Category Archives: sleep

Some People Claim that There’s A Woman to Blame….

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marg1For some reason, Garrett was inconsolable last night right before going to bed. I tried to do everything I could think of to make him happy and comfortable, but nothing worked.

At first, I read him his two favorite books: “Good Night Moon” and “Where’s The Baby’s Belly Button?” (As a side note – you would NOT believe where the baby’s belly button was!) He was fine until the books ended. Then, he would begin to cry again.

After I read him his books, I began to sing his favorite songs: “You Are My Sunshine,” “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad,” Itzy Bitzy Spider,” and “Row, Row Row Your Boat.” Each time I finished a song, I would begin to lift him off of my chest to move him into the crib. However, each time I picked him up, he would start to cry again.

Now, I had a new problem – I had run out of songs. I don’t know what happened, but I could not think of a single song. My mind went blank. So, I did what any white, mid 30’s, exhausted dad would do – I began to sing Jimmy Buffett’s “Margaritaville.” Nothing soothes a toddler like songs about drinking, getting tattoos, and blaming women for your problems. As I sang, he calmed down. At the end of the song, he began to cry once more…so I continued by singing “The Lost Verse” to “Margaritaville.”

As the song ended a second time, Garrett began to get upset again. I did what any rational father would do, I kept singing and made up new words to the song!

Garrett didn’t enjoy them. I hope you do.

(Sung to the tune of “Margaritaville”)

Sucking on binkies,
Your butt is so stinky.
I think there’s a poo in your diaper right now.
Mommy thinks you’re a cutie.
She don’t know about the doodie.
You’ve exceeded the limit Pampers says to allow!

Wastin’ away again in Margaritaville
Wiping off your green booger assault.
Some people claim that there’s a woman to blame,
But I know…
it’s all Mommy‘s fault.

Hey Baby! You’re ugly, but you intrigue me. Let’s go back to my crib!

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It’s 4:30am. Do you know where your children are?

When I was in college, my buddies and I had a system for determining which women (we met in bars) were attractive and which ones were not. It was a very scientific, well-thought out method. Einstein would have been proud. The formula was as such: “Time of Night” times “Amount of Alcohol Consumed” divided by “Need for Companionship” equals “X”. (X) = Cuteness Factor. For example, a ”9:00pm -Oh, hell no!” could (with time, alcohol, and “need”) become a “12:00am – She’s cute.” I remember a few nights when friends took home girls who started as a “10:00pm – I think that’s a dude” but became a “1:30am – Her lazy eye and limp are sexy.” Luckily, when I was in a bar, I played by The Kenny Rogers’ Rule: You gonna know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em. I always felt that it was better to walk away early than to try and chew off my own arm the next morning to escape.

Now that I’m older, wiser, and a parent – I’ve been wondering if the “Cuteness Factor” can be applied to my own children.

Several nights ago, Garrett began to cry at 4:15am. Usually, I would chalk this up to a nightmare or maybe he got his foot stuck between the bars of the crib. I assumed that he would be fine given a few moments. But he wasn’t. He continued to cry…and cry…and cry…and cry. At 4:30, I went in to get him. I changed his diaper, checked to make sure that he was in one piece, and then I returned him to the crib. Once again, he began to cry…and cry…and cry. At that moment, the reality hit me that I had to stay up with him.

Together, we got a drink of milk, played with his toys, rough-housed, had a little more milk, watched television, sang songs, read a book, rough housed some more, and then I made him an early breakfast. As we sat on the sofa, I looked over at him to see if his “cuteness factor” warranted my lack of sleep. I looked at his giant head, his pudgy legs, his mop of curly hair, and the drool and snot that was rolling off of his face. He turned to look at me while I was staring at him. He smiled….and then, he burped and farted at the same time, looked very surprised, and then laughed out loud.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there!”

Yup – he’s “4:30am – Cute Enough for Me!”

Another Sick Bastard!

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Just when we thought we were out, they pulled us back in! After a week of screaming, crying, and rashes, Garrett was finally on the mend and well enough to go back to daycare – and we could all go on with our lives. Four hours after Garrett was considered “not a threat” and back in the Toddler Room, GWE received a call from Justin’s school. He had been complaining about not feeling well. He was agitated, cranky, miserable, and he registered a fever of 102. Crap!!

GWE raced over to get Justin and bring him home while I worked feverishly in my office, knowing that I would have to get twice the amount of work done in one day because I would be taking care of him at home the following day. GWE spent the rest of her day selflessly tending to Justin’s every need. I walked into the house around 8:30pm and he was already seeking solace in “The Shayna Bed” (our pull out sofa) in front of the television. There were piles and piles of blankets and pillows on top of him. Had it not been for an exposed limp arm, I would have missed him completely.

After 24 hours of staying home from school, watching television, eating tomato soup with grilled cheese, playing on daddy’s computer, opening his first email account and emailing his drawings to relatives, playing on daddy’s iPad, playing on daddy’s Xbox 360, hanging out in the Man Cave (with daddy), and napping, he started to feel much better.

As a parent, you want to do a “post mortem” to find out what happened and how a child got sick. Our first assumption was that he picked it up from Garrett, but that didn’t sound right. Garrett’s virus wasn’t supposed to affect children older than two. So where did he get it from? Justin’s teacher called GWE the first night (and emailed on the second) to check in on Justin to see how he was doing. She informed GWE that two other children were out sick as well! Ah ha!!! More clues!!!

GWE quickly pieced it together. All three sick children attended a birthday party at a bowling alley on Saturday. And, two of the children were on the same bowling team….AND they were sharing bowling balls.

That just goes to prove – Don’t play with dirty balls! You’ll get sick!!

Justin’s First Futon (Gimme Shelter, Part 3)

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On Saturday, Justin and I hopped into the car and drove off in search of comfortable seating for his (currently-being-renovated) shed. We made it a whole 3 blocks when Justin suddenly announced that he was hungry. Knowing that dealing with a happy and fed Justin is much better than dealing with “low blood sugar Justin,” I made a detour and we stopped for turkey burgers. (Justin had no idea he was eating turkey. He kept humming and dancing in his seat over how good his “cheese burger” was.) When we were finished with lunch, we resumed our journey.

Since we are doing this project on a budget, I decided to start with a trip to The Salvation Army. As we walked in, Justin looked around and was immediately drawn to the most breakable items in the store. He was compelled to touch everything. I pulled him away and dragged him over to the furniture section. Lots of crap! There were huge sofas, outdated sofas, ugly sofas, sofas with chalk outlines from where the owner’s body had been discovered after her cats had eaten her….ok, that last one’s not true – but you get the idea.

Laying in the corner, Justin found a black mattress which was on a metal frame. I knew what it was, but Justin had no idea. I instructed him to lay down flat on it. Skeptically, he did as he was told. I then lifted one of the ends until it clicked into place, creating a “chair”. Justin’s eyes grew wide and he asked “how did you do that?” I told him it was magic. I then lifted it all the way up to release and laid it flat again. Finally, I grabbed the base of the frame (long ways) and lifted again from a different direction and the other end popped up creating a “couch.” Justin was amazed. He had just experienced his first futon! To him, this was a Sofa Transformer. (We shall call him “Lounge-imus Prime!”)

To me, this was a reminder of college debauchery. It’s difficult to explain to a five year old that “Daddy did some things on futons at college that he’s not proud of and there were OTHER things that Daddy did on futons that he was VERY proud of.”

He insisted that he wanted this futon for his shed. Since I didn’t see a price tag, I told Justin to stay on the futon to prevent anyone from “stealing it.” In retrospect, I probably should have explained that concept better, because when I returned with a saleswoman – Justin had a look of panic on his face as he was spread out all over the futon belly-down and clutching it like a rock climber.  The woman told me it was $80.00, but today everything was half off so this was only $40. SOLD!! (And, it was write-off to a charitable contribution!)

A new problem arose – how to get it home. As I was purchasing the futon, I asked the checkout woman if she had any twine. Luckily, she did!  I lifted the futon onto the top of the car, strapped it to the frame of the car, and then drove home…..very…….slowly.

One night, when everything is put together, I may put on my Syracuse Orangeman t-shirt, turn on some classic Hootie and the Blowfish, chill a bottle of GWE’s favorite wine cooler from college (Bartles & Jaymes Strawberry Daiquiri), and invite her over to check out Justin’s futon!

The Week of Men

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"Yay!! Daddy's lost control!!!"

If you follow the “real” me on Facebook, you know that I’ve spent the past week balancing the needs of my clients with the demands of running my company all while providing the sole care for my boys because GWE was out of town. Periodically, I would chronicle what was happening – like “Robinson Crusoe” being trapped on a deserted island observing the mutineers, captives, and cannibals. Here is my “Captain’s Log” for the past six days:

Week of Men, Day 1: GWE has been gone for 10 minutes. There are already whispers of mutiny among the ranks. Or, baby farts. Not sure which….

Week of Men, Day 2: I was woken up by the sounds of “whale-mating” on the baby monitor. I rushed into Garrett’s room to find him “sucking face” with his own image in the baby mirror. Kid’s got skills!

Week of Men, Day 3: Up at 5:35am. Not cool. Garrett was singing LOUDLY and Justin decided to pee LOUDLY. It is going to be a very long day.

Week of Men, Day 3.5: For the love of God, how can it only be noon?!?!? I’ve fed the kids six times and one of them is on nap #3. The bigger one refuses to wear clothes and the smaller one has been crying because he is teething again. I’m going to my inner “happy place” now.

Week of Men, Day 4: I was woken up at 5:51am to Garrett saying “da-da” through the monitor. I was so excited that I raced into his room. He looked at me, smiled, and (again) said “da-da.” I was thrilled!! Then, he looked at the green monkey on the wall, “da-da!” And then he looked at his taggie, “da-da.” Okay – one out of three ain’t bad!!

Week of Men, Day 4.5: I just looked over and both Justin and Garrett are watching TV on the sofa while scratching their privates like Spider Monkeys. My house has become “Planet of the (Nut-Scratching) Apes!”

“It’s 4:45 in the morning….Let’s play!”

Week of Men, Day 5: Up at 4:45am thanks to Garrett screaming like a maniac because his foot was stuck in between the crib bars. At 5:10, Justin walked in and went into great detail about the water squirting aliens in his dreams. Can’t take much more. I may “safe drop” myself at the local fire station today.

Week of Men, Day 6: Let’s see – went to sleep at 2am after finishing a tracking grid for a client, Garrett woke up at 5am and called me Da-Da (got it on tape), Justin yelled at me for turning off his radio and lights in the middle of the night, did the dishes, bathed the baby, made breakfast for everyone, fed the baby, made lunch for everyone, left the house, got to the gas station, Justin yelled at me for forgetting his “Angry Bird” and then I realized that I also left my wallet at home in the diaper bag, went back home, got the wallet (and Angry Bird), handled a client crisis via cell while going back to the gas station, went to school, dropped off kids. Handled a second client request via email while driving – (sorry to everyone on the 405). Got back in the car, made my way past a huge accident, and was in the office for my 10 am conference call. My life has turned into a crazy Japanese game show!

As I am finishing this blog post, GWE just texted me that she has landed and is on her way home. I hope she is well rested because tonight – I’m taking 2 Tylenol PMs with a Sparkling Rabbi and I don’t plan on waking up until the bed sheets need changing!

Sherlock: The Case of the Missing Inhibitions

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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.