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

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 There were huge sofas, outdated sofas, ugly sofas, sofas with chalk outlines from where the owner’s body had been discovered after her cats had eaten her….ok, that last one’s not true – but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!

Gimme Shelter, Pt. 2

Hi Officer! What seems to be the problem??

Ok – I admit that this picture could be used as “evidence” in the future and there are no excuses for my actions. However, there is a perfectly good explanation as to why my 5 ½ year old son is sitting in the front seat of my car (and not his car seat) while a solid core, wooden door (which weighs approximately 75 lbs.) looms over his head. It’s called, “Daddy’s an idiot and didn’t think ahead.”

In an effort to remodel our shed into a useable “MCPASUTRRWRWS,” I decided it would be better to build a desk/work station instead of purchasing one. Since there was nothing else for us to do until Jose The-Fix-It-Man installed the windows and vent, we started on the desk first. After doing some measuring, I figured out that we could easily install a unit that was 80 inches by 24 inches against the east facing wall. After calling around, I found a lumber yard a few miles away from our house and spoke with “Norbert” (real name). He told me that he had just completed a similar project and used a “solid core, wooden door.” He told me that they had plenty in stock and to “come on by.”

On Saturday morning, Justin and I jumped into my car and headed to the lumber yard. The place was filled with giant silos containing all different shapes and sizes of wood. Together, we walked into the main office and were greeted by “Bubba” and “Skeeter.” (real names…on real name tags!) I explained that I had spoken with Norbert about what I needed and then I gave them the measurements. As we waited for them to bring us the door, Justin and I decided to look around.

The building we were in was half office/ half hardware store. Suspended from every hook on every wall were saws, blades, and knives. And of course, the first thing Justin had to touch was the giant blade on a table saw. All he saw were “shiny” things and all I could think of was the beginning of the movie “Ray” when he came home to find his brother dying from a gigantic gash in his chest caused by a power saw. I told Justin to keep his hands in his pockets and his foot on my foot. (Try this with a kid some time. If they have one foot on your foot, there isn’t that far they can go with the other one!)

After a few moments, Skeeter instructed me to bring the car around to the back of the store. As we pulled up, he was holding a huge wooden door. I had two thoughts, 1) Crap, I hope I measured correctly, and 2) Crap, how am I getting this thing home??? Luckily, I brought bungee cords with me because I thought I would be able to get these guys to strap it to the roof. Skeeter informed me that “for liability reasons” he was not allowed to assist me in loading my new purchase into or onto my car.

The only thing I could think to do was unbuckle Justin’s car seat, unlatch the second row and lower it down, put Justin in the front seat with me, load the door in as far as it would go…..and then hope for the best! With one hand on the steering wheel, one hand on Justin, and a raised elbow doing nothing to support the door – we raced home.

Here is the lesson from this experience (and probably a good life lesson) – “Just because something ‘fits’ doesn’t mean you should jam it in.”

A Hideable Feast

Ernest Hemingway once wrote: “Hunger is good discipline and you learn from it.” I had no intention of using hunger as a tool to teach my son a lesson, but it certainly made an impact on him this week!

On Monday, Justin asked me to make him a “special lunch” for school. The school provides lunch on a daily basis, but I think Justin was feeling a little neglected because GWE was out of town and I was spending a little more time with the baby. I happily agreed to make him the best lunch he’d ever had. (Yes, I did not realize it at the time, but I was about to set a high standard which would be impossible to maintain over time.)

With Garrett supervising from his high chair, I proceeded to make Justin a smoked turkey and lean roast beef sandwich on Milton’s bread with a little Thousand Island dressing (instead of mustard or mayo), a spinach salad with feta cheese and cherry tomatoes (sesame dressing on the side), 2 peaches from grandma’s garden, and a Danimal’s Smoothie. As a final touch, I put a “special” note on the top. I packed everything in his lunch box with enough ice packs to take down the Titanic and then we all left for school.

After dropping Garrett off in his room, Justin and I proceeded to his classroom. As we got to the kids’ gate, Justin ran up to it in an effort to hold it open for me. Unfortunately, there was another child holding the gate for his mother at the same time. The children exchanged a few words….and then fists began to fly. I quickly grabbed Justin by the shoulder and pulled him aside. I got down to his eye level and in an angry tone I told him that I was not ok with him hitting and that we had talked about this many, many times before – and then I added the final, “I’m very disappointed in you.” Justin had been in too many physical confrontations recently and it needed to stop. I was frustrated and felt that some sort of punishment was necessary.

So – I told him that I was taking away the lunch I had made for him. He would have to make do with the lunch the school provided. In that moment, Justin was destroyed. He begged and pleaded to keep the lunch, but I said “no.” He cried and he tantrumed…and I still said, “no.” I instructed him to go and play on the playground while I spoke with his teacher. With tears in his eyes, he sulked off.

When he was out of earshot, I told his teacher what had happened and about the punishment. But, then I explained that I didn’t feel right completely taking away his lunch. (No punishment should last 5 hours.) So instead, I asked her for a place to hide it in the classroom and instructed her to give it back to him at lunch. I felt satisfied with this. He would feel the sting of losing something he wanted (temporarily) and I felt like he was still getting a healthy lunch. Justin continued to cry as I left, but I knew that it would all be alright in a few hours.

At 6:00pm, I arrived back at the school to get the kids. My first stop was to get Justin. While he was preoccupied outside, I collected his belongings and signed him out. Realizing that his lunchbox was not in his cubby, I went over to other area in the room where lunchboxes and jackets were stored. Still, no lunchbox. All of a sudden, a pit grew in my stomach. I went back to the cabinet where I was instructed to “hide” his lunchbox and there it was….UNOPENED. His lunch was still inside!!

I stormed out of his classroom and up to his teacher while holding the lunchbox. I saw her face go pale and her jaw drop.

“What happened?” I asked.

“I’m so sorry! I forgot!!” She continued to explain that she took a break during lunch and forgot to tell the other teacher. She kept apologizing and I kept reassuring her that it was fine – accidents happen. But, I’m pretty sure my body language betrayed me and the truth was, I was pissed!! Justin saw me from across the playground and then he saw the lunchbox. He ran up to me and gave me a big hug. “Daddy! You brought my lunch back!” I bit my tongue and lied. “Yea buddy, I heard you had a much better day, so I brought it back.”

He told me how sorry he was for hitting his friend and that he had apologized to him later in the day. Clearly, he understood that his actions had consequences, but all I felt was guilt. As we got into the car, I told him that I was also sorry and I unwrapped the sandwich per his request. He happily ate half of it on the way home while humming with happiness.

By the way – everything was still ice cold thanks to my Syracuse-learned, Igloo, ice-packing abilities! GO ORANGE!!

My Little Loan Shark

I have been given 12 hours to pay back my five year old (with interest) or he has threatened to “take me to zero.” I don’t know what that means, but it does not sound good.

While getting ready to leave the house this morning, I noticed that the diaper bag was already gone. Normally, this would not have been an issue. But, since my wallet was still in the outside pouch from last night’s outing, I had a sinking feeling that GWE took the bag with her not realizing that she also had my identification, credit cards, and cash. I immediately called her to see if she had the diaper bag. She did. Luckily, she had planned on being near my office today, so she could drop it off. Problem solved, kinda.

I then loaded Garrett and Justin into the car and seat-belted them in. I turned the ignition on, looked at my dashboard, and had a minor heart attack. No gas. I had less than a ¼ of a tank and needed to get from Northridge to Encino to take the kids to school and then from Encino all the way into Santa Monica for work and then all the way back home to Northridge again….and I still had no wallet. Out of frustration, I turned around to look at the kids and my luck changed….

Sitting in between Justin and Garrett was a crumpled, ten dollar bill that Grandpa Bob had given to Justin less than a week earlier for his pre-school graduation. I looked at the money and then I looked into the face of my sweet, innocent, child.

“Justin, can I borrow your $10.00 bill?” I asked kindly.

“No.” he responded.

“Please, Justin. I really need to borrow it for gas.”

“Where is your money, daddy?” he asked.

“Well, mommy accidentally took my wallet because it was in the diaper bag and I really need a few dollars for gas.” I explained.

“Why do we need gas? Where are we going?” At that point, I knew I was screwed. How do you tell a five year old that you need to borrow his money (money that he doesn’t want to give you) to take him to a place that he doesn’t want to go?? (School!)

“Buddy, I love you and I promise to give you a crisp, unwrinkled $10 bill tonight. But right now, I need your money.” At this point, I wasn’t really asking. I was sliding it out of his hand as we continued to talk.

Tears began to form and I felt like crap about this, but gasoline is gasoline.

After a few minutes, Justin asked, “Can I call mommy?” I dialed mommy and handed Justin the phone. She picked up on the third ring.

“Mommy? Daddy took my ten dollars and he said that you took his wallet and now he is going to use my ten dollars for gasoline. Why did you take his wallet?” She paused and explained that it was an accident. She then encouraged Justin to ask for interest on my ten dollar loan. “Tell him that you want eleven dollars,” she said.

“Daddy, I want twelve dollars!!” he demanded.

“WHAT?!?! A 20% vig!?!?!?!” I was outraged, but really needed the cash.

“Fine, buddy. You win.”

“Limos, Demos, and Bimbos”

Ice Cube once wrote a song about how good it was to ride in a limo with his “female friends” and how they “hit the sunroof and contemplate all the freaks they can run through.” Whenever I think of limousines, I think of one of two things: 1) Prom night with drunk girls half-naked in a limo, or 2) Rappers in a music video….with drunk girls half-naked in a limo. What I NEVER thought I would witness was my six month old and my five year old chillin’ in a limo on the way to the airport.

On a recent trip to Atlanta, Greatest Wife Ever and I contemplated how to get two adults, two children, luggage, carry-ons, toys, and a stroller into one car. Realizing that this was impossible, we discussed taking two cars to The Parking Spot (a local parking structure) instead. However, after further financial analysis, we realized – it was going to be pretty damn expensive to keep two cars stored for 5 days! All of a sudden, one of us (can’t remember who) had the genius idea of hiring a van to take us to the airport. What a fantastic idea?!?! Lots of space in a van, no parking hassle, and neither of us had to drive. GWE called a service, set it up, and I never thought twice about it.

On the day of the flight, the driver called and notified us that he had arrived. Justin and I stepped outside first to meet him. We were greeted by a shiny, black, stretched limo. Justin’s eyes got wide and he whispered to himself, “coooool.” As it turns out, their SUV was not available – but their “Get-You-Pregnant-On-Prom-Night” Limo was!

My first task was to figure out how to strap in an infant’s car seat. I guarantee I am the first person in history to attempt this. Limos are not meant for infant carriers. I got “creative” with the seatbelt, but I’m fairly certain that any unexpected braking would have caused Garrett and his carrier to go tumbling down the aisle of the limo like they were the rock boulder in the beginning of “Indiana Jones.” Next, I loaded three pieces of luggage, two carry–ons, and a stroller. Finally, I buckled Justin into his seat and GWE and I settled in.

Justin could not contain his excitement during the ride. With a distance of 5 ½ feet between us and GWE in the middle, Justin and I pretended to do magic tricks for each other. Then, we “yelled” all the way down the car to one another. And finally, we pretended to shoot guns at each other. As we pulled up to the airport, Justin unstrapped himself and began to do the “Shaking Butt Dance” out of happiness! He then ran down the aisle and pounced on us.

I hope Justin and Garrett enjoyed their limo ride. I’m just afraid that we’re setting the bar at an unreachable level. What’s next for them?

I’m putting my foot down. No private jets until they are old enough to wipe their own asses!!