Justin Is Such A Tool

(In this picture, Justin is "trapped" between the bottom drawer of the crib and the metal frame that holds the mattress in place.)

I would like to think that I contribute in a meaningful way around the house. I do the dishes, bathe the kids, take out the trash, kill things with more than two legs, and every once in awhile – I’ll vacuum (with a real vacuum, not the Dust Buster.) There are only a couple of things I can’t stand doing. And, there is no greater torture in my house then when I am called upon to raise or lower the mattress in the crib. I was recently asked (about 46 times) to lower the mattress so that Garrett wouldn’t flop out of the crib. Secretly, I delayed doing this because I was really hoping to walk into his room one morning to find him “riding the rail” like a cowboy waiting for his turn on the bull. The pressure from GWE and MOGWE became too great, so I caved and attempted to lower the mattress.

While it sounds like an easy task, it is deceptively complicated. In order to lower the mattress, you must unscrew the bolts on the metal frame that holds the mattress in place and then re-attach the screw and bolt comb into another hole while pushing down a metal “arm” that is spring loaded. This becomes insanely difficult because the new holes line up directly across from the bottom of the wooden frame – thereby blocking the screwdriver from direct access. You must go in at an angle…and you have to do this 4 SEPARATE TIMES!!!

On Saturday, I braced myself for the worst. I emptied the crib of all of Garrett’s toys (and Garrett), lifted it on its end, and began to unscrew what I could reach. With sweat pouring down my face and swear words pouring out of my mouth, I was just about to give up when Justin came into Garrett’s room and asked, “Whatcha doin’?” I stared at him for a moment. Maybe I was delirious from the heat or maybe it was the pain in my back, but when Justin walked in – I saw my oasis. There he stood….tiny hands, tiny fingers, tiny body…AH HA!!!

I quickly grabbed Justin and threw a pair of flat-nosed pliers into his hands. I instructed him to grab the bolt with the pliers and squeeze like he was crushing a bug. While he was squeezing, I quickly went to the other side of the crib and twisted in the screws as fast as possible. We finished an hour long job in about 15 minutes.

As it turned out, Justin was the best tool I ever had!!

Don’t Tell Garrett The Babysitter’s Dead!

Shortly after this picture was taken, I discovered Fred II floating by the filter. Clearly, the responsibility of watching our son was too much for the little guy to handle. It was unclear if he died from natural causes or committed goldfishicide. (There was no note.)

Services were held in the bathroom. Only GenXDaddy was in attendance. Fred II was laid to rest in our white, porcelain mausoleum with running water. (I was finally able to flush something down the toilet without having it costing me $1000 in plumbing repairs!!)

He will be missed…along with his predecessors: Yo, Da, Farley, Freds 1-6, and Ni Hao Kai-lan.

(Not so) Silent, but Deadly

Gas leak located!

Justin walked past me and blasted a long and loud fart. It was the type of fart that started on a Monday and ended on a Wednesday! He acted as if nothing had happened.

“Justin!! Did you just fart on me??” I asked.

“Yes, daddy!” he proudly proclaimed.

“Justin! That was gross. Please don’t do that again!” I begged.

Here was his explanation – “I can’t help it daddy. The tacos in my stomach are laughing.”

The Shaw-“Luck” Redemption

“You either get busy crawlin’, or you get busy nappin’.”

Meet Garrett Priluck. Or, as we like to call him here at Baby Jail – Inmate #2. When Justin was just a baby, we bought “Baby Jail” to prevent him from rolling/crawling away when we had to put him down. It’s one thing to have a baby, but it’s another to have a MOBILE baby. When he was finally able to roam the house freely, his first trip was straight to the front door. I think it was his “Great Escape.” Baby Jail has prevented many escape attempts.

Garrett is now 8 months old and he is on the precipice of crawling. He is getting up on his hands and knees and he’s making a thrusting motion. There is no movement, just thrusting.  (Yes, I do make porn music sounds when I see him doing this.) So, on Friday night, we brought out the pieces of Baby Jail and built it once again. Originally, I went to Toys R Us and bought 100 colorful balls in order to make it look less “institutional.” Luckily, we saved them. After a thorough clearing, Justin, GWE and I began jamming them back into the bars to make it more colorful.

Welcome to The Hole!

As we brought Garrett into the living room, he was looking over GWE’s shoulder. He immediately saw what was waiting for him and he began to buck wildly with excitement. Once he was inside, he was in heaven. All of his toys were close by and the plush cushion around the base was soft under his butt. He grabbed for the colorful balls and tried to jam them into his mouth one by one. He then rolled onto his back, places his feet on the bars, and pushed himself around the inside of the jail to check it all out.

I have to admit that I thought this was cruel and unusual when we first purchased it. What kind of parent cages their child like this?? But the truth is, both kids have loved it. They see it as “their personal space” and playground. Who am I to argue with an 8 month old?

However, if Garrett starts playing a harmonica and singing “Nobody knows the trouble I’ve seen….,” I’m getting him out of there!

Sherlock: The Case of the Missing Inhibitions

As you may recall, I have a single friend who likes to torture me with stories of wild nights with loose woman and free flowing booze. We call him “Sherlock.” At precisely 12:38pm today, I received the following text:

“I’m headed out to breakfast now! I have a friend who is in town from Vegas for work and she happened to bring one of her friends. Long story short, we finished three bottles of sake while soaking in my hot tub and it lead to….well, let’s just say I’m exhausted. And my bed can easily accommodate three people!”

I calmly explained to him that it’s not uncommon for me to have four people in my bed. However, one of them is my sleeping wife and the other two are my children. Yes, I realize it’s not the same.

And yes, I am starting to dislike “Sherlock” as well.