4pm

We’ve been pretty lenient with screentime during this whole mess. When you are stuck inside for two months without any real human contact, you have to turn a blind eye to a few extra games of Fortnite here and there.

Like how every morning Diana quietly recycles that wine bottle I shouldn’t have opened the night before. 

And like those extra portions of wine, there comes a time when Luca just has to dry out. Because he pissed me off royally.

Last weekend, we visited the cabin so we could be surrounded by nature, family, and roughly 4,000 chipmunks. As you recall, our cabin has terrible wifi, which makes me very happy. It makes Luca miserable. 

While the rest of America was honoring our fallen heroes by refusing to social distance, Luca spent Memorial Day weekend complaining nonstop. My urge to yell was at barely a simmer for the drive up and occasionally got to a rolling boil when he hid in our room in the dark for hours, siphoning the tiny wifi signal for his ipad. I managed to maintain my temper by laying in my hammock and drinking Michigan beers.

When we got home, Luca immediately raced to his xbox and spent the next 4 hours mainlining digital violence. We let it go because we found a fun new TV show to binge. 

Around 9, I called downstairs for Luca to get off the game. No response. I called again. No response. I finally gave him my angry dad voice and Luca came stomping up the stairs. I don’t even remember what flippant thing he said, but my urge to yell not only boiled over, but got knocked off the stove and spilled all over the floor. 

At some point during my tirade, I bellowed that there would be no screens until 4pm from this moment forward.  As I caught my breath, I heard Eli’s voice from upstairs, “Does that include me?”

Urge to yell…boiling.

Today, both boys steered clear of screens. They read. They drew. Eli put together a desk that I refused to construct. 

Luca and I spent some time together in the late afternoon. We both knew we had a little repairing to do to our relationship. So we played with Jerry and had a hilarious bike ride in a downpour. 

Luca said, “This is the most fun and the most wet I’ve ever been!”

I resisted the urge to say, “See? You don’t need screens!”

He asked me to play Jenga and we sat and laughed and spilled little blocks all over the dining room. I noticed that his eyes flicked to the clock at 3:59 and I said, “I think we can let you off early.” 

Luca raced to his xbox with a wide grin and I resisted the urge to open a bottle of wine.

Lucavision

I can never remember what we call this whole sitting at home thing. Something in place? Shelter something something? The end times?

Whatever it is, our family falls into two distinct camps:

1. Giant bouts of activity.

2. Laying on the floor, face first.

Elijah and I fall into camp 2. Luckily, my job allows me to conduct much of my business in sad sweatpants, scraggly beard and a hairstyle best described as “difficult.” I just had a full conversation with Eli in which he discussed the ins and outs of E-learning while not releasing his lips from his filthy carpet. We’re doing great.

Diana and Luca, on the other hand, are more productive than ever. Diana is engaged in her own apocalyptic movie at the wine store. She fends off hordes of thirsty Evanstonians, shuffling bleary eyed towards her, moaning, “Beeeeer…whiskyyyyyyyyy.” She’s never been busier and happier. 

Luca is also engaged in a fury of activity. He wakes before everyone and blasts through his E-learning so he can focus on his true love: building a Youtube empire. You know those videos where a dude plays a video game and then says stuff like, “LET’S GO BABY!” Yeah, they make no sense to me, either. 

Luca tapes himself playing Fortnite and then adds supers, music and voice over where he says, “LET’S GO BABY!”

He works late into the night writing the perfect quips for his videos. It’s almost too adorable for words. Take a look at this one. Be sure to check out the end battle. I’ll wait:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=om--Rd_85wA

Intense, huh? He’s my kid, but he’s also pretty good at killing other 10 year olds.

At the end of every video, he asks for people to subscribe to his channel. That’s the currency among his pals. Who has the most subscribers. They each have 28. Because there are 28 of them.

Wait. Maybe you all could subscribe! It’s like bringing your kid’s Girl Scout cookie sheet to work. I’m going to pimp my relationship with you to add to a meaningless number. 

Do it. If you love me, do it. But if you are currently lying on your floor, don’t worry about it. I totally understand.

JERRY!

Every day during the COVID crisis, I wake up and say to myself, “You gotta do a HamannEggs. You owe it to your readers.”

And then I fall into a 14 hour hole filled with sweatpants, awkward video chats, and bouts of screaming to please, for the love of all that’s holy, put your dishes in the dishwasher. 

The next morning starts it all over again. 

If only there was something that could totally upend these days that run one into another. Something cute. Something bitey. Well, we found it and his name is Jerry! Jerry the puppy!

Or Jerry Gergich Hamann to be correct. Do not allow any Dianas try convince you his middle name is Garcia. It’s Gergich, after the hapless “Parks and Rec” character. 

We got Jerry from the same Goldendoodle breeder as my boss (the ultimate brown nose move). However, due to the pandemic, we were required to pick him up in an empty suburban parking lot like we were purchasing a kilo of black tar heroin. They showed up in an unmarked SUV and we were instructed to have one, only one, person approach the vehicle. One I handed our check over and they essentially tossed Jerry into my arms before slamming the gas pedal back to their breeding paradise in the country.

Almost immediately, all the Luca and Elijah promises regarding puppy care went right out the window. They avoid his little sharp teeth and frequent need to go potty by hiding behind their xbox controllers. And since Diana has to maintain her essential business of helping Evanston’s residents stay drunk for the entirety of the pandemic, the dog duty (doody) is all mine.

He’s a good boy and is trying his best to figure out what these chattering monkeys who kidnapped him from his littermates want. 

You may be thinking, “How does Grover feel about this whole Jerry situation?” He’s not pleased. His dreams of living out his days lounging on our bed, occupying my 100% attention were dashed. But he occasionally plays with the little fella for a vigorous 45 seconds before collapsing on the floor.

Please enjoy this photo of Jerry smoking a cigarette. 

TEEN!

Elijah Steven Hamann turned thirteen today. 

Can you friggin’ believe this? This whole blog started thirteen years ago! 1,212 posts. Viewers have visited from Ukraine, Russia and other places trying to hack my computer. 

It’s hard to describe how amazing this kid is. The best way I can describe him is the way we do it here at HamannEggs, with a story.

Eli woke up extra early on April Fool’s Day. The only time he’s woken up before 11am during the whole COVID-19 crisis. He took the time to hand draw googly eyes and tape them to every single item in our fridge. 

Later that day, after some internet research, Eli removed a vital hose from the toilet and pointed it in such a way that it would spray all over the victim when they flushed. The intended victim was Luca. The ACTUAL victim was Diana. 

He got in super trouble. 

Much later, while he was suffering through his “no screens for the rest of the night, mister” punishment, he snuck up behind me while I was watching TV. I was enjoying the after glow of my nightly Manhattan. The little bugger buzzed off half my mustache!

My special, quarantine mustache. My hideous, awful, 1970’s stoner mustache.

I was so shocked I couldn’t even get angry. I had to respect his April Fool’s mastery. But my eyes couldn’t lie. I was sad to see my mustache friend go. 

Eli felt awful. He apologized profusely and almost burst into tears. And spent the rest of the night trying to make it up to me, including making me another Manhattan. And no, I did not shave the rest of my mustache for my 8am video meeting the next day.

That’s Eli for you. Sweet, smart, funny, silly, slightly mischievous and a solid Manhattan maker. 

I love you pal. You’re the reason we’re all here. 

Covid Fun

It’s been extra hard to write the blog lately with the whole…apocalypse. We’re together, we’re safe, we’re healthy. We’re adjusting to being on top of each other every second of every minute of every day.

Luca, Grover and I enjoy our little morning routine. I start each day with a cup of coffee and four hundred conference calls in my sweat pants. I take my calls at the dining room table because Luca officially took over our office. He set up a mission control with three devices running 24/7. Luca conducts video calls with classmates, watches sports videos and edits his finest Xbox Madden football plays with adorable play by play voiceovers.

Grover just lies on the floor and mentally asks, “Why? Why? Why are you here?”

The close quarters can be challenging. Luca and Elijah are basically at each other’s throats from dawn to dusk, with occasional spurts of basketball playing. I’ve noticed we’ve individually found the farthest four corners of the house to do our “I hate you and everyone and everything” pouting. 

That isn’t to say we don’t have moments of joy. I love the commute. And we’ve been eating actual meals together and making our way through the TV comforts of “The Office.” We’ve also had some epic games of Jenga and Clue.

And then there’s my mustache. 

Somewhere in the confusion and panic of that first week of quarantine, I shaved my beard into a terrible mustache. It was my version of shouting into the void. It’s awful. Mousy, scraggly, misshapen. It’s an affront to the 1970s.

Our family is passionately split. I and Luca are pro. Me, because it’s so stupid. Luca, because he thinks everything I do is awesome. Diana and Eli loathe it. Is it COVID-19 that makes Diana resist my kisses or the mustache? Eli just doesn’t agree with it aesthetically. 

Two nights ago, I put my mustache up as grand prize in our game night. The winner got to decide its fate. What no one else knew is I am ruthless at Clue and mopped the floor with everyone through my keen detective skills and abject cheating. 

Luca and I celebrated by painting my toenails bright blue. I am never going to have sex again. 

What it’s Like

The original purpose of the blog is to give Elijah and Luca a view into what it was like growing up. As we are quarantined with Covid-19, I’ve been wondering, what will they remember? How will they feel about this, the most surreal time of their lives?

At the risk of eliminating any last bit of comedy from the blog, I’m going to attempt to paint an accurate picture so they have some idea of what it was like in March of 2020.

Here goes:

Hello future Eli and Luca! I hope you achieved your goals of becoming a sea animal helper and an NFL kicker. 

Right now, I am writing to you from the dining room. Where I have been stuck for 48 hours. You both have overheard some of the most boring conference calls in the world, where I’ve been debating whether or not we can air a commercial that features someone in an office (no one is in offices) or kids at school (no one is at school). There is an untouched puzzle on the table, a Viking hat I use for video conferences and a running list of Eli’s suggestions to help my clients’ business. “So, you know how goldfish made a sweet version of goldfish (grahams) I think you should do the opposite and make sweet (client name redacted) like a pretzel outside and a cheddar inside.” I’ve only yelled at you both twice for screaming during a conference call.

You both are bored. Very bored. Luca, you race to finish your schoolwork morning so you can play basketball/football with your posse. Technically it’s against the rules, but we’ve been lenient with kid social distancing. That’s what we call it. Social distancing. 

Eli, you take a little longer to get your work done. Mostly because you’ve been sneaking your phone in your room and split time between work and episodes of “Boss Baby.” I’m not sure I would choose that show to ride out the apocalypse, but to each their own. You haven’t spent much time with other kids because of “Boss Baby.”

Your mom is now manning the wine store solo. She sent her employees home for their own safety. But people want their wine. It’s kind of an odd move for Diana because she is panicking most of all about the virus. We aren’t allowed to touch anything before we have to “scrub in.” She has mandated no play dates (except outside sports) and won’t even allow your dear old dad to go drink at his friend John’s house. 

Things are eerily quiet. Mostly because we don’t leave the house. We don’t watch TV because it’s all the same heads talking about the virus. It feels like we are in the first 10 minutes of a zombie movie. Everyone is telling the same jokes online. 

Speaking of jokes, the bunker you made in the basement as a father’s day gag is now stocked with cans and water and a huge knife. We assume we’ll never use them. 

But you both are your usual goofy, hilarious selves. The fact the disease doesn’t really affect kids is a huge relief, but it’s still scary to see the world melt down like this. 

I love you guys. This will be fun to remember when it’s all over. 

Frat House

Wet, dirty clothes everywhere. Clods of dirt covering our foyer. Empty bags of chips strewn across our basement, under the blue couch and stuffed under beds. Pieces of a ripped up soda can on the steps. A pair of rubber boots filled with water. 

Diana looked across the disaster and sighed, “I live in a frat house.”

I lived in a frat house. Our house is in far worse condition. And we don’t have a 6 foot bong called “Bob the Bong.”

I’m not sure where the tipping point happened, but we’re fearful our house will never be clean again. Oh, we make Elijah and Luca clean up. But within minutes, our house is back to being a wildebeest birthing center. 

This doesn’t work well with Diana’s increasing fear of THE VIRUS. As more and more cases pop up across the country, the more Diana needs things to be clean. I am required to step into a chemical bath before kissing her.

The boys haven’t just stopped at destroying our house. They’ve turned their sights to our neighbors. Last Sunday, Luca accidentally broke a window two doors down during an especially ambitious game. The footage of the event can be found here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LNaHUxi6H-U

Luca begged Diana not to tell me about the window, because he was afraid I’d freak out and yell at him. So, she quietly swept the glass under the rug, so to speak, and worked out the new window details with our neighbors without my knowledge.

Our neighbor Paul came to our door a little while later to let us know he wanted to pay for part of the damage. 

At which point I totally freaked out. In my defense, the math in my head was Luca broke a window without telling me or anyone and was sticking Paul with the bill.

Much like our filthy house, my rage had hit a tipping point and no amount of Luc explanation could quell my yelling. 

With Diana’s calming help, I finally understood the whole story and apologized to Luca profusely for losing my mind. I felt awful for yelling but also for forcing Luca to keep things from me because of my yelling.

I decided to leave the empty raspberry container in the middle of the room, where it belonged.