Uncle Ryan

We had the pleasure of spending last week with Uncle Ryan. Uncle Ryan is Adrienne's favorite. No offense to her other aunts and uncles, she absolutely adores you too. But Uncle Ryan is a bit larger-than-life to Adrienne. We are not really sure why this came to be. Of course we agree that Ryan is awesome and all that. Being in Singapore, however, meant that she didn't see Uncle Ryan on a daily basis or anything. But something about him really stuck with her. For example:

1. when she was going through that pretend talking-on-the-phone phase, every cup/shoe/remote that "called" was Uncle Ryan. Her conversations went like this: (put hairbrush to her ear) "Hewwo? Uncle Wyan? Ya. Ya. Ya. Bye." Over and over, it was always Uncle Ryan calling for her.

2. We didn't realize how big he was in her mind until Christmas morning rolled around. This was the first year that she could participate in Christmas traditions so she wasn't really sure what to expect. We had told her that Santa would probably come if she was a good girl. Then on Christmas morning, we asked her if she had been a good girl and if she thought someone had come to visit during the night. She jumped up on the bed and threw her arms in the air, "Uncle Wyan came!". So we had to lower her expectations and tell her, no, sorry, it was just Santa Claus.

3. Even just today while we were sitting outside enjoying the warm weather with a picnic, a small airplane flew overhead. I pointed it out to Adrienne. She immediately replied with, "Ooohhhh, Uncle Wyan is coming to visit me!!".

I remember when I announced my pregnancy to my family, my brother warned that he was going to be "Cool Uncle Ryan, who lets the kids watch scary movies and take sips from his beers." Between this sentiment and Adrienne's adoration, I was a little afraid that a week with Uncle Ryan was going to mean that I was stuck with a sugar-fed, over-tired, under-disciplined two year old. But these turned out to be baseless concerns. Uncle Ryan was great. From digging for worms to taking a million photos with the android to building campfires, Adrienne and Uncle Ryan were good buds. Plus I got a break since Uncle Ryan was always selected over me to do things such as put Adrienne down for nap or (mercifully) take her to do her "big poo poo". So, thanks, Ryan, for coming to visit. We will be looking forward to the next time and I'm sure in the meantime you will be getting credit for all sorts of things that you are not responsible for....enjoy that while it lasts!

Nate

My mom says I should do a blog about Nate. It got me thinking that I have rather neglected Nate in this whole blogging realm (although one could suggest that I have neglected my blog in general and I certainly wouldn't argue against that). Now I have been feeling horribly guilty about leaving Nate out of the stories. Unfortunately, poor Nate doesn't stand much of a chance for material at the moment while being in the shadow of his toddler sister. He starts cooing and she starts talking in 10 word sentences. He smiles his gummy-smile and she falls to the floor in hysterical laughter. He learns to roll over and she adds consecutive summersaults to the list of living room acrobatics. He fusses and she has a full blown tantrum. It's not Nate's fault; it's just the nature of 2-yr olds to be high energy, explorative, attention seekers. 

But that's not Nate's only problem: he is also just a sweety through and through. Which is not an obvious problem per se but, in my opinion, doesn't lead to the necessary elevated stress level which requires relief by writing humorous posts about the craziness of being a mother. He truly is an easy baby with a good disposition. He is very laid back, loves being held, and seeing the world from your arms. He is a little cuddler and really manages to snuggle in. He rarely cries and generally only if there is something that needs fixing. He enjoys long walks and world-watching on our errands. He dons all sort of attention from people by giving his toothless grin and batting his long eyelashes over those big, bright, blue eyes of his. My dad says Nate can charm the socks off of anyone and, as far as I can tell, we are all barefoot over here!

I mean, don't get me wrong; he is certainly not perfect by any means and I am not one of those mom's who sees no wrong. For example, he still spits up several times a day, usually saving the brunt of it for me when I am post-shower and freshly sporting laundered clothes. He has a problem sleeping for longer than 3 hour stretches and, trust me, I have the bags under my eyes to prove it. He is also beginning to understand object permanence, which means he cries any time I leave the room (even if it is just for mere seconds--like when I realize that I haven't emptied my bladder in the past 8 hours and it's on the verge of exploding). So you see, there is no reason to hate me just yet for being one of those mother's with the rose colored glasses. But minor flaws aside, he is a good baby and, more importantly, I am crazy about him. 

What I can not believe is that, today exactly, he is 6 months old. Half a year....half a trip around the sun...which has incorporated three trips half-way around the world and one trip half-way across the USA. Phew! How can that be already? He is doing all the things babies do at 6 months: sitting a bit, grabbing for everything within his chubby arm's reach, exploring the world using his tongue as a frontline, eating 'smooshed' foods (as his sister likes to accurately describe it), babbling, laughing. So these things tell me that it is true, but it doesn't feel like 6 months. It never ceases to amaze me how dramatically the world can change in a year. So, dear Nate, happy half-birthday to you! It has been a big six months with numerous ups and downs but you have managed well. Hang in there; there are many more good things to come. Here's to you and wishing you more sleep adventure in the next 6-months!

Newborn

One Month

Two Months

Three Months

Four Months

Five Months

Six Months

Dirty

My parents have this strange little guy sitting on their porch. It was a quirky gift from their neighbors that can function as a hide-a-key (but sorry, future thieves, it is not currently functioning as a key holder but apparently as an electric cord weight). We were outside enjoying the sunny, warm evening when, all of a sudden, Adrienne knelt down and put her face right up to his and said:
"Why are you so sad?" .......
"Is it because you are so dirty?"........
"You can come to my bath with me."
We thought Adrienne's concern over his level of cleanliness was rather funny. I mean, I was thinking he might be sad because he doesn't have a body. My dad suggested that maybe he has a headache. But that's neither here nor there. It was interesting that 'being dirty' might be something that would bother someone. If that is the case, I better keep mirrors to a minimum in our household....

Happy Easter

Happy Easter! This lenten season has been a particularly long journey for me this year. I mean that literally. A long journey come full circle from Twin Falls, ID to Singapore to Chicago to a cross-country drive back to Twin Falls again. All in the time between Ash Wednesday and Easter Sunday, which were both celebrated at St. Ed's in Twin Falls. Admittedly and unexpectedly, this was probably the most trying of all my lenten seasons (except for maybe the one year my parents made us give up TV for lent when we were growing up). However, this lenten season was not trying for the obvious reasons (i.e. I am dying for some chocolate! I really wish I hadn't given up wine this lent! Frozen yogurt doesn't count as ice-cream, does it? Etc...). No, this season was about learning to have patience and faith. Patience when things don't  move at the pace you would like them and faith that things will be OK in the end. While the journey is not over, on this beautiful Easter day, I am full of hope of things to come. And also full of sweets. I hope your Easter is both joyous and sweet as well!  

Changes

There have been some recent events in our lives that are expediting changes in our lives. Regis' father passed away this weekend and we will be returning to the states tomorrow for his funeral. Because of the cost and the distance, it will be the kids' and my final trip from Singapore back to the USA. While we have been planning and excited for our move back to the USA, the quickness of this decision makes it both easy and difficult. Pairing down your life into suitcases in two short days is both liberating and excruciating. Saying quick good-byes to good friends is hard. And missing some people altogether is even worse. But, as we know, the sun sets and the sun rises. While we go back sadly to remember and honor the passing of one special life, we also do so with optimism and hope for the next phase in our lives. To Singapore and the wonderful people we met here, thank-you and we will see you again sometime in the future. To those who follow this blog, I will see you again in the USA. Signing off for another 20 hour flight... Good night!

Frumpy

               My daughter called me frumpy today. Well, it was a little more cryptic and inadvertent than that but I got the general gist of it. It all started a few days ago with a purse. A very nice purse that my husband had given to me for our third anniversary. A year later when Adrienne arrived, I decided that the purse was too nice to be toting around with a baby who will likely poop and pee and throw up on it. So I stored the purse away in my closet to be resurrected at some unknown time in the future when it wouldn't be filled with wet wipes and half eaten boxes of raisins nor decorated with cartoon stickers and errant crayola marker markings. I suppose I should mention here that 'stored' means tossed the purse onto the top shelf of my closet. I am from Idaho, remember? Where the humidity is zero on most days. So when my mom was packing her suitcase to return to the USA on Monday and offered to take back anything we might want to keep, this purse popped into my mind (since I obviously won't be needing it in the next, say, five years or so). I went to get the purse from my closet and pulled out--I kid you not--the moldiest lump of leather you can imagine. It looked like a moldy block of cheese you would pull from the back of your refrigerator. No, worse than that because you probably would notice the cheese getting moldy and throw it out long before it was as bad as my purse. It is hard for me to put into words how disgusting it was. If I was smart, I would have taken a picture so you could share in my disgust. Instead, I held it at arm's length with two fingers, dropped it into a shopping bag, and made my husband throw it in the dumpster. That was the fateful end of my nice purse and both she (yes, I assume my purse was a she) and I wished that her death had gone the route of dirty children's fingers and spilled coffees rather than being eaten alive. 

            Now you might be wondering how this moldy purse and my daughter calling me a slob are related. Yes, well, since I pulled a moldy purse out of my closet on Monday, I have been leery of my closet and what is lurking in there. In general, the items in my closet fall into one of three categories: Items that I hate, items that I love, and items that I wear. Some things may fall into multiple categories, for example I may have a shirt that I hate but wear it anyway. (Call me crazy, I know, but why do I have clothes that I hate? Well, I have a hard time parting with things sometimes because I think there may be an opportunity in the future to use some of it. Lets not get into this bag of crazy now, OK?) The least worn category is the items that I love. I don't want to wear those clothes on a regular day while holding my bouncy five month old who has frequent yet surprising spit up sessions nor with my two year old who has started pretending that she is giving me a hug wherein she really wipes her nose and/or mouth on my shoulder. But after pulling that moldy sack from the top of my closet, I figured, to hell with it, everything in there must be ruined already so I might as well use my nice clothes as a wearable spit-up rag/napkin/kleenex. So this morning I pulled out a nice top to put on. And since I had a nice top, I figured I should put on a skirt too. Plus I happened to have showered that morning thanks to an extra long sleep-in by Nate and a working sling box application on my iPad playing Little Einsteins from my parents. When I walked into the living room, Adrienne glanced up (amazingly) from her Einsteins and started whinning, "No! No, Mommy! No!". "What, Adrienne? Whats wrong?" I asked. "No Mommy go to work today!". And hence her inadvertent message that I normally dress like a slob. Noted. I maybe should step up the beauty routine a notch or ten. On the plus side, my daughter apparently still likes hanging out with me after my fifth month at home even if I dress like a frumpy mummy. I have said it before and I'll say it again: I take my compliments anywhere I can get them! 

For the record, we are getting ready for bed here so my pajamas should be excused. Because most days I do change into normal clothes. Really, I do.

How Now Brown Cow

Oh, there are so many stories I have forgotten to write down in my vacation hiatus from blogging. So I may be back-filling in some of these posts. Sorry for the jump in the time line if you are one that likes things in chronological order.

Adrienne definitely has some Singaporean traits after having spent all of her two plus years growing up here. For example, her favorite meal is chicken rice, she has been known to say 'lah' now and again, and she is afraid to walk on grass, preferring the pavement instead (a trait that really concerns her father). In an effort to introduce Adrienne to some of the American greatness's and remind her of her true bloodline, my dad had several tricks up his sleeves for her month-long stay in Idaho. The first--root beer floats! It's hard to get more American than this delicious treat. True to her roots, Adrienne was a big fan. So much so that this was used several times to lure her from her much-loved bathtime (although it always warranted a bit of thought of whether or not it was worth prematurely ending a nice and warm bath). So score one for America. Here's the thing though--now my daughter wants 'Beer!' Should you hear her ask for it, I swear she is referring to Root Beer Floats. Maybe we should have gone with calling them Brown Cows...