Making due until pigs fly

The worst part about when mom visits is when she has to leave. It used to be hard when it was just me, it is harder now with Ryder. I know I am a mama's baby, I always have been. At nearly 40 I don't anticipate that is ever going to change.

I grew up seeing one set of grandparents every weekend and the other every couple of years. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out which I was closer too. I know mom would never go years without seeing Ryder (heck this was her 4th trip to Oklahoma in 2011) but visits every couple of months just aren't the same as having her around. However, knowing her official position on relocating to Oklahoma (thus the title of this particular post) and unless global warming kicks it up a notch I don't think I am getting Trent any further north than Kansas, we will just have to make due.

So Gramma Jill has to fit months worth of spoiling into one week, and that she did. From allowing him to use her chin as a teething toy to encouraging him to use the tray of the high chair as a drum, Gramma was all kinds of fun. "Gramma doesn't care if you pull her hair Ryder but Mommy gets mad so you better not" was overheard more than once. Yes, because Mommy doesn't like it .... not because it will get you put in timeout in daycare at 9 months as Lola Jo can attest - but because Mommy doesn't like it. Thanks Gramma.

And then we have car rides. Living out here in the boondocks means we spend a lot of time in the car. Whenever Ryder would make a peep one of two things would happen. Either Gramma would dislocate her shoulder trying to locate the pacifier from the depths of the car seat in the backseat and try to locate his mouth all without actually being able to see any of it or, my personal favorite, insist I stop the car so she could ride back there with him and keep him entertained. He much preferred the latter, but you can imagine how well the first trip anywhere went after Gramma was gone. Thanks Gramma.

All kidding aside, Ryder seemed to really like Gramma Jill, which is pretty cool considering he surely doesn't remember her from her last visit when he was just 4 months old and usually babies don't like her. Maybe it is because she doesn't do diapers. Just wait until he can eat cookies, he is really going to dig him some Gramma Jill then!

Since mom doesn't have her glasses on, I would love to hear the story she is telling. Hopefully they are just looking at the pictures.

She has the magic touch. She had orders to give him a bottle - the next thing you know, he was sawing logs. Now where was she at 4 am? (just kidding, because she was totally up with us at 4 am)

Not 3 minutes earlier he was throwing one of those back arching screaming hissy fits that required Gramma getting him and walking around with him. She had him cracking up in a matter of seconds - that is one funny Gramma!

Thanks for everything mom, you are an excellent mom and gramma and Ryder is so lucky to have you. We will take you whenever we can get you and we will keep praying for pigs to sprout wings ... xoxo!

Cousin Bonding

I think this is pretty special. I figure if I show it to them in about 10 years, they will be mortified. In about 20 years, mildly embarrassed. Maybe in 30, they will think it is cool. Or maybe their wives will.

Coop is 9, Konnor is 6, and Ryder is almost 7 months.

Ryder's First Christmas

Wow, what a Christmas.

We got up this morning at 4 am to take mom to the airport. Well I got up to take mom to the airport, Ryder got up for a morning snack. I can't believe it had been a week already, we didn't do much of anything (mom might disagree since I worked her like a dog) but the time sure flew by. I didn't get around to blogging much.

We had a excellent Christmas. Ryder was sick, as always. He got some bug on Christmas Eve and managed to throw up in my freshly washed hair sometime between the mandatory Christmas Eve nap (mandatory for me, not him) and dinner time. Those who know how seldom I do my hair know what a big deal this is in my world. Poor little guy has the chest congestion and drippy nose, coughing funk and just wasn't himself all week. Couple that with teething and I guess I can hardly blame him. Considering the circumstances he was much more chipper than I would have been in his shoes. The rocking horse from Grandpa Rodger and Grandma Ruth was a big hit, but while did manage to rip the paper off some of his presents and try to eat it he didn't make it far into the evening.

We continued without him and dad was still assisting Santa with some last minute assembly on a bouncer way past my bedtime, but the next morning when Ryder woke up and was feeling better it all seemed to be worth it as he bounced away most of the morning as happy as could be.

And if I was worried about the clutteredness of an end table before, it looked like some toy explosion happened in the living room on Christmas morning. Gramma Jill did her best to ensure Fisher Price stays in business for another year. There isn't a toy box big enough.

One of the biggest hits is a Cars walker mom got him. Not that it is going to be of much help in the walking department for a while ;)

So Christmas Day we went to Aunt Crystie and Uncle Kevin's house for Christmas with Trent's side of the family. A little quality time with the cousins is always welcome for the little man.

 Of course Ryder got completely spoiled there too, there were hundreds of presents from Crystie, Kevin and the boys (a fire truck complete with siren that I am especially excited about) and Nana and Papa including a new car seat but Ryder was most jazzed about the farm set.

From there we went to El Reno to Candy's where we had yet another Christmas complete with more family, food and presents. I took my camera but for some reason didn't get any photos of Ryder (shocking, I know!). All in all it was a most excellent holiday and we are so thankful for the time spent with family. We are truly blessed.

No "Lords A Leapin'" but ...

I'm certain the 12 Days Of Christmas are supposed to end a little closer to Christmas Day, but I plan on being a little too busy that day to blog, so since I have the content ready I thought I would get it out there.

I counted, Ryder has 17 Christmas onesies. This should not be surprising given my family and the rich Christmas tradition of overindulgence we subscribe to. He has Christmas pajamas, Christmas bibs, Christmas burp cloths, Christmas socks, Christmas hats, Christmas pants, and an actual Santa suit.

By now you are aware of the fact that every morning I email mom a photo of Ryder that I take with my phone so she can see how he changes every day. Every day since Thanksgiving he has been sporting a Christmas outfit. These aren't the best quality photos (remember, the main purpose of the device is to make phone calls) and he isn't always keen on posing for photos at 7 am, but here are our 14 days of Christmas outfits...

I think the last two are prime examples of what Santa has in mind when he describes both "naughty" and "nice". 

When Moose Attack

It is all fun and games, you start as best friends

You take one little bite out of his nose

He takes it personally and body slams you straight into the ground

And it cracks you up!

And you go back to being the best of buddies.

Moose Rock!

P.S. After much discussion, it was determined the critter on the outfit is a reindeer, not a moose. Oops.

Pea Oatmeal, Yum

I'm not a picky eater. I will eat pretty much anything I don't have to cook. I know I have not always been this way - there was a time in my life when I snubbed my nose at steak of all things. I blame my parents for this. I did not know until I was married (for the second time, mind you) that cooking steak past the point where blood did not ooze out of it was an option. Now that 'medium' is a word in my steak vocabulary, I like it very much. I am so adventurous I even eat ham now. I've come a long, long, way baby.

But there is no way I am eating warm peas. Ick. And oatmeal grosses me out. If you ever tried to mix them together and feed them to me? You would have an incident on your hands.

Luckily, this is not the case with Ryder. Little dude will eat anything, and with a certain amount of bravado about it too!

Daddy's Boy

So I thought (wrongly) that he was suppose to be all mine until he was old enough to like cows and trucks and loud smelly stuff. Boy was I wrong. He only has eyes for dad. And what is even more irritating than that is how I can try for 2 hours to get him to sleep and get so wore down that I finally hand him off to dad in defeat, only to glace over 2 minutes later to see the little stinker fast asleep.

What I want to know is where is this "dad" at 4 am? Or when there is an atomic poopy diaper?

Poser

Drop and Give me 20

Ryder had his 6 month check up yesterday and it went very well. Of course we knew it would now that we have the questions to the test ahead of time (this is where a web cam would come in handy as I just threw my head back in an evil Crella Deville style laugh). "Why yes he does follow my voice with his eyes. Funny you should ask such a random question ..." Bawaaaaaaaaaahahahaaa!

Our pediatrician is a wonderfully nice man, and he is great with Ryder, but the dude looks like a Drill Sargent. My fear is that if I don't answer the questions exactly right, he is going to demand that I drop to the floor of the examination room and give him 20 push up (and not the girly kind where your knees and rest on the floor either).

Dr. Milligan: You say your baby cannot sit unassisted without tipping over?
Me: Yes Sir. No Sir.
Dr. Milligan: Drennnnnnnnnnnan! How could you allow this to happen? Drop and give me 20!

Of course that never happens, and he is always quick to say that every baby develops at his own pace, and he says that Ryder is doing just great (and I swear under his breath I hear "despite you two yahoos").

Ryder is a great eater, he has been through all the options of Stage 1 foods and hasn't found any he has issues with or won't eat. As we were discussing introducing more advanced food over the course of the next few months, Dr. Milligan advised that we stay away from the baby food canned meats. He said, and I quote "crap smells just like cat food". Trent started to gag just at the thought. He said we could wait until he was 9 months old and start introducing table scraps. I thought I might remind him that we were dealing with a baby and not a chihuahua, but the fear of more push ups kept me silent.

So the plan is to give him more advanced food more often, to stop giving him a bottle in the night, and to let him cry instead of picking him up once we put him down for bedtime. I better start working out for that 9 month visit because if we hit 1 out of 3 there we are going to be lucky!

Just the facts, man:
Weight: 18 pounds, 7 ounces = 64th percentile
Length: 28 1/4 inches = 95th percentile
Head Circumference: 18 inches = 96th percentile

Cry much?

Ryder and I went to Texas for lunch on Friday, and through the course of conversation with another mom it came up that Ryder never cries. Sure at 3 am when he wants a bottle and I insist on changing his diaper first he lets out a few hollers, but he never cries other than that. According to most everyone we talked to, this is atypical.

I must have thought this too, because last week when he threw a little fit in his swing, I thought it was so unusual I grabbed the video camera and decided to tape it. So he does cry. Just so seldom that we think it is photo worthy!

I don't make this stuff up

I have been accused of stretching the truth. On occasion, I have been known to embellish in the name of a good story. Most things are grounded in reality with only minor details being changed to add interest. Minor details I say. No details have been changed below. None. I couldn't make this shit up if I wanted to, my imagination isn't that good.

Yesterday was Callie's 2nd birthday. That really isn't important to the story. She is always underfoot, especially in the kitchen where she thinks there is a possibility of her getting some stray scrap of food. At lunch time I opened the refrigerator and grabbed the mayo to add a little spunk to a pork tenderloin sandwich. The (plastic, thank god) mayo jar slipped out of my hand. Apparently the lid was not on tight, as upon first contact with the ceramic tile (and clean grout) it bounced up and opened and half the container splattered all over the side of the birthday dog. This was an incredible sight. She looked like she had gone through a mayonnaise blizzard. I would have reached for the camera if I hadn't been worried about the terrible mayo mess that was about to be unleashed on the house if, heaven forebid, she decided to shake. Her coat is currently a greasy mess. I am sure an upset stomach and sick birthday dog are close behind.

No kidding. That actually happened.

Much like the following story, which I have been meaning to tell for a couple months now.

For those of you who know my mother, this story should shock you. Mom was down in October and we went out to eat at Pei Wei. The tables are close together, and we had to push ours even closer to the one next to us to make room in the aisle for the stroller. The people next to us ordered what I thought were sugar snapped peas, and man did they look yummy. We at our food, they picked at their peas, and they got up and left. I looked at mom, she looked at me, and sure enough - Miss Manners looked around, reached over, and grabbed two peas off the half-eaten plate of the table next to us. It wasn't 10 seconds later that the waiter came by and whisked the plate away - we were caught for sure. Turns out they weren't peas at all. I can't remember what mom said they were, but they weren't good, I don't blame the people for not finishing them. Yep, we ate off a total strangers plate in a restaurant and got totally busted in the process, and all for something that tasted like poison.

No kidding. That actually happened.

I got a phone call telling me I was laid off from my current job but saying they arranged an interview for me with another company where they would pay me 30% more. I got arrested for possession of alcohol and put in the back of a police car while the police had my drunk as a skunk boyfriend drive my car to the police station. I couldn't get a dog because Pets and People thought I was in an unstable lesbian relationship - with my cousin.

No kidding. That all actually happened.

I don't have to make this stuff up. It actually happened. So do I embellish the details? Maybe a little sometimes. But the meat of my stories is true. I don't have to make this shit up. This is my mayonnaise-filled life!

Christmas Wishes (in his own words ... )

It is really long and not that much happens - might be one of those that only Gramma makes it to the end. I swear I will learn how to trim one of these days ...

Things you don't hear too often ...

"Santa's dinner was only 11 bucks" ...

Last night Trent and I went out for dinner. Daycare offered us a night out as their Christmas present to us. From 6:30 to 9:30 they would watch the kids free of charge to give the parents time to do whatever they wanted - dinner, shopping, a nap (that option sounded very appealing to me). We opted for dinner and some last minute shopping. We dropped Ryder off and headed to Norman.

All throughout my pregnancy I craved the crusted Tilapia from The Olive Garden with the intensity of a thousand suns. I love that meal. I distinctly remember going there on my birthday and all but licking the plate clean. I had my sights on a repeat. Of course on a Friday night 2 weeks before Christmas, the place was packed and the wait was long. When we finally got seated and ordered, it was taking forever for the food to arrive. We were on a schedule, we had to eat, do some shopping and get back to Blanchard in 2 hours or we had to start paying $1 a minute to get our Christmas present out of hock.

As we were sitting there visiting, in walks Santa. I'm not talking about some cheesy mall Santa with the fake beard and belly - I am talking the real deal. Rosy cheeks, round belly, still in full costume (with the small exception of an OU sweatshirt that Trent was quick to point out). He was AMAZING! He sat at the table next to us. I kept turning around and looking at him. I told him he was awesome. I told Trent he was awesome. I told the waiter he was awesome. Trent said I was being creepy. I couldn't stop starring.

Now there are very few things that I get really emotional about. I am not a girly girl, and I am certainly not a crier  I bawl like a baby at the Olympic. And apparently Santa makes me tear up. I told Trent I wanted to buy Santa's dinner. He said that was dumb. I started to cry. He said OK.

So eventually the food comes out, and Trent gets his steak (yes, my husband orders steak at The Olive Garden) and I get a very small plate of zucchini. Hmmmm. That doesn't look like the tilapia I have been looking forward to since February. The waiter said my dinner looked disgusting (yes, those were his exact words) so he sent it back but he wanted me to have something to eat. Nice guy. So Trent has steak, I have 4 little zucchinis  Santa leans over and says that he thinks Trent ought to be put on the naughty list based on our plate sizes. BRILLIANT! I now love Santa even more! I agree with him, tell Trent that Santa is always watching, and call over the waiter.

I explain to the waiter that I would like to buy Santa's dinner. The waiter says that he has had 3 other people, including the manager, already offer. I feel somewhat defeated, but concede that if Olive Garden wants to foot the bill, that would be OK with me. The waiter says he will check to see if the manager was serious, and he will also check on my fish. Good enough.

Like 20 minutes later my food shows up. I have finished my zucchini, 6 breadsticks, 3 bowls of salad, and 6 glasses of iced tea. It looks delicious, but let's be honest, I'm no longer hungry. Plus we have like 12 minutes to finish our shopping and pick up Ryder. The waiter explains that he has taken my dinner OFF the bill for the wait, and added Santa's on. Guess the manager was fooling after all, and I am not sure what happened with the other 2 people. I am hoping The Olive Garden did not make money on Santa's dinner. Trent opens the bill and believes we made out like bandits. My dinner they wrote off was way more than Santa's, we are getting by cheap. Santa's dinner was only 11 bucks. That's the Christmas spirit for ya!

As we were leaving we visited a bit with Santa. He had spent the day playing the part to 250 underprivileged kids and was headed back Saturday to do more of the same. I told him he was a special man, Trent said he would be perfect if it wasn't for that OU sweatshirt. He replied quickly and with a twinkle in his eye that it was only because the colors were right with his outfit.

He really was Santa.

Prepping for the Season

In case Jingle Bells doesn't come together in time for Christmas carolling, he is thinking about taking on a part-time gig at the mall playing Santa for all the little ones ...

Dear Ryder - 6 months

Dear Ryder,

Today you are 6 months old. You are 1/2. You are officially no longer an infant - in the eyes of the world you have graduated to a baby. I was thinking about throwing a party, but your daddy thought that was a little over the top. Daddy can be a fun-hater sometimes.

You weighed 18 pounds, 10 ounces the last times we were at the doctor, which was about a month ago. They didn't tell me how long you were, but we go in again next Monday. I know you have grown because you are so long you almost fill up the top of the changing table. I am not sure what we do once that happens besides hope you learn to change your own diaper.

You are wearing size 2 diapers now, and your clothes are all either 6 months or 9 months. Well that isn't completely true. Your onesies and sleepers are all 6 or 9 months, I did notice a couple pair of pants that are still 0-3 months. So what if you have short legs - you never have to worry about finding britches that are long enough. Trust me when I tell you that is a headache you don't need.

You are still sleeping in your pack and play in our room - and that is only when you decide to sleep, which has become a bit of a rarity these days. I'm not sure why, but you have decided to become a bit of a night owl. You no longer nap when you get home from day care, and you want to stay up and play until around 8:30 or 9:00. Then when you do fall asleep, you usually wake up again screaming around 10:30 and can only be comforted by your daddy or a bottle. Secretly mommy doesn't mind because this means she gets to stay in bed and get some rest before the 5 am screaming. You are less than thrilled about the 6:15 wake-up call.

You are a very good eater, and there isn't much we have found that you don't like. You have cereal for lunch, then for supper you either have rice or oatmeal, a vegetable and a fruit. You typically turn up your nose at the first spoonful on veggies, but then dive in like a mad man. Green beans and peas are your favorite, but sweet potatoes, squash, and carrots all seem to satisfy you nicely. For fruits you like apples best, with pears a close second. You will tolerate bananas, but I think that is only because you have daddy in your ear convincing you that they taste icky. Callie sits under your high chair the whole time hoping for a stray handful of something, and occasionally you throw something on her head. Mostly you wipe whatever you are eating on your shirt, pants, eyes, and hair. You always need a bath after dinner.

I would like to tell you bath time has gotten better, but if anything it is worse. You are getting too big for your tub, but since you still cannot sit on your own it is nothing but a cluster from beginning to end. You are patient with daddy and I and never cry or scream during the process, but I swear I caught you rolling your eyes at me once. I promise to come up with a better solution by your next birthday.

You mastered rolling over this month, and now you are a machine at it. You can do it whenever you want, but mostly you roll onto your stomach and then get mad and scream until either dad or I roll you back onto your back. You have us totally figured out. You have started raising your hiney in the air like you are starting to think about crawling, I am not sure I am quite ready for that yet. You like to lay on your blanket and play with your toys, Sophie and your monkey rattle are still your favorites, with the krinkly butterf;y and taggie football coming in next. The Dumbo blanket can keep your interest for a while. You do still like looking at yourself in the mirror.

You now have TWO teeth, and based on the way everything goes in your mouth and you chomp on it, my guess is more are on the way. You were not overly fussy when they came in, which I guess is pretty abnormal. Truth be told you are never overly fussy about anything. We are pretty lucky regardless of the stories mommy likes to tell.

Your eyes are still hazel and you are getting more hair. Your fingernails need to be cut like twice a week. Your belly button still isn't quite right, but it is looking so much better. Your birthmark seems to be getting a little lighter, but it isn't going away. You smile all the time, and you have started doing this cheesy grin thing you must have picked up from your father. You talk, coo, and sing non-stop.

You got to meet your Denny Grandparents and Cousin Lola this month, and you got to see a bunch of family for the Thanksgiving holiday. You spent your first night away from home with Nana and Papa when mommy and daddy had the flu, and contrary to what daddy thought, you managed just fine.

There is nothing in the whole wide world that could have prepared us for you, and we are so blessed to have you in our lives. You rock my world Ryder Dean!

I love you to the moon and back.
Mommy