Daddy Mojo

The 40 million year old paper weight-Sand dollars in the Sahara

Mothers and wives sometimes don’t see the value in what guys or growing boys have. Sometimes it’s a collection, a piece of clothing or a thing that looks like an old rock. For me it started with a concert tee for Oingo Boingo, who I had seen in concert at an outdoor festival. That was early 80s new wave at its best, even today Boingo’s music sounds great thanks in part to Danny Elfman and their tight rhythm. Their frantic, multi layered music captured the sensibilities of a hyperactive teenage boy perfectly. Continue reading The 40 million year old paper weight-Sand dollars in the Sahara

Mother’s Day Weekend Mojo

I’m reminded of two things this Mother’s Day Weekend. It’s our first year with a baby, so I’m thinking of my wife and I’m also thinking about my mother.

About four months ago my wife was at home taking care of Jake. It was bath time, he had just gotten in the tub then started to scream and cry. The water wasn’t too hot, she did the checklist and he was still crying. For just a moment she doubted herself, probably asking if she was a good parent, did Jake love her?

Then she realized that Jake didn’t have his rubber duck in the tub. Sure enough, once the rubber duck was in the tub Jake immediately quieted down, happily sucking on the duck and spashing his hands in the water.

It won’t always be a rubber duck that makes Jake happy, but more often then not, it will be his mother.

I’m also reminded of my own mother who passed away a year and a half ago. She never touched Wilson, (our golden retreiver), hated going out to eat, never went for a trip in an airplane, loved to make chocolate cookies, watched Wheel of Fortune daily and always wanted to be needed. I never really thanked her enough for being a good parent.

So thanks to all the Mothers, past, present and future. For Mother’s Day we’re heading out to a local nursery that is giving horse carriage rides. It’ll be a nice, low key day for everybody to enjoy spring, babies, dads and moms.

Babygate and other conspiracies

Baby Mojo is right on the cusp of crawling so it’s time to safety proof the house and put up a baby gate near the stairs. Prior to being a daddy blogger I used to work for an animal shelter and had pets of my own. The great thing about baby gates is that they also keep pets out of some areas or off the stairs. We’ve had one up for a while to keep the dogs downstairs and learned a lesson or two that might help you.

There are the temporary gates that you have to remove or step over and stronger ones that allow you to open a door in the gate and step through it.

The temporary gates are usually cheaper and very easy to move between door frames . However these gates don’t allow you to step through them, so these would not be good if they are located near a highly trafficked area. If you’re putting this gate up in the kitchen or office for a little bit that is an excellent location and a relatively cheap fix.

As we have two dogs our option was a more secure gate that we could walk through. There are two options for this style of gate, one that is mounted to the wall and one that is not mounted, ie, no screw holes in your wall.

We’ve got a wall mounted baby gate that is secured into the wall.

Note the position when it’s closed and when it’s open. In the photo to the right, it’s open and there is not a bar that requires you have to step over it.

Most wall mounted gates that do not require you to drill holes in your wall come in a three peice set up and have a bar parallel to the floor when the gate is open. In theory this doesn’t sound like a big deal. However, having to step over a bar at the top, or bottom of your stairs is annoying at best and dangerous at worst.

We had the three piece, dangerous gate for a week or two. Then much to the chagrin of our walls, we exchanged it for the wall mounted version. However, the wall mounted baby gates are stronger, have a secure lock for the kids and are super easy to install.

Bottom line: If you’re getting a baby gate for stairs, don’t worry about your walls.

Ed Hardy and aging gracelessly

The other night Mommy Mojo and I went to see the Gypsy Kings. It had been a while since we actually had a date and we were due for a night without the teeny tiny toddler.

On the way to the venue I noticed that many of the guys were wearing these black t shirts with what looked like a white falcon on it. These are tight fitting shirts that you’d see on Jersey Shore or at an MMA fight, needless to say some of the guys wearing them that night pulled it off and some didn’t.

Some of the guys just looked silly. They were a bit out of shape and the parts of the shirt that should’ve been pushed out with muscles, were instead being taunted by age, moobs or guts. Ladies, this would be the equavalent of your muffintop. We all know that when you see girls wearing tops that are too short and their jeans are too tight it produces the classic muffintop. Sometimes a little muffintop is OK, sometimes, but very rarely.

I didn’t get the whole Ed Hardy craze a couple years ago either. They are cool shirts, but they are just t shirts and there is no way I’m paying more than $15 for a t shirt. The only exception would be a Roger Waters concert t shirt for the 30th Anniversary of The Wall, something like The Wall is an event. Spending around $100 for a t shirt just to prove that I went to the mall would place me perilously close to being a douchebag.

There were even some Ed Hardy shirts at the concert. Apparently they didn’t get the memo that the MMA/white falcon t shirt had supplanted them as the trendy shirt du jour.

I’m not mocking too hard because I was wearing a guyaberra shirt with embroidered dancing people. Describing the shirt that I wore can sound as gay as the tight, black trendy shirts made the other guys in the crowd look desperate. So I guess to each his own in this case. My wardrobe has changed a bit through the years and becoming a father certainly helped in that department.

The Gypsy Kings were amazing and is a great concert if you get the chance to see them live. We had no idea what they were singing or saying, but it was a great night out. It also got me pumped for the next season of Jersey Shore.

The Worm on the floor

Jake, aka, Baby Mojo is right on the cusp of crawling; it’s a time that we’re simultaneously looking forward to and dreading. The Mojo camp is of three thoughts:

The crawling will be supa cute
The crawling baby will mean more work
We need to gird our loins because parenting is about to change.

Watching Baby Mojo writhe about on the floor made me think of a time back in high school. As with any journey, there are a couple stops, but I invite you to stay with me as it’ll take you in the way back machine as well.

The Setup

I spent the night at a friend’s house and his parents weren’t home. Stories that have a happy ending rarely start out like that, do they? We drank a little bit, but not enough to send anybody to the hospital or cause permanent damage. It was a handful of idiot teenagers doing the typical things that they’ll do when not properly supervised at an overnight party.

The next morning the story was that I had gotten too much of the sauce and flashed my naked Mojo to a couple of the girls at the party. The girls, seemingly unimpressed with my Mojo proceeded to laugh and call me PeeWee.

Of course that entire story was false and made up by a couple of my friends. However, as high schools operate, by 9:00 Monday, the (false) story of me flashing a couple of girls at a party was far and wide.

The Plan

High school is a petri dish for society isn’t it? It’s like your work environment without all social rules of behavior; you can say or do anything and it can do nothing or devastate you-all depending upon how you react.

My initial reaction to this story, and the suddenly bequeathed nickname of “PeeWee” was to laugh, deny and ignore, because it in fact did not happen. That was until one of the teachers made reference to the new nickname and then I knew something had to be done.

The high school elections were just around the corner and I had a plan. As PeeWee rhymed with V.P. (Vice President) I would run for Vice President of the Junior Class. It’s amazing how simple phonetics can help create a plan isn’t it?

The Execution

I registered my name, as well as, the newly ascribed nickname of “PeeWee” on the ballot for the Junior Class Vice President of Page High School, 1985. The campaign speeches to the class was something that were the culmination of the elecion season. They consisted of a brief introduction by somebody of your choosing then you’d go on to speak for a couple of minutes.

The person who did my introduction speech was one of the school’s break dancers named D.C. The schtick was for us to give each other a high five, then we’d each do the worm on the floor-with him going off stage and me going to the podium to give my speech as to why the students should vote for me PeeWee….errr, Trey.

So D.C was giving his brief introduction on stage and as he finished I approached the podium. We gave each other a high five and then each of us fell to the floor, wormed for a couple of yards and then stood up. He continued to walk off stage and I walked up to the podium and gave a two-minute speech about why I was deserving of their vote.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WY-Y4mUKFN0]My crap dancing notwithstanding, I was elected Vice President of the Junior Class and that nickname slipped into the abyss of the school’s (and my) memory, until I saw Baby Mojo doing The (reverse) Worm.

Being a stay at home dad has triggered these old and forgotten memories lately. My wife has often been perplexed as to why I don’t remember anything from my childhood. The good news for her is that I’m remembering them and have something of substance to share during dinner. For me the good news is that video of that speech, The Worm or my Don Johnson Miami Vice jacket don’t exist.

The world’s worst screen window

Baby Mojo has been waking up at night lately. He had been sleeping for 7-8 hours, but with spring here we think he may be getting hot. It's too nice outside for the air conditioning to be on, half of our windows don't have screens and money is too tight to get a new screen professionally made. What's a stay at home dad with no time to do?

Duct tape across the window, even with the sticky side facing in, would look entirely too gauche.  Mommy Mojo stepped up to the plate, did the research and found out that for $5.35 we can purchase a roll of screen material that we can cut ourselves.

Technically, there’s nothing too difficult about the job. Granted there is 0% chance of the screen window actually looking good when it’s finished, but at least it wouldn’t be challenging or take too much time.

Measure twice, measure again, then cut once. The surface didn’t have the area to allow for actually duct tape (damn it…), so I used some painters tape on the exterior of the screen against the window frame. Screen window up, window open and Baby Mojo still woke up at 5AM. His little diaper had reached the limit of its absorbency and little Mojo was at his wit’s end, poor little dude.

My jury rigged screen window at least allows for a cross breeze to go through the house. It also has the added effect of a blue sticky surface that will trap some of the unlucky bugs. Their screams of pain will warn the others not to approach this steel grid of security.

Does anybody out there have a hammer drill? I needed one for a project a couple of years ago and my first thought was what the hell is a hammer drill? It sounds like some monster hybrid tool that can cure cancer. It’s best friends in the tool world are probably the grill router or pneumatic laser level.

I knew that I had to have a hammer drill. When I got to the tool store I also purchased a reciprocating saw, which is equally as practical and also has a kick ass name. That salesperson had struck novice home improvement gold. If he said that all the rage in testosterone home improvement was a gas-powered alarm clock I would’ve signed up for that too.

Apparently I wasn’t the only one who would fall for manly sounding gadgets. Did you hear that the federal government gave a Four Star Energy Rating to a gas-powered alarm clock, cleverly named Black Gold? Somewhere Jed Clampet is grinning at the gullibility of aspects of our government.

In my current reality, the hammer drill and all of these things sound like B-grade movies on Syfy. They’re filming Sharktopus, recently showed Mega Piranha and will air MothMan in a couple of weeks. You know you want to watch them, quit denying it.

In a couple of years if they get really desperate they can shoot Screen Hole, the story about the world’s worst storm window and how it created a worm hole to another dimension. I just hope they get Michael Cera to play me and not Shia LaBeouf.

I can't weight

Ladies, there is no easy way for us guys to answer the following questions.

“Is she more attractive than me?” It’s a loaded question and hopefully your fella knows to proceed carefully by answering, “Of course not honey. Oh and did you see that outfit? She’s gotta be over 30 and she’s wearing a news boy cap?”

“Honey, am I getting fat?” Tricky, tricky this question. Women can tell if the number on the scale is getting larger. They know the answer of the question when they ask it. “No sweetie, you look great to me, is everything OK?” This answer allows her to state whether her pants are feeling tight or if she just needs a hug from you. Sure, that answer is a punt of sorts, but it helps keep the peace.

Mommy Mojo officially lost all of her baby weight this week. She celebrated by wearing some pants that I hadn’t seen in over a year and doing her version of the happy dance around the house. I noticed that she was getting close, in addition to her frequent progress reports and in hindsight I should’ve said, “hey, you’re getting close to losing the baby weight I see’!

A statement of fact like that is laced with potentially dire outcomes, be careful here. We want to encourage her, but we also want to let them know that we love them regardless. For the record: we want to encourage them because, if they’re commenting on how much weight they’ve lost post pregnancy, then they want to lose the weight. Again, ladies, the encouragement isn’t from a male vanity point of view, its general encouragement, c’est sa. Sheshhh, even writing this I could feel the building wrath of moms giving me grief for encouraging them to lose weight.

30 sodas in a month — That bag of sugar is equal to one soda a day for one month.

So Mommy Mojo finally lost the weight by doing normal exercise and not drinking her daily sodas. How much is one soda a day for a month? This photo is a nice representation of what exactly that sugar looks like in bulk after 30 days. A friend of mine, Jolene Park at Healthy Discoveries has that image on her flickr stream.

In frustrating news, for my wife, I’ve actually lost weight since Baby Mojo came into the picture. As a stay at home dad I pick up the car carrier, stroller and all of the other activities that necessitate keeping up the house and taking care of Mojo. The other night mentioned to the light of my life that I was going to go for a bike ride this week. She asked me if I’ve been losing weight and demanded that I go weigh myself.

She then uttered words that I could never say, “I liked how much you weighed when we got married, so if you exercise just be sure to eat more”, she said.

Bacon Star Wars — Star Wars AT-AT, made of bacon, hmmmm.

“Sure, I’ll have lots more bacon, red meat and beer”, I said.

“I don’t want you to clog your arteries, just gain a little weight”

Thanks sweetie, so I won’t be eating this delicious AT-AT….you can see loads more bacon and guy time wasters at http://www.tifr.us/

Living with David Banner

The hospital where Baby Mojo was born sends weekly emails telling us what they should be experiencing. The one last week was spot on as it said something like “your baby may cry suddenly, with their face turning red”.

The Hulk — Baby Mojo, with a shade of green

Sure enough, not long after receiving that email our happy little Mojo would go from zero to 60 at the drop of a hat. He’d be happily playing with his favorite toy and then become a red-faced angry soul that can’t contain his rage. This red-faced hulk in diapers can only be satisfied by a quick and ironic version of “If you’re happy and you know it”.

After a day of watching Baby Hulk it appears that the culprit is the Vegetable Roast Beef & Dumplings. Today we had to finish that jar, however knowing what was observed, it was immediately followed up with some Hawaiian Blend, his favorite.

Crisis averted, it appeared that the gamma have been turned off.

Feeding Baby Mojo and watch him change from normal to freak out, a la, David Banner, made me think of second tier super heros, i.e, She Hulk. She’s like The Incredible Hulk, but svelte, ass kicking and has an oddly attractive aurora about her. Granted, she was no Catwoman, but She Hulk served the Marvel Universe well.

All of these thoughts brought about an odd dream. I was on an alien planet fighting in this battle, I broke through this wall and rescued the Martian Manhunter. Apparently he and I were friends as we continued fighting until I heard this beeping sound, turned to the rocks hit something then my alarm went off. So somewhere in my dreams the Martian Manhunter is super pissed at me for leaving him to go change a diaper at 3:30. I’m just glad that when I went to change the diaper some silly, yet very catchy song from Sesame Street was in my head.

Red faced baby — The rarely photographed, Red Baby Hulk, be careful if approaching.

I had another great dream this week. I was drafted to play in the Costa Rican Football League. All of our games were played on the beach and in addition to paying us a salary they served beer, pizza and ice cream during the games. We were in the middle of a game and the ref blew the whistle to go to the sidelines to get pizza, beer and ice cream, but I went to Baby Mojo’s room to change a diaper instead.

Somewhere in my dreams the Martian Manhunter is playing in the Costa Rican Football League, drinking my beer and dating She Hulk.