Because it takes balls to wear the skirt in the family...

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.

Dear Moms: Please Let Us Be Dads

Not too long ago I published a post entitled, “So You Want to be a Stay-At-Home Dad?” as a reference guide to dads who are becoming stay-at-home dads (SAHD) either by choice or by circumstance. Feel free to forward it to dads that are currently, or are becoming, SAHDs.

However, in order to strike some balance between the sexes, I thought I’d provide what I consider some “suggestions” to moms who encounter our unique breed: the stay-at-home dad. (The irony of my unsolicited advice is not lost on me. See rule #4.)

Although the advice is developed from my own personal experiences as a SAHD, it certainly can apply to all types of dads.

Feel free to comment and keep the conversation going:

1. Treat us like your mom pals. No, I don’t mean share feminine hygiene tips with us. I mean put us on the same level with your other mom associates. Like it or not, we’re pretty much like you. We are parents who strive to be good parents to our children. Do we goof it from time to time? Absolutely, but in all honesty, we probably don’t goof it as often as you think. Dare I say it? We probably goof it as often as you.

Parenthood is man’s glass ceiling. Be kind and remember when you had to break through yours.

2. We are not morons (at least not all the time). Contrary to the stereotypes you may see on television and in commercials, we are capable, talented and sometimes exceptional parents. Some of us can use other kitchen appliances besides the microwave. Many of us actually know that kids need to eat when they’re hungry. Others know how to put a kid in a car seat. Yes, I know it’s crazy. I’m not saying I know how to do any of these things; I’m just saying there are apparently some stay-at-home dads that do. Give us some props when we rock it.

3. Don’t judge us. Men generally parent and care for kids differently from women. A small example in my family is that my wife will not leave the house without at least three bags full of stuff to cover any possible emergency. She has tons of extra diapers, enough food for our family to survive for a week should we get stranded in our highly populated suburban neighborhood as well as small surgical instruments should they be necessary. I, on the other hand, like to travel lite, very lite. I stuff an extra diaper in my pocket and a couple of food items. (I realize this contradicts advice item #4 in my “So You Want to be a Stay-At-Home Dad” post but, hey, I’m a professional.) Just because we parent differently doesn’t mean we’re doing it incorrectly. We have a different style and approach so refrain from the judgmental looks and condescending tone. Save that junk for the other moms that don’t meet your high standards.

Men and women have strengths and weaknesses and in an ideal world, we balance each other out. Remember, just as we can learn from you, perhaps you may also learn from us.

4. Please keep your pie hole shut. We realize your infinite wisdom in all matters concerning children but please refrain from ever, and I mean EVER, offering unsolicited advice. Unless you’re REALLY hot, like purposely-get-into-a-fender-bender-just-to-talk-to-you hot, we don’t want to hear it. It’s annoying, rude and more often than not, unhelpful. We don’t want to be told that four-year-olds shouldn’t play with pyrotechnics. It’s none of your damn business.

5. Want to train something? Try a dog. Don’t act offended. You know you’ve shared conversations with your girlfriends about how your hubby’s mother didn’t train him correctly and that you’re still working on him. I’ve heard it all in the Den of Yentas. Let me set the record straight. Your hubby might not have the stones to tell you but I do. Contrary to what you’ve been told, we are incorrigible, bad-habit-loving animals that are incapable of being trained. All attempts to do so will only end up with the same disappointing results as trying to teach a pig to sing. Accept it and move on. Love us despite our manly flaws. By so doing you will find your nirvana.

Along the same line, I just read an article in some parenting rag that passes as a magazine entitled, “End the Chore Wars: A No-Nag Guide to Getting HIM to Help” (emphasis added). The article sites surveys that demonstrate a lack of enthusiasm from men when it comes to helping with family chores. In it, women share first-hand accounts of how they do all the work around the house. It implies, in not so subtle tones, that men are slobs. Let me share with you my own personal experience with cleanliness. After cleaning out the interior of our family truck (yes, Steely Wife and I share one vehicle) it was clear that the “girls” side (where my wife and daughter sit) was exceptionally more squalid than the “boys” side (where my son and I sit). And I cleaned the entire car all by myself without any assistance or direction from my wife. Woe is me! Now, how do I get Steely Wife to help ME with the chores?

Well, that’s my list, at least for now. Like my previous post for SAHDs, this is far from a complete work. Want to add to the convo? Leave a comment and share the love.

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. 

Scarecare

OK, the truth is out: I’m not comfortable with other people watching my kids. Go ahead, laugh it up. Enjoy yourself, even at my expense. I have endured high levels of teasing for this apparent flaw in my personality so I’m quite used to it. For whatever reason that defies comprehension, my wife felt compelled to share this fact with, of all people, the Den of Yentas, where on a rare visit to the Den she revealed my dirty little secret and in the process managed to completely sell me out. Nice work, Honey.

It’s not that I think I’m a superior parent; it’s just that no one cares for your kids as well as you. I don’t know, it’s like having some other dude drive my car. I’m sure he’s a great driver but that doesn’t mean I want him steering my sleigh. You know what I mean?

For the record, the grandparents didn’t “baby sit” my son, the firstborn, until he was two, yea, as in years. When they were finally allowed unsupervised visits, grandmas and grandpas were given a document that resembled the recent stimulus bill in size and girth. In it were all the dos and don’ts for the kid. Guess who authored said document? Uh-huh, that’s right. Miss-My-Husband-Is-A-Freak-Because-He-Won’t-Let-Other-People-Watch-The-Kids.

Needless to say, my kids have never been dropped off in any sort of daycare facility. I don’t mention this as a source of pride but as evidence of my apprehension. As I explained in a recent post http://www.steelydad.com/the-den-of-yentas.html we haven’t even enrolled the munchkins in either a full-fledged preschool or daycare center. The drop-in center where I take my kids is definitely a baby step more for me than my kids who could care less if I’m there or not. Call me sentimental but I couldn’t imagine going from caring for the kids all day to suddenly dropping them off with strangers. I know people who have babies and six weeks later leave them in daycare. I don’t know how they do it.

I guess my apprehension also stems from the fact that I am uncomfortable asking people for help and feel that I can do everything myself. This attitude was tested recently and I admit I had to cry mercy. About a month ago, my wife was hospitalized. Although I tried, for several weeks, to balance the care of my wife and kids, I physically was unable to maintain such a frenetic pace. I NEEDED help. For the first time in Steely Dad history, I had a babysitter come and watch the kids for a couple of hours while I went to the hospital to visit my wife. I guess it doesn’t hurt that she’s a neighbor and family friend for 25 years who just happens to be a pediatric nurse. See? I’m loosening up.

(To be fair, I should mention the sincere kindness the yentas displayed while my wife was ill. Many of them offered to deliver groceries, watch the kids, even make me dinner. Although I didn’t take any up on their offers these were kind gestures I won’t soon forget.)

You probably have the impression that I’m some overprotective dad who isn’t with the times but I would say that’s not the case. Just because I don’t want to leave my kids with other people doesn’t mean I’m overprotective; having them sleep in full battle gear makes me overprotective. OK, that was a joke but in all seriousness, I let my kids take their knocks. It’s part of learning and if we always anesthetize our kids from the pain of growing up they will never grow. At least that’s my philosophy.

To be honest, I’ve seriously contemplated home schooling. What? Have I lost it? I plan to elaborate on this topic future postings but when the yentas discovered my interest in home schooling they unleashed an all-out assault of ridicule that continues to this day. You see, unlike parents who can’t wait for school or summer camp, I actually enjoy hanging with my kids. Of course it’s awesome to watch them grow and gain independence but it also stirs in me a sense of melancholy.

With that said, I have decided to give conventional wisdom a try and have enrolled my son in preschool that begins this fall. However, I’m still luke warm on the idea of someone else taking the responsibility for my kids’ safety and wellbeing. What with one of the yentas sharing the story of her kid’s school calling to ask why her son wasn’t at school after she had dropped him off (he was eventually found in the bathroom) and the recent story http://archives.chicagotribune.com/2009/jan/23/local/chi-toddler-death-23jan23 involving the death of a toddler at a daycare facility, I’m pretty freaked out. My heart literally broke when I read this story and I can’t fathom the grief these parents must be experiencing. I realize daycare deaths aren’t commonplace but the fact they happen at all should be of serious concern to all parents. There is NEVER a good reason to harm or hurt a child. In addition, less-tragic incidents are not uncommon and often go unreported.

Look, I don’t want to come across as judgmental or to give parents who utilize daycare a guilt trip. Far be it from me to judge. But I’m just wondering why we’ve become so comfortable, so complacent, with handing over the care of our most precious to what basically amounts to total strangers. Why has the way of daycare become the norm rather than the exception? Is it because we have become a nation of outsourcers? I mean we have people who clean our houses, answer our phones, pick up our dry cleaning. We can even outsource the gestational process of carrying a baby. Is outsourcing the care of our kids just the next logical step? Maybe it’s because more parents are becoming single parents and have no choice but to use daycare? Will stories like the one above cause parents to reconsider their options or will most simply chalk it up as an anomaly and go about their regular routine? What say you, the Steely Dad Nation?

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.

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