (but doesn't come with status)

I teach elementary school. I’m the only male classroom teacher. When my youngest daughter sees me in the cafeteria, it’s like I’m a celebrity. I’ve overheard her classmates say, “I wish my dad worked here.”

And yet, I’ve had people—including other dads—ask me when I’ll “move up” in my career or if I’ll always “teach.”

Funny how a woman teaching kids is “nurturing,” but a man doing it must be “waiting for something better.” Nope. I’m here on purpose. With a pension. And a first-row seat to my daughters' school days.

The true flex? Showing up and picking them up and being the first name on the blue card.

5. Reading Books by Women (and loving every plot twist)

In 2025 I’ve only read book written by female authors. It wasn’t an intentional choice, but an interesting tidbit. I’ve read memoirs, thrillers, beach reads, self-help. I'm talking: murdery trad wives, influencers with secrets, spy moms with lipstick knives.

I want my daughters to see that women’s stories aren’t niche, they're human.

Also, I’m speaking at Jo Piazza’s Everyone Is Lying To You book launch this July at The Strand. That’s right, this threat to tradwives everywhere is going to help launch Jo’s book!

6. Being Mindful of What I Eat (and breaking up with sugar)

I stopped binge-snacking. I no longer eat handfuls of candy from the stockpile of halloween candy and call it “stress management.”

I also log my calories like it’s a part-time job. When a female teacher at school said, “You look really good,” and asked what diet I was on, I was able to say: “I’m not dieting, for the first time in my life I’m just really thinking about what I’m eating.”

I talk with my wife about protein intake, and am fully in my protein era. Because mindful eating isn’t about control, it’s about energy, clarity, and actually displaying a healthy relationship with food, nutrition, and self.

There aren’t “good” foods and “bad” foods. There’s just food.

7. Sharing My Fitness Wins (even when I look ridiculous)

I work out in the living room. I work out in the kitchen. I work out at the park. I want my daughters to see that exercise isn’t punishment—it’s celebration. Health is a gift. And that confidence doesn’t come from perfection, but from consistency.

There’s this pervasive stereotype about “Dad Bods”—a man can be overweight and still be labeled “sexy,” while women are expected to be rail-thin or face ridicule.
If an overweight man is with a fit woman, no one bats an eye. But flip it? Suddenly there are whispers: “How did she land him?”

I’ve struggled with weight. I’ve struggled with identity. I even battled an eating disorder in high school. And I’m still untangling what it means to feel at home in my body. But I show up. I move. I model joy, not shame.

8. Wearing a “Skimpy” Swimsuit (and not apologizing)

I own 39 swimsuits. (I never claimed to be a minimalist.) My favorites? Swim briefs—specifically Budgy Smugglers. And yes, when I wear them, you can see my thighs.

Cue the collective gasp from American beachgoers.

Why are women expected to wear barely-there suits—I'm talking full-on thongs at the children’s water park—while men get mocked for wearing form-fitting ones? When a guy wears a swim brief, people question his masculinity, his sexuality, his ability to asses the “ick” factor.

“But we can see your junk!”

That line drives me nuts because it reveals just how uncomfortable we are with male anatomy, embodiment, and anything that challenges the “dad bod” version of masculinity. Guess what…when women wear form-fitting swimsuits, you can see their bodies too.

You know what really stinks in the water? Wearing a swimsuit that traps air bubbles, drags like a parachute, and makes it impossible to move. And don’t get me started on the “mesh liner.” There’s a reason Olympians don’t wear board shorts. Function matters. And dignity doesn’t disappear just because a man wears a suit that actually works.

American swimsuit culture is broken. No, I’m not going full Euro-thong—but I am reclaiming speed, function, and thigh freedom for the dads.

I swim laps. I open water swim. I play every pool game with my daughters—while most dads sit on the sidelines, beer in hand, in swimsuits large enough to double as picnic blankets. I don’t hide my body and am proud of how strong, and healthy I am.

If my daughters can wear what they want at the beach, so can I.

9. Feeling My Feelings (without shoving them down)

I was in therapy for three years, and now I meet bi-weekly with a professional coach and mentor. I need space to process my feelings, and I want my daughters to grow up knowing that’s normal.

It’s important for me to understand why I think and feel the way I do, especially when those feelings resurface in my actions.

When I wrote the four-part series about “Mr. Necktie” last month, I talked through each draft with my coach. I needed to understand: Why did this story matter to me now? Why did I need to tell it? How did it connect to others?

That kind of reflection helps me move through emotions instead of being ruled by them and it helps me express myself more clearly, honestly, and kindly in every part of my life.

10. Taking Risks, Failing Publicly (and laughing anyway)

I changed schools this year. My kids did too. It was scary. I went from respected staff member to “new guy” overnight.

I mean this weekend I ran a 5k, was out in first place, thought I was going to win the entire race, and then made a wrong turn. Second and third place followed me and after realizing our mistake, we came in a respective 38th, 39th, and 40th place.

But I didn’t wallow in my unfortunate error, I told the story. My oldest daughter said, “But then the whole world will know you made a mistake?” To which I said, “I’m okay with that.”

I’d rather raise girls who say, “He tried,” than girls who say, “He never let us see him mess up.”

There you have it, my list of “10 Things I’m Normalizing (For The Sake of Myself and My Daughters).” And I know this will be a growing list. Because if I normalize these things now, maybe my daughters won’t have to spend years unlearning shame, undoing double standards, or shrinking to fit into someone else’s idea of who they should be.

And maybe I’ll learn a thing or two about myself in the process.

Have you thought about the things that you’re normalizing for the sake of yourself (and maybe others that you care about?) I’d love to hear your thoughts.

The Tidy Times

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