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.

At 9 PM Central on Thursday, Oct. 29, the Steely Family embarked on an ambitious adventure that most parents dare not even mention. What am I talking about? The Family Road Trip.

So far, the trip has been pretty eventful, complete with overnight stays in Wal-Mart parking lots and dances with crazy drivers. During one stretch through Kansas, we were greeted with a noisome odor. Being that we were in rural Kansas, I assumed it was produced by bovine manure. However, this particular scent had that distinctive “human” quality. I took a quick peek in the backseat at Steely Daughter and was stricken by absolute fear at the site of my beautiful daughter covered in poop after having a colossal blowout! She had it all over her hands so this emergency required swift, evasive and direct intervention. Needless to say, we will be one pair of pants short on our return trip.

This incident, along with some others, required me to take pause and ask the question: why do (sane) people go on road trips? More specifically, why do parents go on road trips with their kids? This trip has been different from all previous road trips. What happened to the romance of the road I recall, the road I knew intimately when Steely Wife and I camped across this great nation for our honeymoon (we subsequently enjoyed an Alaskan cruise but our camping adventure was our REAL honeymoon). The road I engage today is a distant relative of the one I once knew. The victim of an evolutionary defect that robbed it of its soul? Perhaps. Or perhaps it is me who had undergone the metamorphosis. Perhaps my psyche no longer requires the challenge of rugged survival on the road, but instead relishes in the creature comforts of the Four Seasons (or even the Sleazy 8, which is just as good as the Four Seasons after a sleepless night in a Wal-Mart parking lot).

The reason we go on road trips is for the opportunity such adventures provide for self-introspection and self-discovery. On the road, our souls are baptized by the wind and the endless stretch of asphalt that leads to the horizon of our dreams. Of course, at this stage in my life, I feel confident I can obtain the same soul-searching revelations with a warm bed and a plasma TV.

In any case, this stay-at-home dad wants to provide his loyal readers with a veritable “real time” experience of this unique adventure. Thus, I’m going to provide a kind of play-by-play narrative, including all the gory details, at Twitter (and maybe Facebook). So follow me: steely_dad for exclusive updates. Missed what’s already happened? You can read previous tweets on my Twitter homepage. And, in a Steely Dad first, I’m also going to attempt to provide ALL updates utilizing nothing more than my mobile communication device. Enjoy!

I have a favor to ask of you.  Yes, I’m aware that it’s rather presumptuous of me to make any requests in light of my prolonged absence, but a favor I ask of you nonetheless.

You might be saying to yourself, “You schmuck! You abandon us, your faithful and loyal readers, for weeks on end and now you want to ask a favor? You’re a stay-at-home dad for cying out loud! You should have time to write a stupid blog at least once a week!” and you’re right. All I can say is mea culpa. For whatever reason, the inspiration hasn’t been there as of late and I don’t want to offend your fertile minds by simply writing drivel that’s worse than the usual drivel you’ve come to expect from Steely Dad. Yea, doing so might help with SEO and page ranks but I think it’s safe to say those elements hardly provide me motivation.

The favor I’d like to ask of you is to stop reading this post right now. WAIT! Before you do, because I know just how happy you are to oblige, please follow these very important instructions: GO HUG YOUR KID(S). I mean REALLY hug them.  Tell them how much you love them, how special they are to you. No, don’t lie. I want you to hug them and kiss them and hold them tight and let all that love in your heart spill forth. Don’t be afraid; you can’t spoil a kid with love. For those of us parents with younger kids, we don’t appreciate the brevity of these early years. Parents with older children are often cursed with the wisdom that kids just grow up way too quickly. Never again squander another opportunity to let your kids know how much you love and adore them.

I know this would be the message of Sophie and Tyler Crew, dear friends of the Steely Family, if they could speak to you right now.  I know they would love nothing more than to be able to hug their beautiful baby girl, 13-month old Emma, right this very moment. I know they would do anything to be able to hold her, to touch her, to smell her sweet and familiar scent that only they recognize. I know they would do anything to be able to hear Emma’s silly giggle and to tickle her to hear it over and over again. Even big sister Ava would love to share her toys with Emma. But they cannot, at least not right now, for their precious little Emma is in a crucial fight for her fragile life after being victimized in what doctors have described as a Shaken Baby Syndrome incident.

Sophie and Tyler are living a parent’s worst nightmare.  Sometime after dropping off Emma at daycare, they received a call from the facility that something happened to Emma. At that seminal moment, at that singular second in time, their comfortable world was eternally shattered. And even if all prayers are answered, even if the miracle of all miracles happens, nothing for the Crew Family will ever be the same again, not EVER.

After hearing this tragic story, I wondered how anyone could do something like this to a little baby, an innocent child who is not able to defend itself . How could someone turn into such a monster? It seems unfathomable, unimaginable and demonic. And you know what, it is all of these things but apparently it doesn’t take much to turn into such a monster. A brief yet uncontrollable fit of anger coupled with several violent shakes in a few seconds is all it takes to steal the life of a child. According to the National Center on Shaken Baby Syndrome, an estimated 1,200 to 1,400 children in the United States are injured or killed by being shaken each year.

No gun, no blunt instrument, no poison was used. In fact, the person probably started off with good intentions of trying to comfort a crying child. But when nothing they tried worked, the person transformed from caregiver to monster. Hands, an inability to control impulses and the law of physics that would leave adults unscathed but literally shakes the breath out of those much smaller than us were the only weapons used in this case. We’ve all been frustrated with our kids, when they don’t listen, when they cry incessantly and inconsolably for unending hours, and we’ve wished it to go away, quickly, so we can get back to sleep, get back to work or get back to whatever it was we were doing. The only thing the Crew Family wants to get back to is a normal life.

Sophie and Tyler sit vigil by Emma’s side, where they have remained since this nightmare took on a momentum that far exceeds their tolerance.  Three hundred and sixty hours have passed since the last time they saw their happy, healthy Emma. Think of all the hugs they would’ve shared had it not been for a person’s, a stranger’s, rage.

Mom and Dad, sitting on either side of Emma, read her favorite books, sing her favorite songs, looking, waiting, wishing, hoping for anything that resembles life. A sign, a twitch, a movement, a response, a sound, anything. How do you hold on to hope when doctors say to let go of it? How do you manage expectations when doctors tell you not to have any? I don’t know how but I do know that Sophie and Tyler and Ava have not given up on Emma, have not lost hope and have not abandoned expectations. Emma knows this too, and she can feel the love and support and she hears our prayers and she has responded by moving one of her arms and one of her legs. She has opened her eyes. These are small but meaningful signs that nuture the seed of hope. Remember, all mighty oaks start out as tiny acorns. Let me tell you, this little girl has more fight in her than any, save her family, knew she had in her heart. She’s not giving up and she wants to let us know not to give up on her, that she’s going to keep on fighting.

Emma doesn’t understand what losing this fight would mean to her parents, to her sister, to her grandparents. She doesn’t know the grief that would descend upon an entire community of people who love and adore her. Yet out of nothing more than sheer life instinct, the genetic code that resolves us to take another breath when doing so presents greater challenge than not taking one, this little girl fights on.

It’s easy to think something like this will never happen to us and when we don’t personally know the people struggling with a tragedy such as this, it’s even easier to take comfort in the emotional distance that frees us from any reminder of the grief  being experienced by those hit hardest. But don’t forget; instead, think of little Emma struggling for the very existence we take for granted.

I’d like to make one last request. I am asking for everyone reading this story to pray for little Emma Crew. Organize prayer services at your church, synagogue or other place of worship. If you’re not comfortable with prayer, then please send your positive thoughts Emma’s way. If praying is fine and dandy but you feel moved to do something more “tangible” the family would be most grateful for any financial contributions. Obviously, both Sophie and Tyler have taken an indefinite leave of absence from their respective jobs (Sophie is a school teacher and Tyler works in construction) since Emma’s hospitalization. I know we’d all like to lessen the burden that was thrust upon this family by minimizing financial stresses in order that they may focus their energies on little baby Emma. Donations, in any amount, can be made at the Crew Family blog by clicking on the “Donate” button. I hope you will contribute out of a desire, rather than an obligation, to help.

If you’re a blogger, have a Facebook, Twitter or any other social media account, please feel free to post this wherever compassionate eyes may read it.

Thanking you in advance,
Todd (AKA Steely Dad)

This past week was a busy, but fun, one for the Steely Family. We went to the local carnival (for three days) and to keep the good times a-rollin’ we also threw in a Disney On Ice show for good measure. I realize this might give the false impression that being a stay-at-home dad (SAHD) is all fun and games, but really, being a stay-at-home dad can be tough work. No, really, it can be.  However, to be perfectly honest, when Steely Wife joins us, as she did for these events, I feel more like an unemployed dad than a SAHD.

I was struck with the most intense wave of nostalgia at the carnival. It seemed to me that all of the sparkly-cars-go-in-a-circle rides as well as the spinning-until-you-puke rides that I took my son on were the EXACT same rides that I rode when I was his age. No, I don’t mean similar; I mean the exact SAME! In fact, all of the toothless operators possessed an odd quality of reminiscence about them as well. I was my son’s age, eh hem, more than 30 years ago but could it be that these are, in fact, the same people and the same rides? I thought, perhaps, that dental photographs could corroborate my hypothesis but for some reason the “gentleman” operating the bumper cars took exception when I tried to photograph a close-up of his chompers. These carnival people can be quite testy.

Disney On Ice was, in a word, amazing. This was my second Disney show and it has yet to disappoint. Seriously, if you have not been, you should go. Your kids will think you’re a hero and you’ll find yourself cheering on all the famous characters who are doing stunts like back flips on ice skates and in full costume. The best part? As far as I could see, all of the performers had complete sets of teeth.

Since I’ve regaled you with my stories and rants for all these months, I thought it would be a fun experiment to turn over the Steely Dad Nation to the rightful heir, Steely Son, for his take on the carnival, the Disney On Ice show and anything else that pops into his head.

Here’s the exclusive interview:

Steely Dad: Thank you for agreeing to this interview.

Steely Son: OK

Steely Dad: So, did you like the carnival?

Steely Son: (In robot cadence) Yes-I-did-like-the-carnival.

Steely Dad:  What did you like most about the carnival?

Steely Son: Ummm, the Ferris wheel.

Steely Dad: Why?

Steely Son: Because, um (dramatic pause – unintelligible response).

Steely Dad: What?

Steely Son: (Sounding frustrated) BECAUSE, IT WENT UP AND DOWN!

Steely Dad: OK, chill dude. What other things did you like at the carnival?

Steely Son: Um, um, the MOTORCYCLES!

Steely Dad: Sweet. Anything else?

Steely Son: Um, eh, YEA! I liked the airplanes too!

Steely Dad: Nice. Anything else you want to tell us about the carnival?

Steely Son: Yea, the scary ghost ride!

Steely Dad: That wasn’t that scary.

Steely Son: Yea, it was! (Laughing)

Steely Dad: What was so scary about it?

Steely Son: Because the skeletons were popping out!

Steely Dad: Was Daddy scared?

Steely Son: Yes!

Steely Dad: No I wasn’t!

Steely Son: Yea, you were! Did you like it?

Steely Dad: Hey, I’m conducting the interview here.

Steely Son: No, I’m comucting the interview here.

Steely Dad: OK, moving on. How did you like the Disney On Ice show?

Steely Son: Good!

Steely Dad: What was your favorite part?

Steely Son: I don’t know.

Steely Dad: You did go to the show, right?

Steely Son: Yes.

Steely Dad: Then can’t you tell me your favorite part?

Steely Son: No.

Steely Dad: Why not?

Steely Son: Fine. Finding Nemo was my favorite.

Steely Dad: Hold on. I can’t type that fast.

Steely Son: FIIIINNNNDDDDING NEEEEEEEEEEMMMMMMMMOOOOOOOO.

Steely Dad: What else?

Steely Son: Nothing. I just liked Nemo.

Steely Dad: (Laughing)

Steely Son: What, Daddy, what?!?!

Steely Dad: OK, let’s be professional here.

Steely Son: What’s promessional here? Oy vey!

Steely Dad: So you didn’t like anything else about Disney? Come on. There must have been something else you liked.

Steely Son:  I just liked Finding Nemo.

Steely Dad: You didn’t like anything else?

Steely Son: NOTHING. I liked NOTHING else (waving his hands back and forth like an umpire signalling “Safe!”)

Steely Dad: You didn’t like Goofy?

Steely Son: Yes. I liked Goofy and Mickey Mouse.

Steely Dad: (Typing as fast as he can.)

Steely Son: Did you get that Daddy? I also liked Mickey Mouse.

Steely Dad: Hold on!

Steely Son: Daddy, what are you doing?

Steely Dad: Typing.

Steely Son: Oh, and I also liked the pirates.

Steely Dad: What pirates?

Steely Son: The Pirates ON THE Caribbean.

Steely Dad: When were those in the show?

Steely Son: When in the show? Huh? When in the show?

Steely Dad:  The pirates? When were they in the show? I don’t recall pirates.

Steely Son: Do you like them?

Steely Dad: Sure I do but I don’t remember them in the Disney On Ice show.

Steely Son: I remember.

Steely Dad: When?

Steely Son: Or maybe not.

Steely Dad: OK, final question.

Steely Son: Which final quesiton? What’s a final question?

Steely Dad: This final question. It’s the last question. OK here goes: who do you love more, Mommy or Daddy?

Steely Son: Goofy

Steely Dad: He doesn’t count. So who do you love more? Mommy or Daddy?

Steely Son: Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, Mommy!!!

Steely Dad: OK, that concludes our interview.

Steely Son: (Big smile) OK!

***

Thanks for reading and have a great weekend!

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.