I didn’t sign up for this crap
I was exhausted. With Tyler quietly napping in his crib, I lay across our bed and glanced at the alarm clock on the bedside table. The digital green numbers showed the time as being a quarter past six, in the afternoon. After a slight pause, I calculated the actual time to be five minutes until six. I’ve had my clock set twenty minutes fast for about as many years as Sarah and I have been together. When the repeating tones of the alarm drills into one’s dreams, and one opens one’s eyes to see the harsh green glowing display, the only truth is the time it displays. This is how I manage to get up on time almost every morning. I closed my eyes. I would nap for twenty minutes then go wake Tyler. When I opened my eyes one second later, the display said it was nearly seven o’clock. I sprang from the bed and dashed into Tyler’s room. I didn’t want him to nap too long and ruin any chance at still getting him to bed at a decent time. He woke easily and promptly asked for his mommy (which is great for one’s ego). I explained to him that mommy was in Michigan. She goes there once a week to gossip and hang out study with her friends for their PTA License exam. As we descended the stairs, it occurred to me that it was actually six thirty, and we hadn’t overslept at all.
Minutes later, we were in the kitchen, scrounging for food. I handed Tyler a strawberry while we waited for the microwave to finish radiating our Hobo Pocket[1] leftovers. The tentative plan for the evening included reading the newspaper while we ate, playing outside, chasing each other through the house, and general father-and-son fun. I looked at Tyler after finishing the newspaper and knew that our plans had just changed. What I wouldn’t find out until later was just how much our evening would stray from the line I laid down for it. Tyler’s face was covered with ketchup, potatoes,and zucchini. But that wasn’t the game changer. This was nothing that couldn’t be corrected with a wet wash-cloth. It was when Tyler smeared banana, potato, and ketchup in his hair that plan B became necessary. The tentative plan B for the evening included playing in the bath, brushing our teeth, chasing each other through the house, and reading stories before bedtime.
I ran Tyler’s bath and allowed him to toss in some of his favorite bath toys. I am a creature of habit, and rarely – if ever – change the way in which I do things. Bath time is no exception. I wash Tyler’s face, scrub his hair, and was his body. Then we play for a bit before pulling the drain plug. For some reason that I may never know, I switched around our routine on this particular night. I washed Tyler’s face and decided we would play for a while before soaping up. We played for a few minutes and were having a great time. Then Tyler stopped. And grunted. In… ANY… other… situation, I would know exactly what was happening. That synapse failed to fire on this night and left me confused.
“Wait. What’re you doing?”
With great reluctance, I glanced behind him.
“TYLER! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?! OH GOD, NO! STOP!”
The tentative plan C for the evening was to freak the f*** out! And I was well on my way toward doing so. I grabbed Tyler and held him out of the sewage while I tried to develop a plan of action. My only goal was to clean the contaminated area as quickly as possible, with as little involvement of my skin as possible. I wrapped him in a towel, ran into the living room, baby-wiped his butt, put a diaper on him and ran back into the bathroom. Using the same thing we use to rinse water off Tyler – a blue plastic container – I scooped the two turdlets up and dumped them into the toilet. I really couldn’t tell you what it was about all this that had me gagging and very close to vomiting (I wipe smeared poop off his balls more times than I care to count, for crying out loud), but it took quite a bit of mental – and physical – restraint to keep my stomach from betraying me. After grabbing all the toys that were in the tub at the time of the “incident” and throwing them in a sink full of hot water, I poured a bunch of bleach in. I then took that same container of bleach and splashed it all over the tub.
Did I finish washing Tyler? Nope. Am I okay with that? Absolutely.
I was this close (squeezes fingers together) to calling a HazMat team and getting our house condemned. I won’t say that I didn’t muse over how much accelerant would be necessary to effectively destroy a two-story house. The problem is, fire investigators are very smart and would have quickly unraveled the mystery. I’d like to say that they would understand my motives, but I just can’t be sure.
[1] Hobo Pockets:
1 to 1.5 pounds of hamburger (ground beef, ground round, ground whatever) – spiced to taste
Sliced potatoes (about 1/4 inch thick)
Sliced carrots (about 1/4 inch thick)
Sliced onions (about 1/3 to 1/2 inch thick)
Whatever other vegetables you have handy (zucchini, green pepper, etc.)Get four large sections of tin-foil. Put a hamburger sized patty of meat on each one. Add veggies to each one. Wrap them up so they are completely covered. We actually double wrap them because they like to try to open up when you flip them. Put them on a grill. Grill on medium-low heat for 30 minutes, flipping at 10 minute intervals.
Unwrap and Enjoy the deliciousness!
Don’t touch THAT!
Why not?
That’s the question I asked myself a few days ago.
When I started high school, I was placed in classes for “gifted students”, presumably, because I was smart. On the first day of classes, one of my teachers wrote a word on the chalkboard.
“Anyone who answers this question correctly goes up a letter grade at the end of the semester,” he said.
We all looked at the board and were perplexed at the simplicity of the question.
“Why?” the board read.
The answer the teacher was looking for was “why not?” It went against everything I’ve learned regarding answering a question with a question, but it was the answer he wanted to see.[1]
So, when Tyler was having one of his I-cannot-be-separated-from-my-daddy-for-even-a-second-or-else-I-will-start-screaming-my-head-off moments as I walked into the bathroom to “make my peeps come”[2], I said to myself, “Why not?”
*sigh*
I’m the type of guy that views the bathroom as private time (unless Sarah is doing her make-up. We try to fit the entire family in there when that’s going on, which I’m sure she just loves). I don’t let Sarah watch me, uhhh, conduct business in there, and I certainly wouldn’t watch her do the same. Unfortunately, I can’t just sit down at the table with Tyler and explain how to make peeps and poops in the potty. As a result, I know I’ve got to – at some point – allow Tyler into the bathroom with me to witness how the big boys make the magic happen.
So, why not, Tyler? Come on in and watch daddy bring the rain (pun intended. That one was for you, Mel).
To my female readers, I won’t get graphic here, but if you don’t know how peeing works for guys, let’s just say that, at any given time, at least one hand is occupied. You may be thinking that having one hand free would be sufficient in keeping control of the situation. I’m here to tell you that it is not.
As soon as Tyler saw me raise the lid of the toilet seat, he had to be right there. He leaned a bit to see what was inside of the mysterious ceramic bowl, which put me in the delicate position of trying not to piss on my son’s head. Tyler must have thought the view wasn’t good enough, because he placed his hands on the rim of the toilet bowl and leaned further in. If we were playing the $25,000 Pyramid right now, “stopping mid-stream” falls into the category of “things that cannot be done” and frankly, I was so horrified that Tyler just put his hands on, arguably, the most disgusting thing in any household that I just didn’t care if I gave him a golden shower anymore.
With terror and disgust in my voice, I yelled, “GROSS!! DON’T TOUCH THAT!”
To Tyler, this roughly translated to, “SHOUT!! I’M YELLING THINGS THAT YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!”
Using my free hand, I attempted to push Tyler away. This didn’t work, because – with me standing and Tyler leaning – my hand just brushed the top of his hair. Instead, I jutted my right knee out and pushed him with my leg. I felt like a Ghost Buster, trying to set the Ecto Trap and still not cross the streams of our Proton Packs. Or in my case, not pee on my son.
Worried that he may try to get into the toilet again, I maintained the awkward pose of peeing while keeping my right leg out in between Tyler and the toilet. He didn’t try again. No, Tyler chose to focus his attention on something else. “Something else” being the very thing that defines me as a father and not a mother. My discomfort of the situation was reaching levels I didn’t know to be possible. I didn’t know what to do, so I concentrated on finishing things up as quickly as possible. I ignored the look of awe and amazement and wonderment on Tyler’s face, and forged ahead.
After what felt like an eternity, I zipped up. Tyler looked up at me, as if waiting for an explanation on what the heck he just witnessed. All I could muster was the look that you give a stranger on an elevator. The look where you raise your eyebrows and smile without opening your mouth or showing any teeth.
“Tyler, let’s never speak of this again.”
“DA.”
I’m choosing to believe that, based on his tone and inflection, Tyler said, “Sure thing, pop. Do you know if the Imagination Movers have a new CD out yet? Whaddya say we get the heck out of this bathroom and find out?”
Why not, Tyler? Why not?
[1] The majority of the class, including myself, wrote “because” on a piece of paper and turned it in. Others wrote paragrahs and pages, going on and on about creationism, or God, or something. Nobody answered with “why”.
[2] Ever since Sarah and I became dog owners five years ago, we’ve used the terms “peeps” and “poops” when asking Logan, and then Delilah, when she joined our family, if they had business to do.
He Showed Me ALL of His Love
Last Tuesday is one for the books. I had a long day at work, but I won’t bore you with the details. Upon returning home, I discovered that somebody had installed a lake in my backyard. Some could argue that it was due to the massive amounts of rain that we received that day, but I like my idea better. Sarah told me that Tyler wasn’t eating very well that day, and that he developed a cough. The awesomeness of this particular day kept getting better and better, wouldn’t you agree? Later on in the evening, Sarah informed me that water was dripping into our upstairs bedroom. Fantastic.
But I’m leaving out a key element here.
After Tyler had his dinner (peas, sweet potatoes, and rice cereal) we put him on the floor to crawl around while Sarah and I had our dinner. Sarah made a cheesy tuna noodle casserole, and it was delish.
From the floor, Tyler started making noises.
”NNnnnnnnnnt. NNNNNNNNNnnnnnnt. Uhhhhhnnnnnnnt.”
They were more of a grunting noise, and it’s a sound we’re very familiar with.
”Is Tyler pooping? Yes, Tyler is pooping.” I try to bring yes and no into most of my conversations with Tyler, so that he may begin to understand what those words mean. I also, desperately, want him to know what the word “poop” means because I want him to be able to eventually tell me when he needs to perform such a task. I don’t know when potty training is supposed to start, but the sooner he learns what he’s doing (and how disgusting it is), the better.
Sarah, being a stay at home mom, deals with poopy diapers much more often than I do. As such, I take her advice on the subject (among other things, her credentials include being pooped on). She said that I should give him a couple minutes, to be sure he was “done”. So I finished dinner. Tyler started doing the “I’m tired” routine very shortly after that. You know the drill. Whining, eye rubbing, whining, head lulling, whining. I scooped him up and informed him that we’d be making a journey into the living area where I would wipe and clean his bottom, and fit him with a hot-off-the-showroom, clean diaper. Upon completion of this adventure, we would put some warm and fuzzy pajamas on the little guy, and go do our nigh nighs.
Our kitchen has linoleum floors (I know, right? I’m living the high life over here), and the dining area has hardwood floors. The living area is carpeted, and this is where Tyler decided to show me all of his love. And this is when I realized that Tyler was not tired, but very, very sick. I fully understand that I can embellish certain things, to make them more entertaining – nothing big, because I think the facts are humorous by themselves – but I’m here to tell you that I’ve never seen vomit like this before. We’re talking Selma Blair and The Exorcist here. I was holding Tyler so that our heads were next to each other, him facing behind me. All I heard was a gurgling sound. Still holding Tyler, I turned to see what was going on and, in doing so, created an arched trail of vomit on the floor. The carpeted floor.
But that’s not the worst part! It got on ME. It was all over my arms. Honest to God (although I can’t think of a God that would allow this to happen to me), I had no idea so much fluid – and partially digested baby food – could fit in Tyler’s little belly.
”HOLY CRAP!” was all that I could think to say.
”What’s up?” Sarah called from the kitchen.
”Tyler just threw up EVERYWHERE!”
Sarah, like a ninja, just seemed to materialize in the living room with towels in her hands. She tended to cleaning up Tyler, while I rushed to the sink to clean myself. Delilah, the eternal helper, tried to lick the carpet clean for us. Although I was tempted to just let her do it, so that Sarah and I could clean and comfort Tyler, I shooed her away. I sat on the couch with Tyler – stripped to his diaper – and Sarah started spraying cleaner on the carpet. I felt so bad for the little guy. He just seemed so “out of it”. As a testament to how out-of-it he was feeling, he actually snuggled with me on the couch and rested his head on my chest. Normally, the boy fights sleep as if it’s his last night on Earth. To his credit, he’s very good at going to sleep when we put him in his crib though.
He vomited again in the middle of the night in his crib, so he had to sleep in our bed. This went on until we decided that we should probably get advice from our family doctor. The catalyst for me was Wednesday evening, when he vomited onto the tray on his highchair. It was green and white from the mucous and breastmilk. Tyler went in on Thursday and came out with the catch-all diagnosis of “Upper Respiratory Infection”. We decided to give him 24 more hours before trying antibiotics. I won’t get too much into it, but antibiotics have been linked to allergies and asthma in little ones.
Thursday evening, as if he understood that he was on a get-better-or-get-pills countdown, Tyler started feeling better. Sarah was exhausted and crashed on the couch, and her two boys played on the floor. Tyler was crawling everywhere and had finally regained his smile. The relief that the smile afforded me was immense.
When Sarah woke up from her nap and I told her how awesome Tyler seemed to be doing, she replied, “My throat hurts.”
On Friday evening, my throat started getting scratchy. On Sunday morning (right now), I want to cut my head off so that the pain will go away. It’s no secret that I’m a big baby when I’m sick, and poor Sarah has to deal with it.
The silver lining on all this is that Sarah feels much better today, and Tyler’s doing well, aside from a phlegmy cough.
Let’s do a shot!
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| A Breastshield (View More Photos) |
Something happened a few weeks ago, and I promised myself that I would blog about it.
Tyler is a breastfed baby, 100%. How a breastfed baby can weigh 19 pounds three days before he’s 3 months old is beyond me. If Mike and Heather want some of Tyler’s baby fat for their 10 and a half month old Maddie, I’ll send it via first class mail. Also beyond my comprehension is how Sarah can still have excess milk while breastfeeding a 19 pound baby. Don’t get me wrong, Sarah has always been *ahem* blessed in the bosom. Ever since her milk came in, her hoot hoots have become ginormous. Still, I’ve no idea how she can feed the chunky monkey and still need to say, “I need to pump.”
To do the deed, she uses a Medela Pump in Style Advanced breastpump. It’s a pretty cool pump. It does it’s job, and Sarah seems pleased with it. Two thumbs up as far as I’m concerned. It basically consists of a pump, a carrying bag, a tube, and a breastshield. Check out the picture to see what a breastshield is, as it’s the subject of this post. I will also be referring to it simply as “shield” for the rest of this post. If you have ANY imagination whatsoever, you can easily see where it goes.
Well… a while back, Sarah and I, along with Tyler, went to spend a long weekend with Mel and Adam, and their son, Ben, at their lake cottage. You can read about that here. I didn’t mention this particular story then, because I really believed it deserved its own post.
On one particular morning while we were there, Sarah needed to pump. When she was done, she put the shield next to the kitchen sink. Me, Sarah, and Melanie were all sitting at the dining room table. I couldn’t tell you with absolute certainty what we were doing though. I’m sure we were either playing Yahtzee or eating food. Adam is walking around munching on chicken wings (at 9am) or something.
Adam is one of the funniest guys I know. He can find funny in just about anything, to hell with levels of appropriateness. He is a rabid Buckeye fan, and a Republican though. With those two strikes already against him, he’s really got no other choice than to be funny. In my eyes, the two worst qualities you can have are to be a Republican and a fan of a team whose mascot is a poisonous NUT, so you better damn well have a redeeming quality. The day I stop laughing at your jokes, Adam, is the day that my strictly-non-gay man-crush on you is OVER!! GO BLUE!!!
Anyway, Adam walks out of the kitchen, holding the shield. With a quizzical look on his face, he asks, “What is this thing?”
That was when he found funny. He didn’t wait for Sarah to say, “That’s the thing I put on my hoot hoot when I need to pump breast milk for my baby.” He didn’t wait for Melanie to say, “Adam, put that down, you jackass.”
Nope… Adam found funny. So, instead of waiting for a response, he continued.
“It looks like something you’d take a shot out of.”
He then acts as if he’s taking a shot of whiskey. He holds the shield over his head, cranes his neck back and opens his mouth. He didn’t bring the shield down to his mouth or anything, because that would be gross. He just held it about 8 inches above his mouth… BUT….
drip…. drip…..
Right into his mouth. It was a bullseye shot directly into his gullet.
It was at that exact moment that Sarah informed him of the purpose of the item he had in his hands. Adam’s face contorted slowly from a look of “did that just happen?” to one that was a mixture of revulsion, terror, embarrassment, and utter disgust. It is beyond me how he was able to keep from getting a second showing of his breakfast, because he looked darn close to bringing it all back up. It was kinda like that scene in Van Wilder when the frat boys find out that their doughnuts aren’t filled with custard.
“Mmmmmm…. I think I’ve had these before”
Sarah – evil girl that she is (but that’s why I love her) – waits until all this has happened before saying, “I washed it out already. It’s clean.” I’m sure that didn’t do much to alleviate Adam’s disgust though. Think about it… if it were you, would you feel better? I wouldn’t. For as long as we all live, Adam will be the guy that got some of my wife’s breastmilk residue in his mouth. She could have washed it out with bleach using an industrial sized power-washer, but he’d still be that guy.
recent videos
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2010-05-15 - The Army Crawl, and Rock on.mpg -
2010-05-09 - Happy Father's Day, Grandpa -
2010-05-07 - Tyler Reads Books -
2010-05-07 - Tyler plays with Luci and says Muffler -
2010-05-07 - A Mile in Daddy's Shoes -
2010-05-04 - Swinging and Getting Attacked by Delilah -
2010-04-27 - Tyler does Shapes and Objects -
2010-04-11 - Attack of the Tyler Monster -
2010-05-29 Tyler and the snake -
2010-05-09 - Happy Mother's Day, Grandma
View my full YouTube channel by clicking on this link. There, you can view all of the videos I have uploaded, as well as some other gems that make me laugh.
other stuffs
