Steely Dad

Normally I don’t follow too much celebrity gossip but I readily admit that the recent Tiger Woods headlines have caught and sustained my attention. So long ADD!

I respect Tiger Woods as an athlete. If there was one autograph I’d actually make an effort to obtain, it would be Tiger’s. As a golf enthusiast, I understand the true breadth and depth of his talent. But to marvel at Tiger’s talent is only half the story. What separates the World’s Best Golfer is his unbending work ethic. Tiger’s religious devotion to practice and training is well documented. Perhaps there are other tour players who possess more raw talent but none exist who compete with Tiger’s work regimen.

Tiger is also unique in that throughout his career he has enjoyed a high level of celebrity combined with a commensurate level of privacy. Before recent stories of infidelity, Tiger’s name was nary mentioned in tabloids. His image was squeaky clean and seemingly unimpeachable. It is this image, even more than his golfing acumen, that has afforded Tiger his life of luxury. Each year, on average, Tiger earns between $10-$12 million in golf winnings. Comparatively, he makes approximately $110 million in endorsements. Of all the incredible athletes to grace the field of play, Tiger will be the first to hit the billion dollar mark (if he hasn’t already). That’s how valuable Tiger is as a brand.

So the recent headlines are a concern for Tiger. However, in my opinion as a lowly stay-at-home dad who doesn’t have the capacity to understand the high-stakes game of athletic endorsements, it should be the least of Tiger’s concerns. Although he may lose some endorsements, they will eventually be replaced and his image and bank account healed. What may not be so easily repaired is the trust of his two little kids. I’m not sure how the man looks his kids in the eye. How does he go about repairing the relationship with his children? PR professionals and lawyers can’t help with this image crisis. Insofar as I know, press releases and spokespersons do not work all that well with kids. Winning more majors will ingratiate Tiger to golf fans but will do little in the way of rebuilding the trust his children so richly deserve. I think we as a society make the mistake of believing these kids will be fine because they live in a multi-million dollar mansion but kids are kids and they have feelings and emotions that need to be respected regardless of their lot in life.

Tiger Woods is an amazing athlete; as a daddy, he leaves much to be desired. The embarrassment and shame he has brought to his family are, on some level, irreparable. However, the cliché that men only think with their dicks and that this is typical of men is unfair to those of us who take the vow of fidelity seriously. Likewise, no self-respecting woman who married for love would want to be lumped in the “gold digger” category.  Articles on “How to Tell if Your Man is Cheating” should read “spouse,” as philandering is not the sole province of men.

But is it really all that surprising? No. What’s surprising is the time it’s taken for the veil to be lifted. I’ve followed Tiger’s career since before he became a professional and the fact that he seemed impervious to controversy for so many years only suggested that it was a matter of when not if some mud would soil his pristine image. It was difficult for me to believe that he was as saintly as his image suggested. Call me stupid but in my infinite naiveté I believe that everyone has flaws and weaknesses and it was only a matter of time before Tiger’s were revealed.

Am I disappointed? No. Why? Because unlike many, my heroes are not famous people. When I was younger, I had heroes who were athletes but they always fell short of my expectations. I learned that heroes are not superhuman; they’re people just like the rest of us but who you believe are somehow better than yourself. Eventually it occurred to me that belief in myself was the best policy. It seems to me that heroes do alright when others believe they are God; it’s when they start to believe it themselves that they fall from grace.

There has been much commented about Tiger’s right to privacy. Does Tiger have a right to privacy? Sure he does just as I have a right to all the amenities and privileges that Tiger enjoys. I’m not talking about money; I’m talking about access. Yet, even though I have a right to access and Tiger has a right to privacy, the reality is that it’s unlikely either one of us will come to enjoy these rights. You see privacy and fame come at a price. Tiger has to remember his fame affords him access to things we common folk covet, like court-side basketball tickets. With fame comes complimentary champagne, clothes and cars (and, in many cases, women). If Tiger desires privacy, then he must give up the seductive benefits of fame. I have privacy because I don’t have access; celebrities don’t have privacy because they do. Privacy and fame are valued commodities on different sides of the spectrum and unfortunately for Tiger, they are mutually exclusive. Tiger is now learning the simple truth that fame is not a resource that can be turned off when it’s inconvenient to be well known. Quite frankly it’s insulting when celebrities only pull the “privacy” card when the proverbial poop hits the fan. I’ve never seen a celebrity asking for privacy when walking down the red carpet or receiving an invitation to the White House.

To Tiger I say, you’re the best golfer in the world. Your job now is to become the best daddy. Understand that your place in golf history is secured; your place in the hearts of your children is not. You have a supposed crack team of consultants helping with your legal and public relations issues (even though I would say their advice has been bush league). These are the same individuals who remind you of your greatness, a gallery of sycophants who only tell you “yes.” But I’m here to tell you “no,” that what you’ve done to your kids is NOT cool. However, all is not lost. If you want solid advice on your paternal obligations, I have an entire database of quality men who elevate the title of “dad.” Give me a call and I’ll put you in touch.

This post is part of a Dad Bloggers Project over at Dad-Blogs.  Click on over to check out other dad’s perspectives on Tiger Woods.

When people find out that I’m a stay-at-home dad (SAHD), I usually receive one of two different reactions.

The first is an overly-effusive and sometimes disingenuous diatribe about how wonderful it is that I stay home with the kids, and how progressive I am and all that crap. For those of you who do this in an effort to be complimentary, you’re not. Please just save your breath. Fortunately for me, I do not live my life for your approval. I must add, however, that sometimes people are sincere in their praise. Believe me, I, and the rest of we SAHDs, can tell the difference.

The other reaction I get is “Oh, that’s nice.” ‘Nuff said about that one.

Everyone has a personal reason why they become a stay-at-home dad, just as people have different reasons for becoming doctors, attorneys, fire fighters, garbage picker-uppers and crack whores. If you’d like a personal account of my reasons for becoming a SAHD, read this post.

Some men become SAHDs, not because they want to, but out of necessity. The economy has contracted and with it many male-dominated industries have shrunk. Check out this recent story. Many families have reevaluated their financial circumstances, deciding that Dad should stay home to care for the kids. I bet that at least some of these men who, after recognizing the bond they’ve created with their kids, decide to stay at home with the kids even after job opportunities present themselves. Other men make the conscious decision to be the primary caretaker of their children because by so doing they feel more fulfilled. These men wish to develop and nurture a different type of relationship with their children than compared with the “traditional role” dads.

Whatever the case, the transition to becoming a stay-at-home dad can be daunting if one is not fully prepared.  In this post, I’d like to provide some practical advice to help with the transition from breadwinner to bread-maker.

1. Understand that you will be surrounded by morons. What do I mean? You’re going to meet people who either disapprove of your role as a SAHD or are condescending about it. My advice? Ignore them or, if you’re particularly perturbed, hurl an insult like, “I hope your kids inherit your open-mindedness.”

2. You’ll meet moms who, by the virtue of the fact that they have a vagina, believe they are better at caring for children than you. Again, ignoring them is the path of least resistance but is certainly not as fun as slipping in a left-handed compliment. I recall an incident when my nine-month old daughter started to cry for food when she saw another baby being given a bottle. My kid wasn’t crying for more than five seconds when the mom of the other baby said, “You need to feed your child when she’s hungry.” Mind you, this “wonderful, caring” mother had one child compared to my two; that she had been a stay-at-home parent for all of a few months compared to my years of such experience and her baby’s mouth was infested with the worst case of thrush I’d ever seen, yet she still felt compelled to share this sage advice with me. I responded sarcastically with, “What? Really? You actually have to feed your children? I didn’t know that. I thought they lived by pooping and crying. Why thank you for opening my eyes. I would’ve never known.”  The weird part?  Most of the other mothers didn’t, as far as I could determine, thought her comments were inappropriate.

Whatever you decide, know that you need not compare your ability as a father to anyone. You are a good dad and it does not matter what others might think. Who gives a rat’s ass what they think? Can the comments and rude looks be hurtful? Sure they can but don’t let them get to you. Parenting is the one job in which comparison to your peers is a fruitless path. Plus, I find that those parents who try to take a holier-than-thou approach are usually deeply insecure about their own parenting style.

3. Listen and observe. Parenting, like golf, can never be mastered. It is an ever-changing and evolving medium that requires adaptable skills. You can always learn something new so it’s best to watch and listen to other parents who have similar parenting styles and philosophies. Ask for advice and most are more than willing to answer your questions.

Will you get unsolicited advice? Absolutely and you can take it or leave it. It’s not unusual for me to receive unsolicited advice from people who don’t have kids or their kids are in their 30s. Consider the source.

4. Be prepared. This might seem like a no-brainer but have all the essential items to cover most emergencies. A well-equipped diaper bag can help you eliminate stressful situations that fall under the “not-if-but-when” category. What’s my top emergency for which to be prepared? Hands down, “The Blowout.” Just make certain you have more than enough diapers and wipes. A couple of plastic groceries bags can be helpful in order to isolate soiled clothes. Also, make sure you have plenty of snacks, bottles/sippy cups, hand sanitizer, etc. It’s amazing how food can be such an effective distraction. My wife likes to bribe our offspring with lollipops in order to maintain her sanity during times of extreme stress.  I rarely resort to such tactics as I have developed “The Look,” which is also quite nice to have in one’s arsenal. My father-in-law once gave me “The Look” and I haven’t quite been the same ever since. Mind you, The Look is not effective with babies and really small children as they are not at all impacted by your evil eye.  Nevertheless, do as you see fit.

5. Kids cry. That’s right. Kids cry. Many have also become quite handy with the Fake Cry, an offshoot of its annoying cousin, Constant Whine. An experienced parent can quickly differentiate between the two in a way non-parents simply cannot. Some children genuinely cry a lot (those who have survived a baby with colic can attest here) and when they do, it can be unnerving when all efforts to placate the apoplectic child are unsuccessful. Don’t fret and don’t get frustrated. Just do your best and remember everyone has been there before. It does not indicate your failure as a father (a meth addiction would do so but not a crying child). This happened to me once when at the bowling alley, my daughter fell and hit her head on a fiberglass bowling ramp. I fetched some ice and was applying it to the injury, which only made her more upset. I knew she needed the ice but she was making quite a fuss. A woman came over to offer her assistance. Sometimes people, and for me it’s been exclusively women, who offer help or advice. Some are sincere in helping and others do so because they probably think you don’t know what the hell you’re doing. It’s a case-by-case issue so respond accordingly. In this case, I felt the woman was genuinely trying to help so I politely declined.

6. Have fun. This is perhaps the most important piece of advice I have to share and it’s one I need to remind myself of from time to time. Above all else, remember that spending time with your kids should be fun. Instead of going to an office, you get to go to the zoo or a museum or a baseball game. Yea, there are trade-offs that aren’t so fun, like changing diapers or sporting the Seattle grunge look 24/7 but for the most part, spending quality time with your kids is fun and should be so. Remember that this time is as fleeting as it is precious. Before you know it, all those requests for playing games and doing things together will be made by you. Remember, Harry Chapin’s melancholic little ditty “Cats In The Cradle”? But in the same way, it’s also important to make and take some time out for yourself. No, I’m not talking bubble baths and mani/pedis (unless you’re into that sort of thing, in which case you probably need not the advice offered in this post). I’m talking about doing something you like to do: read, watch TV, catch up on our fantasy football stats, whatever it is, do it. Why? Because kids can be very demanding and if you don’t take time out to recharge your batteries, you’ll soon lose all energy and motivation. So don’t feel guilty for taking time for yourself; in reality, you’re actually doing your kids a favor.

This list is far from a complete one and I know there are many stay-at-home dads and parents who have their own pearls of wisdom to share. Please feel free to add to the discussion in the “comments” section to this post.

Cheers!
Steely Dad

My 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.

by Todd Gottlieb

I’m shooting for that fourth-grade “What I did for summer vacation” paper.

I’ve written many stories on my personal experiences as a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) but I’ve  never actually explained why I decided to become a full-time SAHD. I guess just like Star Wars, I started with Chapter 4 so consider this Chapter 1, the prequel.

SAHDs are becoming a force with which to be reckoned. No, we’re not as ubiquitous as our stay-at-home mom (SAHM) counterparts but nonetheless we are growing and expanding (and not just with regard to our waist line). We have blogs and support groups, and yes, we even have our own conventions. The lobby that represents us is in the making and it won’t be long before we have our own talk-show. Watch out, Oprah!

Dudes become SAHDs for a variety of reasons. Some become SAHDs as a result of circumstances (perhaps they lost their job) or because they realize that going to work just to pay for daycare doesn’t make financial sense. Others, and I put myself in this category, make a conscious decision to become SAHDs for no other reason than they wish to have a closer relationship with their children. For me, I wanted to be an integral part of raising my kids.

Being a SAHD doesn’t make me a better dad than the guy who works 60 hours a week in order to provide for his children nor does it make me any less of a dad; it only indicates that our priorities are different. Although my early ideal of what it meant to be a good dad was more consistent with the “traditional” role of financial provider, that philosophy experienced a seismic shift. In order to understand my desire to be a SAHD one must understand my background.

When I was younger, I always envisioned myself as the next Trump. I’m sure most of my classmates and early friends would be surprised to find out that I’m not the CEO of a Fortune 500 company and downright shocked to find out I’m a SAHD. To be sure, I was on that professional path but after 9/11, I traded in the suit and tie for frayed jeans and a smock. With my then-girlfriend-now-wife, we opened a ceramics studio and taught kids how to make cool stuff out of clay. That was the beginning of my transformation.

My childhood is a convoluted story that perhaps I’ll share someday but for now understand that my parents separated when I was eight and divorced when I was 12 years old. After remarrying, my mother moved to the East Coast and I lived with a father who was neglectful and essentially absent. He cared about his girlfriend and her kids more than he did his own son. I grew up with very little parental guidance and this painful experience perhaps jaded me as I never envisioned myself a daddy. “Why would I want to put a kid through something like this,” I always asked myself. It was a question whose answer was not conducive to fatherhood.

More than anything, I had an unabated fear that, should I become a dad, I would turn out to be the same type of dad as my father. You know the old saying, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. These powerful demons often haunted me and challenged my paternal instincts. I resolved that I’d rather not be a dad at all than be that kind of dad. I just wasn’t confident that I had what it took to be a good dad, to be selfless, supportive, understanding, unconditionally loving, strong and sensitive. Unfortunately, fatherhood is not a toe-dipping experience: you have to jump in with both feet and I wasn’t sure I was ready to take that leap of faith.

Through therapy and the support of a loving wife and wonderful in-laws, I was able to take control of my fears by acknowledging and accepting my childhood, adolescent and young adult experiences. I began to realize that my unchartered path of fatherhood stood ready for ME to blaze, that the biological influence was only as great as I allowed it to be.

So when my son was born, I wanted to be the absolute best daddy that I could be. It had been a mantra of mine that, should I become a dad, I would want to provide for my kids everything I didn’t have. Early on this meant a big house, fancy cars, new clothes, ski trips, motorcycles, all the things that my friends had growing up. I think most dads feel similarly. However, those “things” I wanted to provide took on a different hue. No longer was I committed to providing material possessions for my kids. It seemed to me I had little control over how much stuff I could provide my kids (a capricious boss could simply decide to fire me one day or the economy could tank, for example) but I did have control over how much support, love, affection, time and stability I provided my kids. I felt that I brought him (and subsequently my daughter) into the world and therefore I had an obligation to guide them through it to the best of my ability. For me, that meant being a SAHD.

So, there you have it, my story of becoming a SAHD. You probably assume I think I’m the best dad in the world, that I’m something special because I’m a SAHD. Far from it. But if my kids think so then that’s all that truly matters.

That is the question.

Perhaps someone else has written about this topic but I wouldn’t know; I don’t read much. I realize this might be a bit high-brow for many a Steely Dad reader but it’s important to expand one’s mind and horizons. After all, Steely Dad is nothing if not a place of culture and refinement.

Case in point.

This evening after consuming two massive triangles of a mushroom/black olive/spinach stuffed pizza that I personally garnished with sautéed pancetta and several whole cloves of RAW garlic, the following thoughts suddenly occurred to me when my digestive tract started to sound like an overactive aquarium: With whom is it appropriate to expel flatus? How long before you do so, say, in front of your significant other? Is it ever OK to blow butt breath in front of your kids and, if so, what words do you use to describe the expulsion of gas? Most of all, is it appropriate to laugh when someone rips a stinky poop cloud in your general direction?

These are all very important and legitimate ponderings and I would like to get to the bottom of one of life’s great mysteries: To fart or not to fart?

Passing gas has been a part of our common human heritage since the dawn of man and it’s been a source of comic “relief” ever since a caveman farted on his buddy and thought the entire episode worthy of a cave painting. In fact, Aristotle and Plato were known to have engaged in rather noisy debate about this very topic.

But what is the proper protocol for farting in various situations?

I’d like to do my part and conduct a poll of the Steely Dad Nation. It is highly scientific, of course. Please be sure to leave your answers in the comment section. Your participation is much appreciated and will help to construct a veritable guide on the etiquette of the fart.

Before we begin, I have a hypothesis about farting in front of others that I’d like to share with you. Through your responses, I will be able to prove or disprove my theory.

I believe there is a direct and irrefutable correlation between the appropriateness of farting in front of a certain person and the time either knowing and/or spending with that person. For example, you presumably spend a significant amount of time with your SO. Therefore, it is appropriate to fart in front of him or her. You probably don’t spend a large portion of your time with, say, your insurance agent therefore it is NOT appropriate to fart in front of him or her.

Let us proceed, shall we?

1. Do you fart in front of your significant other? (If your answer is “YES” please proceed to question #2. If your answer is “NO” please kindly go fuck yourself because we all know you’re, quite literally, full of shit!)

2. If so, how long before you actually expelled ass gas in front of your significant other (SO)?

3. Who was the first one to break the smell barrier: you or your SO?

4. Do you and your SO fart in front of your kids?

5. Even if you do fart in front of your kids, do you think it is appropriate to do so?

6. If so, what word or phrase do you use to describe the act of expelling flatus (i.e. fart, gas, cutting the cheese, etc.)?

7. Who has the more noxious/pungent farts: men or women?

8. Is it acceptable to laugh if a member of the family rips a really good one?

9. Do you and your family members participate in farting contests that test such things as the smell, duration and frequency of the farting episode? If so, who holds the record?

10. When girls get together, do they fart out loud and do they laugh about it? Guys never do this that’s why we’re so curious.

11. Has anyone in your family successfully attempted the “Blue Flame”? If so, who?

12. I’m a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) which provides me a lot of time with my kids. As such, I have developed an odd Darwinian olfactory adaptation that enables me to distinguish the farts of my daughter from those of my son by nothing more than their distinctive aromas. Does the parent who spends a majority of the time with your kids possess this same ability?

13. Are there specific situations in which it is permissible to fart in public? If your answer is “NO” would you reconsider your position if there was no way the fart could be linked to you? I’ve heard of a specialized technique called “dusting the crops.” It’s employed by people in certain industries, such as flight attendants, who sometimes have no choice but to expel their ass pollution on a crowded plane (another reason I hate to fly). It works by walking briskly down the aisle while simultaneously letting the noisome air escape. When done successfully, it is virtually impossible to identify the offender leaving everyone on the plane to speculate and guess. You will notice that many times people will pull their shirt up over their mouth and nose as a signal that they were not the offending party that floated the air biscuit. It’s diabolical if you think about it.

The results will be carefully tallied and reported in a future posting.