Category Archives: Poop

The Real Lord of the Flies

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As you can see, Garrett is a natural born leader. Here he is at daycare, ruling over his minions. He has a commanding presence no one can ignore. Garrett is an infant among infants!

Little girls want to be near him and little boys want to be him! He is a fair and compassionate leader, yet firm (under all the “pudgy” baby fat) when it comes to demanding attention. Those of us who have studied Garrett’s leadership techniques still marvel at how effective the art of slamming our feet down repeatedly will motivate others to do our bidding.

His best selling book, “How to Win Friends and Influence People…into Changing Your Diaper” has outsold the Bible. Whether it’s drool from his mouth or poop from his butt, Garrett is always producing.

All hail Garrett!

What The Hell Are You Wearing?

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In my line of work, it’s not uncommon to hear “Who are you wearing?” Hollywood and the fashion industry tend to go hand-in-hand. However, the question not often asked is “What the hell are you wearing?” and the possible follow-up, “What’s that smell?” After this morning, no amount of showering or detergent will be able to wash away the multitude of “specimens” I found myself wearing.

At 6am, Garrett woke up. I rushed into the kitchen and made him an 8 ounce bottle of formula. As per our usual routine, I went to his room with the bottle, got him out of the crib, changed him, and then fed him. After about 6 ounces, Garrett decided to stop eating and he waived off the bottle. I thought it was weird because The Priluck Boys are bottomless pits. Garrett turned towards me, smiled, and then blasted me with all 6 ounces of hot, milk spit-up. It covered his pajamas, my shirt, my pants, and the chair. I placed him on his changing table and proceeded to change him a second time.

While he was naked on the changing table, I decided to “eat his chicken wings.” (This is something I started with Justin. Basically, you lift the child’s arm, stick your face into their armpit, and then chow down as they laugh.) As I buried my face into his armpit, I quickly realized that his teething slobber had made its way out of his mouth, down his chin, across his chest, and into his armpit. My face was now covered in his “slime.” After my aborted tickling opportunity, Garrett half rolled over towards me and then sprayed me with pee-pee. I think it was his way of saying, “Hey, asshole! Don’t forget my diaper.” I quickly diapered him and then changed my clothes.

Thirty minutes later, Justin joined us in the kitchen and announced that he wanted waffles for breakfast. I prepared his breakfast as required. However, as I was putting away the syrup, it slipped out of my hand and hit the ground. Normally, I would think “no big deal” because it’s in a plastic container. Somehow I dropped it at just the right angle and as it hit the ground, it exploded. There was syrup everywhere – the sink, the counter, down the sides of the cabinets, the floor, and finally – all over me! I cleaned it the best I could, but now we have a sticky kitchen floor. (To GWE – Hi, honey. Can you pick up some syrup on the way home? We’re out.)

They say that women who live together long enough end up having their cycles sync. I suspect that we have a version of that in our house as well. When one child is eating, the other becomes hungry. Garrett decided that he was hungry again after watching Justin maul his waffles. (And, who wouldn’t be hungry after spitting up?) I made him a breakfast of bananas mixed with rice cereal. After three bites, he stopped and made a strange face. He then proceeded to sneeze a mixture of bananas and boogers on me. We shall call this “Banoogers.” Gross.

I finished feeding Garrett and moved on to feed our fish. As I opened the lid to drop in the flakes, “Fred the Undead” decided to angrily splash tank water on me. My seven year old, 99 cent, one-eyed, no finned, no longer gold, goldfish managed to “flap” his poop water at me in an effort to tell me that it was time to clean the tank.

As I walked back into the bedroom to FINALLY take a shower, I ended up stepping on a half-sucked throat lozenge courtesy of Justin. I have no idea why he thought it was a good idea to just spit it out onto the floor. I didn’t mind at this point. I was already sticky from the syrup.

And finally, after stepping out of the shower, I noticed a little patch of scruff that I had missed while shaving yesterday. With one swipe, I shaved the area and still managed to nick myself enough to bleed. Fantastic!

Let’s recap. Before 8:30am, I was wearing:

  1. Spit Up
  2. Slobber slime
  3. Pee-pee
  4. Syrup
  5. Bananas + Boogers = Banoogers
  6. Disgusting fish tank water
  7. Half sucked lozenge
  8. Blood

So, I say unto all you fathers out there living with young children – What the hell are YOU wearing today?!?!?!

All I Want for Passover is My Two Front Teeth

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It is said that we celebrate Passover to commemorate the story of the Exodus from Egypt. During the Seder, there is a lot of praying, a lot of Manischewitz, and the occasional plague. This year’s Seder was unlike any other for two reasons: 1) We discovered that “teething” should be added to the list of deadly plagues. And, 2) I almost considered reenacting Plague #10 myself by killing our first born due to his uncharacteristically obnoxious behavior. What started as such a promising and exciting celebration ended in frustration, tears, and delicious left-overs.

We arrived at the home of MOGWE and FOGWE at the time they had requested. GWE and I unloaded the car and brought in bags of clothes for the kids, toys, playmates for the baby, food for the baby, etc. Anything and everything we could have needed, we brought – just in case. It looked like we were moving in. Justin was happy to see his Uncle Ethan and everyone proceeded to move into the den for appetizers and drinks.

FOGWE surprised Justin with a remote controlled car. I immediately told Justin that he could play with it, but to be careful and not drive it over his baby brother who was lying on the play mat in the middle of the room. Justin handed me the car and asked me to put batteries into it. I proceeded to quickly load the car with batteries, placed it on the ground, flicked on the remote….and then I drove it directly over Garrett!!  (Yes – I am a wonderful role model.)

What you should know is that Garrett has been teething recently. There is saliva (“slime”) everywhere. It’s on his clothes, his chin, and his fingers. He swallows it so it’s in his belly and comes out with his poop, ie diarrhea. GWE and I decided to pick him up and place him on my lap so that he could see the Passover Appetizer action! He smiled, saw the chopped liver and gefilte fish, and then blasted 4 oz of a baby formula/saliva mix all over my pants and GWE’s pants. We were “slimed” for the evening. There is nothing like having hot-and-then-ice-cold puke on your clothes for the rest of the night!

Then, we passed him off to MOGWE, who gave him a few more ounces of formula. Garrett proceeded to thank her by spitting up a few more ounces all over her blouse, pants, and shoes. She passed him back to us and left to get changed again. In the meantime, we were struggling to soothe Garrett out of discomfort due to his teething.

We all then proceeded to the dinner table. GWE had Garrett to her right and I sat diagonally across from Justin. As FOGWE attempted to lead the table in ceremony and prayer, he simply could not be heard over the sounds of my five month old babbling out of pain and my five year old being silly at the table. Justin knows when he has a captive audience and that dinner table became his playground. He would not be quiet, he would not sit still, and he would not follow directions…..so, he was being a five year old.

After a VERY abbreviated ceremony, GWE decided to try and put Garrett to sleep in the crib. At this point, we were both starting to get worn down due to Garrett’s discomfort and Justin’s behavior. After a few minutes, we decided to check on him. He was as awake and as pissed as ever.

As the traditional Matzo Ball soup was being served, GWE and I made the executive decision to bring Garrett back to the table to give him his solids. I sat in GWE’s seat to feed Garrett, GWE took my seat, and then Garrett began to devour whatever I put into his mouth. It only took about 10 minutes for Garrett to finish his food and for our food to be served. However, this was 10 long minutes and Justin was nowhere to be found.

I decided to pass the baby back to GWE and I went searching for Justin. Unfortunately, I found him. As I opened the bathroom door, I discovered Justin with his hands in his hair and his hair soaking wet. There was water EVERYWHERE! He had wet down his head and used the liquid hand soap as shampoo. “JUSTIN!!! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?!?!” I demanded to know. “I’m cleaning my hair, daddy,” he replied. I grabbed the towel behind him, tried to dry his soapy hair, gave up, and then marched him back to the table. He knew I was very upset, but I was exhausted and tired of him not listening. As we got closer and closer to the table, he begged to not be seen. My patience had ended and I tried to drag him to the table – kicking and screaming. MOGWE stepped in and decided to take Justin back to the bathroom to clean him up. I sat down and began to quietly eat my chicken.

Honestly, the rest of the evening was kind of a blur. I remember dessert and Justin finding the Afikoman. But, that’s about it.

As we drove home in silence, I thought about the evening and how it actually was reminiscent of a real Exodus. We had come to the grandparents’ house in hopes of good food and shelter, but my two little plagues practically destroy everything. And then, we were free to leave.

What a Family Guy Says vs. What a Single Guy Hears

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I often try my best not to take business calls in the morning before I drop the kids off at school. The kids are too loud….I can only concentrate on one thing at a time….and, I like having those final moments of “family” before all hell breaks loose professionally. However, there are times when someone I’ve been trying to reach finally returns my call and it happens to be before 9am. Regardless as to what is going on around me, I need to take that call.

A week and a half ago, a Business Affairs Executive called me to make an offer for one of my clients to test on a television pilot. We traded calls back and forth a few times and then we finally connected at 8:45 in the morning, when I was still in the car with the kids. I’ve dealt with him on a number of occasions. He is single, very dry, straight-forward, lacking in humor, and a tough opponent. I knew this call was going to be difficult and I was prepared.

After 10 minutes of a “heated” discussion, I informed him that I was sitting in a parking lot and needed to drop the kids off at school. I told him that it would only take a few minutes and then I would call him back. He stammered a little and then said ok.

When I returned his call, the first words out of his mouth were, “How’d it go in there?” I paused and said, “Fine. Thanks for asking.” He responded, “I’ve never had someone pause a negotiation to take a shit before. That’s a first.” I had no idea what he was talking about. I asked, “Take a shit? What are you talking about?” He said, “You just told me that you needed to ‘drop the kids off at the pool.’”

I erupted in laughter. I explained, “No, no, no!! I had to drop my children off AT SCHOOL! You know – a building with teachers and books!!!” Once he realized his mistake, he laughed….and then he proceeded to crush my hopes and dreams of getting my client a raise from his quote.

You win some, you poop some.

There is a Poop in my Refrigerator

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I am often asked (not really) “Hey GenXDaddy! You make being a dad sound glamorous! Are there any downsides to being a father?”

There are many wonderful aspects to being a dad. HOWEVER, before you start punching holes in your condoms while watching MTV’s “16 and Pregnant” like it’s a National Geographic documentary – you should know that it’s not all Hot Wheels and Play-Doh. There are a few unsavory things that you must suffer through. For example…..

At this moment, there is a poop in my refrigerator. This is not a euphemism. There is a real baby poop in my fridge!!

While on my way to an important lunch meeting with a client, GWE notified me that Garrett had thrown up three times at school and needed to be cared for at home. Our plan was for GWE to pick up Garrett while I was at my lunch and then I would race home after my meeting to help her take care of our sick baby. When I got home, I was asked to dig the poop out of my son’s diaper so that the school could have it shipped off to be tested. Armed with two sterile vials, a bag labeled “Biohazard”, and a mouse-sized spork, I dug through the shit in Garrett’s diaper like it was sand at the beach. Once a satisfactory sample was retrieved, it was placed in our refrigerator to retain its “freshness.”

I may not be “Father of the Year”, but I don’t shy away from the dirty work either!!

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!