Category Archives: Crying

…But it goes to Eleven!

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Let me preface this story by explaining that 1) I was three feet away from Justin when the event happened, 2) He was completely supervised, and 3) Accidents happen even when you are looking!

Halloween was over and I removed all of the decorations from the front of the house. As I do every year, I place everything in a giant black bag and store it in the corner of the garage next to the sub-zero freezer. However, this “corner” of the garage had become the Bermuda Triangle and items that were stored there tended to get lost forever. So this year, I decided to clean out that area of the garage. And, to my surprise, I had a volunteer! Justin asked to help me, which I was very excited about (until I realized that he was using me – for my TV.)

GWE and I are in the process of cutting back Justin’s television viewing time (which is odd considering that’s how I make a living.) When I told Justin that I was going into the garage, he clearly saw an opportunity. He thought “Hey – there is a TV in the garage!” Then he thought, “Daddy’s a sucker and if I’m nice to him, he’ll let me watch a movie.” (I am and I did.) The television is on a stand facing my treadmill so I can watch it when I work out. Justin decided to sit on the bottom of the treadmill and look up at the television.

However, while looking up, Justin noticed all the “bells and whistles” on my treadmill and begged me to turn it on. Since HE WAS SUPERVISED, I decided there would be no harm in turning it on and I put it on the lowest setting – .5. He got up and began walking a half a mile an hour. He said “faster daddy, faster.” I agreed and then put it on 1. Now, he was “speeding” at one mile an hour. And, again, he said “faster.” This time I said “no.”

At that point, I saw him put his hand on the control panel and press “10” (the highest setting) – and then time itself slowed down. I heard the engine kick into high gear and then looked at Justin as he stared back at me. He then said “daddy?” and then “daddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddydaddy……” as his little legs tried to keep up with the track. I reached out, but it was too late. He lost his footing, fell onto his hands and knees, and then finally – his 62 lb body was “shot” backwards at 10 miles an hour into a cardboard box of winter clothes. He collapsed between the box and the rotating tread which continued to “eat” his arm and leg.

I quickly raced over to him, yanked the emergency stop cord, and lifted the treadmill off of him. He looked completely shocked and began to cry while holding his wounds. I quickly scooped him up and brought him into the house. GWE bandaged him up and made sure to kiss his boo-boos.

After the ordeal was over, he came over to me and said, “That was awesome, but I don’t want to do 10 anymore.”

Just a Little off the Top

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The clock was ticking. Garrett only had seven days left with his penis intact. I begged him to “use it or lose it,” but he ignored my advice and wisdom. Instead, he continued to drool on himself and poop into a diaper. On the eighth day, (like a gunslinger in the Old West) the Mohel arrived on our doorstep looking for my baby’s schmeckel. He was carrying a satchel of tools, a few extra Tallit (religious robes), and a gleam in his eye. Someone was about to lose their foreskin!

For those of you who don’t know, Jewish law states that a circumcision is a ‘mitzva aseh” (“positive commandment” to perform an act) and is obligatory for Jewish-born males. It is performed at a “party” where family members and close friends gather to hear the child’s Hebrew name, watch a foreskin cutting, and then nosh on mini deli sandwiches. At this party, it is better to be a guest than the Guest of Honor!

Justin’s circumcision was the first one I had attended. It was done by Dr. Fred Kogen. He performed a wonderful, heartfelt ceremony and then he proceeded to remove by son’s foreskin with three or four quick moves. I remember thinking, if he’s this good at circumcision – I bet he’s got fantastic turkey-carving skills at Thanksgiving!

For Garrett’s circumcision, we asked Dr. Kogen to return to do the honors. Once again, he performed a touching ceremony! However, without going into too much detail about the actual procedure, I can tell you that Garrett’s reaction was far different than Justin’s. When Justin was clipped, he cried (even though he was completely numb.) When the time came for Garrett to get cut, we laid him on the table in front of the Mohel. Grandpa Bob held his upper body in place as I held down his right leg and my father held down his left leg. And then, there was silence…..

In the few seconds before the Mohel went to work, Garrett stared at all four of us defiantly. The look in his eyes said, “I know what you’re about to do. Go ahead and take it! I’ve got eight more inches to work with!!”

After it was all said and done (and in accordance with Jewish ritual), I took Garrett’s foreskin (and the umbilical cord that had just fallen off) and went outside to bury it. To this day, Justin and Garrett’s foreskins are buried next to each other under my lemon tree.

If my lemon tree ever decides to produce fruit and I’m able to make juice out of the lemons, I will bottle it like a fine wine and label it, ”Dos Prepucio Vineyards” aka (“Two Foreskin Vineyards”)

My Life with a 9 lb. Terrorist

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It is 3:54am and I am awake. I am not tired….I passed “tired” four days ago. However, being awake at this time of night does have its advantages. I usually have my moments of greatest clarity in the middle of the night when I am alone and the world is quiet. Tonight is no different.

I love this kid and he is truly amazing. BUT….I’ve been thinking about Garrett and what this new child has “inflicted” on us since his birth and I have come to one simple realization – my baby is a terrorist!! Even though he is two weeks old, he has managed to effectively use both psychological and chemical warfare on us. He has performed torture techniques on GWE and I that would make a Guantanamo Bay guard blush!

The psychological attacks came first and in two forms. The first was the sleep deprivation. Neither GWE nor I have slept more than a few hours consecutively since Garrett’s birth. I realize that I have less to complain about than GWE (since she was the one actually delivering our massive child while I sat nearby taking pictures), but damn it – I’m tired too! We started off with an hour of sleep here and there. Now we’re up to three consecutive hours of sleep – sometimes. Any normal person can handle that for a few days….but, after a few weeks it starts to take its toll. I knew I was tired, but didn’t realize it fell into the category of “deprivation” until I looked it up and realized that I had a number of the symptoms: muscles tremors, memory confusion (someone asked me for my cell number and I honestly could not remember it!), bloodshot eyes, irrational irritability (hey – fuck you, you fucking fuck!!), and malaise. There have been a couple of times over the past two weeks when I’ve had trouble retaining a coherent thought. I now know what Dr. John was singing about when he wrote, “Brain Salad Surgery!”

The second was “the crying.” With our first son, we decided to try using the “Dunstan Language” to decipher what he wanted. “Neh” meant “Hungry”; “Eh” meant “Chest Gassy”; “Err” meant “Butt Gassy.” It worked well and we were able to communicate with Justin from birth. Garrett has proven more of a challenge. All we’re able to hear from him is “WWWHHHHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!” Yes, there are only three things that he could need at this point in his short life, but “WWWHHHHAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!” does not narrow it down. And, it gets louder and more intense in a short span of time. Within 5-6 minutes, it sounds like he is being stabbed! I don’t care how patient and understanding you think you are – the sound of this kid crying cuts through your defenses and it’s hard not to get affected by it.

The chemical attacks came next. (In fact, I am writing this after having just been blasted by “The Holy Trinity” – poop, pee pee, and spit-up.) I can handle the pee pee – no problem. I still have a five year old with aiming issues. I’m pretty sure everything in my bathroom has been pissed on at one point or another. Plus, Justin likes to have a conversation with me while peeing and he’s been known to forget what’s going on and turns his body to talk to me while still peeing. You get the picture. So far, Garrett has peed on me, the blinds, the rocker, and the lamp – all while lying on his back on the changing table.

Baby poop is disgusting, but predictable. Garrett makes a grunting sound when he’s going and you pretty much know when he’s done because he looks exhausted. Right now, it looks like dark mustard with seeds. (There is usually a “bomb” of some sort in his diaper. Another act of terrorism!) However, Garrett has sneak-attacked me with poop twice. He has waited until I’ve removed his diaper for changing AND I’m in the process of applying Butt Paste when he has decided to “unleash the hounds” and spray me with poop.

The worst is the spit-up. It usually happens when his head is resting on my chest and he is looking up. With no warning, I hear “BLEECH” and I immediately get a burst of hot, white, projectile, half-digested “milk” in my face, neck, chest, ear, etc. Gross does not begin to describe it. And, what makes it worse is his smile right afterward. I know he feels better, but that smile is just his way of rubbing it in my face – literally!

All in all, we are being tortured by the one we love. If I knew any state secrets, I would have gladly given them up by now. All that’s left is a good water boarding. I love this kid and would not miss these experiences for anything. However, they would be much more enjoyable after a hot shower, a clean change of clothes, and an Ambien!