Ryan at 15 months

Our little guy continues to amaze us with how fast he’s growing up. It’s a joy to see his development, how’s he learning every day. Recently he’s mastered “uh-oh” whenever something’s dropped. He still loves books and helping Mommy with laundry and the dishwasher. He’s good at putting things back where he found them. He’s either bored or entranced by TV. He loves being outside. He’s figuring out how to get what he wants. He dances by stepping side to side. He loves music with a beat. He tries to say “ruff ruff ruff” like a dog but makes three cute squeals instead.

He enjoys unpacking things but only moves one item at a time. He’s finding that being on the ground in stores is way more fun than the cart. He flips pages faster than we can read them. He picks out his favorite books. He loves Mommy’s stuffed animal shows. He doesn’t mind his car seat anymore.

He delights in being mobile but sometimes can’t control his speed. He loves to play on top of our bed and scamper around in his crib. He shares his food with Mommy and Daddy. He’s good at stacking blocks. He insists on helping me practice guitar. He knows how to pitch a good fit.

He hugs our legs when he wants to be picked up. He makes epic messes of meals. He’s learning how to give us “five.” His Mommy cracks him up.

He tears his bibs off with gusto. He loves Mommy’s jewelry stand. He lies on the floor when he’s exhausted. Buggy rides make him snoozy. He plays under the kitchen table and pushes the chairs around. He’s just starting to try to climb onto things. He keeps us on our toes.

We remain in awe that we’ve been blessed with our beautiful baby boy.

Wearing thin

It’s week three of Ryan’s Let’s Wake Daddy! 2010 tour, but I’ve kept my grumbling (mostly) contained throughout my sleep deprivation.

Until last night. I know the baby’s sick, but it seemed like he got up at 4:00 a.m. to play. He was squirming in my lap, parading around, and wanting me to read books. I was not amused.

“No Ryan, it’s bed time, not play time,” I said, but not in my calm Daddy voice.  I gave him the old one-two of a bottle and a diaper change, and when he pitched a fit on the changing table my patience dropped one more notch. I took his diaper off and, feeling its weight, held it up to him.

“This diaper’s hardly even wet,” I said.

Ryan peed on himself on cue. It’s a lot funnier twelve hours later than it was in the middle of the night.

When it was time to wake Gina my surly side was still in full effect. She was ready to send me to my parents for a mini vacation. I felt bad about being impatient with Ryan even if I thought I was due, and am thinking it’s time to try to cure him of some of his bad habits.

But you’re still my favorite guy, Boo Bear.

Now how about a good night’s sleep?

Doctor daze

Yesterday Ryan developed a flat red rash on his neck and upper torso, so it was back to the doctor’s today. The good news is we’ve met our deductible. The bad news is we’ve met our deductible.

Turns out Ryan has strep throat, and the infection caused the rash. He’s on yet another round of antibiotics. At least his ears are clear. Gina had the job of wrestling Boo while he was being checked out. He’s fine when he’s in the waiting room but past that point, not so much.

Hopefully the second half of 2010 will be more doctor-free.

Bye bye `Becca

Today was the last day at work for our friend and Maternal Moose fan `Becca, who’s decided to leave the hazy smog of Northwest Indiana for the bright lights of Indianapolis. She’ll be letting her muse guide her and maybe getting a gig at a bakery. (I would advise against the one Gina worked at. They stirred the frosting vats with their bare arms.)

I missed ‘Becca’s going away lunch since I was back at the doctor’s office, where I was prescribed a chemical cocktail for bronchitis and allergies. But good luck, `Becca! You’ll be missed. We hope your future’s sweet.

Not-so-fun money

As the accountant for the Moose family, I am often the bearer of bad news. Usually this amounts to some variation of me telling Gina we’re broke. “But . . .,” Gina says, her brow  like a sad puppy’s as her dreams of shopping or some other perk are drowned in checkbook ink.

The latest gloomy update was that the cushion we had for a family vacation was now going to stuff medical bills. I tried to break the news gently.

“But how are me and Boo going to go on vacation?” Gina said.

I’m glad she took the news with a good sense of humor. Either that, or I’ve just been audited.

Ryan rocks

Last night was another of our Rock Band nights, where we have friends over to play fake instruments, sing and eat pizza and snacks. Ryan’s always the life of the party. It plays into two of his favorite things: music and staying up late.

Unfortunately Ryan took his rocking a bit too seriously. Gina was playing with him on his plush bear chair, wrapping its arms around Boo. They got so rambunctious that Ryan reared back and hurled on Bear Chair’s lap. It was a delightful mix of milk and cheese. Bear Chair smelled rather foul.

Bear Chair is currently in quarantine awaiting a good shampooing. Thankfully we have a carpet cleaner that also works on bears.

Curbside casualty

When Gina called to say she’d hit one of our trash cans, I thought she’d only dinged it. I’ve done it myself. It’s easy to forget they’re sitting there on the curb. Here’s what I saw when I got home:

“Holy cats, Boo!” I said to Ryan. It was an impressive piece of work. The steel seams were split on one side of the can. It looks like an elephant sat on it.

I can’t give her too much grief. I’ve scraped more than my share of paint off my car, whether it’s on the side of the garage door or on Gina’s Pontiac (she shouldn’t have parked it in the middle of the driveway!) So I’m keeping quiet on this one, except to say that I’m worried about her next victim:

Save yourself, Oscar! Gina’s taking out the trash!

Ryan strikes out

Remember how Ryan’s been getting up every night, and I thought he just wanted his Daddy? Last night he was up screaming, so I took him to the doctor after work. Our pediatrician only needed one peek. Ryan has an ear infection.

I should have listened to Gina, who’s wanted the baby checked out all week. I guess that’s why they call it the maternal instinct. Hopefully I haven’t inherited my diagnostic skills from my father, who would glance at us and say, “you’re okay” even if we’d just hit our head on the concrete or run into a tree face-first (two personal examples.)

At any rate, this latest infection is officially Ryan’s last strike. At his next regular checkup we’ll be given a list of ear specialists, and the baby may have to get tubes. Everyone I’ve spoken to has said tubes are a beautiful thing, so if that’s what it takes to bring Ryan relief, than I guess they’ll be a blessing.

In the meantime I’ve accepted my lack of sleep as a form of karmic punishment. Sorry I didn’t listen to Mommy, Boo. Now we both have to take our medicine.

Mother’s Day

Gina and I were trying for a year and a half when I thought she might be pregnant.

“I don’t want to get your hopes up,” I told her. And then I did anyway. I said what she took for a light period may actually have been a fetus implanting. I’d been doing my research earlier that day. I was getting my hopes up, too.

She didn’t want to take a pregnancy test until the next morning since they’re more accurate then. I got up, went about my routine, and tried not to think about it. I was getting out of the shower when Gina came in and said,

“We’re having a baby!”

“Baby baby?” I gave Gina a hug, and we kissed and laughed and cried. “Baby baby!” We held each other and rocked in a joyous circle. All the doubts and the few false alarms and the tests that I went through. All forgotten in this beautiful moment. A miracle.

A miracle.

Gina showed me the proof, a plus on her test. Then she made me buy another one. I was convinced, but she went and had a blood test for good measure. But first we called our families and I told everyone at work. There was no way I was going to be able to keep the news all to myself.

That was June 24, 2008. One of the best days of my life.

Happy Mother’s Day to my beautiful wife.

Just look at our little guy.

Date Night

I promised Gina we’d go out on a date for her birthday. We went tonight, three months later. This parenting thing keeps us busy.

After our babysitters (Grandpa and Grandma Moose) arrived, Gina and I had dinner at a Mexican restaurant. I reminded Gina what a fascinating conversationalist I am by talking about how I haven’t been able to find a good sale on pot roasts. I sensed that she didn’t share my passion for the price of beef, but we had an excellent time.

We wanted to see a movie afterward, but the only two we were interested in didn’t have any convenient show times. Being the romantic guy and quick thinker that I am, I turned to my wife and said, “do you want to go look at baby clothes at Target?”

So the baby literally got new shoes and we spent half of our date in a department store. But quality time is quality time.

And Gina looked really fine.