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Who is Steely Dad?

Steely Dad chronicles the (mis)adventures of Todd Gottlieb as he embarks on a career as a domestic engineer (read "stay-at-home dad"). Oh, and there might be the occasional pithy observation on the madness of our modern world.

Archive: When Nice Moms Turn Nasty

Back to Homeschool

fatherhood-fridayMy wife and I have decided to homeschool our kids. It was by no means a decision we arrived at easily as we researched extensively, having attended both homeschooling seminars and preschool open houses. We weighed pros and cons. Both options have their benefits and shortcomings, to be sure, but in the end, and for a variety of reasons, homeschooling made sense…to us.

Was that the sound of the sky falling?

Just so you don’t attempt to reconcile this non sequitur by relying on the vast and fruitful tapestry of homeschooling stereotypes, here are some facts to consider: my wife and I are not “bible thumpers” (in fact, being Jewish, we’re not Torah thumpers either); my wife does not wear a really long skirt and she’s not always pregnant; I don’t wear a wide-brimmed black hat or suspenders; we’re both world travelers and university-educated; we don’t have a litter of kids and the ones we do have don’t go around in bare feet; we don’t live on  a farm; and we both went to public schools (my wife having the distinct privilege of attending the very same “amazing” schools we’ve decided to forgo).

I’ve discussed homeschooling since the topic of preschool started cropping up with other parents and, most frequently, in the Den of Yentas. (Oh, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the “yentas”! In case you’ve never been acquainted with, or have since forgotten, my favorite group of free-speaking moms, here’s a refresher.)

The moment I first walked into the Den, the yentas were hammering me about which preschool I planned to enroll my kids. When I answered honestly (and in retrospect, mistakenly) that I was considering homeschooling, this literally launched a local war. Since revealing my dirty little secret, I’ve been yelled at, criticized and ridiculed. I became a pariah of the community. This vitriolic response continues to this day.

Why is it that parents who don’t homeschool get so off-the-chart offended when you tell them that you homeschool? Better yet, why do they believe they know what’s best for your kids as well as feel compelled and entitled to share with you that fact?

Oh, I failed to mention the supreme irony in all of this: oddly enough, most of these critics of my school choice would be staunchly supportive of me if I were a woman exercising a choice of a different matter entirely. You see, I live in a community that touts itself as very “liberal,” open-minded and accepting of different people and opinions. This privilege of acceptance, however, seems to extend exclusively to those who never leave the reservation. So long as you do everything that everyone else is doing, then you’re granted safe passage. But get out of line and, well, you get the picture.

Let me share with you some of the more “educated” criticisms I’ve heard:

Yenta #1: (Sarcastic tone) Why would you home school for preschool when all they’re doing is playing?

Steely Dad: Why would you pay $1,200 a month if they’re only playing? Can’t you play at a park for free?

Yenta #2: Your kids are too smart and show too much promise. We’re not going to let you ruin them. (The Den erupted into laughter.)

Steely Dad: (I just shook my head incredulously that supposedly “educated” people could be so stupid.)

Yenta #3: Don’t you want your kids to be socialized?

Steely Dad: Of course. It’s just that I believe my kids deserve to be socialized by people who are actually socialized. Ever read Lord of the Flies?

Yenta #4: That’s stupid.

Steely Dad: Any chance you were traditionally educated? Because, seriously, you’re exceptionally articulate.

Yenta #4: (Expletives!)

Yenta #1: I could understand homeschooling if the schools here sucked but these are some of the best schools ANYWHERE! People move to this area and pay the insultingly-high taxes just for the schools.

Steely Dad: Why are these schools so great?

Yenta #1: They have some of the highest test scores in the nation.

Steely Dad: And high test scores are a sign of a good education? Ever wonder why the test scores are so high?

Yenta #1: Huh?

Steely Dad: Never mind. If there are no further questions…

Do I labor under the illusion that homeschooling will be easy? No. But rarely in my life have I found the easy road to be the right road. All I can tell you is that we feel homeschooling is best for our kids at this particular stage in their lives. As we embark on this very exciting adventure, we will continue to monitor and evaluate and if we should decide that we need to change directions, it will be our choice to make.

So, to those parents who choose not to homeschool and think anyone who does is a moron: look, I homeschool; you don’t. However, unlike you, I could care less how you decide to educate your kids for I respect your right to choose. Why do you care how I decide to educate my kids? I realize your concern comes from a place of altruism, that you truly care about the welfare of my kids, apparently more so than I do, but please, don’t worry. We’re going to be just fine.

War of the Sexes

I was reading my buddy Jason’s blog, Outnumbered, and came upon a rather interesting topic regarding which is the superior sex (no, not doggie compared to missionary). He was responding to a post by a blogger named Nic at My Bottle’s Up.  Read her two posts Women are the Stronger Sex and Sex, Continued. Then you can read my response below. (You might want to prepare a stiff libations before moving forward on this one. Don’t yell at me. You’ve been duly warned).

Dear Nic,

First I’d like to say, genius post. This is my first time visiting your blog so it definitely did the job for which it was intended. I applaud you for, dare I say it, having the “balls” (or should I say “ovaries”?) to speak your mind no matter the consequences. I admire that in a person, man or woman. Creating controversy is a noble ambition but keep in mind that if you’re going to throw something like this out there for the simple reason to create a buzz, you might want to be prepared with an oft-forgotten concept known as facts.

After I read your posts, I started to write what I thought would be a short comment but the more I wrote the more I realized the importance and depth of this topic. At first I tried to draft a witty response like Jason but I realized I’m not as funny as he is and that I had a difficult time finding the humor in mocking and stereotyping an entire group of people, even if that group just happens to be MEN. (I’m afraid that simply acknowledging that there does exist “some” men, according to your definition, which apparently includes donning a “hot” uniform, doesn’t get you off the hook. I suppose in your mind you can’t be a man hater because you’re married to one? There’s little to no difference between that line of logic and the one so many use to excuse their racist views because they have friends of various colors.)

So where Jason took the high road, I’m taking a more nuts ‘n’ bolts approach. Forgive me if it’s inarticulate. After all, I’m just a weak man who puked this on a page. In any case, here’s my take:

1. Are there weak men? Absolutely, but no more so than there are weak women. Just because a man is quiet doesn’t mean he is weak just as a “loud” or “assertive” woman is not necessarily strong.

2. Perhaps you’re aware that your post actually sheds light on the broader issue related to the disparity of acceptability. What do I mean by that? Well, what a woman can say about a man, a man cannot say about a woman. Case in point. I was sitting in the Den of Yentas last week when there was a guest speaker. I arrived late but from what I could tell, she was a physician. The group was discussing teenagers and the issue of what to do to prevent these horny kids from having sex. Sharing with the group the advice she passed along to her own daughter, the physician said, “I told her, ‘Never trust someone who has a penis.’” Hilarity ensued. And then she looked at me and said, “Sorry but it’s true.” Can you just imagine the community outrage if one woman was sitting amongst a group of men and one of them says, “Never trust something that bleeds for five days and doesn’t die”? It would go over like a lead fart but for some reason this very derogatory comment was received by a group of women as acceptable.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m completely in favor of groups celebrating their achievements and “differences” but only under two conditions: A) The right to do so should be equally enjoyed by ALL groups, even those with whom you might disagree. This includes, but is not limited to, MEN and B) Don’t do so at the expense of other groups. Celebrating your womanhood by positing that one sex is stronger than the other, and then basing that argument on sweeping generalizations (based on what data I have no idea), is tantamount to arguing that one race is superior to another or that one religion is right and any opposing viewpoint is simply wrong. Perhaps you can equivocate explain as to how this “battle” of the sexes is somehow different in scope? Stop and think for a moment if I’d written a post like yours only I stated that men are the stronger sex. Let’s even say I went a step further than you and provided actual evidence based on historical record. For example, I won’t go so far as to say “every” but certainly a “signigicant number” of human advancement, from the genesis of modern mathematics and classical philosophy to the atom bomb, from vaccines to putting man on the moon, has come at the hands of men, not women. Am I suggesting that men are the stronger sex based on this analysis? Not at all. I’m simply illustrating the fact that the barometer you use to demonstrate women’s superiority is flawed.

Notwithstanding the evidence I prepared, I’d have the ACLU knocking on my door, Martha Burk would take a hit out on my life and I’d probably receive the ire of every mommy blogger in the entire blogosphere. Why? Because I said something untrue? No. I would be chastised because I said something that was contrary to the very fabric of their being regardless of its veracity. Why is it acceptable for you to write something like this but not for me? You won’t become the pariah of the woman’s movement. On the contrary, you will be hailed as a brave and heroic warrior (just read the comments on your blog left by other women). You’ll receive accolades and praise from your sisters. Me? I’d probably have my blog shut down.

Why is this caricature of men as the weaker sex not only acceptable but lauded and celebrated? One reason: men constitute the ONLY group of people NOT protected under the PC constitution. You can’t even comment on, much less be at all critical of women. Indeed, every race is off limits, religion is out and insulting someone for their sexual orientation will earn you epithets that make even me blush. So who’s left? MEN. No one ever gets blasted for hating on men. There is a double (heck, a quadruple) standard at play here. We’re not allowed to say anything that might be on our minds and we’re forbidden to fight for what we believe lest we be labeled misogynists, racists or “angry white men.”  If I disagreed with a feminist I’d be called a fascist (perhaps the most misunderstood and misused word in the English language) simply for the fact that I disagreed. If I disagreed with a homosexual I’d be called homophobic. I’ve been called a racist not because I said anything remotely derogatory about Obama’s skin color but because I have contrarian viewpoints regarding his policies. I’ve been labeled a racist for demonstrating my First Amendment right to free speech and peaceful assembly because I attended a rally against the massive expansion of government The Family Tea Party. So ask yourself, who wants this kind of headache? Who needs it? Often it takes a stronger man to remain silent, to wear his guns on the inside.

What you might view as “weak” is an effort by many men to avoid the perception of weakness. Men are expected to simply take whatever abuse is dished to us. We’re taught that firing back makes us look too sensitive and sensitivity is a sign of weakness. Therfore, we keep silent. Believe it or not, keeping silent might also save us from litigation and prison time. You laugh but there is a bill that’s already passed one chamber of Congress which in essence allows anyone who “perceives” a threat or “perceives” harm to be able to civilly litigate the perpetrator of that “perceived” threat (see H.R. 1913). The perpetrator can also face criminal charges. What does this mean? If you feel threatened by what I have to say, you can sue me. I could also be incarcerated. No wonder we’ve been silenced and castrated through a systematic campaign by the courts. The media is certainly complicit in this effort as well. Cinema, television and other media always put men in an inferior, albeit inaccurate, light. The incapable dumb guy who so badly needs his wife lest he stop breathing has become an acceptable and popular characterization. We all know he’d be lost without her. Think what would happen if they switched these roles around. Such a show would never be produced and the “angry white fascist” who floated the suggestion would be looking for a new job cleaning sewers. The media suggestion is so overwhelmingly powerful that some (know of any?) can’t help but apply these false notions to real life men in real life situations. However, you are guilty of accepting (and now promoting) the very same stereotypes that you, as an admitted feminist, have, by definition, so vociferously fought against. Funny how that works, huh?

3. Your “woman are superior” concept raises many tangential topics that perhaps you can explain. For instance, why is it perfectly acceptable for the gym Curves to exclude men but it’s not OK for Augusta National to exclude women? Also, why is it that only men are required to register with the Selective Service (that’s the draft) and women are excused from the obligation? Why do women’s organizations like the NCWO only boycott events like the Master’s but are silent about businesses like Curves? Why do these organizations “fight for the equality of women in the workplace” but one never hears them lobbying Congress for a bill to include women in the draft? Sort of looks hypocritical don’t ya think?

4. I’m a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) and as such I am required to multi-task on a daily basis. My wife is completely incapable of multi-tasking. She will happily admit she cannot walk and chew gum. There are several studies that suggest multi-tasking is not a sign of strength or intelligence. Quite the contrary, the ability to multi-task has been linked to an inferior intellect. I don’t need studies to prove the point. I have my own empirical data on which to rely. What data might that be? Well, I’m not that smart and I’m certainly not as smart as my wife. I can multi-task, she can’t. ‘Nuff said.

As a stay-at-home dad, I don’t have a “hot” uniform but I do get to hang with a lot of women. I also enjoy chillin’ with my male associates. This provides me with a unique opportunity to observe both sexes from the “inside” if you will. Like an ethnographer, I can compare and contrast these subtle nuances between the sexes.  I must be honest, Jason is definitely on to something. When women congregate in groups the topic of their lazy, incapable, good-for-nothing husbands will be invariably broached. In contrast, when guys get together, we drink beer, eat greasy food, watch sports, play cards and fart. That’s it. I pity the guy who comes to a bro bash and hopes to commiserate with his mates about how his ol’ lady isn’t being sensitive to his needs. That guy would be summarily excused and bets would be made as to when he sprouted the vagina. However, if a guy does in fact even mention his wife at all (and I’ve known guys for years and didn’t know they were married), it’s usually in the context that Jason mentioned, that of being demeaned, belittled, criticized and dismissed. For men, the topic of their superior partners is never a primary source of conversation but is more contextual in nature. The following is an excerpt from a real-life chat:

Dude A: “Bro, ya wanna go play some golf manana?”
Dude B: “I can’t, dude. My wife’s making me take her to the orchid show.  She claims I never spend time with her.”
Dude A: “What the fuck? Are you gay or something?”
Dude B: “I didn’t think so.”
Dude A: “No, man, you’re definitely gay.”

5. Birthing a baby does not a woman make. Every “female” in the animal kingdom bears children, some of them by the millions. This alone does not make them a woman just as planting the seed does not make one a man. Would you say that the only requirement to being a man is to impregnate a woman because, as you so eloquently put it, “his body has fulfilled its purpose”? The metamorphosis to manhood and womanhood occurs when one is accountable and responsible for his or her actions. In the case of children, this happens when one LOVES, CARES and RAISES a child. Unfortunately, raising children, contrary to pop myth, is NOT the sole province of women. Men are equally capable of caring and raising our offspring. So, no, pushing out a baby does not equate with womanhood. Many “women” get that far only to abandon the baby in a trash dumpster. Is she still a woman in your eyes? I’m sure you didn’t intend to but I think you belittle the importance of “motherhood” compared to “womanhood.” I know many “strong” women who make very “weak” mothers.

6. Since in your post you use the value of child birth and procreation as the gold standard for “womanhood” let’s take emotion out of the equation for just a moment and look at this biologically. A woman produces a paltry fraction of eggs compared to the number of sperm a man generates. In one “load” a man produces a thousand times more primordial ooze than a woman does in her entire lifetime. He is also able to impregnate multiple partners at the same time and long after a woman of equal age is able to achieve, and maintain, a pregnancy. One can deduce that the male species is biologically wired to procreate with many women. Women, under most circumstances (there are, of course, the occasional anomaly) can only procreate with one man at one time. So, based on this fact, and using your measuring stick, which is the stronger sex?

You will, undoubtedly, curse my name, call me an unenlightened Neanderthal and hate me for it but am I really saying anything different than what you’ve posted on your blog (only in reverse)? I don’t think so although I welcome your input. If you’re offended by what I have to say then perhaps you should be equally insulted by what you posted. For the record, I’m not at all outraged by your opinion; I only ask for an equally open forum for us weak men to speak our minds. Bottom line, I don’t believe one sex is superior to the other. If you’ll permit me a broad generalization, I honestly believe that men and women both possess strengths and weaknesses. Ideally the strengths of one offset the weaknesses of the other. The role of men and women throughout history has been different. Not equal and not the same, just different. Anyways, why do you care if there is a dearth of strong men? You’re lucky to have captured a rare bird in an endangered species so feel blessed, kiss your kid and rock another bottle of wine for in vino veritas. 

Attack of the Yentas

Well yesterday the yentas read my most recent blog posting and, long story short, I’m lucky to have made it out of the Den alive. To be sure, I expected a steady trickling of the yentas reading the blog entry and passing it along within the ranks. I figured this would defuse any mass protest from the yentas. In addition, I anticipated that time and other distractions would help make the memory of my posting fade away and defuse the motivation for a group blitzkrieg. However, mine was an error of underestimation, a military blunder, a faulty strategy. To my dismay, one of the yentas actually pulled up the blog on her smart phone and read it aloud to the entire gathering, which was considerable. Did I mention that she did this whilst I was in the Den? I felt like the monster in Frankenstein when the townspeople formed an angry mob, armed with torches and pitchforks, to attack the source of their nightmare. The yentas began to bare their fangs and claws. It was a frightening sight.

There I was, alone, inside the lion’s den, unarmed and unprepared. To say I was scared is a gross understatement. I knew I could not subdue the crowd with brute force. Their numbers were too strong for such an approach. I had to rely on la lengua de plata. It took some pretty savvy diplomatic maneuvers to quell the yentas and avert an attack. Shoot, I should be the Secretary of State.

The yentas cornered me and attempted to force a cease-and-desist order upon my blog, and more specifically, postings about their secret society. I am adamantly opposed to censorship of any type so I calmly but unequivocally explained that I had an obligation to the Steely Dad Nation and that I would not be able to fulfill their unreasonable request. (I have learned that the yentas can sense the slightest bit of fear so it’s best to develop an air, however manufactured, of confidence.) After much debate and negotiation, we came to an understanding: I can continue to write my blogs as well as stories about the Den of Yentas but I do so at my own peril. For you, the reader, I am willing to accept this as an occupational hazard.

Now when you read Steely Dad, understand that I am assuming tremendous risk on my life to bring you the juice. But this is the greatest story that must be told.

The Den of Yentas

Dear Readers,

I feel it’s time to share the part of my childcare routine that is a huge inspiration for the Steely Dad blog. I anticipate this to be a regular subject blog so some background is necessary.

The source of my inspiration is what I’ve affectionately termed the “Den of Yentas.”

I know the members of “the Den” will take exception to the title but they are a fun-loving bunch who will accept it as a term of endearment. I will, as a condition of my arrangement with the yentas, refrain from naming names but will utilize pseudonyms to protect the guilty.

Allow me to elaborate.

The Den of Yentas is this group of moms who congregates to commiserate and complain and gossip in the “parent” room (the Den) at the drop-in center where I take my kids for “socialization.” The drop-in center resembles a preschool except I’m actually required to stay in the building. The fact that I can’t simply drop off the munchkins has caused some major disruptions with my mani/pedi schedule so I can’t wait until the kids are in an actual preschool when I can get some “me” time. Chello day spa!

As you might’ve guessed, I’m the only person in the Den who has a penis and I do my very best to make sure I leave with it still intact. This presents a far greater challenge than one might glean from first blush.

Imagine yourself, the only male, sitting with a large assemblage of stay-at-home moms (SAHMs) in what amounts to an underground concrete bunker that, according to local legend, is impervious to Soviet radar. The unique design of the Den makes for a wonderful interrogation room (and when I say “interrogation” I mean the variety rumored to be employed at Gitmo). The Den’s thick, cold, cinder block walls are also soundproof so cries for help go unanswered. Although there are two access doors to the Den, these mothers are insanely vigilant to ensure they remain shut at all times. Two burly moms act as Roman Centurions guarding the doors. Once inside, there is no escaping the Den.

Now imagine being locked inside the Den for vicious two-hour hen-pecking sessions with no team support and no quarter offered by the yentas. Providing anything from unsolicited advice to critical commentary on my parenting style, the yentas are not afraid to speak their united voice. I often emerge from the Den bloodied and battered. I know the eviscerations and castrations are only a matter of time. This is the crux of my experience inside the bowels of the Den.

I should mention that the Den is not without its creature comforts. There are soft sofas, delightful baked goods and other such niceties that make it have the appearance of a friendly place. This is the true genius of the yentas. The window dressing belies an evil that lurks within the Den. The yentas use this illusion, much like the witch in Hansel and Gretel, to make a newcomer feel accepted into their collective bosom by plying the unsuspecting visitor with sweets and fresh bagels only to lull the poor sap into a false sense of security. I know I fell for the trap. Initially, I actually felt welcomed to the Den. Rather than feel threatened, the yentas seemed accepting of my stay-at-home dad (SAHD) status. In fact, there was another dad who occasionally hung out in the Den but oddly enough he suddenly and inexplicably disappeared, not to be heard of or seen again. The story goes that he and his wife had another kid and are “juggling” schedules but I suspect he is buried under the concrete slab of the Den, his terminable fate probably the result of expressing a viewpoint contrary to the mob mentality of the yentas.

Since the true spirit of the yentas has been exposed I dare only enter the Den with great trepidation lest I be attacked. I don’t make eye contact and I speak only when spoken to and even then I do so with judicious brevity. The less I say the less opportunity I provide for a relentless verbal assault.

There you have the Den of Yentas. It is my hope to write regular postings regarding my experiences with the yentas, how they think, what they talk about and how they descend upon their prey. Consider it a veritable ethnography of these wily creatures. Should my blog abruptly cease, please be so kind as to x-ray the concrete floor of the Den. It’s just a hunch.

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