LP's First baseball Game

Both Nate and I were very excited to have a little girl - but are also hoping she'll be a tough little cookie who likes to get her hands dirty and ruffle some feathers. So far - she's exceeding expectations. She has no fear that we've noticed, is no where near as neat an eater as her brother was, and seems to find great pleasure in doing things her way, on her schedule. Fine by us.

We hope too, though, that she'll have a love of sports and competition and teamwork. So, like her brother, we've started her off early - taking her to her first sporting event before she can even sit up by herself. The Blue Rocks had a 6 p.m. game. Perfect time to enjoy the game, not be stuck in the afternoon sun, distract Rye with food and not disobey both kids sleep schedules too much. And - bonus - they were doing fireworks afterwards!

It was a lot of fun - Lindsey soaked it all in (I'm sure she was analyzing pitches and recording RBIs, as needed), hanging out in the arms of loved ones, getting oogled by passerbys, and drinking some cold milk wihile her Nana craddled her.

Rye had a blast too - got to share a cookie dough ice cream cone with his aunt Erin - and then burn some energy jumping in a bounce house - and then slowly loose steam on top of daddy's shoulders (and, our big little man used the potty three times while he was there!!).

And after the game was over (Blue Rocks won!!), we all relaxed to enjoy the fireworks. And Miss Lindsey - she continues to be the tough little cookie we were hoping for - taking in the lights and the booms with no jumps or cries, just an awestruck face that beckons you to take a picture, or 30. 

Tom Cruise was in our living room this morning

I know it sounds crazy, being he's one of the top actor's in the world, travels the country on a whim, romances his wife and loves on his children. But this morning, right around the beginning of Elmo's World, there he was - lounging on our couch, enjoying some dry fruit loops and channeling the "good ol' days" of Risky Business.

Where's Ryan?

When our dog Bailey was little, he used to love pulling out every single toy he owned and letting them lay around in the living room. And usually once a week, right before I vacuumed, I'd gather them all up and put them in the toy basket. Wherever he was in the house, he'd inevitably hear one of the toys and come running to see what I was doing. He would stand there, intently watching as I put each toy away and then, as soon as I walked away, he'd begin the process of taking them all out again, one at a time. Not to play with, of course, just to have them out and to let me know that I can't control everything, despite my best efforts.

Ryan does the same thing with our bed pillows. He watches and waits as I smooth out the sheets, pull up the duvet cover and place all the pillows (eight total) in the rightful spot on the bed. Then, he'll climb up the bed like his life depends on it and vigorously kick the pillows around, giggling and laughing and looking back from time to time to make sure we're watching his mischief.

Today, though, he climbed up gently and quietly snuck in behind the pillows and giggled quietly, proud of his sneaky moves.

Attack of Cujo the Bee

One of Ryan's favorite songs to sing (and sing along to) is the bumblebee song.
"I'm bringing home a baby bumblebee, won't my mommy be so proud of me."

We sing it often and he does all the hand motions very well. It's always a sweet mommy and Rye moment.

But now, bumblebees will forever conjure up different emotions - hysteria and fear.

After getting home from daycare yesterday afternoon, Rye hopped out of the car and walked up to the front door while I got Lindsey out. Next thing I know, Rye is running back down to the car, screaming and waving his hands. It took me a second to realize that he was running from a bee. No big deal, I thought. "Just ignore it, Rye," I said, proud that I was remaining the calm voice of reason. "It will leave you alone if you just ignore it." But it wasn't leaving him alone and he was hysterical. So I swatted it away, trying to help. And then it happened. Cujo the bee started attacking me.

At this point, Daddy had come out and saw what was going on and decided he would be the voice of reason. "It's just a bumble bee," he says. This is no ordinary bumble bee. So he swats at it and the bee is now coming after him. Rye is crying, I'm screaming in fetal position, Nate is bobbing and weaving and LP - well, she's just hanging out in her car seat, looking at us like "This is my family?" Somehow, we subdued the beast and made it into the house.

Ryan was stung.

Cujo attacked him right on his chest and there was a nice size bee sting. Ice to the rescue! He was a champ. Settled down quickly and, eventually, was showing off his "battle wound" with pride.

Then, there's a knock on the door.

Our neighbor, three doors down on the other side of the street was at our door. "Is everything OK?" she asks me. "I heard screaming and didn't know if your husband was on travel and you were here alone, but it sounded like there was quite an ordeal going on outside."

So we explained the attack of Cujo the Bee...and realized how ridiculous we sounded, but thanked her for coming down to make sure we were all OK (I love our neighbors, by the way).

And that, was how Ryan got his first bee sting.

Monday Mornings

The words "Monday mornings" and "chaotic" seem to be interchangable in their descriptive abilities. After a lazy weekend (OK - even after a jam-packed weekend with too many plans and not enough daylight) Monday mornings seem to pop-up out of nowehere and throw our world into a tailspin.

There isn't much more to do on Monday's than on any other day during the week - pack lunches, make bottles, take showers, get kids dressed, feed the dog, etc. But those few extra things that singularly add a minute or two to the morning routine, combined, add nothing but chaos.

Except this Monday.

This Monday, Lindsey woke up right after my shower (good girl), so Daddy changed her diaper while I put goop in my hair and I was able to fill up her belly and make her happy first thing, then go about my routine while she lounged around. Ryan woke up (dry again - 5 days and counting!), peed on the potty without a fight, ate his breakfast, got dressed and settled on the couch just in time for Elmo's world. Daddy got up after just one hit of the snooze button, made lunches, gathered up everything that was heading out to the cars and made sure he spent a few extra moments loving on his baby girl.

Who, by the way, treats every day like it's a Saturday - waking up with big smiles and, today, added a little wave to the camera for good measure.

Can every Monday be this awesome?

Adaptability

It's been a couple weeks since a new blog post (I'm actually surprised I haven't been "yelled at" yet), so while I'm sure readers may be salivating for some pictures of LP and Ryebread, allow me to take a moment and wax poetically.

Daddy recently had to travel for work - the first bout of traveling since LP was born. This meant mommy would be a single parent (gasp!) for a whole week. In the weeks and days leading up to the big event, and even a day or so in...mommy whined and complained about how hard it would be and how nervous she was to deal with a sometimes cranky two-year-old and a somewhat needy infant all by herself for 6 straight days.

But by the end of the week, we had all survived - the house didn't burn down, we didn't have to make any visits to the ER, I didn't go crazy from a lack of sleep, dishes got done, children were fed and I actually got to work early a few days.

How is this all possible, you ask? Adaptability. It's one of the great qualities all parents have. And while I am certainly allowed to be a little cranky at the thought of being a single parent for a week at a time here and there, there are certainly other parents and families whose circumstances are far more challenging, yet whose outlook on life are far more inspiring. 

And without further ado - the faces I dream about often, who make long weeks without my best friend around bearable.