Tuesday, April 21, 2015

20 Months is a Not a Wrap

As one of the most independent toddlers I've dealt with I really shouldn't have been surprised when Rory found a pillow at Ms. Anna's house and fell asleep on the floor.  But I was.  As you all know Rory never sleeps at home without being wrapped up in his swaddle wraps.

The next day at nap time, he told Anna by a series of pointing signals that he didn't want to sleep in the crib.  He wanted to go back to his pillow on the floor.  Which he did.  He fell asleep in minutes.  Again, I was shocked.  

That night we decided to change our bedtime routine slightly.  We skipped the zip-a-dee-zip swaddle.  We skipped the second blanket swaddle and we went right to the prayer.  

"Dead God, I pray for peace for this little guy," Kim says.  "Let him sleep peacefully and grow to love you in his life."

"God," Rory says.  (Although it sounds more like gaaah.)

"Yes, God!" Kim says.  "Daddy keep going."

"We thank you for our blessing you have given us.  Please protect Rory while he sleeps and everyday.  Amen."

Then we sing the good night song.

"Good night, Dear Rory.  It's time to take your rest.  Lay your sweet head upon the savior's chest.  We all love you, yeah.  But Jesus loves you best.  So say - goodnight, goodnight, goodnight.  Rory-roo."

Finally, we lay the blanket down over him and put his army of stuffed animals around him.  He smiles and we exit the room.  

After about a half hour with no whining or sounds at all.  We realize that Rory has actually achieved sleep without any sort of wrap.  It might not sound like much but this milestone is huge for us as the parents.  That little bugger was getting so heavy to lift and wrap up.  We are praising the Lord with trumpet sound up in here.  Life just keeps getting better.  Although to be fair, Rory's independent streak has caused a few upsets here and there.  But I think that's a story for another time.

Sunday, April 12, 2015

I Blame My Wife...

I have to say that I blame my wife for all of the ridiculous things Rory has been doing lately.  Sure, the naysayers will tell me that he is just a toddler that acts as if he receives two IV's full of sugar every few hours.  My own mother fears that he may be hyperactive, but then again she deliberately snuck him Trix cereal with all of their bright colored dyes when she knows we feed him all organic.  I digress I am getting slightly off task here. Bottom line.  I promise you that my wife is teaching him bad behaviors.  It's just simple.  I blame her.  You will too.

Ever since Rory was a little tyke, our morning routine was the same.  I would wake him up.  He'd give me a big hug and lay his little curl-head on my shoulder.  Then I'd give him his bottle/cup of milk and he'd seize the day in style.  Now, ever since Spring Break when Mama took the morning shift Rory can't leave his crib without bringing, Winnie the Pooh, Mickey, Minnie, Animal and every blanket he can fit into his arms.  Most times he'll try to grab the binkie too.  If you try and take him to the kitchen to get his milk without the prescribed stuffed animal collection, fits will ensue.  These are only satisfied when you put him down, and he runs back to get whatever item he feels you should have grabbed in the first place. Everyone give my wife a hand.

In another effort to give our child more independence, Kim tasks Rory with throwing away pieces of garbage, including his organic milk cartons.  It's great in a sense, because now he knows the difference between throwing away things that are actually garbage and Kim's measuring cup collection can breathe a sigh of relief.  On the not so happy side, he now wants to throw away his milk carton at every single filling, whether its empty or not.  If you don't hand the carton to him, he will throw a big ole fit, although it is quite humorous trying to watch him lug the heavy carton across the kitchen.  When it's full we have to let him put the carton back in the fridge which involves us needing to pick up the chunky monkey.

After the carton is safely back to where it needs to be, Rory will drink his milk and then throw his cup into the sink.  I mean, this is slightly better than when he used to just launch it across the room after he was finished.  I guess that was one nice thing she taught him.  She's also reminding me that she taught Rory how to put his binkie into a pouch, how to put his shoes in his dresser after we free his feet from their confinement, and how to put Bella in her Pet Resort.  (And also climb in there with her)

I have to say after thinking on all of the awesome things Rory's doing now, the minor stubborn moments are pretty much worth it.  Watching him open and close the garage door every day and still be excited about it is amazing.  Seeing his face light up when he fills Bella's dog bowl is heartwarming.  Everything is so exciting for him and I should be excited he loves his routines and jobs.   Everyone loves a great work ethic!

I complain, because it's human nature.  But honestly, I couldn't be happier.  Oh, and if you're wondering.  Yes.  I still blame my wife.

Wednesday, April 8, 2015

Nothing says Easter like...

  Easter morning started unlike any other morning.  First of all we thanked God for the the gift of His son and then Kim immediately started crashing pots together in the kitchen.  

"You couldn't even wait until 6:30?" I ask.
"We have to get started.  So much to do today!  Now are you making the lemon meringue pie or am I?
"I am," I say pulling myself out of the amazingly comfortable sheets.  

At some point between the boiling of the egg yolks and the constant stirring Rory woke up.  He had a blast running all over the house, hand signaling for milk, and then tap dancing with the dog right under my feet.  
 Kim was spouting off directives more to herself than anyone else when Rory somehow managed to unhinge his diaper.  It fell to the floor in the way only a morning diaper can.  

"Oh my gosh!" Kim cries her corn shuck-clad fingers stopping for a mere moment.  "It's only pee.  Do you think that I should get him a new diaper right this second or can he wait a few minutes?"
"I don't know," I say.  "I think it should be fine.  I read somewhere that diaperless babies usually don't feel comfortable peeing...and or maybe it was something about potty training and running around diaperless.  Meh.  I don't really remember.  Either way, he should be okay for a few seconds."
"Well okay," Kim sighs.  "Rory, go throw your diaper in the garbage."  

  He quickly runs over to the garbage and discards his diaper inside.  (Yeah, he has progressed from throwing anything he feels like away to throwing things away on command.  We're so proud.)

  Just mere seconds later Rory squats down right under the kitchen sink and takes a crap.  I mean, there's no way to candy coat it.  Little brown pebbles just start dropping onto the tile floor.  (Thank GOD for tile floors) and a little squirt of lemonade to top it all off, because, well why not?
"Kim quick!  He's pooping!"
"What?" she gasps, husks in her curly red hair.  
  "I can't stop stirring or I'd get him myself!  You gotta do it!  I am not letting this lemon stuff burn!  I can't ruin Easter!"

And I didn't.  The pie turned out great, the tile floor was easily cleaned and we had a house full of friends who enjoyed the feast.  I think the best thing is that I have a new catchphrase and a great memory for as long as I can remember it.

The Search Is Over...Lemon Meringue Pie

Nothing says Easter like God's gift, lemon meringue pies, and taking a poop on the kitchen floor.