Category Archives: Sick

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.

Papa, Can you Hear Me?

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A few weeks ago, we had a series of events happen that could only be described as “Shit Storm 2012.” Within a matter of hours GWE’s father had an accident (he is fine now) and was rushed to the hospital, GWE raced out of the house to be with him (leaving me with the kids), and then Garrett developed a weird “eye goop” problem which turned out to be conjunctivitis. It became a circus of frantic phone calls, doctors, and prescriptions! And…..all of this happened on a night that GWE and I were supposed to be having Date Night.

Amidst the chaos, I had forgotten that we scheduled a baby-sitter to come to the house and watch the kids. When she arrived, she walked into a house where one child was sitting in his underwear watching television eating Pirate Booty, a baby was screaming bloody murder, and then there was me…un-showered, partially undressed, and frantically trying to “handle the situation.”

In an effort not to alarm Justin as to what was happening around him, I asked the babysitter to join me in the baby’s room. I then closed the door and quietly explained the situation. I wanted to let the babysitter know exactly what was going on (thereby, giving her the option to leave if she so chose.) Once again, I tried to be careful NOT to let Justin know what was happening.

The babysitter chose wisely and decided to take a rain check. As I closed the door behind her, I heard Justin ask, “What happened to Bob?”

Shocked, I tried to play dumb. “What do you mean, buddy?” He calmly replied, “I heard you say that Bob had a boo-boo.” I could not figure out how he overheard this, but I let him know that Bob was going to be fine. He then turned to me again and asked, “Why is Garrett sick? Is he going to be ok?” HOW WAS THIS HAPPENING?!?!?!?! I took every precaution! He was across the house sitting on the sofa while watching television when the conversation took place!!!! There is no way he could have heard us. It wasn’t until I heard a “beep beep” from the kitchen table that I realized where he was getting his information.

I left the baby monitor on! He heard every word of my conversation. Then it dawned on me – Justin has heard every word of EVERY conversation we’ve ever had in the baby’s room!!!

Some days, you just can’t win!

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!!

Hey, I’m Just a Fungi!

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A few nights ago, our family went to a Teppanyaki restaurant for dinner. We thought that Justin would love watching the chef cook the food in front of him…and he did! However, he refused to eat any of the mushrooms. Last night, we had another dish for dinner that included mushrooms. Once again, Justin declared that he did not like mushrooms and never wanted to eat them again. I asked him a few times to try them, but he proceeded to tell me that they were “yucky.”

While thinking of ways to get him to eat the mushrooms, a little angel appeared on my left shoulder and a little devil appeared on my right shoulder. The little angel whispered into my ear, “Tell him that they are delicious. Tell him they are rich in copper, potassium, and are believed to fight cancer. Let him know that they are good for him.”

The devil on my shoulder waited for the angel to finish, all the while just standing there with a smirk on his face. He then cleared his throat and said, “I agree with the angel. You should encourage your son to eat mushrooms.”

“Really?” I asked.

“Sure,” he replied.

And then my dark passenger continued – “I know how much you like mushrooms. Maybe you can tell your son about that one time in college when your Turkish friend Yasemin asked you to take some “special” mushrooms with her! Go ahead and tell your five year old that if he eats his mushrooms just like Daddy – he can see strange colors, enjoy music he never liked before, and end up in the park playing Badminton with Gandhi, Curly from The Three Stooges, and a talking pinecone.”

I flicked the devil off my shoulder, told Justin he didn’t have to eat his mushrooms, and then I pushed my mushrooms to the side as well. For the rest of the meal, I sat in silence while pondering the other life experiences I didn’t want to pass along to my children.

Stupid mushrooms!!

 

You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out, Kid!

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Justin recently got the gift of “Piddlers – Toilet Targets.” These are tiny pieces of colored styrofoam that you toss into a toilet and are used as an aid for peeing. It’s supposed to help the child “aim” for the water. If you’ve ever seen my son pee – you know that this is the perfect gift for him because he has the aim of Stevie Wonder. Justin likes to “weave” back and forth while peeing. He splashes the back of the seat then hits base of the bowl and then over to the wall and maybe a little sprinkle or two on the toilet paper roll and then finally – a few dribbles on the front of the seat…..all the while looking at everything BUT the toilet bowl.

If I have to accidentally sit on his pee again, I am going to make him piss in the yard for a week!!

So, for the past week, we’ve been tossing “Piddlers” into the toilet to get Justin to aim for the bowl. They come in three colors: yellow, pink, and purple. At this point, he will only use the purple ones. For some reason, purple must “die the death of Justin’s hot urine!” However, there is one small problem with the product. They don’t flush well. I’ve seen the styrofoam go down the drain only to reappear back in the bowl a few moments later.

The Piddlers that resurface have a new opponent – ME! That’s right! If Justin can’t get them down, it’s up to “daddy” to finish the job! I should be ashamed to admit all of this, but I’m not because my aim has gotten much better!

Thanks Piddlers!!