Snips and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

Apparently, that's what little boys are made of. I call foul. In my world? Little boys are made of rubber, lead and a sturdy head.

My theory was proven just 16 days shy of Rye's 3rd birthday when a silly game of belly sledding down Grandma and Grandpa's stairs went south (a little pun intended), landed us in the ER and gave Rye his first set of stitches.

The good news? That stuff Ryan is made of came in handy that day. Though he managed to find the one point on the one banister on the staircase that could cause the most harm (and it did - I swear I saw my little man's skull), he only cried for a few minutes (and sunk like lead into my arms while I gained composure, called for back-up and summoned ice packs, band-aids and paper towels to ease my baby's pain). While we waited at the Emergency Center for two hours, he managed to bounce back (like rubber) and was his normal, inquisitive, goofy self. He even helped entertain my boredom by modeling some emotions for the camera.

Ryan's Sad Face

 Ryan's Happy Face

 Ryan's Mad Face

 Ryan's Surprise Face

Oh - and proof he's got a sturdy head? At one point, he looked at me, clearly annoyed with being in the same boring room for so long and said, "Mom. My boo boo feels better now. Can we go home?"

Rules are made to be broken

Parenting isn't easy. It's fun, rewarding and exciting - but it isn't easy.

Like most new parents, when Ryan was born, we had no idea what we were doing. We read books, took notes when we watched Super Nanny and pulled memories from our own childhoods. But no matter how prepared you think you are, you're never ready for the role.

Parents-to-be often speak in absolutes: "I'll never let my kid..." "We'll always make sure..." And try as you might to stick with those self-imposed rules, your on-the-job training will quickly remind you that rules are, sometimes, made to be broken.

One of our self-imposed rules? No TV before the age of 2. There are countless studies that show the benefits of sticking to this rule (and the negative effects of breaking it), so we worked diligently with Ryan to keep the TV off. It lasted 18 months. Right around 18 months is when mornings were getting hectic and my patience was getting thin. Elmo saved the day. That's it, just 15 minutes of Elmo's world in the morning (which, if he's going to watch TV - at least its educational) and life was good again.

By the time Lindsey was born, Ryan was nearly 2 and was hit or miss with TV. He rarely initiated a TV watching session and almost never stuck around more than 20 minutes to watch it when he did. He had better things to do - legos to stack and train tracks to build. But we made sure we imposed the TV rule with Lindsey.

Of course, parenting isn't easy. And it gets exponentially harder (but equally more fun, rewarding and exciting) with each subsequent child. This time...the rule lasted 14 months. This morning, both kids woke up well before the time they usually do and it threw our morning routine completely off track. After they had breakfast, Nate and I still had plenty to do before we could all walk out the door. Cue our rule-breaking rebellion.

Amen for PBS, Sesame Street, a comfy couch, loving siblings and our ability to still be rebels.

What's for dinner?

Since Nate and I have been together, we've always experimented with new foods. Sometimes because we were bored with our meal routine, sometimes because we wanted to be more health conscious, sometimes it was a little of both.

When Ryan was born, we went back to the basics. Partly because we didn't think his palate was refined enough (don't I sound fancy?), because he didn't really have a bunch of teeth and because when both parents work and everyone is hungry at the end of the day, you don't have much time for anything other than chicken nuggets, fish sticks or spaghetti.

Eventually though, Ryan got in all of his teeth, developed a more refined palate (seriously, I have no idea what that means, but it sounds cool) and we, once again, were getting bored. So we started experimenting again and Ryan was down for everything. Good man. :)

Then Lindsey came along and it was back to square one. Luckily, she too enjoys food like the rest of us. And though her teeth are stubbornly not coming in very quickly (13 months and still just two bottom teeth), she must have killer gums and jaw muscles because we have yet to find a food she can't handle.

As the experimenting continues, tonights meal made me laugh. I remember growing up on tuna casserole, ramen noodle soups, grilled cheese, spaghetti - all the basics. It was easy, cheap and good and that's all my parents were concerned with. But here we are, refined palates and all, enjoying a red onion, goat cheese and potato pizza on a whole wheat crust. And my little foodies gobbled up every last bite.

Dinner is served.

Super Kids

I often talk about how parents have super powers (we do), but as Nate and I continue navigating through this whole process of raising Ryan and Lindsey, I'm realizing they, too, have some pretty awesome powers as well.

They have the power to change who we are, how we act. I'm more patient, I never rarely curse, but not as often and I've become acutely aware that my behavior, reactions and mannerisms are constantly being watched by two sets of little eyes and meticulously scrutinized by the brains behind them. As such, I make sure to use my manners more consistently, to not be so harsh with Bailey when he destroys a toy left out on the floor, to do the things I expect (or will expect) of my kids so they can learn by example and respect the rules we set for them.

They have the power to make you humble. I love to sing and I've been told kids instinctively love the sound of their parents voice. I guess whoever said that had a good voice. I'm not terrible, but sometimes when I start to sing to Ryan he'll yell, "stop, stop, stop, mommy!" Point taken.

They have the power to calm. I can't tell you how many times I've had a bad day. And not just a bad day, but a bad day. Yet, no matter how stressed, emotionally drained or physically exhausted I am, seeing Ryan or Lindsey smile or hearing them giggle has the same calming effect as candles and a bubble bath.

They have the power to melt your heart. And it's always the little things. When I go to pick up Lindsey from daycare and she throws down everything down, runs over to me, arms in the air, grin on her face - my heart melts like butter. Or when Ryan randomly stops what he's doing to say, "Hey mom! I love you."

Eventually, I'm aware, their powers may be used for evil (the power to manipulate, lie, coerce, etc.), but for now - my little caped crusaders are fighting the good fight and I'm glad they're on my side.

It's Sunny 300 Days A Year

Where, you might ask? In Arizona. Arizona is sunny almost all year long. Except, of course, when the guy in Arizona invites the girl in Delaware out to visit. To get away from the never-ending snow storms, the crazy kids, the job - all of it - and join him in the sunny desert for a few days, with plans to tour the Grand Canyon together.

Then, of course, the sun disappears and in its place comes precipitation. Mostly in the form of cold rain, but, for good measure (in case she was homesick, perhaps), also in the form of snow. Just enough to make her feel at home and completely screw up their plans to see the Grand Canyon.

We could get mad, or annoyed or sad that our plans were foiled. Or, we could enjoy the fact that not everyone gets to see snow-covered cactus or get their picture taken in front of the Chapel of the Holy Cross in the middle of a snow squall.

Lucky us.

So this is love

After every bath, I take off my rings and lather Ryan up with lotion. Then, every time, he asks to put my rings back on for me. It's become our thing. I'll ask, "Who got me those rings?" He'll say, "Daddy." I'll ask, "Why did Daddy get me those rings?" He'll say, "Because he's going to love you forever. And then I came! And then Lindsey came!" I love that he's always most excited about him and Lindsey.

Back in the day, Valentine's Day was about Nate and I. We'd either go out to eat somewhere or get really adventurous and cook up the food ourselves. We'd pop some bubbly and toast to "us."

Things have changed. We still find time to celebrate "us," but there is so much more to us now than there was back then. And that "so much more" deserves a little toast of its own.

So this year, adventurous food was switched from whole lobsters and grilled asparagus to heart-shaped quesadillas and halved grapes. Our bubbly was modified from champagne to sparkling cider. And chocolate covered strawberries were replaced with chocolate covered pretzels with pink sprinkles and whipped cream.

This, my friends, is love.

Under Quarantine

I love winter, really. I love cold weather, warm sweaters, fluffy white snow and the smell of wood burning in a fireplace. But anything in excess can be too much. When it's so cold it hurts to breathe - that's no good. When the fluffy white snow becomes wet, heavy and two feet deep - no good. And when your winter includes an evil dose of the flu - no. good.

It started out as a scratchy cough with Nate and I. Then Nate got a fever and the chills. Then I got the chesty cough and low grade fever. Then daycare called - Lindsey had a fever. And just when we thought maybe Ryan was in the clear - he got hit too. Flu in excess. We're four days in and it doesn't seem to be letting up. So I'm keeping this short to go get some much-needed rest.

But to give you an idea of what the flu in excess looks like, check out the mini pharmacy that has popped up in our kitchen.