You might have seen them shuffling awkwardly around the toddler groups and school gates, but as more women become the main breadwinners their numbers are growing - Matt Whyman gives us a glimpse into the life of a stay-at-home dad.

Stay at home dad

I turn forty this year. It's a time for reflection, and possibly a mid-life crisis. Right now, I've no plans to buy a sports car or make a fool of myself in a nightclub. What troubles me is the fact that I've never had a proper job. At least not the kind that involves sitting in an office with colleagues and a boss breathing down my neck. I've worked from home since I graduated, and though I should be proud of having built a writing career over twenty years, I still worry that people must think I'm workshy.

What's the catch?

There's no shame in being freelance. During these lean times, however, I'm beginning to wonder whether the term is becoming a softer way of saying you're redundant or unemployed. I know several men who have recently lost their jobs. They're both now "going solo" though as far as I can see this means looking after the kids while their wives hold down the day job. I've done much the same thing for years. Unlike my friends now familiarising themselves with domestic duties and daytime television, I took on the role of househusband by choice. Back then, my wife had just been headhunted. In her view, on putting her career on ice to raise two children, this was her chance to get back in business.

"What's the catch?" I'd asked, slackening my tie having returned from a meeting with my publishers.

"Nothing," she said, and looked to her slippers. "We'll just have to share the childcare."

A happy balance

At the time this seemed fine. I worked at a desk in the spare room. I managed my own hours. Surely we could find a happy balance? Within months, I felt more like a mouse facing an elephant on a see-saw. What started out for my wife as a part time position swiftly snowballed into the kind of full-tilt career that left mine for dust. Realistically, it left me no choice but to downsize my hours as a writer.

Today, with the addition of two extra kids to justify the position, I am resigned to achieving a greater word count with my supermarket shopping list than anything else. I still find time to write, during school hours or in the evening, but it's my role as a stay at home dad that has to come first. For our children, it isn't a novelty to have their father under their feet seven days a week. They've never known any different, and I'm pleased that I can share so much time with them. The problem is the other mums.

We both make sacrifices

As a man, everything from the school runs to the cooking and cleaning is a challenge. Not physically. Just in my paranoid mind. Each day I believe women look at me and think I'm either:

• A long-term work-dodger
• Wearing an electronic tagging device

I admit my appearance doesn't help, but then men don't dress to impress. Not when your principle colleague on a day to day basis is the family dog. Furthermore, in the time it takes me to shave, I can have the packed lunches made and all the curtains drawn.

Each morning, when my wife floats down the stairs looking primed to hire and fire, I look at her and wonder how it would feel to be in her shoes. Not literally, but as the recognised bread winner. At the same time, I know she finds it tough missing out on moments with the kids. Looking at it like this, we're both making sacrifices for the sake of our family. The only difference is that she has a CV guaranteed to take her places. Mine just has big gaps that suggest I've done a lot of jail time.