Beijing showers, procrastination and dirty towels

Waiting tables in college taught me one lesson that I’ll always remember; never leave the kitchen empty-handed.

You leave the kitchen take something – anything – because it’s needed out front by somebody.

Since being a stay at home dad I’ve had to practice that lesson countless times, but it’s helped me keep the Mojo castle slightly cleaner.  I’m leaving a room – I grab a bottle, cup or toy and put it in its rightful place.

This is basic stuff, but it’s light years from where I came from.  Even tough I learned the original lesson in college, I went through The Dark Years (where dirt and procrastination where my best friends. )

The Shower

Before Baby Mojo came into the picture Mommy Mojo and I were dating and she was over at the house.  She had to wash her face, went to turn on the hot water and was aghast that there wasn’t any.  “Your hot water isn’t working, how long has it been out?”, she asked.  To hear her tell the story, she was under the impression that it was something that happened a day or two ago.

“Oh, it’s been out a couple of months”, I answered with all seriousness. 

“A COUPLE MONTHS?  How do you shower?  Can’t you get a plumber in here to fix it?”

“Oh, it’s not broken, I’ve got the parts to fix it in the other room….”.  In hindsight I realize how silly it was to not have hot water in the bathroom.  It was the worst case of procrastination I’d ever accomplished,  I was busted and without an excuse.

“How do you shower?”, she said, which was quite a reasonable question considering.

“Well, I shower very quickly.”

“Why?  When there’s hot water readily available?

“It’s not the worst place I’ve ever showered”

The worst place I’d showered was this hostel in Beijing.  It was in the middle of winter, there was no hot water and there were multiple holes in the wall where I could look out onto various, smog covered buildings .  It was cold, had broken tiles on the floor, a flimsy curtain with rips and one of those prison mirrors that cast a reflection but wasn’t really a mirror. 

So, whenever I’d shower at home, I’d think of that awful, cold shower that I had in Beijing for that couple of weeks and it wasn’t that bad. The house was under renovation and the cold showers were a small price to pay for not getting on my stomach to light the pilot when it would go out.

Mommy Mojo didn’t see the logic in my story either and suggested that I stop procrastinating and get that hot water flowing ASAP.  

The Dirty Towel

A couple of weeks after the hot water in the bathroom was fixed Mommy Mojo was washing her face and asked me to hand her a towel.

“Eww, this towel smells”, she said.

“oh.  I might have accidentally given you the towel that I cleaned up the cat pee with”, I sheepishly said.  She screamed and promptly threw away all of my towels. It was then that she washed her face for a second time and took a shower with our newfound hot water, using her towel.

On the positive side, I no longer have to clean up cat urine and we have all new towels.

But wait, there's more call now

Years ago I made a vowed never to buy anything directly from an infomercial.  The only time I strayed is when I bought the Sham Wows and in that case I went to their website; also it was a gift for somebody, so technically that didn’t count.

I’m sure that some of the products advertised are well made and things that the family can genuinely use.  The untimely death of Billy Mays has certainly helped ease any temptation that I had to order directly from the television.  Say what you will about that particular advertising medium, but that man could pitch a product like nobody’s business.

My current favorite infomercial is the Booty Pop.  It’s so surreal that you have to look twice at the television to be certain you’re seeing what you think you are.

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d4EvVErNhVE&feature=player_embedded]

If I were being totally honest with myself (and isn’t that purpose of a blog?) then I’d also be on my keyboard right now ordering those teach your child to read DVD’s.

As a former teacher I want to teach my child to read at the earliest age possible, but there is just something about that product that makes me uneasy.  

The clips that I saw on television looked instantly dated.   I want Baby Mojo to know what a how much bread it takes for the far out box social.   The teaching principles they talked about seemed sound, but my infomercial ban and that uneasy feeling won out. 

I’m still teaching Baby Mojo to read, just a bit more traditionally, with basic Dr. Seuss books, some flash cards and the occasional tickle break. 

My brother-in-law did lean into me about the flash cards.  Granted, Baby Mojo is very young, he likes to hold them and that’s about it.  However, if this early immersion gives him a quick start so much the better.

If anybody has a positive child reading program story I’d love to hear it.  Not that it would definitely change my mind but it would certainly give us something to think on.

Big knife pillow talk

The other night Mommy Mojo and I were going to bed.  I was about to start reading my book when she had one of her questions that would befuddle Jack Handy.

“Sweetie, I decided that if an intruder comes into the house then I would take Jake, run out the house with my phone and call 911.  What would you do?”

“We’ll, if I were stuck in the bedroom then I’d probably get the big knife”, I said.

I thought she knew about the big knife in the bedroom.  “We have a big knife in the bedroom!?”, she said.  At this point I suspected that my evening reading was probably not going to happen so I rolled out of the bed and proceeded to get the big knife. 

It’s kept in my underwear drawer, so that way I can feign getting my socks or underwear when any burglars come in.  ‘Oh, one moment Mr. Intruder, let me get some new socks on and I’ll show you where the valuables are…’, then I’d take the knife and get all Steven Segal on that predator.

I take the big knife out of the underwear drawer and my wife says, “Sweetie, that’s the big knife?You call that a knife eh...

I wasn’t sure if I should run out and get the kitchen knife in my underwear drawer or lobby again for guns in the Mojo house.

Granted, in the kitchen, it’s not a big knife, but big is all relative.  You put that knife someplace where you’re not expecting a knife, then it’s big.  I put a tube of chap stick beside it so you can get a true scale of it’s blade.

Come to find out the big knife is a custom made cutter that can’t be duplicated.  It was given to me on my 16th birthday, at the time a rather odd present I thought.   My name is engraved on the edge of the blade and it’s something that I can pass down to Baby Mojo; so he can keep it in his underwear drawer when his wife won’t let him get a gun. 

Mommy Mojo loves to ask deep questions right when we’re about to go to sleep.

True conversation

Mommy Mojo:  Sweetie, would you still love me if  I had amnesia?

Daddy Mojo:  Yes, sweetie.  I’d still love you if you had amnesia and when you asked me why we had 10 dogs I’d say, ‘sweetie, we had 10 dogs before you were sick, you don’t remember them?’

Since my big knife was ridiculed I’m going to lobby for something more effective to fight home intruders with, like a cross-bow.  I’ll put a catherine wheel in the corner just in case I need to get all Sir Lancelot on that predator.

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