thematernalmoose.com

Father-son chat

Ryan started saying “da-da” reliably this week. He was only saying it randomly before. So now we’re having some profound conversations, like:

“Da da?”

“Yes, Ryan?”

“Da da?”

“Yes, Ryan?”

“Da da?”

“Yes, Ryan?”

And so forth.

It’s pretty darn cute.

False advertising

I finished my 90-day workout program, the P90, last week. I only skipped three days, all due to daycare-inflicted illness. I was seeing good results and wanted to find my four missing abs, so I ordered the next series. It’s called the Power Half Hour. Seeing as the P90 routines had averaged 45 minutes, I liked the idea of continuing to exercise but cutting down my time.

The dvd arrived and I perused the workout manual. There’s five routines and multiple suggestions on how to do them during the week. Unfortunately for me, I qualify for the “Last Hurrah” fitness level. It recommends that anyone who’s completed the P90 do two routines each day. Aargh. So much for dialing it down.

Barney, the personal trainer?

We don’t watch much TV at the Moose lodge. Now that our beloved Lost has finished its wretched final season (a rant for another time,) our viewing schedule is down to only one hour a week. As for DVDs, we just started to let Ryan watch movies as of a few weeks ago, but even that’s limited to half an hour at bedtime.

But Monday through Saturday, Ryan does get to watch our P90 exercise tape. While his cousin Alena is mesmerized by Barney the purple dinosaur, Ryan is learning the proper form for push-ups and bicep curls. It’s gotten to the point where he enjoys our little routine. He hops and giggles when Tony the personal trainer appears onscreen, and when I ask Boo “where’s Tony?” he points at the TV. Even when it’s turned off. Ryan works his abs on Gina’s matte and tries lifting my weights, and if I have to pause the tape he shrugs his arms like, “what happened?”

None of the kids in the Duck room at day care had better mess with him. Ryan may still have his baby belly, but he’s up to seven crunches.

Spa treatment

Since I’m getting old and decrepit, Gina’s admonished me several times to use lotion on my face. Ryan must have heard her, because the last few days after bath time he’s adopted a new routine. He takes a drop of his baby lotion, holds both hands out to me, and dabs it on my cheeks.

Thanks for keeping daddy young, Boo.

Welcome Lilly!

Gina and I are an aunt and uncle again! Lilly Eleanor Hoffman made her world debut at 7:50 p.m. today. She’s 7 pounds, 14 1/2 ounces and 20 1/2 inches of cuteness. Congrats to my baby sister Sue and the proud papa, Randy. We love you guys and our new niece! Ryan hereby passes on the title of youngest grandchild.

High hopes

The children’s book I’ve been working on was making progress but stalling. So this week instead of clouding my mind with talk radio on the way home, I let myself sit in silence and think about the book on the commute. And wouldn’t you know it, I’ve produced more pages in three days than I have in the last three months. What a blessing it is to feel true inspiration and creativity. We’re hoping for great things . . .

Changing times

Ryan’s getting too big for his changing table, so I took it down yesterday. Changing his diaper has become a two-man job lately – one to do the dirty work and the other to entertain him – so Ryan didn’t shed any tears as I dismantled his nemesis. At one point, he applauded. Gina, on the other hand, was welling up at another sign that our baby’s growing up. I gave her a preemptive hug, even though she was sweaty from having just finished the P90. That’s love. Now we’re changing the baby on a pad on the floor.

It’s still a two-man job.

Everyone’s a critic

Yard work’s not a top priority at the Moose household. We don’t let the lawn get so bad that Boo could get lost in it, but we often have the longest grass on the block. It didn’t used to be that way. But as the years have progressed, I find myself thinking, “eh, I’ll cut it tomorrow.”

So today Gina had to come home from work to meet a repairman. The spring on our garage door broke. It wouldn’t open or close.

The repairman greeted Gina by saying, “You must want to get your mower out.”

Yeah yeah, I get the message. I’m mowing the lawn . . . tomorrow.

The cure is worse . . .

After staying healthy for a whole month straight, I have succumbed to yet another of Ryan’s day care diseases. I stayed home with him on Monday, and by that night I was coming down with what I’d soon find was strep throat. Actually, the sore throat part wasn’t so bad. But the two-day fever was, making me so loopy that I landed back at the doctor’s. I was prescribed antibiotics for my throat and steroids for the pain.

My first full day of each made me so wired that I barely slept Wednesday night. When Ryan awoke at 4 a.m. I was right there, feeling great. I was woozy for a few minutes at work the next day, but more steroids had me up Thursday night and feeling like king of the world. I came home Friday and started crossing projects off my list. It occurred to me, though, that it probably wasn’t healthy or natural to be up for two days straight with the desire to sleep replaced by the urge to move some heavy furniture. So I skipped my second steroid dose on Friday in the interests of sleep.

My strategy resulted in a full-blown case of hives. Turns out I’m allergic to the antibiotic, not the steroid. And you know how you treat an outburst of hives that’s caused by an allergic reaction?

With steroids.

Aarghhhhhhh . . .

Father’s Day

Here’s me and Ryan on my second Father’s Day. Gina got me a wallet, a major victory as she’d been campaigning to get rid of my old one. Ryan got me two new belts and eight straight hours of sleep. What a blessing it is to celebrate this day in a whole new way.