Steely Dad

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.

My daughter is a thief and a pretty good one at that.  One time when we were on vacation, my wife was climbing in the back of our rented minivan (I refuse to drive a minivan under any other circumstances) and while she meandered her way through the labyrinth of collapsible seats my daughter picked her pocket and stole her wallet.  My wife didn’t know that the Viper had struck.  ”Where’s my wallet?” she exclaimed.  ”How the hell should I know?” I retorted, obviously aggravated because I hear that same question like 100 times a day.  My wife, in a panic, surveys her surroundings only to find my daughter, mind you she was only 13 months old at the time, sitting silently in her car seat examining her “kill.”  My little princess was rooting through her mother’s wallet!  I’ve never been so damn proud.  (I should explain that my daughter surely took her life into her own hands because G-d only knows what lurks in that wallet.  It makes George Costanza’s wallet look petite.
(I dare not look inside the abyss that is my wife’s wallet.  Grown men have gone mad after even peering at this diabolical item.)

Well, today I had the day off from my stay-at-home dad duties, meaning my wife took the kids out to play or do whatever, maybe jack some cars, shoot craps, who the hell knows.  What I do know is that my wife came home with a brand new T-shirt.  However, this wasn’t just any ol’ T-shirt.  Oddly enough this was a PINK Mickey Mouse T-shirt that just so happens to fit my little girl to, um, well, a “T.”  When I inquired about the shirt, assuming she purchased another superfluous piece of Disney memorabilia (remember, we recently spent 4 days at the Happiest Place on Earth so in case you missed the gory details you can read about them here  http://www.steelydad.com/i-shouldnt-be-alive.html), the missus had an alibi.  ”Your daughter stole it.  She ripped it off the hanger and I didn’t notice the thing until we got to the car and I was putting away the stroller.”  Normally, I wouldn’t buy it but considering my daughter’s proclivity for theft, it seemed at least plausible.  My daughter, my sweet, beautiful innocent angel, my infallible princess, is a pickpocket AND a shop lifter?  Where did I go wrong?  How can this be?

Oh, it be!

Steely Wife passed my foolproof lie detector test, which is me looking into her eyes like Larry David does when he’s trying to determine if someone is telling him the truth. It looks something like this:

I had to accept the truth about the situation: my baby girl can steal with complete impunity!  How rad is that?

Think about it.  If she steals something we simply pretend not to notice.  If someone “catches” us in the act we, very convincingly, plead ignorace.  Plus, my daughter is so damn charming no one can get mad or upset with this angelic creature.  Trust me, I’ve tried thousands of times.  This is so awesome!

I know what you’re thinking and you’re right: she can only five-finger some insignificant clothing items.  We’ll have to work our way up to big-screen TVs and exotic automobiles but this is a great start!  The girl’s got mad skills.

You know what they say: a quick hand is a terrible thing to waste.

I’ll keep you posted.  If you see me on an FBI poster for grand theft just don’t let ‘em know my whereabouts, cool?

Oh, and by the way, during the same outing with Mommy, my son apparently “found” $2.  What sort of crime ring is my wife running here?  I don’t even know who she is any longer!

(NOTE: All “stolen” merchandise mentioned in this story will be returned to the rightful retail establishment.  That’s my wife’s idea.  The individuals depicted here are guilty until proven innocent.  Please take the gushing descriptions of my daughter as absolute truth devoid of any hyperbole.)

And stay-at-home dads are from a plant in a galaxy far, far away…

NOTE: I’ve switched back to the standard font.  It was too much of a pain in the arse with the other one.  If you can’t read it, get some glasses!

Being a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) has provided me a unique opportunity to study and annotate the differences between how my wife and I parent and how we conduct our lives in general.   Here’s the product of my empirical research.  I made a list, really for my kids when they get older, but let me know if it’s the same way in your crib.  We may not always share the same technique but the goal is absolute: to raise happy children who eventually become happy adults.

Here goes:

Mommy researches

Daddy recites the research that Mommy conducts

Mommy works

Daddy gets worked like a rented mule

Mommy cooks

Daddy grills

Mommy freaks out when someone gets hurt

Daddy says to rub some dirt on it

Mommy drinks wine

Daddy drinks whatever he can get his shakey hands on (sterno if necessary)

Mommy’s rules apply

Daddy’s rules are rejected like a conservative bill trying to make its way through Congress

Mommy can’t figure out how to work the remote control

Daddy uses the remote like an extra apendage

Mommy screams and shouts

Daddy gives “the look”

Mommy is loved

Daddy is considered “the help”

Mommy wants to protect you

Daddy wants to teach you how to protect yourself

Mommy engages the question “why?” and does her best to answer it

Daddy pretends not to hear the question that’s asked of him no less than 1,000 times per day

Mommy takes five hours to get out of the house

Daddy take five minutes

Mommy reads books on modern parenting methods

Daddy takes a trial-and-error approach

Mommy buys organic food

Daddy feeds you the organic food Mommy buys because he has no other choice

Mommy carries five diaper bags

Daddy carries what fits into his pockets

Mommy wants you to learn

Daddy wants to teach you

Mommy is bossy

Daddy is diplomatic

Mommy watches Court TV

Daddy has the dog test his morning breakfast

Mommy loves online shopping

Daddy loves onlines adult entertainment that is sophisticated and tasteful

Mommy buys toys for the kids

Daddy assembles (and plays with) them

Mommy loves you

Daddy loves you more  :)

Let me just right down to it. After all, I am not above pandering if that is required.

Being a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) can be a lonely (even the acronym is depressing), thankless and at times a frightening job. There’s no one there to offer you an “at-a-boy” when you do a good job. In fact, being a SAHD is the type of job in which you only hear feedback when you’re fucking things up. To be blunt, I rarely, if ever, receive any sort of validation unless by “validation” you mean being pooped on or asked “why” 1,000 times a day.

I surely don’t receive any accolades from peers or other adults (although I use the term “adult” quite loosely when describing myself). Rather, I usually receive judgments and mean stares. Many times it just plane blows.

To be clear, I’m not asking for your sympathy, your donations or your shrink’s contact information. I’m only looking for your vote.

What vote?

Well, I’ve been recently nominated by Blogger’s Choice Awards for my work on Steely Dad. Unlike those morons at the Academy Awards, I am not honored to just be nominated. As Ignacio in Nacho Libre so eloquently put it, I Wanna Wheen!

Here are a few of my campaign promises. Should I win:

I promise to fix the economy. (I can’t even write that with a straight face.)

I will not torture.  (Contrary to what some of you might think, making you read my blog has NOT been deemed an instrument of torture under the Geneva Conventions.)

I will not accept contributions from special interests.  (Not-so-special interests are fair game)

And I will reform and become more transparent.  (That’s actually more of a threat than a promise)

So Steely Dad Nation, can you throw me a bone and help me feel a sense of validation no matter how fleeting? Can you help me reach blogger immortality? Can you help me achieve my pathetic dream of being recognized for work for which I do not get paid? To you it’s just a tiny little vote but for me it means so much more. Please don’t feel guilty if you believe clicking on one of the conveniently located links below requires just too much effort. I understand. It is rather tiresome to click on a link. If you think you don’t need to vote for me because all my other friends will do so please keep in mind I have very few friends (certainly not enough to stuff the ballot box) and those that I do have are either ineligible to vote due to being incarcerated, are still in rehab or are too drunk to read this posting. However, if you believe I suck and am not deserving of such esteemed recognition, please just put those feelings aside for one second and vote for me because I’ll stop whining and begging and perhaps stem the flow of my draining dignity.

After all, I am nothing without my pride.

Vote for me in all four categories and win a trip to an undisclosed location (ARV = $0.00).

Let the clicking begin!