Category Archives: Crying

The Horse Dictator

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Garrett Horse 1I have a story to share. Before I do, you should be warned. This story does not make me look like a good person. I was an asshole. I used my own child’s misery to get what I wanted. And, there is some mild animal endangerment in this story. Well…more like “Equine Mockery.” (I may have hurt the horse’s feelings, but that was about the extent of it.) Allow me to explain…

On Sunday, I took Garrett to a pumpkin farm. We arrived at 4:45, but I knew that the farm closed at 6pm. For a little more than an hour, Garrett ran around and played on the pumpkins, hid in the maze, climbed on the tractor, and bounced in the bounce house. Finally, at 5:45pm I convinced him to come and look for a pumpkin with me. Covered in sweat, dust, and some boogers, Garrett happily agreed to leave the play area with me.

As we made our way to the back of the farm, I noticed that they were giving pony rides. I asked Garett if he wanted to ride to pony and excitedly he said, “YES!!” So, we got in line and waited…and waited…and waited.

While standing in line, I noticed that the people around us had yellow tickets. I asked the family behind me what the ticket was for and was informed that we needed to buy a ticket in order to ride the pony. So, I knelt down and explained to Garrett that we needed to go back to the front of the farm to get a ticket for the pony. He put his hand in mine and together we went to get the ticket.

When we reached the ticket booth, I told the woman who was tending the booth that we would need one ticket. She replied, “No more horse rides.”

As I held Garrett’s hand, I asked again. “It’s only 5:59pm. Would it be possible to get one ticket for my son to ride the pony?” And again (without apology) she told me, “No. The pony rides are closed.” (Off in the distance, you can see that the ponies were still going around and around.)

I decided to take a different approach with The Horse Dictator. “Please make an exception. We’re only here once a year and my son has been looking forward to this.” Once again, she said, “No.”

Garrett was about to become the best wing-man of all time and didn’t realize it. As soon as he realized that she was not going to let him ride the pony, he began the “pre-cry whimper.” I could see the tears welling up in his eyes and I knew she saw it too. But, I also recognized that she was not going to be motivated into action by tears alone. With Garrett about to cry, I leaned in to the woman and deepened my voice. “Look. We’ve been standing in that line for 10 minutes. (True) There are no signs explaining that we’d need a ticket to ride the pony. (True) And when we did finally get to the front of the line to get on the horse, we were told to come here and get a ticket. (Not true.)” And I finished with, “….had we known all that, my son would be on the horse right now and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. (Technically, true)” Clearly, she understood that my tone had changed.

With a huff, she said, “Fine. I’ll ask if your son can ride.” And with that, she stormed off towards the horse area. I grabbed Garrett by the hand and followed her. When we got back to the horses, I saw The Horse Dictator speak with the young man running the ride. All I heard him say was, “Well…the horses are tired.”

I wasted no time and injected my thoughts into the conversation. With attitude and sarcasm, I responded, “What do you mean ‘the horses are tired?’ They’re horses! Do you know what they call ‘tired horses’ in other countries? FOOD!” (Yes, I really said it.)

The Horse Dictator whipped her head around and glared at me. The man running the pony ride actually chuckled and gave in. “Ok, come on. Your son can be on the last ride.” I thought The Horse Dictator’s head was going to explode.

Begrudgingly, she walked over to me and said, “That will be 6 dollars.” I had 6 singles on me. But, I’m a dick and I didn’t take kindly to her attitude. Instead, I handed her a 20 dollar bill and told her I wanted a shirt as well, plus my change. I did that knowing full well that she’d have to walk all the way back to the front of the farm to get the shirt and the change and then walk all the way back to find me.

So, as far as I’m concerned, this story has a happy ending. My son got to ride a horse named “Brownie”….and I got to torture The Horse Dictator.

Bro-Frenemies

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Play-NiceAs a parent, you want to keep your kids safe. You’d throw yourself in front of a bus if it meant that your children would remain unharmed and secure. But sometimes, you find yourself choosing to be – The Bad Parent. Yes, you could intervene at the moment of conflict. However, you purposely don’t because (maybe, in the back of your mind you’re thinking) your child deserved what was coming

It doesn’t happen often and I’m not proud of this, but one such incident needs to be shared

Justin has a habit of bugging Garrett at the moment when Garrett’s tolerance for bullshit has been depleted. Garrett loves physical play, but doesn’t like being touched by his brother. I’ve warned Justin on multiple occasions to get his hands off of his brother before Garrett loses his composure and starts punching him.

Several nights ago, my warnings fell on deaf ears. I told Justin that if he touched his brother one more time, he would probably get punched by Garrett. Sure enough, Garrett not only punched him….but leapt on top of him and began to pummel him like a prize fighter.

I was 5 feet away. I could have said something. I could have pulled Garrett off of Justin. I could have yelled at them both to cut it out.

I didn’t.

I just stood there and took another sip of my water as the ruckus continued.

And then, I heard the strangest/funniest/weirdest comment come out of Garrett’s mouth. As he continued to punch Justin over and over with Justin pleading for me to help him, I heard Garrett scream at Justin, “I’m hitting you and I’m hitting you HARD because I’m your BEST FRIEND!!!”

It’s something that has stayed with me ever since he said it. What did he mean by that? Was it like when a parent tells a child that they’re very angry with them, but still love them? Was he trying to tell Justin that he had no friends and managed to piss off the last one? Was he so angry that he couldn’t find the words he really wanted to use? I don’t know.

But, I now have a name for it: “Bro-Frenemies.” Sometimes they are friends. Sometimes they are enemies. But, they will always be brothers.

I Am “UNCLE” GenXDaddy!!

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Sadie-3

We have a new addition to the GenXDaddy family! On January 31, 2015 at 5:30PM., my sister gave birth to a beautiful baby girl. (My brother-in-law helped!)

 

In this corner, weighing in at 7 lbs, 14 oz with a length of 20.5 inches long and with a very full diaper – Sadie Bella Bergman!!

 

Hey Sadie – when you’re ready for your first scotch, cigar, and tattoo…come to Uncle Jason’s house! Cousin Justin, Cousin Garrett, Auntie GWE, and I are ready to corrupt you!

"Put me BBBAAAACCCKKKKKK!!!!"

“Put me BBBAAAACCCKKKKKK!!!!”

Go To Bed!!

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Bed

It has been less than a week and Garrett is finally getting the hang of “it’s time to go to sleep in your big boy bed.” Eh…who am I kidding??? He isn’t getting it. Not even close!

 

For the first few nights, we would put him to bed only to have him reappear in the hallway several minutes later. It was like Human Wack-a-Mole. Every time we put him down, he would pop back up again somewhere else in the house.

 

With a great deal of patience, we read to him, sang his favorite songs to him, left the light on (by his request), turned the light off (by his request), got him a glass of water, rubbed his back, rubbed his head, rubbed his feet, etc. However, all of it was pointless because he did not understand the concept of “get into bed and stay there.”

 

Tempers flared and tears had to be wiped away…and that was just GWE. For the first few nights, GWE took away toys every time she had to put him back to bed. I took a different approach – bribery. “Garrett – I will buy you a Ferrari tomorrow after I make you your favorite waffles. But, for the love of God, please go to sleep.” Neither approach worked.

 

Two nights ago, I finally got him down with the promise of playing with the garage door the following morning. It worked and he slept through the night. (Of course, we were late to school the following morning due to the 7:40am off-Broadway extravaganza of “Garage Up! Garage Down!”)

 

Last night was a different story. I put him to bed at 8:30pm only to discover him at 9:10pm back in the kitchen eating yogurt raisins while standing on his stool reaching for the radio remote.

 

“Get back to bed!!” I barked. He got down from the stool and gave me a look that said, “Just you wait. I’ve got more planned.” He showed no remorse as he walked to his room. It was pure defiance. But, that was the last I had heard from Garrett that evening, until…..

 

Today, I got up at 5:50am and began my morning routine. As I blindly walked down the hallway, I noticed that the light was on in the home office…and my computer was on. I distinctly remember turning it off, but there it was with the screen on asking for my password. “Someone” tried to enter 40-ish characters in an attempt to access it. I began to notice other things as well. The kitchen light was on, Mickey and Chica were laying on the floor outside Garrett’s bedroom, and there was an empty Danimal container on the sofa.

 

Clearly, Garrett had woken up in the middle of the night and went “AWOL.” He had abandoned his friends in the hallway, gotten a snack, and then attempted to make midnight impulse purchases on EBay. I asked him what he did last night. With a huge smile he said, “I sleep!”

 

“Liar.” I thought.

 

Short of electrifying the door nob to his bedroom or hiring someone to stand guard outside his door, I’m running out of ideas. The best I can do is lock all the doors, hide the car keys, hide the computer, and hope for the best.

 

Tonight, I may have to go online and look for velcro sheets and pajamas. If you can’t beat ’em, stick ’em (to the bed!!)

The Labor Day Accident

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The last thing I heard before “the accident” was GWE asking me if I wanted a glass of wine with dinner. I never got to answer her. Before I could say “Sure!,” Garrett managed to trip over his scooter, fall forward, and bang his head into the corner of the patio door. GWE caught him as he went down. As she turned him over, I saw the gash in his forehead.

Personal experience told me this was serious. (I have the same cut on my forehead from going head first into a brick mailbox when I was a kid.)

I looked at GWE and calmly said, “We need to go – now. I think he’s going to need stitches.” From that moment forward, the chaos of the evening fell away and we were a well-oiled machine with one purpose – get Garrett to the doctor! I took the food off the grill, turned off the propane, turned off the oven, grabbed my keys and wallet, scooped up Garrett, and raced to the car. GWE looked up the closest medical facility. Justin (who was beating the crap out of his brother less than an hour earlier) saw the severity of the situation and instantly became my “wingman.” For the first time ever, Justin took every instruction I gave him without question. He got Garrett a Band-Aid, his shoes, a toy, and got into the car. As all of this was happening, Garrett was perfectly fine. I wiped away his tears and I asked him if he wanted to go for a ride in the car. He happily said, “Yup.” His only request was that I put on “SpongeBob SquarePants.”

GWE likes to joke that I have a magical ability to find the slowest lane possible. There have only been two occasions when I’ve purposely “Nascar’d” it. Once, when taking GWE to the hospital to give birth Justin…and last Monday. (We are now calling it, “The Labor Day Accident of 2014.”)

We arrived at the doctor’s office 8 minutes later. They numbed him, glued him back together, bandaged him up, and then handed him some stickers. Additionally, he was insistent that they use the stethoscope to check his heart. (He has a toy one at home.) All in all, he had a fantastic time and made some new friends! GWE and I aged a decade in less than an hour.

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3

During the car ride home and all throughout dinner, Garrett retold us about his harrowing adventure of bumping his head and visiting the doctor (as if we hadn’t been there with him.) Even though most of it was babble, I could tell that Garrett’s “tall tales” of bodily harm were getting worse and worse with every retelling of the story. I was waiting for him to tell us how he used his sharp toenail and a piece of string from his shirt to stitch his own head back together – without Novocain!

Once the kids were asleep and everything calmed down, I finally had that glass of wine GWE offered me hours earlier…and then I followed it up with a glass of scotch!

Crash Test Justin

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Copter

For my birthday, my parents surprised me with a rather large (and expensive) gift. Their only request was that they be on the phone with me as I opened the package. On a Thursday evening, the package finally arrived. Justin, GWE, and I gathered in the bedroom and we called my parents. After a few moments of small talk, Justin decided to take the initiative and open the box while we were all still talking. GWE and I turned to see what Justin was doing just as we heard him say, “Coooooooooool! A helicopter!!!!”

I don’t know if Justin was more excited about flying a helicopter or the idea of attaching Garrett to a helicopter and flying him away.

To be clear, this is not a toy. It’s an IFT Evolve 300 CX. It is 18.3 inches long, 10.4 inches high, and is equipped with a main rotor diameter of 18 inches. I have begun to affectionately refer to them as “The Blades of Death!”

On the following Sunday afternoon, Justin and I ran to the driveway to try out the new toy. Justin placed the helicopter at the end of the driveway while I set up the radio transmitter and C.A.T. (Collision Avoidance System.) I flicked on the power switch and started the motor. As it began to “whirr,” Justin and I grinned at each other with the anticipation of a successful liftoff.

I lifted the throttle halfway and…

…it immediately shot back six feet and hit Justin in the head!!!! I could hear the plastic blades hitting his skull over and over and over again. ”Thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap, thwap.” Once I finally got the motor to stop (and it is possible that I may have hit the wrong lever and made it go even faster before realizing my mistake,) I was able to attend to Justin – who was now in tears and clutching his head.

GWE came outside to see what all the noise was about. She quickly realized that Justin’s head was bleeding. The blades had sliced open his ear and the skin behind his ear. GWE took him back inside and bandaged him up.

Ear 1

As he sat on the sofa with a Band-Aid stuck to his head, the dried trail of tears down his cheeks, and a cold drink in his lap, I realized that he looked like he’d been run over by a helicopter.

Ear 2

I asked him if he wanted to come back outside and try again. He turned towards me and said, “No daddy!”

“Are you sur…”

“No, Daddy!”

“I promise not to hit you in the….”

“No, Daddy!”

“You can use the remo…”

“No, Daddy!”

“It will be fun!” I told him.

“Daddy…That was not fun!” he replied. “Now, put your toy away.”

Justin was mentally (and physically) scarred from this experience. It will take a lot to get him back outside with the helicopter. I think he might consider giving this a second chance, but only if we follow through with our plans to attach Garrett to the helicopter and fly him off into the sunset.