Tag Archives: toddler

The Picker

10 Oct

I am constantly telling my son to stop picking his nose. I however, spend the first ten minutes after arriving home in the evening doing just that. I will also do it whenever I go to the bathroom. In fact, I sometimes go to the bathroom just to do it. I do it in the car but only after dark. It’s not that I’m proud of it but how can you not do it? I find it hard to believe that there are people in this world who don’t feel the urge to dig in and take out all that good stuff. “Look it!” He is yelling in an ordering tone, filled with joy, pointing a mucus covered finger. And I love him so much, but this so disgusting. The fact that you enjoy the smell of  your own farts doesn’t mean that you appreciate it when your kids fart on your hand when you apply butt paste during a diaper change. Same goes for nose picking. You may say that I set a bad example with my own digging, but when I visit his daycare it seems like all the kids suffer from the same pre existing condition called Indexus En Nostrilus. They walk around, one hand holding a toy and the other searching for gold.

Stop picking your nose

My First Time

1 Sep

You never forget your first time.

The adrenalin rush, the fear of the unknown, trying to play it cool, not to make a fool of yourself.

The first time you take your kid to the ER. Why, what did you think I’m talking about?

The drawer fell on his foot. And while we warn him over and over again to be careful of all kind of stuff, it wasn’t his fault at all. We told him to put his cup in the drawer. And he did. And it’s a new house so we are still learning where the builder took his shortcuts. I heard a boom, then I counted twenty one, twenty two, twenty three. And the screaming started. About an hour later we went to the ER. Was pretty quite there, and with a little kid it didn’t take long before they called us in.

After the X-Ray, the Dr. came. No broken bones, no serious damage. But he would like to drain the blood from the toe. I remembered that my wife once closed the car door on her finger and had a similar procedure, and did not complain about it too much. I forgot that woman are tough, and that man and children are not. So being the shitty dad that I am I told him that it’s not going to hurt. Well it hurt like a motherfucker and in addition to my wife and me, we needed four more nurses to hold him down while the Dr was doing his thing. In his despair he called for help from the only person in the room that was not a part of all of it, his younger sister who was resting comfortably in her stroller completely indifferent to the drama evolving not five feet from her.

They fell asleep on the way home, and the next day he had a booboo to show off.

You never forget your first time…

Namanini

11 Jul

“Wehh ma Namanini?”

We looked everywhere.

“Wehh ma Namanini” means “Where is my Lamborghini”. He is actually pretty good about it, not complaining too much. But we are obsessed. Where could it be? We searched the cars better then an entire Florida CSI team looking for DNA. The rooms, the kitchen, even the fridge was frisked. Nada.

The toilet is clogged. When you flush, more then one person’s poop comes up. Almost to the top. I fucking hate it. I took one of those toilet snakes, stuck it in the crap, and started twisting. You do this and you begin to understand why plumbers charge so much. The water went down. The snake is covered with everything that was in there. How do you clean it? It still won’t flush properly which makes it a pee only bathroom. Of course we forget. So the next morning I’m with the snake again in the shitter. This time it’s working and we can flush again. But as I’m cleaning my work area I start thinking about how the Lamborghini disappeared around the same time that the toilet got clogged and how these two cases might be somehow related, and how thiswill make a great Shitty Dad post.

I’m in the middle of a home inspection (we are trying to buy) and my phone is ringing. It’s my wife. I can’t pick up but she is calling again. She knows I’m busy so it must be important. When I finally answer she is screaming in my ear:”I found the Namanini!” I almost kiss the inspector but somehow keep it together. I came back home, went to the bathroom, and now it’s clogged again.

“Whee ma Beedubeyou (BMW)?”

He sure knows his cars!

Papa Make Peepee

18 May

Morning wood underwear“What’s that daddy?” asks the curious toddler, pointing towards my underwear. And I, had just woken up, and still half asleep, don’t answer but want to say:” This is called morning wood , and like all days, it will go to waste, but I’m still grateful for the fact that it’s still here, just like when it started when I was a young teenager.”

We don’t care much for closed doors at home, that is except for when we shit. Then we close the door. A bit for privacy, but mostly so we don’t stink up the entire apartment. On rare occasions, we’ll even take a kid with us to the shitter. So since the kid is following us almost everywhere, it is not uncommon for him to join us in the bathroom  watch his videos on the iPad or talk to us while one of us is taking a shower. We gave him freedom the day we turned his Ikea crib into an Ikea toddler bed (take one side off and you’re done) and he is a free spirit since.

“All done daddy?” he pressures as I pee. “Not yet”. “All done daddy” in a much higher pitch suggesting that peeing for as long as I do is abnormal. “No”.  He giggles when I fart, and then say:”papa make peepee, no poops, peepee”. Then he flushes the toilet as I’m still standing there. This is so unexpected that my pee stops.

“All done daddy?”

Heavy Breathing

6 May

This is a family of snorers. You know what an orchestra sounds like in the moments just before the concert starts? the fine tuning. So something like that. Complete cacophony.

Breast pump

Our apartment is quite roomy, but somehow in the morning, we all wake up in the same room, and almost always in the same bed. It’s not always snoring, but those intolerable noises to which my wife refers to as “heavy breathing”. There are a few kinds of “heavy breathing”, with the most common being something that sounds almost like snoring but does’t have the same force, energy, or volume. A typical scenario involving heavy breathing will have me in deep sleep suddenly being torn  out of my dream by constant shaking. It’s an awful feeling, like someone is ripping you out of your own skin. And then, when I open my eyes, the wife would say: “You were snoring” now, I don’t think I snore at whole so I would ask: “Was I really snoring?” and she would say: “You were breathing heavy”, and I would say: ” You wake me up for this? Come on!”. Another popular kind is the “Khaa”. It almost sounds like dripping water only backwards. It’s as if the sleeper has a valve in his/her nose that is only allowing so much air to enter and exit. If you know what a breast pump sounds like (which in it self is a subject for another post) then you are getting closer. When I try to sleep and hear it, it’s driving me nuts. We have two “Khaa” offenders. Wife and son, and the way to deal with it is very simple: With wife, I just grab her arm, gently first, then a more firm grip as needed. She’ll turn around eventually and the Khaa would stop. With son, I just roll him to face his mom. In both cases, speaking is not required.

Night Fart

19 Apr

Last night, my wife was farting up a storm. In her sleep. We had a guest using the other bedroom so the kids stayed with us. I counted fourteen farts before I stopped counting. It was two AM, and I was feeding the little one, when I witnessed the phenomenon. You know the sound that a semi-trailer makes on the highway sometimes? Like the driver lets go of the gas pedal   and a horse like noise comes out. That’s what her farts sounded like. And she didn’t even move, not even a moan. One of them was so loud that it startled my first born  so much that he almost fell off the bed. I had to push him with my foot so he stays on his bed and doesn’t end up on the floor. How can such a beautiful creature produce suce thunders? Yes, my foot, I was feeding the baby.

About a half an hour later, my wife wasn’t farting anymore, the baby was asleep. I was wiped. I finally went to sleep. I woke up a couple of hours later realizing that my son somehow managed to sneak into our bed, and was now patting me on the shoulder and saying: “su-si, su-si…” I just barked: “NO PUSHING” and closed my eyes. It took my a while to understand that I in the boy’s way and this gentleman of a toddler was actually saying: “excuse me” cause he wanted to get off the bed and go play.

What a shitty dad.farts like a truck

What a Shitty Dad

18 Apr

Toilet  seat for shitty dad

After months of slaving around the house, your wife is finally ready to go out with a few girlfriends for dinner at the Cheesecake factory. before she leaves she makes sure that dinner is ready for you and your first born, and that a bottle is ready for the 10 week old who is being handed to you just before she leaves. Shrek is is on  even before the door closes behind your wife, your youngest offspring takes a sip of milk and is already asleep. You take advantage of the sudden freedom, and start stuffing your face with anything within an arms reach. The baby wakes up, the toddler is redecorating the floor with dinner and then it happens. It’s not like you can control it or anything, it’s just there. You have to take a dump. What are you going to do? A two and a half months old infant is sucking milk out of a bottle, and you calculate your every move so you don’t release a wet fart, you must to shit, right now. You leave the bottle and go to the bathroom with the baby in your arms, quickly taking your pants off while balancing the poor bundle of joy. You seat down. Explosion. Relief. You hold the baby sitting up just the way the lactation advisor told your wife to do in a patronizing tone, and when she burps, after putting her through stink hell all you can think is: “Please don’t spit up into my underwear” and she does. You clean the white stain first because it doesn’t look right, and only then you check to see if your own flesh and blood needs her face cleaned. What a shitty dad.