'I have a "Doesband". But there's one big problem with having a partner who's actually useful.'

Every time my partner goes away I'm reminded I couldn't do my job if he and I didn't live in the same house.

Romantic, yes? 

He's just spent four nights away and things are barely functioning around here. 

Of course, I miss my partner when he's not around because he's funny, and kind, and cute, but after 18 years and two kids together, the greatest pain of separation is the practical one – in my bum. 

Everything becomes my job. Cooking for the children. Feeding the children. Cleaning up after feeding the children. Shopping for food for the children. Driving the children places. Sport. Piano. Tap dancing. Sport. Mate's house. Shouting at the children to clear up their messes and get off their phones. Do you live in a bin? Can you even hear my voice? I'll throw that bloody phone into the sea. 

You know, the usual.

Reading with the children. Trying to encourage them to bathe. Asking them if they have any homework that needs doing. Seeing through their lies. 

Cleaning the house. Washing all the clothes. Folding all the clothes. Putting away all the clothes. 

Walking the dog, feeding the dog, rumbling with the dog. Picking up the dog's sh*t. Shouting at the dog to stop barking at the neighbour's dog.  

You get the picture. All the stuff that you're doing every day, in a family. And, very likely, if you're a woman, you're doing most, if not all of, anyway.

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It's hard, among all that, to be on top of everything at work as well. Available for meetings in the morning, catching up on emails at night, writing to deadline (checks watch) at school pick-up time. I think we've all discussed that conundrum, many times over, and it still isn't getting any easier. BUT - it's a hell of a lot easier to do both Family Things and Work Things if you can share them out. 

Today I learned my partner is an Internet phenomenon – he is a "doesband."

A "doesband" is a 'husband' who 'does things'. And this, apparently, is so rare a creature that he needs his own cute moniker, coined by British journalist Harriet Walker in the Sunday Times a couple of weeks ago. 

Harriet has a 'doesband'. She says that this is the desirable, Millennial version of a house-husband (which suggests that he doesn't work outside the home), or a 'new man' (as opposed to the original version) or a "hands-on dad" (who changes, gasp, nappies) and if he had a celebrity pin-up, it might be Hamish Blake, who "does" bake birthday cakes, seems to know his children's names, and enjoys spending time with them on holiday. 

Mine isn't strictly a "doesband", as we're not actually married. But he does a great deal. As much as I do. More, maybe, as I have a couple of jobs and have worked a lot outside the home ever since we stopped being a couple and became a family. 

Walker writes that a doesband, "Knows where the [Panadol] is and when ballet kit is needed … He gets up with the children and does bedtime; he feeds them, bathes them, does the school run; knows when their nails need to be cut and that behind their ears can get gunky.”

Tick, tick, tick. 

It's not clear if a doesband can be a woman, but I think I might be one, too. Because the job description of a "mother" remains stubbornly unchanged – 'Does everything', I think it says. 'Unless she has a doesband, in which case, she gets a hand.' 

Here's the thing.

It's great to be able to share family life, if it works out that way, and doesn't make anyone miserable. 

It's great to share all the boring, difficult, challenging jobs (have you ever tried to get a nine-year-old off Minecraft, or to deworm a dog?) It's great for you to be able to get on with other things in your life, the things that don't require you to put yourself at the bottom of the list, or to drive anyone anywhere when you really, really want to lie on the couch watching Ted Lasso. But, there's one problem. 

There's a downside. Everywhere the doesband goes, he will be congratulated. He will garner such praise for knowing simple facts about his children – like, their middle names and whether they're deathly allergic to nuts – that you will wonder if perhaps, these things are harder than they seem. He will be told what a great dad he is when he drops his children off to preschool, or turns up at parents' night at big school. And if he were to do something as drastic as take them to a doctors' appointment, organise a birthday party, cook weeknight dinners, or plan a holiday... well, it's perfectly possible that a parade might be thrown, or a public holiday declared. 

International Day Of The Doesband. Bookmark it. 

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If you go away for work - or, say, back to work, leaving him in charge after having a baby – you will get side-eye as people deliver him lasagnas. The words You're So Lucky float before your eyes when you sleep, because you've heard them so very, very often. If he, and not you, turns up at school-play day, people will send you pictures, and say 'sorry you missed it', when really, you were not that sorry to have missed it, and your kid had a parent there to witness them doing the birdy dance, dressed as a pig. Their self-esteem will remain intact. 

The bar for good father remains stubbornly low. The bar for good mother remains stubbornly high. Let's normalise and celebrate parenting being a team sport, where possible and whatever that team looks like.

A doesband should be the bare minimum. An active partner parent is not a hero. But you know who is? The people who are doing it all, alone, every damn day. 

Single parents, and practically single parents. Parents whose partner works away. Parents whose partner left. Or was never there in the first place. Parents whose partner died. 

They are the ones who are juggling all these demands, all this mess, all this shouting and cleaning and comforting alone, while attempting to stay employed, vaguely sane and not murder anyone today. 

So let's have a cute name for them that will fit on an aspirational meme, perhaps. 

Legend should do it.

Image: Supplied.