Kinderguardin

Walked the dogs this morning for the first time in six or seven weeks, so they're happy. Then, after getting Ryan down for his nap (by myself!) we all piled in to the bedroom for a nap.
Yes, even me. After sort-of-sleeping on the couch next to Erin during her nighttime snooze from 11:30 to 2:40am, I switched off with Ainsley until Ryan woke me up at 6:30. Unlike yesterday, when I actually got him to fall asleep in bed with me for another two hours, this morning he was rarin'. Lil' Hop on Pop. Delayed him upstairs until about 8, which was good because Ainsley had only just gotten to sleep with Erin at 7:10.
Tis the life we lead with the new youngsters.
Ergo, my first nap attempt in years.
Unfortunately, Ainlsey had forgotten that some kind friends of hers were bringing over dinner for us; they knocked on the door an hour into our siesta. Unsiesting the dogs in a barkus manner. I crawled downstairs and apologized on the porch as they strapped their little boy back in the car seat, then hit the hot tub to get rid of a headache.
Dad came over to watch the Redskins beat the Cowboys and sneak into the playoffs again, while I built a huge roaring fire on my new thirty-inch wide log rack I got for Christmas.
I'm SO glad I don't have to go to work tomorrow.

An amundo that is lawful and right

So the morning of the 16th, Ryan said the sweetest thing when I went in to get him:
"Good morning, Daddy."

An awful lot of sweet stuff has happened since.
I'll never get caught up with everything, so I'll hit the high points:
Suffice it to say that I've needed to update both my profile and W2 withholding status thanks to our daughter finally (a whole 16 hours past her due date!) arriving. With every day passing, and Christmas just around the corner, we were starting to plan for Holiday-centrically-appropriate names. Our favorites:

1. Holly
2. Joy
3. Noel
4. Egg Nog

But saner heads prevailed, and we named her Erin Leigha (rhymes with onomatopoeia, not heyiwannalaya). She is a wee little sprite, 7 lbs of lips and legs, with the most adorable little throaty cry. Unlike the screecher that joined us in the other half of the room our last night. Yeesh. Melted the WWII paint off the walls.

Thank God for the Grandparents, who did a remarkable job taking care of all of us; making meals, fixing the house (with me dutifully holding the ladder and shining the flashlight), hanging out on the floor keeping Ryan occupied. Doubly necessary, since I got a terrible cold the weekend before Christmas. Started with a sore throat, turned into an extremely pissed off throat, a chest thing, and fever that had me sent to bed after dinner on Christmas Eve and without a great singing voice for most of Christmas Day. I'm still getting over the cough, but have romantically passed my crud on to my wife who, going on upwards of seventeen minutes of sleep a day, certainly does not need any help feeling like crap.

Then it was Ryan's turn. He slipped on a hardwood floor Christmas night, banging his head on some steps. No blood, no loss of consciousness, just a little boy bumped his head. But for the next few days, sometimes when we'd lie him down in the crib, or on to his back for a diaper change, he'd grab at his ear and whine. Yesterday morning, he awoke asking for Mommy at 2:15am, and when I picked him up, he said, "Ear Hurt."
I took him to the clinic at 11:30 to make sure his ear drum wasn't damaged, or something else affecting his equilibrium, and the doc found dark dried blood deep in his ear. She said their x-rays wouldn't catch anything, so she conferred and sent us up to Ft Belvoir to get a CT Scan. Typical ER, got there at 1, wasn't seen until 3:30. Right during Ryan's nap time. But he was a trooper, playing with me, singing songs, rifling through everything in the diaper/toy/snack bag (which wasn't much). Finally the doctor came in and said he couldn't really see any blood, that a CT Scan probably wasn't necessary, since Ryan's demeanor and otherwise health (eating, drinking, sleeping, balance, color remembrance) has been great since the incident, and when I tried to show the doctor how he acted when I laid him down, he didn't do anything.
Ryan, does your ear hurt? I asked.
"Yes."
Ryan, does your nose hurt?
"Yes."
Uh-huh.
He's fine. So we'd be home in time for tea.
Only he brought in another doctor for a second opinion, who said, yes there's blood in there, see? Since ENT would want an audiology test to confirm he's okay, and for that they'd want a CT scan, may as well get it now.
Ryan! Want to sleep in a tube?
"...yis?"
Ryan was so good with the docs sticking scopes in his ear, we thought we might try the scan without having to sedate him like they usually do kids his age. I carried him in, showed him the big doughnut, looked like a rabbit hole, "Hellooooo, Rabbit!" So we said hello to all the Winnie the Pooh characters. I showed him the back, stuck my hand through the hole (about a yard wide and only about a foot deep, not a coffin like an MRI. They put him down with his head in a brace, with two nerf squares stuffed in to keep him steady. He looked left and right, but was doing okay. Lead blanket on his belly, another one over me so I could be right next to him, the lady asked him to close his eyes while they centered the laser on his noggin. They cranked up the machine, and the circle started to spin around, and he started to cry, saying his pathetic "No thenk you! No thenk you!" over and over. I held his hand, then both to keep them away from his face, and then the lady suggested he close his eyes again while the machine restarted, and that seemed to lull him into security, keeping his eyes tightly closed. After less than a minute, they were done. Such a good boy!
20 minutes later, the doctor came in and said there was a hairline fracture in some bone beginning with an 'm' behind his ear. So we would have to drive to Walter Reed to see the ENT experts right away (before the holiday weekend, get this taken care of), would I like to drive or take the ambulance.
Sheesh.
Ryan finally fell asleep for the last thirty minutes in the hour-long rush hour traffic ride up around to Maryland and back down into Northern DC. An ER doctor had to get in his face again and stick probes in his ear, then send us up to the 6th floor ENT guys to make sure his facial nerves were okay. (Ft Belvoir docs couldn't ask him to smile and blink??) But I got to see the CT Scan and the lil' millimeter smudge behind his ear canal, that showed the break in an innocuous spot, far away from the well protected important stuff. Nothing further needed, just come back in a few weeks to ensure the blood has broken down and flushed away.
We had a Subway sandwich in the lobby while finally reassuring his mother that he was okay, then sang songs and babbled all the way home to keep him awake before bedtime. Ten hours, three hospitals, two diapers.
Then Erin slept on my chest until 1:10am while we let her mother get a couple hours (straight!) of sleep.
Daddy needs a nap.

Blow Thar

Getting final projects done, didn't crawl into bed until 12:20 am Saturday morning, then Asha sat on my head and purred for an hour, SO glad to see you my friend how you been, then Ryan woke up at 5. So huzzah for weekends. I can't believe I used to sleep until noon as a kid.
Took advantage of a slow-to-arrive winter storm and took care of some last-minute (last-year?) raking...for over four hours. Got the blistered hand-crease-pockets (what is that part of the hand called between the thumb and forefinger?) to prove it.
Ainsley convinced her father to join me in the hot tub to soothe a month-long aching back, so he's now looking at canceling their trip to China and investing in one themselves. Though it'll probably be a single-person tub, what with his wife approving it over her dead body.
Had a nice evening in front of the fireplace and teaching Ryan how to eat a taco sideways, and we put him down an hour earlier than usual. I only had to go up once to convince him. And join him in a rousing rendition of "Cheese" and "Timber". (Linked below, if anyone is interested.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gN1wbGqpDVE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N0CB1pRzTDw

My father-in-law expressed his disappointment that Ainsley didn't go into labor on Friday, because he wanted me to be "right", since she and I have argued all year whether her due date was the 14th (which she told me originally) or the 15th (which she has claimed every day since). Alack and a lass (har!), both days ebbed and flew sans baby. I told her she can't give birth on Monday because that's Todd's birthday, and Tuesday is Dalen's birthday, who, granted, I haven't spoken to since 1986, but still. He invited me to see "Back to the Future" in England for his party, so I feel we owe him. Then Ann's is the 19th... Then hell, she may as well share Christmas presents with everyone.
I only bring this up because Ainsley's in labor right now.

My Wife is not a Toaster

Okay, the bread's been in there for forty weeks, but that doesn't mean we have to all sit around staring, waiting, wondering if those coils are going to pop...

Her parents are pre-positioned, having arrived Wednesday on a spur-of-the-moment decision influenced by the desire to beat some nasty W.VA weather and the fact that their grandson woke up asking where the hell they were.
We all went out and enjoyed some Hard Times Cafe chili to let Ryan get his Country Music Ya-Yas out (really leaning towards buying my daughter that adorable pink Metallica t-shirt now), then opened belated birthday presents for Ryan, pre-existence presents for "TBD", and a third box of Christmas presents from our dear yet ridiculous Aunt Pat.
Thursday was a dull day until a 4 o'clock meeting with the former Ambassador to Kazakhstan, so I didn't get home until 6. Ryan had refused the polite offer of an afternoon nap, so he was pretty much baked by 7 after an impromptu Christmas Carol session and a quick dinner with Dad, though the real story was Ainsley having minor, unorganized contractions. We all felt like that would be the night, and we hit they hay early.
Ryan woke up from 10:30 to 11, then Ainsley tossed and turned and snoozed off and on, and the contractions stopped.
So YAY back to work I went. Being Securitively Cooperative.
tick tick tick

Ham on, Ry.

"All people love my cheesy way of life."

Ryan got the whole verse out in one fell swoop! He still muddles the middle of the alphabet, and his "Jingle Bells" leaves a lot to be desired, though he gets the "Hey!" after 'sleigh' in the middle there. But to know so much of the "Cheese" song? Plus he 'read' the whole side of the page in the Boynton book that says "Everything about you is especially fine." Amazing what he picks up.
Over the monitor tonight, I heard him sing the first few words to "Timber" too. "Trees...fall down...my job...make drown..."

If only I could get him to stop giving himself away so easily during his self-initiated Hide n Seek.
"Wherrrrree's Ryan?"
"Unda ... Bed!"

I was in the Executive Board room watching a briefing given to Major General Castro.
He says to say hi.
So tomorrow I get to scrub more UJTLs to see if the CSART can tie any supporting tasks into our AMET.
Isn't that nice?

Don't Eat Christmas Tree. Eat Food.

Sage advice from the Ryanator.
Directed at Jeremy cat.

Still no knock-knock-knocking at Pelvic's Door from the Baby Sister. Personally, I was glad she waited this long, since I had taken three days off to help work on the nursery, do some last-minute shopping, and wrap presents.
However, "Don't give birth until Monday so you don't ruin the weekend" was admittedly a poor choice of words.

After three days together (and one of them a full day with no nap), Ryan was used to me being around. Apparently didn't believe Mommy when she told him Daddy wasn't here, so he looked all over. "I want Daddy!" he said adamantly.

Took a stroll up Pocomoke after dinner to look at Christmas lights. Still a little early, but everyone in the cul-de-sac now has something up, so that's festive. Ainsley finally finished her mini-Redskins tree on the front porch yesterday.
Don't pee on Christmas Tree, Griffin. Pee on Back Yard.

Claustrophobic

Dad and I both took a day off for his birthday so we could take Ryan to the mall to see Santa Claus and apologize for last year's rather unfortunate display of nonaffection.

Unfortunately, we got there at 10, and Santa doesn't leave his workshop until 11, so we wandered about randomly, Ainsley keeping him more interested in the Cowboy Hat store than the Arcade (boo!). She did have some things to pick up at Target, so Ryan got to play in the elevator and escalator. I showed him a "Merry Christmas" banner and asked him if he saw the "M" for "Merry." He instead cocked his head to one side, then beyond ninety degrees.

"Dubbayew!" he said.

We headed back for the Santa area to find the entire Fairfax County Elementary School population sitting on the floor in matching grey shirts. Fortunately, they just sat around en masse to hear Santa read a Christmas story, rather than each going up individually asking for "Call of Duty 4" or whatever.

Ryan seemed intrigued, happy to see the bearded gent, yelling "Hello San-TA!" a couple times with a straight-arm wave during story hour. Finally our turn, I set him down and he slowly walked up to him...though a handshake would have been more dignified, Santa asked if he could do a high-five, which my son obliged. Santa asked how old he was. Mommy hinted that Ryan should tell him he was two, so he obliged. Santa gently picked him up and draped him on his right knee, okay, not bad, a little frozen in fear, body language saying 'okay, I'll sit here, but quit touching me', but no tears, just curious as to what the heck. We tried to get him to sing Jingle Bells, look at the Twinkling Snoopy, anything to get a smile, but we ended up with your basic mug shot.

In a cute blue sweater.

Santa Natsa Bad

In the evening we took Dad to Applebee's for a birthday steak and so Ryan could flirt with Brittani the waitress, before heading home for yummy drippy gooey fat-free Rum Cake and presents (which were not gooey, unless you're talking about the sentiment behind them).

Ryan hadn't napped well, so we had cake and water (party!) without him, after bringing a present and card up to his room so we could sing Happy Birthday Grandad and blow out a decorative candle while Grandad read him a nigh-night book.

P.S. Ryan officially says "Grandad" more than "Dad-Dad" now.

He also says "Butt."

Oral He

Pterodactyl.

That's just not a word you'd expect your two-year-old to pick up so quickly.
Still amazed at his language skills, though he still has little issues with words brought to you by the letters J, L, and S. And as much as we try to remain serious when we're disciplining him, it just melts your heart to see him with tears streaming down his face and saying through sobbing breaths, "I sozzy."

Entertained at today's staff meeting; the boss asked for pluses and minuses from yetserday's conference, and I told him that they had this amazing crunchy cinna-stick pastry deal. And that I was still recovering from being Nancy Karriganed at the exit turnstile -- I thought the bars were going to open out, away from me, so I walked through briskly, only to have the bars swing down, slamming me on the knee.

...Pterodactyl! Wowie!

I'm A Nice Hort

It's a good thing I'm in the military with so many fine Americans with whom I can be co-horts.
Even when I'm corrigible.
With fettered access.

I don't understand why even though we have seventeen lamps in this house, they are all configured so that when I cup my hand under the lampshade to turn them off, the switch is always at the opposite end of my palm. I can grab 345 degrees around the lamp post and the switch is sitting there in the remaining 15-degree arch, laughing at me, wasting energy.

We have gotten Ryan down an hour earlier that last two nights.
He has compensated by getting up at 5:20 and 4:58 am.

We had our first snow of the season -- a fat, wet, more-than-dusting that started in morning rush hour, cried havoc and let loose the fenderbenders of war on the winterly inexperienced. I had planned on leaving early for a conference in McLean, but it only took me about 50 minutes to get up there. The guys in from Tampa took two hours to get there from their hotel.
I don't recall having driven much in the snow in the Escape -- I still have this ingrained feeling that I'm driving my rear-wheel-drive Thunderbird. Maybe overcompensating. Got into DTRA around 12:30, surprised to see Mike still there, as he was supposed to go to the afternoon session of the conference. He pointed at the weather out the window. I pointed at my picture of Jeremy then at him. He understood.

Stayed home from work yesterday morning because Ainsley was feeling blah and non-laborious crampy and the girl had decided to play possum for a few hours; while a call went in to the clinic, Ainsley had some breakfast grits that woke her (the zygotia) back up, so all is well.

Gravitas

The family came to have lunch with me at work, which was no doubt the best part of my day. Looked forward to it all morning, dreaded the rest of the day when they left. But while they were here it was wonderful. Except when Ryan kept saying he wanted to see the alligator.
We're thinking he meant elevator.
He only picked at the food we shared with him, so I just let him run around the basement/cafeteria area, then helped him up the stairs so he could look down on Mommy and wave, point at the Christmas trees, dance between tables. He charmed.

We've done the math and realized, however, that Ryan is getting a good two to five fewer hours of sleep per day than he should, so we started nighttime preps about an hour early tonight. Unfortunately, they're a little bit longer these days because we have to remove his brain out through his nostrils with a plunger, then wipe Badger-brand wax goop on his chapped lips and nose. But he was holding a ceramic frog wearing a crown from the knickknack shelf (as you do), sitting cross legged on the left side of the changing table while I was finishing up.
Now.
I'm protective, but not ohmigod don't ever try anything scary protective. I even hold on to his knee when he's sitting on the bathroom sink when I tilt my head up to gargle. Just to make sure he doesn't go anywhere.
But here he started to lean over to put his frog on the pillow on his rocking chair, and just as I moved to my right, I must have been still lightly touching him, because I felt him flip over, going face-first into the back of the chair and the nightlight, me holding what I think was his leg, preventing him from an all-out smackdown.
More surprised than hurt, he'll be fine.
Me, not so much.

You're in Alice's

This is no piddling achievement.
But you know how being in and around water makes one* more susceptible to .... uh... making water of one's own?

*little ones, anyway. Or old ones Or my mother circa 1979 when we would sing "By the Waterfall I'm calling You-ou-ou-ou" when we knew she had to pee.
Think that was from a "Facts of Life" episode. Maybe "Diff'rent Strokes".

Well, that's Ryan. He has yet to do the cliched "pee in Daddy's face while changing a diaper" routine, he has from time to time stood up in the tub after his bath and looked down to watch him add to the drainflow. Occasionally he'd wait until he was on the sink, still sitting on his towel. Tonight, he trickled and flewed again, so I pointed out he was going potty and picked him up and took him to his own plastic potty.
Nothing.
"Okay...go!"
He looked, he pushed, he pointed.
And...dribble dribble!
*surprised look*
And more! Followed by more! Another burst, a steady leak, then a squirt or two.
It was as if the boy was trying to squeeze out every ounce from the top of his head. 'Out, damned spot.'
So we called Mommy up from the basement, huffing and puffing, thinking he had cracked his head open or something. But then:
Ryan: "Go POTTY!"
Mommy: "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYY!"

So that was just silly.

After a sick few days at home, he was getting a lot-tle cabin feverish, so Ainsley suggested I take him out to the mall to get out some ya-yas. We found a toy store purely by chance after hanging out at the Arcade purely by accident and shopping at The Redskins Store purely by necessity. But they had a display out with a plastic red guitar with a little toy microphone on a stand. So Ryan proceeded to push the buttons on the guitar fret with one hand, and grab the microphone with the other while going "La La LAA" and swaying his little butt.
So it seems Mommy watches a lot more MTV when I'm not around than I'd previously thought.