The reality is, is that these damn kids are driving me nuts. I say that with a grin on my face because I love these kids more than anything. It is just that I have come to the realization that I was not programmed to be a stay at home Dad.

I am talking about this now because of an experience today that put me right over the edge. The odd thing is that it had absolutely nothing to do with my kids directly. It had everything to do with that sub-culture of "Soccer Moms" that exist like vampires during the day who run the country during the working hours that the rest of the country goes about its business.

Naturally, I have massive respect for stay-at-home Moms who raise their children and in no way belittle the work it takes to do so. I have even more respect for those stay-at-home Dads who also manage to do this. BUT, and that is a very big but, stay-at-home Dads have it tough. The main reason is that they/we are an anomaly.

You see, this sub-culture of Moms whose sole focus appears to be the rearing of their children is only the tip of the iceberg. The reality is there is a Sisterhood that has developed that controls the daylight hours and the whole culture of child-rearing. The ironic thing is that membership to this organization implies that it is a Sisterhood thing limited to women, which obviously excludes us Dads. That goes one step father by inadvertently excluding working moms. That is a whole other sisterhood which Men are yet again excluded from.

An example of the latter occurred recently as an invitation appeared in our mailbox inviting my wife to a Mom's group meeting to be held locally. There was one major problem however, my wife works. The meeting was scheduled for 9:00 am on a Wednesday. That completely cut her out of the loop on meeting other Moms and finding out good information that we could apply in our own children's lives. That really torqued me.

In protest I proclaimed that I would go on her behalf and gather information that she may find valuable. Then I sat down and looked at the invite. It was all about breakfast and sharing of information which means gabbing over coffee and doing a lot of prying into each others lives. I then started thinking about how out of place I would feel walking into the lionesses den as a man trying to make some stand. That would not have gone over well I am sure.

So we have pretty much gone it alone in terms of trying to find activities to sign our pre-school aged children up for to occupy their days. Of course since I am out of work I am usually the one driving them back and forth to these events. Each and every time it has been the same. A few Moms there gathering in clusters, introducing themselves then talking endlessly about their families to one another.

Anyone who knows me, knows that I am not the best equipped in social situations. These were definitely the type that made me shudder each and every time. That came to a head today as I was off taking my daughter to her first ballet lesson. Of course I wasn't expecting too much from her at the age of 3 and a half, but since she loved dancing around the house it seemed the right thing to do.

I should have known this was going to go bad. The minute I was told that there were Tap and Ballet shoes and pink tights & black too-too that she needed to take with her. That was compounded as I pulled into the parking lot of the studio and witnessed the mob of little girls and Moms dragging them into the place. "Oh boy" I thought as I sighed and took the key out of the ignition.

I entered the place and realized there was a strange feeling in the air. I now know it was probably estrogen filling the air as I stood there facing what had to have been a room filled with about 60 little girls and 40 or so Moms. I quickly looked around for another man but sadly found none. I was all alone.

Immediately I drug my daughter through the crowd making sure not to make eye contact with anyone. Once in the back I looked around to figure out what everyone was doing. They were all putting the ballet slippers on their girls. "Right!" I thought, "I can do this" I knelt down and pulled from the bag the two ballet slippers. To my horror, I could not for the life of me figure out which was left or right. At this point I didn't care, they went on anyhow.

Following the mob, once again we were off into the assigned studio. Which really wasn't too bad as there must have been 3 or 4 other classes going on at the same time which explained why there were so many people in the lobby area. Settled in the studio, I could see the excitement on my little girls face. She belonged there and was loving every minute of the anticipation that was brewing among all of the girls there.

I say girls in reference to every single female in the room including the mothers. I could see it in their faces. Their own excitement for what their daughters were about to embark on. As if it was some long lost dream that their own children were living on their behalf. Or worse, some "Stage Mom" passion for their daughters to become some superstar. At this point I was simply in survival mode.

The teacher began to speak as the little girls crowded around her glued to her every word. However she was speaking over them to us, the parents. The first question left me blown away. "We need two volunteers to be the class Mothers." Again, head down and not making eye contact, I pretended like this was in no way intended for me. Apparently these roles are highly valued to these ladies as it took about .5 seconds for two to step forward and one of them was even Pregnant! Talk about loyalty to the sisterhood!

Next order of business, the gear. OF course she asked if everyone had tap shoes, ballet shoes. We were good at that point. Then I overheard two women discussing the types of shoes that their kids had and the one was concerned that she didn't have the correct ones. Something about elastic over laces blah blah blah. I panicked as I saw laces in my little one's Tap shoes. It must have been evident on my face as the lady next to me told me to just pull them out and I would find the elastic underneath. Sure enough, there it was.... Saved.

"Are your daughter's names on the shoes?" the instructor asked. DOH! How the hell do I know? I was kindly provided with a roll of masking tape and a sharpie and instructed to put the tape on the bottom of the Tap shoes to write her name on then write directly on the bottom of the ballet shoes. Oh the humiliation was beginning to show now. I was not prepared nor equipped for all of this. But I soldiered on. It was now time. We were all told to exit the studio and wait out side of the glass window to observe the lesson.

Lets just say the hallway was small and the glass window was even smaller. I slunk off to the very left edge of the window as the ladies began to congregate. It was almost as if there was a tide of women flowing to and from the window to peer in armed with glaring smiles and waves for their girls. Some were toting some serious camera gear. I am talking Nikon/Canon SLR cameras. None of that insta-matic stuff for these girls. They were seriously doing the paparazzi thing. I felt so under-equipped for what I can only assume was a monumental moment in my daughter's life.

For those who flowed back from the window they pooled with other Moms who were standing around chatting about all sorts of stuff. What types of too-toos, what schools their kids were going to and with each breath welcoming each new arrival into the flow through introductions all around. I even heard one claim that 5 of the girls in the class were all neighbors and would enter kindergarten together. AAARRRGGGHHH I felt as if my ears were bleeding listening to all of this. Fake smiles when all along I could hear each and every one of the passing judgement in their own minds about the newest women put forth for examination.

This went on for 30 minutes as I peered through the glass at my little girl spinning around as if all was perfect in the universe. I kept telling myself I was there for her. This was reinforced each time she happened to catch my eye and throw me that innocent smile as if to say "Thank you daddy!"

Thing is, I am experiencing a range of emotions over this experience. For 30 minutes I stood there. Not once did one PERSON make any attempt to speak to me. To point through the glass and ask me which little girl was mine. They didn't care. I was not there. I was invisible. One even said to another "I don't know who that one on the end it." referring to my daughter. By default she was an outcast as well because of me.

I was pissed off and disgusted at how I was ignored, yet pleased that I didn't have to interact with these women. Now I am sure there are some men out there who would proactively step into the fray and force themselves into that group, but I am not. And for this reason, I officially now know that I am a recital Dad. I am the one who shows up at those special events, shows and programs to cheer on my baby. But as far as the day-to-day grind in getting them there, I don't think I have the right anatomy to pull that off.

If I were to continue down this path, I know I would be one of those fathers that embarrasses their little girl with stupid moves or forgotten details. For now though, I am counting the days that I have left until I return to work. I have 2 more sessions of this then I turn over the reigns to Grandma. So for all of you stay-at-home Moms, if you think you have it hard in the eyes of society, just imagine what you are doing to those stay-at-home fathers who are trying to do the right thing for their kids. Don't make it worse by ostracizing them. Two wrongs don't make it right.