Nesting and resting

Gina has been on a cleaning tear in advance of Ryan’s baptism. And we’re not talking about your typical dusting and vacuuming. Today she wanted the ladder out so she could scrub the siding. I was having flashbacks to when she was nesting a couple of weeks before Ryan was born. She was squeezing behind the washer and dryer so she could clean the baseboards. Had the math worked out, I would have thought that she was about to deliver again.

When Gina’s cleaning mania wore off, we took Ryan for a stroller ride. It was a beautiful day, but the baby didn’t quite know what to make of it. A breeze in his face is a new concept and the sun got in his eyes, but by the time we went to take him back inside Ryan wanted to stay outdoors.

After dinner Gina took a well-deserved break on the couch. Then she fixated on a square she missed on our triple front window.

Next weekend, who knows? She may crawl through the ductwork with a mop in her teeth.

That’s how he rolls

Ryan, to put it mildly, is no fan of tummy time. He’s normally a wonderfully mellow baby, but put him on his belly and he becomes a surly beast.

Because of this, we’ve been slacking about subjecting him to it, and worrying that Ryan’s baby physique was starting to fall behind. He seemed to be meeting or exceeding all his other milestones, but tummy time? Not so much. He barely lifted his head off the ground.

But for some reason, his development suddenly took a quantum leap. He went from hovering over the blanket to arching his back and looking up. I don’t know if it’s from the way he pushes off of us when we’re burping him. Maybe he thinks that tummy time is when he’s lying against our tummies.

At any rate, Ryan was showing definite progress. See if you can tell the difference between his “good” and “bad” tummy time:

Then yesterday Gina called me to tell me the baby was pulling a fast one.

“Ryan found a new way to get out of tummy time.”

“What did he do now?”

“Well he was pulling himself up really well, and then he rolled over.”

I heard Ryan crow in the background. He was pleased as punch with himself.

Sibling rivalry

In late `07, I got a call from my baby brother Andy. He was sounding squirrelly, so I asked him what was going on. There was a slight pause on the other line. Then he told me Brandi was pregnant.

This was quite the feat as Andy wasn’t supposed to have more kids. In 2004 he was diagnosed with testicular cancer, which, by the time they caught it, had spread to his lungs and abdomen. Between having the original tumor removed and going through chemotherapy, Andy was told that . . . well, his swimmers had gotten out of the pool. 

This was fine with Andy and Brandi, as they already had four girls. But now when their youngest, the twins, were nine, God sent a surprise their way. Andy and Brandi were thrilled, of course, albeit a little stunned. They may have wanted to ask their doctor for a second opinion.

Gina and I had been trying to conceive for a year at the time. I can’t remember exactly what Gina said when I told her the news, but the analogy was Andy had half the troops, so what was wrong with my men?

I knew she was teasing, but holy cow.

Talk about competition.

Many happy returns

My advice to J.P. Morgan: if you want to make me feel better about getting my 401(k) reports, you may want to stop mailing them in solid black wrappers. How about smiley faces? Dollar signs? Or cats dressed up like people? Why not make the reports into scratch off cards that reveal how much I’ve lost? Come on J.P., you’re bumming me out! This isn’t a Spinal Tap album.

The early bird gets the bottle

It’s deadline week at work, and I came home at 10:00 last night. This was especially aggravating as it was South Beach Diet day two, and the stress wasn’t helped by a handful of almonds and an unadorned hunk of meat.

Ryan was asleep for the night, but he must have missed his daddy. He moved his usual wake up time from 6:00 to 4:15. He was in an adorably chatty mood.  

It was nice catching up with my son.

The last hurrah

Gina and I have decided to start the South Beach diet tomorrow. Phase One is a brutal two-week purge to get the sugar out of your system. To tide ourselves over, we had pizza for dinner and Oreo blizzards for dessert. We were like inmates eating our last meal together before being led down diet row.

We ate our ice cream on the sofa while we watched a movie. It ended just before midnight.

“Hold me. I’m scared.”

That was me who said that. I was dreading the next two weeks. 

The first victim of our new lifestyle came shortly after midnight. I remembered the chocolate and carmel bar I had chilling in the fridge. Gina made me throw the perfectly good Ghirardelli square away, and I did so with the resignation of a man facing hard time.

What I’ve learned about Ryan

Here’s a few things that I’ve learned about Ryan in honor of him turning three months:

- His arms stretch straight out at his sides when he’s the most asleep.

- He gets spooked by our super-flush toilet and the buzzer on our dryer.

- As soon as his bib for his bottle goes on, his eyes get wide, he gets straight as a board, and he starts to hyperventilate. Whereas until then he’s calm as can be.

- He’s a snob when it comes to sleeping in his crib except for overnight and his first nap of the day.

- Being in either his bouncy chair or his swing can extend his naps by an hour.

- He prefers how his mommy strokes his hair but he likes when daddy rubs the bridge of his nose.

- He’s chattiest on the changing table or lying on the floor.

- He stretches his arms way out when he wakes up just like his daddy does.

- He’s already figured out that cuteness is Gina’s kryptonite.

Though in Gina’s defense, he is the cutest guy I’ve ever seen. . .

Kid quarantine

Gina’s sister Pam’s kids spent the overnight so their dad could go to a wedding. We had plans of a night spent playing Rock Band and baking chocolate chip cookies. Then our nephew Andy walked in the door and collapsed on the recliner. Normally it’s all we can do to corral him as he’s running amuck, so for Andy to walk in tranquilized was not normal behavior.

“What’s wrong with Andy?” we asked his twin sisters.

“I don’t know,” Angie said.

I noticed Amy was sniffling.

“Are you sick?” I asked her.

“No.”

Now I’ve learned that a kid won’t tell you they’re sick unless it’s to their advantage. If they want to stay home from school, they’re sick. Stay up late with their aunt? They’re fine. 

Within the hour, Amy was coughing up phlegm balls. Andy was still knocked out.

I could see how their dad may not have realized that Amy was sick. But anyone who saw Andy dragging his feet would have realized he was not doing well. I guess it’s not a party until someone’s running a fever. Except when a baby’s involved.

I holed myself up in the nursery and kept Ryan in quarantine. The three kids collapsed around 10:00. No Rock Band, no cookies, just infectious fun!

The kind you don’t want to catch.

Boot scoot baby

Yesterday morning I went to check on the baby. He had a surprise for me. He was still on his back, but somehow he managed to rotate ninety degrees, an impressive feat considering his legs were bundled up in his sleep sack.

“What are you doing, baby?” I said. He just smiled at me. I was worried he’d bonk his head on the rails since our crib is bumper-free. But he seemed happy as a clam. I chalked it up as a fluke.

This morning I went to check on Ryan and he’d spun 180 degrees. His feet were where his head had been. He’s like some baby Houdini. We’re thinking about using our video camera to catch him in the act. Is he using the crib bars to pull himself, or is he just wiggling and scooting?

My friend Dave says I should mess with Gina by moving her car to the curb, than putting her keys in Ryan’s crib. Maybe the baby is an escape artist. Tomorrow I’ll have to make sure my Xbox controller hasn’t moved.

Like father, like son

I’ve suspected for a while now that Ryan has infant reflux. It started a few weeks ago, when he started wheezing out of nowhere and got a panicky look in his eyes. It had been over an hour since his last bottle, but it seemed like he was chocking on something. Gina and I were both there when it happened, and I turned the baby on his stomach and patted his back until he caught his breath and calmed down.

We told his pediatrician about that episode, but she said it might be nasal congestion and asked to see Ryan when it happened next. She wanted to hear what he sounded like, but it wasn’t something he could do on cue. The wheezing stopped as quickly as it started.

Ryan had an attack about once every two days, but they didn’t seem to have any adverse effect on him except for spooking the poor little guy. Then last night he was on a blanket on the floor when I heard and saw him reflux. It had been over two hours since his last feeding, but the formula came up in his throat. This time, unlike the other attacks, he got really upset, and only calmed down when we gave him a bottle. Gina took it hard. She’s seen the problems I’ve had with my own reflux and doesn’t want Ryan having the same.

I told her Ryan’s reflux would probably pass as his digestive system matured. That’s basically what our doctor confirmed when I called her this morning. She said so many infants have the condition that it’s not a major concern unless the baby has adverse symptoms. We’ll be keeping an eye on Ryan and hope he grows out of it soon.

I told him it’s cute that he wants to take after his daddy, but he shouldn’t do it that way.