Rileyisms

Learning to talk can be complicated. Even adults sometimes struggle to get words and phrases correct (which is most apparent when listening people sing the words to songs that they think they know). Riley is no exception, and I thought I should probably start to document some of my favorites. I have no doubt that this list will continue to grow over the years, and only hope that I remember to keep track of them.

1. Bounce-it-ball (at 2-1/2, how he thinks "basketball" is pronounced).
2. Mr. Table Head (translation: Mr. Potato Head).
3. When singing "We Wish You a Merry Christmas," he believes the last word of the song is "You". As in, "We wish you a Merry Christmas, We wish you a Merry Christmas, We wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New You!"

Tough Night

Riley, as noted many times before, has always been an excellent sleeper. When you put him to bed at night, he really doesn't make a fuss at all and will happily talk or sing himself to sleep.

Last night was an exception. He did not want to go to bed. He cried and cried and cried. Casey and I had to go back into his room countless times to talk to him or rub his back. It was just odd and so very out of character. He slept great after he finally fell asleep, so I was certain it wasn't because he wasn't tired.

I figured it was because he was excited about our trip to Chicago, after all, we have been talking about flying and seeing his cousins and aunt and uncle and grandparents for weeks.

I decided to ask him about it on the drive to school this morning. I said, "How did you sleep last night?" His response (standard these days): "I just closed my eyes." I then asked him why he didn't want to go to sleep. His response: "My cried." "Yes," I said, "you sure did. Were you scared or sad about something?" His response was not at all what I was expecting, but explained everything perfectly: "Wrigley not here. And Winnie." Ah ha! So that explains everything. I had dropped the dogs off last night at the house of some friends where they'll be staying while we're in Chicago. Riley didn't want to go to sleep because they weren't home. "My miss them, Mommy." Yup, buddy, me too.

Why?

You always hear about that phase where children begin to question everything. The common response to anything is "why". I believe we have hit the precursor to that stage, and it is equally as difficult to come up with appropriate responses.

This is how the average conversation with Riley goes these days.

"Mommy, what's tha-yat (yes, I swear "that" is pronounced as a two-syllable word with a distinct drawl in the middle)?"

I respond with the name for whatever he's pointing at.

His follow up question: "What's it doing?"

And I respond with some sort of answer.

To which he almost always replies, "Oh, ok" as if that was what he thought.

Sometimes this is easy. Example: "What's tha-yat?" "A dog." "What's it doing?" "Going for a walk." "Oh, ok."

Sometimes I have absolutely no idea how to respond. "What's tha-yat (pointing to something in road)?" Realizing it's a dead animal, I say, "A squirrel." "What's it doing?" "Sleeping." "Oh, ok. When's it going to wake up?" Hmm, no response to that.

This conversation also varies slightly when something or someone is on his mind. This morning he pointed to my purse and said "pocketbook", a word he learned from Granny Annie. Then he said, "Where's Granny Annie?" "In Florida." "What's she doing?" "Drinking coffee." (Seems likely.)

I guess I shouldn't complain. At least I can make up answers at this point and he doesn't know better than to call me on them. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when he starts learning things that I don't know how to answer.

Working Very Hard

Making the decision to leave our old house to move to this "new" one was a tough one. To say that it's been tougher than expected is an understatement. We knew the new house was going to require a lot of work; after all, it was built in 1938, had been owned by the same family since it was built, and likely hadn't been updated since. We were convinced that we could do a lot of the work ourselves, at least the cosmetic stuff like removing wallpaper, painting and trying to unbury the yard from many decades of ivy growth. And while it's true that we did do much of that stuff ourselves, it was much more difficult than imagined.

We thought it would take us one solid week to remove the wallpaper. What we didn't know was that most of the rooms had not one, not two, but three layers of wallpaper to be removed. We also hadn't counted on the wallpaper being so old that it literally crumbled to the touch, and certainly did not come off in large, easy strips like we'd thought. Casey did much of the wallpaper removal himself, and he is truly a saint for sticking with it.

I stepped in for the painting. I had an amazing friend who likes to paint, and could be bribed to help me paint at night with the promise of wine and gossip. I figured with the two of us working, we could easily paint two or three rooms a week. What I had not realized is that before we could paint, the walls had to be cleaned (from either the wallpaper removal substances that we used or from the years of dirt that had accumulated on the walls). And after the walls had been clean, the room had to be "prepped" for painting - edges and windows taped, floors covered, etc. It turned out that we could realistically finish one room every other week. And that included many nights of staying at the new house well past 2 a.m.

Our average day for much of the year went like this: wake up, get Riley ready for school, drop Riley off at school, work a full day at the office, pick Riley up from school, prepare and eat dinner, play with Riley for about 30 minutes until his bedtime, and then leave the old house to do work at the new one. Riley, of course, was home sleeping during this, and one of us had to be at home with him, which meant that Casey and I spent a good chunk of the year apart at night. By the time the one working at the new house came home, the other was almost always asleep. It really was not a fun time, not to mention exhausting.

There were many times over the course of the year when I was convinced it wasn't worth it. But now we've been living in the new house for over a month, and we're finally able to "relax" occassionally, which really just means that we don't have to be working on the house every single second of our spare time.

And then there are days like today which make it all worthwhile. There was a patch of ivy in the back of our house that had been driving me crazy for quite awhile. Casey thought our time would be spent better in other areas, but I was absolutely convinced that I had to tackle this area. So Casey worked in the back of the yard (which clearly was a lot worse off), while Riley and I worked on my patch.

Riley, it turns out, LOVES to help, especially when the projects involve being outside and getting somewhat dirty. When we were at ACE one weekend buying more rakes and brooms and other yard work items, he insisted that we buy him a pair of work gloves. Now, every time he sees them, no matter what the circumstance, he insists on putting them on and declares that he is "working very hard." He then looks for his rake, his spray bottle (really not sure what this is about) and his broom and starts "working".

So this is how we started our work on my patch. Many hours of (me) pulling ivy later, we found that the patch was actually a hill, and that the hill was covered with a bunch of rocks. I was so irritated with the fact that someone would've dumped a bunch of ugly rocks at the back of our house until Riley uncovered the mystery. Who knew his broom would come in handy when clearing ivy, but as I uncovered the dirt and rocks, he began sweeping. And his sweeping revealed a pattern. It turns out that the "ugly" rocks had actually been what I can only imagine was a beautiful rock wall at some point before the ivy took it over. Riley and I were very excited and spent quite awhile unburying as many rocks as we could.

But the child does have his limits and clearly he reached his at some point, so I told him his new job was to take care of the dogs. I got distracted by my rock wall and suspect quite awhile passed before I started paying attention to what Riley and the dogs were up to. When I looked up, I saw Riley laying on the ground staring up into Winston's eyes. When he realized I was watching, he said, "Mommy, that's my brother. My Winnie." And sweet Winston looked like he could not have been more content.

Looking at our rock wall discovery, and my two boys loving every second of our time together outside, I realized that all this work and sacrifice was definitely worth it. I can't wait to find out what we discover next.

Happy Ending

Today felt like one of the longest days of the longest weeks of my life. I am grumpy, stressed, overtired and feeling guilty about not being a very good wife, mommy, daughter, sister or friend. Unfortunately, I am going to have to keep up this pace for a few more weeks until things at work "should" slow down. And so it was that I left the office feeling pretty miserable. Before the move, I had about 10 minutes in the car to regroup and put on a happy face. Now I have about 3 minutes. Certainly not enough time to snap out of it.

And then I pulled up the long driveway to the part of our yard that is hidden from the road to find Casey, Riley, Winston and Wrigley all playing ball in our huge new lawn. It was such a wonderful moment to witness - Riley standing with a bat in his hand hitting a ball off a tee, Casey with the lacrosse stick in hand throwing the ball for Wrigley, and Winston happily supervising the scene with tail wagging at an incredible pace. It was one of those moments in time that you wish you could just freeze.

But time doesn't stand still, and when they heard my car, everything changed. But instead of a moment ruined, it got better. By the time I had put the car in park, Winston and Wrigley were at my drivers side door waiting for me to step out and Riley was running full speed in my direction... to throw himself at my legs to give me a great big hug.

Meanwhile, Casey disappears from sight leaving me to play in the yard with my three babies on an unseasonably warm fall evening only for me to realize that he has left because he is tending to dinner.

Guess I didn't need 10 minutes to snap out of it after all.

Girls

I thought I'd have at least 10 more years before I had to address this topic, but it appears that like with most things, you are ahead of my schedule. Today Daddy reported that when he picked you up from school you were excited to see him, as always. But today, when you went to say goodbye to your friends, not only did you give out hugs, but you also gave Gracie a kiss... On the lips.

I should also point out that when I dropped you off at school this morning, you pointed at a little girl who was walking into school with her mom and said, "Mommy, my girlfriend."

Really?!?

School Days

Dear Riley,

This morning I dropped you off for your first day of your third year of school. I couldn't help but think that you are half way to kindergarten. How is that possible? I'm pretty sure this is supposed to get easier each year, but so far it hasn't.

Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that your school is closed for two full days before the new school year to allow the teachers to prepare for the new school year. Two full days which I gladly take off of work to spend with you no matter how heavy my work load is. The extra two days make me realize how much I'm missing when I'm at work and how nice it is to have extra special time with you.

This year, those two days were particularly strange. On Thursday, you had the beginnings of a cold and were not feeling your best. Instead of letting you sleep in as I would normally do, your mean old mom woke you up early, frantically rushed you through your morning routine, barked commands at Winston and Wrigley, grabbed every misplaced possession laying around the house and threw them in my car, and then had the nerve to make our family spend the next four and a half hours walking the streets of Ardmore as complete strangers inspected every single inch of our house - the only home you've ever known - to make sure it is as sound and charming and wonderful as we all know it is.

As always, you didn't miss a beat, not even when you weren't feeling your best. You still insisted on walking (running, really) almost the entire way to Starbucks instead of letting me push you in your stroller, which would've been easier for all of us. You still managed to put on a big smile at the park and play with all of the other kids who are lucky enough to be at the park with their mommies every day. You still wanted to stop in the baseball field to spin around. You still wanted to throw Wrigley's ball for her. You even wanted to walk up Joann's driveway to talk to her and tell her about your day.

The good news is that the people who came to inspect our house that day loved it and have decided they want to buy it. The bad news is that we have four days until we leave for Maine, then 8 wonderful days in Maine, and then have one week after we return to move out of that sweet house on Elizabeth Avenue.

And so those two extra week days with you and then this past weekend were somewhat bittersweet, as I enjoyed our time together, but also had extra time to experience the joy of this neighborhood with you and Daddy and the dogs while knowing that we don't have much time left here.

And now here it is, Monday morning, and I just left you in your new classroom with your new teachers who I barely know. Unlike the last two years, this year you weren't up for the challenge either. You clung to my legs and sobbed, and when I left you, I could hear you crying, "Mommy, mommy" as I walked away from you down the hallway to my car. It was so awful, and I seriously considered turning around, picking you up, and quitting my job. But I didn't, and I know after a few days (or maybe a few weeks), you'll be glad I didn't. You'll get to know your new teachers who I know you'll adore (and who I know will adore you even more), you'll make new friends, you'll play and draw and read and sing and learn. You have "graduated" to the big kid playground, you get to go on field trips to the library, you will work on potty training (or so your paperwork tells us); you know, all of the "big kid" stuff that you are so eager to do even though I just want you to stay my baby forever.

That said, and since I have been keeping a tally since your very first day of school when you were just 3 months old, but with the addition of a new category, the official record for the first day of school stands as follows: Mommy - 0; Riley - 2; School - 1. There's always next year...

Limits on Growing Up

For the most part, Riley reminds us every day in little ways how much he wants to be a big kid. He calls his stool a "big boy chair". When we tried him in Pull-Ups a few weeks ago, they were his "big boy pants". He calls the older boys on the street that he loves playing with "big boys".

So I was relieved the other night to finally get a glimpse of him still wanting to be little. After his bath, he was completely uncooperative in getting dried off. "No towel, mommy." Instead of letting him run around the house drenched and naked, I scooped him up in his towel and started signing "Rockabye Baby." Not exactly sure why, since I'm pretty sure I've never sung it to him in the past 2 years when it would've been more appropriate. Nonetheless, he loved it and has requested "More baby" the past few nights at bedtime. He insists on me wrapping him up in his blanket and holding him across my arms and rocking him as if he is still 8 pounds instead of 30. He starts giggling as we near the end of the song when I sing, "I'll catch you Riley, cradle and all." I think he thinks it's awesome that a song has his name in it. He requests "more baby" a few more times and I am happy to oblige. Looking down at this huge kid in my arms, grinning as if I'd hung the moon, is a sight that I hope I never forget.

Lesson for Cookie Monster

Cookie Monster sits proudly on a low shelf near the door at Riley's school. Most days, as he is leaving, Riley has to say good-bye to Cookie Monster, usually by patting him on the head or reaching into his cookie jar (which is, thankfully, without cookies).

Today, however, Riley decided it would be funny to put his hand in Cookie Monster's mouth. Trying to capitalize on the opportunity to have a conversation about not biting without Riley actually being in trouble, I said, "Cookie Monster, no bite. Not nice." Without missing a beat, Riley replied, "Mime tout, Cooey Monner." (Translation: "Time out, Cookie Monster.") He then proceeded to turn Cookie Monster around so that he was facing the corner.

I sure do hope Cookie Monster learned his lesson.

Reminder to Daddy

Riley and I were sitting at the kitchen counter this morning eating breakfast. As with most days, Casey left for work while we were eating. Riley likes to watch Daddy leave and waves at him the entire time from when he closes the door to the house until he backs his car down the driveway and out of sight.

Every morning, before he leaves the house, Casey will give Riley a hug and a kiss. This morning, after receiving his hug and kiss from Casey, he quickly said, "Mommy hug." I assumed this meant that he wanted me to give him a hug too, so I leaned over to hug him. This obviously wasn't it, as he repeated, "Mommy hug," and pointed to Casey. So Casey gave me a hug. This was clearly it, as a big smile immediately crossed Riley's face. A second later, with his devious smirk, he said, "Mommy kiss." After I received my kiss from Casey, he seemed satisfied.

Guess he didn't want Mommy to feel left out...

One of the Best Things Ever!!!

When I am loading Riley into the car to head off to school, I usually tousle his hair or give him a kiss before closing the door and heading around to the driver's seat.

For the past two days, by the time I open my door, Riley's got his arm stretched apart and is saying "Hug, Monny, hug." I mean, really, what Mom can refuse an extra hug? So I walk back around the car, open his door and give Riley a great big hug. Well, today I got an added bonus: after the hug he unmistakably said, "Love you."

My heart could've melted.

Toast

Ever since I was pregnant with Riley, Casey has been making me "special toast". It is toast with butter, brown sugar and cinnamon on top and it is my favorite. Recently, Riley decided to opt out of his traditional peanut butter toast and instead wanted special toast. Being the ever-accommodating Daddy that he is, Casey made it for him. He has requested it pretty much every morning since.

Casey loves to cook, and likes to share the cooking experience with Riley. He has Riley smell things, feel things, etc. and is constantly explaining what he's doing.

This morning, Riley slept in particularly late, so I was in charge of breakfast. As is commonplace these days, when asked what he wanted for breakfast, Riley's reply was "Special toast." So I made him some special toast (I have to say though, I think Casey's toast is more special -- tastes better to me anyway) and was going about putting things back after I handed the toast to Riley. All of a sudden he started whining about something that I could not understand. "Monny, sell. Monnnnnnny, selllllll." As he grew more agitated, he started pointing to what had clearly offended him (something inside the kitchen cabinet). With this clue, I was able to figure out that I had made the grave error of putting the cinnamon away before allowing him to smell it.

After a good long sniff, all was forgiven.

Pool Break

Riley loves spending time at the pool. If you cannot find us on a weekend, odds are it's because we are at the pool. He splashes and plays and jumps off the side of the pool and generally has a big time. But he also understands his limits. And this is why I think "pool break" was invented. Each and every time he hears a whistle blown, and particularly on days when he has worn himself out, he will yell, "Pool break" and insist that we all get out of the pool.

Side note: This does not just occur at the pool. We were at home the other day and Riley said, "Pool break" -- it took me a few seconds to realize that the song we were listening to had the sound of a whistle in it.

He also says "Pool Break" at the store, while driving in the car, pretty much whenever, I have surmised, he has the pool on his mind.

Happy Birthday

You may remember from a prior post that Riley became slightly obsessed with his friend Hannah's birthday, saying "Happy Birthday, Hannah" for weeks after her birthday party.

On the 4th of July, I made the mistake of trying to explain the holiday in terms that he could understand. I ended up saying, "You know, it's America's birthday, like it was Hannah's birthday."

Well, almost two weeks later, he is still saying "Happy Birthday, America" multiple times a day. I find this particularly adorable. I also find that the people we encounter in our daily lives (parents dropping off their kids at school, people in line at the grocery store, neighbors, complete strangers) think this is charming as well.

Must capture on video.

Front Porch

Casey is a "get out of your pajamas and change into your clothes for the day before you leave the bedroom" kind of a parent. I, on the other hand, am a bit lazier and like to ease into the day. Probably much to Casey's displeasure, on the days that I am fortunate enough to be the one to get Riley out of bed, we usually start out his morning by letting the dogs out the front door.

This was one of those mornings. Riley likes to sleep in, so it was probably 8:30 or so before we made our appearance on the front porch. By that time, many people are out and about in our neighborhood, likely trying to get their walk or run in before it gets too unbearably hot.

We must be quite a sight to all those passing by -- Riley and I sitting next to each other on the top step, both still in our "jammies" with crazy, unbrushed hair, flanked by two very large golden retrievers. We are hard to miss, especially now that Riley thinks he's the neighborhood social director and insists on saying, "Morning" to each and every person that passes by...

I will miss that front porch.

Fireman

After I picked up Riley from school last night, we were on a mission to get to the grocery store when the most exciting thing (to a two-year-old) happened: a fire truck drove by. As luck would have it, the fire truck was headed in the same direction we were, so we got to see the fire truck for quite awhile. It was pretty far ahead of us and ended up turning. "Bye bye, fire truck," he said, somewhat dejectedly.

I turned into a different entrance to the shopping center than usual, knowing full well that the fire truck had also decided to visit the shopping center. We parked and instead of walking into the store, I walked Riley down to the parking lot where the fire truck was parked. His eyes immediately got big as we walked toward the fire truck. And then the second coolest thing happened: a fireman got out of the fire truck! And he started walking towards us! And he reached out his hand to give Riley the sticker badge that he was holding! Riley was so excited that he could barely stand it. The fire man showed us around the fire truck and we got to look at all the cool buttons and ladders and hoses. After a few minutes, it was time for the fire truck to leave, and besides, we still had to go buy our groceries.

This dear fireman though was not through with Riley's experience. As the fire truck pulled out of the shopping center, he honked his horn, turned on his lights and gave a quick blast of the siren. If you could've seen Riley's face -- I have never seen him so excited about anything.

He insisted on sleeping with his fireman sticker badge on his jammies last night. This morning (and this should tell you how much he loves "Alice", his rocking horse), after we were finished getting dressed for school, he walked over to Alice and proudly put his sticker badge on her nose and proceeded to tell her about "fire truck".

I Cannot Make This Stuff Up

Falling into the category of "What will he think of next" is this morning's episode. After getting ready for school, Riley crawled onto our bed to get in some snuggle time with Wrigley. At some point, Casey started tossing Riley into the pillows (which is a game he loves). Not sure exactly what transpired, but the end result was that Riley bumped his head on the headboard. He did not hit his head hard, but I was still expecting waterworks and dramatics. Instead... silence. He said nothing, climbed off the bed and left the room. More silence...

Silence with a 2-year-old boy is never a good thing. It usually means mischief. I gave him the benefit of the doubt for about 30 seconds before I decided to see what he was up to. As I stepped into the hallway, I caught a glimpse of Riley and it took all of my super powers as a mom to not burst out laughing.

He had walked out of our room, down the hallway and into his room, had opened his dresser door, had located and taken out the items that he was looking for, and was bringing them back to us. What were the items, you ask? The 2011 non-sting version of Bactine, 3 cotton balls, Neosporin and a band-aid. You know, to fix his boo-boo.

Watermelon

The other week we were at a birthday part for Riley's one-year-old friend, Hannah Brown. It was a hot day and we were more concerned about keeping Riley hydrated than much else. I remember that some of the child-friendly delicacies served were hot dogs, watermelon, goldfish and cake. There were bubbles, balloon and lots of other kids. Lots of fun was had by all.

About a week or two went by and we were in the grocery store. All of a sudden Riley said, "Happy Birthday, Hannah" (which, I will admit, we practiced quite a bit before Hannah's party so that we could show off to all of the one-year-olds how smart our two-year-old was in comparison). I looked around to see if Hannah was in the store. Nope. So we moved on. Riley kept talking about "Happy Birthday, Hannah" and kept pointing. I was certain Hannah's parents must at least be in the store. Nope. As he kept talking and pointing, I finally realized what it was -- he had spotted some watermelon in the grocery store. Of course.

Almost a month later, every time we see watermelon he says, "Happy Birthday, Hannah".

Measuring the Years in Walks

Pretty much ever since the first day we brought Winston home almost 8 years ago, we have gone on frequent walks around the neighborhood (Ardmore). The quality and pattern of those walks have changed, but the walks themselves have remained pretty constant. I remember the first walk with Winston when he was no more than 8 weeks old -- I had him on his cute little leash and he was so eager to explore. That lasted about 2 walks. At that point, he was so tired that he couldn't walk another step and I had to carry him home.

We quickly learned after we got Wrigley a year later that walks were just simpler if the dogs were not on leashes. So we trained the dogs to stay on the sidewalks and not go in the street. With the exception of what happens when we encounter a particularly stupid squirrel or if they see their favorite neighbor (Jamie) and just can't wait the extra 5 seconds it takes for him to cross the road to see them (which they have trained him to do), they really do stick to the sidewalks. You can even throw Wrigley's most prized possession (her ball) into the street and she will not chase it. She will stay on the sidewalk and walk down the sidewalk in unison with the ball as it rolls down the street and will then sit directly across the street from where it ends up and "spots" it until you go retrieve it for her.

All very impressive. When we added Riley to the mix, we had to change a few things about our route (for example, at Miller Park, we used to park the dogs at the top of the hill overlooking the bocce courts and make them sit and wait until we released them; after Riley was born and we had his stroller, we had to stick to the sidewalks and the hill no longer came into play). When he was an infant, no matter how cranky he was or how recently he had woken up, if we put him in his stroller and started out on a walk, he'd be asleep before we reached the end of our driveway (which is not particularly long). As the months passed, he would stay awake on the walks for longer and longer periods of time - at three months, he'd still be awake when we got to Starbucks; at six months, he'd stay awake until we made it to the park; at 9 months he'd fall asleep right about when we got to within a block of our house (which usually meant the walk would get extended); at a year, he no longer fell asleep. Shortly after that, when he learned how to walk on his own, he decided he was too old to sit in the stroller at the beginning of the walks. It would take an eternity (since he had to stop every 2 seconds to look at something -- much like Winston did on that first walk when he was a puppy -- I guess youngsters have a lot to teach us -- even the simplest things that surround us every day are worth a more extensive look now and again), but it was fun nonetheless.

Now that he's two, he's more serious about his walking. But, much like the dogs, he's also very serious about the rules when it comes to streets. If Casey has to go into the street to retrieve Wrigley's ball, Riley will say, "Daddy, street" and point to the sidewalk where Daddy should be standing instead of in the street.

And then he will throw the occasional curve ball at us, like he did one time when we got to a four-way stop. He said what sounded like, "Hey buddies!". Casey and I looked at each other a bit baffled and then said, "Hey buddy" back to him like we thought we were supposed to and then told him he had to hold onto one of our hands before crossing the street. It took what was probably a few weeks of "Hey buddy" before we figured out what he was really saying. "Hand buddy!" Turns out that when they are going somewhere at school, they have to hold hands with someone else so that the teachers can keep tabs on all of the children, and this someone else is called their "hand buddy". Makes perfect sense. Sometimes I wonder if he's just rolling his eyes at us like, "Duh, what is wrong with you two?"

Hand buddies has become an obsession of his. Even when he's in his stroller or being carried, he will say, "Hand buddy!" when we get to the street and will insist on holding your hand. It is really sweet, and I especially love it when he has to have both Mommy and Daddy as his hand buddy at the same time. My only complaint really, if you can even call it that, is that it is very difficult to push a stroller, walk, hold the hand of the child sitting in the stroller, and maneuver around two dogs that think it's fun to stop directly in front of the stroller in the middle of the road.

I would not give up these walks for anything. Whether Riley is with us at night, or we are just taking the dogs for a walk during our lunch break, they are always good for the soul. It's easier to talk about things - serious or normal - while walking. We have contemplated adding another dog to our family, having children, moving to a new house, spending money on things, friendships, how to raise a child, death and many other topics on these walks. First I loved them just with my husband (who wasn't even my husband at the time), then with Winston, then as a family of four, and now as a very mobile family of five. Amazing how you can measure the passage of time just by thinking about the progression of our walks. Can't wait to see what future walks will hold.

"Coppy"

Riley and I often share breakfast together sitting on the "big boy chairs" (stools) in our kitchen at the Elizabeth Avenue house. Many days I am drinking coffee, in a pathetic, last-ditch effort to recharge my batteries. I am usually a bit groggy during these breakfast dates, which is fine, except that I have a set of eagle eyes watching my every move without my knowledge.

Case in point: this morning, Riley started talking about "coppy" (coffee). He then proceeded to pick up his glass of milk, declare it "Riley's coppy" and start sipping it ever so delicately like it was really hot to drink. As I contemplated the curiousness of this behavior, I took another sip of my coffee, only to realize that it was an exact replica of what Riley had just done. Hmmm, guess our days of shot-gunning beers in front of him are over. Must move on to sipping fancy after-dinner dessert drinks.

Bike

Casey and I purchased Riley a bike for his 2nd birthday. We (Casey and I) were so excited about it and thought he would love it. As it turns out, he was afraid of it and wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.

If he saw any other bike, he'd make a beeline for it and want to ride. If we asked him if he wanted to ride Riley's bike, he'd scream "NO BIKE!!!"

This past Sunday, after another "NO BIKE" Casey got resourceful. He found my bike (which has been sitting in our garage unused since I was training for the 2001 Chicago Marathon) and brought it out of retirement. After giving my bike some much-needed air in its tires, it was good as new. Almost immediately upon seeing me get on my bike, Riley walked over to his bike, got on it and off he went. 25 minutes later, after Riley and I "rode" our bikes down the street with Casey, Winston & Wrigley following on foot, it was time to turn around and go home for bedtime. Apparently riding up hills is still not his thing. After about 5 minutes of all of us staring at each other trying to will Riley into riding up the hill, Casey resorted to putting Riley on his shoulders, carrying Riley's bike and trudging up the hill.

Still, it was worth it to see the little guy so proud of himself for riding "Riley's big boy bike". Here are a few pictures that he insisted I take of him on his bike this morning as we were leaving for school. ("Monny, cam-ra pees!")

Two Year Check-Up

Riley had his 2-year check-up today. He is in the 45th percentile for weight and the 73rd percentile for height.

Things we learned:

1. Shots are still scary.
2. Plastic crabs hanging above the table where the shots are administered make the shots less scary. So does the promise of a trip to the pool shortly following the shots.
3. We are done with shots until kindergarten (which sounds like a lifetime away but will no doubt be upon us before we know it).
4. His fear of planes is slightly abnormal.
5. Pulling out his hair and eating it remarkably is not. It is also a good sign that he seems to have given up this behavior.
6. We should not attempt potty training until we have moved into the new house.
7. Just because he is his normal happy-go-lucky self and isn't pulling on his ears or giving any other indication that they might be bothering him doesn't mean that he doesn't have a double ear infection.
8. Quite possibly the symptoms of "teething" that he's been experiencing have really been the side effects of a double ear infection.
9. He gets (and seems to require) more sleep than most children (I'm pretty sure his pediatrician, who is the father of 3 young children, was jealous).
10. His pediatrician has the patience of Job.

Last Day of May

The last day of his birthday month was not a whole lot of fun as it was spent pretty much entirely in the car on the long drive home from Chicago. However, a day of forced rest probably wasn't a bad thing. We could all use it after a long and fun weekend, and an exceptionally long month.

I can't believe my little guy is 2 already. It has been fun devoting a whole month to documenting his latest conquests and hope that it has offered a little bit of insight on what makes this 2 year old such a special and amazing guy.

Memorial Day

The first day of our vacation in Chicago was rainy but great. Riley, Maddie and I celebrated our birthdays. A big group of us (my parents, Jen, Ed, Cody, Maddie, Belle, Nancy, Casey, Riley and me) went out for some mexican (Maddie's birthday meal choice). We opened presents, caught up, had some drinks, ate too much and had a wonderful birthday.

The second day of our vacation was filled with tornado warnings, debates on whether or not we should spend some time in the basement, card games, Red Sox/Tigers double header and then a glorious evening outside after the weather had passed.

The third day of our vacation (Memorial Day) was spent mostly outside. In the morning, a walk to the playground with Uncle Ed and Grandpa Jim. Later in the morning, on a big kid swing with Maddie. Right about high noon (on an extremely hot day) is when Riley grabbed Grandpa Jim by the back of the leg, said "here" and steered him towards their destination. Unfortunately, the destination was the very small plastic house in my sister's back yard. He insisted that Grandpa "sit down" in the very small space, and also decided it would be a good idea to stay in there for almost an hour while he ate his lunch and hung out with his grandpa. It was very cute and very sweet, but my poor dad had some serious issues straightening his stiff muscles back out and getting out of the house. And pretty much as soon as he did, Riley was steering him right back in.

After a solid nap, Riley's battery was recharged and we decided it was time to head to the pool for the first time this year. He seemed to love it even more than last year. He also seems much more fearless (uh oh). He also thought it was a whole lot of fun when he was in his cousin Cody's care at the pool and ran back and forth down the side of the pool while Cody swam like mad to keep up with him. Not sure who was more exhausted by the end of the day.

I am leaving many parts of the weekend out, as he had precious moments with my mom, my sister, Nancy, David, Casey and me too, but I will have to save those for another day.

All in all, a wonderful Memorial Day and we were so thankful to be able to spend it with my family. It is always sad to leave, and the long drive home doesn't make it any easier.

Fun Times with Belle

Riley thinks his cousin Isabelle is super cool. Today he learned how to play Ring Around the Rosie with her. After they would fall down, both of them would kick their legs in the air and "act like bugs". One of the cutest things I have ever seen.

In spite of being nicknamed "Monster", Isabelle is truly amazing with him. He clearly adores her.

Boo-boos

As most children his age can be, Riley is a bit uncoordinated at times, which often leads to small injuries, or "boo boos" as he calls them. I think in a prior post I talked about how I always had to kiss the boo boos and then he'd pronounce himself "all better". This has taken on a new twist -- instead of me kissing his boo boos, he now has to kiss them himself. My favorite is when he has a boo boo on his knee and feels the need to kiss it while he's standing up. Needless to say, this is difficult for anyone to execute, but particularly a clumsy two-year-old. He almost always tips over, but refuses to move on until he has kissed his boo boo. Sometimes it can take a good five minutes before he declares himself "all better" and moves on.

Sweet Voice

There may be very few things in this world cuter or more innocent sounding than a child's voice. I could sit all day and listen to Riley count. "Ooone, twoooo, tweee, fo-uh, siiiix (he always forgets five), sebeeen, eiiight, niiiine, ten." For whatever reason, he likes to draw out the vowels in all numbers except for ten, which he always finishes abruptly. Usually this is following by a lot of clapping, smiles and "Yay, Riley!!!" (all of which he does for himself -- very quick to self-congratulate).

Listening to him sing is equally as cute and hysterical. "Winkle, Winkle" (his version of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star) and Issy Bissy Spidah (Itsy Bitsy Spider) are two of my favorites.

I wish I could record his two year old voice and listen to it forever.

Alice the Horse

It has become apparent within the last few weeks that Riley is starting to develop an imagination.

Case in point: Tonight Riley and Casey were in Riley's room playing with Riley's rocking horse. I overheard their conversation only enough to hear Casey ask Riley, "Horsie's name is Alex? Or are you saying Alice?"

I immediately knew the answer. Alice is the wonderfully kind lady at Riley's school who serves the children their food each day. It is clear that Riley adores her. Whenever he sees her, he gets a great big grin on his face, points to her and says "Alice".

There is nothing about the "real" Alice that resembles a horse. But still, I found it sweet that he would name his horsie after her. I also found myself wondering when it was that he figured out that real people can enter his make-believe world.

Stalling Tactics

I have always heard of children coming up with creative ways to stall. Typically I believe this occurs at bedtime. In Riley's case, dinner time was the cause. Tonight's dinner: spinach salad, cheese and bread. We knew the spinach salad was a long shot, but cheese and bread are typically mealtime favorites. Tonight (proof again that he is truly my son) all he wanted to eat was the bread and lots of it. When he asked for even more bread, I decided to draw the line and tell him that he couldn't have any more until he ate some cheese. He pitched a mini fit and then had a drink of milk (stall tactic #1). Seeming to think that we might forget about the cheese if a little time passed, he said "hug" and put an arm out in my direction and an arm out in Casey's direction. Unable to refuse giving our sweet guy a hug, a group hug ensued. Three more requests for hugs followed. Sensing our moment of weakness, he again requested bread. Being the enforcers of rules that we are, we again refused. Another request for a hug. 10 minutes later, the hugging ceased (we finally had to refuse our sweet guy since at this point we knew we were been manipulated) and we carried on with dinner. Two pieces of cheese later, Riley got his bread.

I'd say maybe we can call that a tie?

Reading Skills

This morning Riley insisted on reading his Red Sox book while I folded some laundry. He pointed out Wally and the baseball, and then all of a sudden started frantically flipping through pages clearly searching for something specific. When he found what he was looking for he said something that sounded like "Teh Wee-ums". I had no idea what he was talking about, but he kept repeating it and pointing to the picture in the book. Curious, I stopped folding and looked at what he was pointing to. Much to my surprise, the picture on the page was unmistakably Ted Williams.

Wow.

Language Lessons

As we were on our walk this morning, Casey found himself picking up after the dogs for the 2nd time within about a 10 foot stretch. Simply commenting on the misfortune of the circumstances, he muttered, "Great, now I get to pick up more crap." Perhaps not the best choice of words, but it was better than some of the alternatives.

Would not have given the situation much thought at all, except that Riley almost immediately began saying over and over and over and over "more crap". Strange that this would be one of the first multi-word "sentences" that he pronounced absolutely perfectly.

As you might imagine, Casey got many evil looks from me which were immediately followed by a lecture on when was the appropriate time to start watching what we say in front of Riley (which, apparently, was yesterday).

Nonetheless, we were both practically in hysterics as we walked behind Riley down the street as he happily bopped along saying "more crap" for a good 2-3 minutes.

Breakfast Time

The morning started out innocently enough. He got dressed for school. He said good morning to his rocking horse. He gave Winston and Wrigley a hug and a kiss. He charged into the kitchen for breakfast. And then it happened...

He pointed to the kitchen stool, said "Big boy chair" and with that made his declaration that he was no longer a baby that needed to sit in a high chair. This was not his first time sitting on the stool, but this was his first time to refuse the high chair.

I was ok with that at first. After all, he understands his limits and isn't too squirmy when sitting on the big boy chair. I know he is growing up fast and there are certain milestones that he is going to reach whether I like it or not (and let's face it, putting the big ol' high chair in storage for awhile is not the worst thing in the world). I even tried to be the bigger person by allowing himself to sit in the big boy chair relatively unsupervised while I tended to various tasks around the house.

However, when I returned to the kitchen from folding some laundry, I was unprepared for what I would discover. Riley, quietly sitting in the big boy chair blissfully content reading the newspaper (ok, it was a magazine - we are too cheap to have the newspaper delivered to our house, but still...) and eating his toast. I thought about pouring him a cup of coffee.

When did he turn 25?

Otis

Riley's most recent discovery is that he has a last name. I suspect this has a lot to do with the fact that we are often shouting "Wrigley Otis" and "Riley Otis" when one (or both) is misbehaving. Now, when he wants to get someone's attention, he will yell their full name. For example, on a recent walk, he shouted, "Re-lee Otis bah hee" (translation: "Wrigley Otis back here"). This morning, while eating his breakfast, he was apparently practicing names - Daddy Otis, Monny Otis, Winston Otis, Wrigley Otis, Riley Otis. I was so impressed that he seemed to know exactly who the members of his family were.

It was right about the time that I was high-fiving and congratulating myself on his imminent full-ride academic scholarship to one of his grandfather's fancy ivy league schools when he uttered those shameful yet unmistakable words: "Kitty Cat Otis". Not only is there not a cat in the Otis family, but cats are the sworn enemy of Winston and Wrigley.

Here's to hoping he's a lefty.

Favorite Mispronunciation

Riley's vocabulary is rapidly expanding. His pronunciation of words is also getting better and better. For the most part, I do my best to repeat the words that he's saying back to him so that he eventually learns the correct pronunciation.

There is only one word that I refuse to correct. "Monny." Monny is how he pronounces "Mommy" and I could not love it more. Something about it just seems sweeter than the correct pronunciation. "Hi Monny." "Morning Monny." "Bye bye Monny." I just love the way it sounds. I swear he will be 50 before I let him in on the secret that it is pronounced "Mommy". Every kid calls his mom, "Mommy". Not me, I'm Monny.

Corruption by Example

Today was not the best of days for me (Kelly). The stress of having so much on my plate at work, owning two houses and getting very little down time just got to me today. Leave it to Riley (and Casey) to turn things around.

Casey's story is somewhat sweet. I came home from my tennis match (one that I really didn't feel like playing) to find freshly baked chocolate chunk cookies and a sweet note from my husband on the counter. How great is he?!?

Riley's story is more comical in nature. For whatever reason, he is terrified of airplanes these days. If he hears one, he will come running from near or far to wrap himself around your legs and whine, "Airplane" over and over and over until the sound goes away or you can convince him that airplanes are not scary. (Incidentally, his fear of airplanes coincided with a local plane crash a month or so ago. He doesn't watch tv, so it's not like he would've seen the story on the news, but still, I swear it was right around the same time. But I digress.)

In an attempt to distract Riley from yet another fly-over, Casey decided it would be a good idea to show him how to throw food (a piece of banana) into the air and catch it in his mouth. After all, what a cool trick, right? The distraction worked and Riley was delighted by his daddy's skills. Everyone moved on to more entertaining things like some people walking past on the other side of the street. About 5-10 minutes later, as Riley continued eating his banana, he pulled about 1/2 of it out of the banana peel. Before we even knew what was happening, he tossed the 1/2 banana in the air and tried to catch it in his mouth.

Now, we know you are not supposed to laugh at things your kids do that you do not want repeated, but we just could not hold it in this time. I cannot remember the last time I have seen something so simply funny.

I think it was yesterday that I said, "What will he think of next?" I'm afraid to even ask this time.

Say Cheese!

I guess it was inevitable. After all, Riley has been the subject of an awful lot of photos in his 2 years. But still, I was unprepared for the sequence of events this morning. He woke up fiesty (in a good way) and in an exceptionally good mood. I first discovered that he was awake because I heard him in his room practicing his A-B-C's (seriously could not have been any more precious). After listening to him for awhile, I heard him talking about his horse. First "horsie" then "rock rock rock" (obviously he has a rocking horse). When I entered his room, he immediately pointed at said horse and just had to go over and pet him and give him a kiss before getting dressed. Still clearly on a mission after he was dressed, he again insisted on going over to horsie. This time, he climbed on and then unmistakeably said, "pitter". After he repeated this a few times, I realized he was commanding me to take a picture of him riding his horse.

My iPhone is not great at photos of moving targets, but here he is.



After he was satisfied that he was done with his photo shoot, he then barked out "Sit dow" (sit down) and pointed at the floor of his bedroom. He proceeded to sit on my lap, grab my phone, and rifle through the ever-expanding collection of Riley photos on my phone.

What will he think of next?!?

Driving Mr. Riley - Daddy's Turn

Today Casey got out of work a little bit early after meeting with a client. He took the opportunity to pick Riley up from school (something that is normally my responsibility). I received a phone call shortly thereafter to inform me that not only had Riley climbed into the car by himself, but that he had climbed into his car seat all by himself. Casey says it was amazing to watch, but both of us felt a little sad. He is growing up so fast -- pretty soon he won't need us at all. But still, it also makes us proud to think that he is becoming so capable and that he wants to do things on his own.

As an aside: I had had a truly awful day at work today, and when I pulled into the driveway tonight, Casey, Riley, Winston and Wrigley were all sitting on the steps leading to our walkway (I cannot tell you how much it brightens my day to turn onto our street and see them out there waiting for me). When they saw me, the dogs immediately came running and jumped up on the side of my car. Riley grinned from ear to ear, started squealing and ran towards me. Although I know it was mostly because he likes to sit in my lap and honk the horn, turn on the radio, push buttons in the car, etc. as we "drive" up the driveway, I do believe there was a small part of him that also was genuinely excited to see his mommy. Even after a day like today, I couldn't help but feel blessed.

Words

As predicted earlier on this blog, the sound of silence is becoming a rarity. For now, however, it is just so much fun listening to Riley learn words. Now when he is curious about something he is unfamiliar with, he will point to it and say, "This?" As in, what's this? Once you tell him what the item is, he will attempt to repeat it. On of my favorites to date is helicopter "el-i-cock-ah". Motorcycles and bikes are both "bi-kick-cle". Winston is "Win-ton" and Wrigley is "ree-lee". If the doorbell rings, he says, "Juana" (the name of our cleaning lady), most likely because she is the only one that ever rings the bell. "Alligator" is always accompanied by clapping his hands (Gator chomp), "music" always includes a little sway of the shoulders back and forth.

He also likes to label things. "Hannah's house" when we walk past his little friend Hannah's house. "Charlie's house" where Charlie the dog lives. "Jamie's mommy" when he sees our 75 year old neighbor (who is the mom of our 40 year old across the street neighbor, Jamie - who he loves). "Jamie's truck" when he sees a car pull into the driveway across the street. "Riley's cup". "Daddy's drink" (when spotting any beer bottle - I wonder if this is a bad sign?). "Mommy's" (when spotting a bottle of wine at the grocery store).

It is amazing to hear him try new words each day and to listen to him trying to talk to other people.

And just about the time that I cannot feel any prouder of him and think he could not get any sweeter, he talks back. Thank goodness for reality.

Story Time

So much has changed about our schedules recently since we spend much of our time either keeping our current house clean or trying to make the new house habitable. Bedtimes have been delayed, meals are rarely homemade, naps are interrupted by unexpected showings, favorite toys are stored away. The one constant is story time with Daddy. Riley loves this time of day (and Daddy does too). Often it involves Casey reading stories to Riley and Riley either running around the room or crawling all over the dogs or sitting on a completely separate couch. But still, I know he is paying attention and that he loves this special time with his daddy. On a rare night, he will actually look at the pages of the book while Casey is reading and will contribute sounds ("moo") or words ("boat") or squeals of laughter ("and the BEAR WANTS MORE"). Story time rarely involves me, except when I am commanded to "sit" on the other couch and listen, but it still is one of my favorite times of day. Watching my two incredible boys together can always make even the longest, hardest days end on a good note.

Sleep

Riley has always been an excellent sleeper. He has never really pitched a fit at bedtime (although he has been known to stall occasionally), usually gives us at least 12 hours at night, and is generally pretty happy when it's time for night-night. Until recently. I don't know if he just isn't tired (unlikely given the amount of time he spends on the go), or if he's afraid he's going to miss out on something or what, but about a month ago, he started screaming each and every time we put him to bed. We tried putting him to bed earlier (maybe he was overly tired), putting him to bed later (maybe he was getting too much sleep and was trying to tell us to extend his bedtime), rubbing his back (so spoiled)... anything to make the process easier.

One day it finally occurred to me that maybe he thought we were having tons of fun after he went to bed (little does he know that all 4 of us almost immediately run to our own bed because he has exhausted us so much!!!), so I tried explaining to him that the rest of us were going night night too. I had Casey go get into bed and pretend that he was sleeping and then after I put Riley into his pajamas and brushed his teeth, I told him we had to be really quiet so we could go see that daddy and the doggies had already gone night night. He was surprised and delighted to see Casey "asleep" and told me to "shhh" and put his pointer finger up to his lips. We quietly left the room and Riley went to sleep without incident. Now all I have to do is talk to him in a soft voice and say "shhhhh" when I am getting him ready for bed and putting him in his crib. He says "night night Mommy" and lays down without protest.

Is it bad that I feel victorious for tricking a 2 year old?

Something in Common

Winston has always enjoyed sitting on the steps on our front porch. He and I have spent countless hours out there watching the world go by. The steps have now become a favorite resting spot for Riley as well. He will often walk out the front door, sit down on the steps, point to the spot next to him and command you to "sit".

Here are a few pictures of my two boys sitting together on one of their favorite spots. I am really going to miss that front porch when we move.

Icky

About a month ago, as we were on a weekend walk, Riley was walking behind his stroller (he is way too cool to actually ride in his stroller most of the time these days) and pulled a plastic bag out of one of the stroller's many pockets. He proceeded to take the plastic bag, walk over to the grass, bend down and use the bag to touch the ground.

At first we looked at him a bit perplexed. After a few seconds it dawned on us what he was doing. In almost perfect form, he was mimicking Casey as he picks up after the dogs on our walks. Fortunately, we were able to take that moment to explain to him that dog poop is "icky" and that it is not to be touched.

Nonetheless, he continues to be fascinated by this. Since our house is on the market, we end up spending a fair amount of time in the yard picking up after the dogs. This has become one of Riley's favorite outdoor activities. He is a very good "spotter" and will walk over to a certain spot in the yard and repeat "icky" over and over (and over and over) until you pick it up.

A delicate topic, but one that is so hilarious (and adorable) that I felt it was worth an honorable mention.

Rainy Day

The first thing Riley said to me this morning was "rain". It is, in fact, a rainy day. Unlike me, Riley was very excited about this because rain means puddles and puddles mean splashing and stomping. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy playing in puddles with Riley as much as he does, but not on work days when I'm in heels. No matter, he was excited and he was determined to make the most of the rainy day. When I asked him to go put his rain coat on, he ran to his closet and pointed not to his coat, but to his matching rain boots (which, mind you, are WAY too big). He insisted on wearing the boots along with the coat. Here's a picture of my excited little man in his rain gear.



When he arrived in his classroom at school (after much puddling stomping), he was like a celebrity. All his little friends made a big circle around him and pointed at and touched his boots. I have a feeling they are going to become a staple of his wardrobe.

Spiders

So, these days every single bug that Riley sees is an "itsy bitsy spider" (pronounced "issy bissy spier"). Never just a spider or an ant or a fly or any other type of bug. Always "issy bissy spier". The bug could be 2 feet long and it would still be "issy bissy". Nonetheless, it is still hilariously funny to hear him talk about it. This morning as I was changing his diaper and getting him ready for school, he started talking about the "issy bissy spier" and was having the "spider" crawl up his arm. Before too long, the "spider" was crawling in mommy's hair. Somehow this was the funniest thing that has ever happened, which is probably because I had to act terrified each and every time the "spider" was crawling in my hair. The squeals of laughter were enough to make even this Monday morning a good one.

Mother's Day

There are many times when I end the day particularly exhausted and I think to myself, "My mom is so lucky that she didn't have so many things going on when I was a kid." She never looked exhausted, she never complained, she never got to be sick, she was just simply always a loving, caring mom.

I think, "Well, she didn't work full time." She did.

"Well, she didn't volunteer." She did. A lot.

"Well, she didn't come home from work and have to make dinner and keep the house clean." She did.

"Well, she didn't have to tote us all around creation to our many activities." Of course she did.

"Well, she didn't stay up half the night worrying about us and our well-being." She did.

"Well, she didn't often feel like she had to try hard to maintain friendships that were worth keeping, but hard to squeeze in to her daily life." She always had friends around.

"Well, she certainly didn't spend the few hours per day that she had with us simultaneously trying to discipline us, make us feel important and make us feel loved." Really, she didn't? Of course she did.

"Well, she didn't give up pieces of herself so that there would be more time with us." Are you sure? Didn't she want to be a teacher in her other life?

I often get caught up in how many things I have going on and how many sacrifices I think I make that go unnoticed or unappreciated all for the sake of being a good mom to Riley (and even the dogs). But when I truly think about it, they are not sacrifices at all. They are blessings. And I learned this from my own mom who was the best example I could ever ask for.

I hope someday when Riley is older and reflects on his memories from childhood, he will think of how I taught him to blow his nose "so loudly that Daddy can hear it at work" and how I could "kiss it and make it better" and how he had to "work" by doing chores to earn the things he wanted (like hockey school) and how I used to make brownies for him and his friends just slightly gooey so that they could all eat them directly out of the pan with spoons and how our house was always the one at which everyone wanted to hang out.

I am so thankful to be a mom and so thankful to have a great one of my own.

Working Man

The new house needs a LOT of work done. I cannot even stress how much. Our short list: removing not one, but two, layers of wallpaper from at least 5 rooms; washing walls; scraping peeling paint and then repainting each and every room (who knew there was such an ugly shade of green) - walls, ceilings and trim; resurfacing the wood floors. These are what we have deemed "do it ourselves" projects, unlike the kitchen that hasn't been updated since at least the 70s and needs to be completely remodeled or the unfinished basement. Since the house is new to us, we have a lot of enthusiasm about our projects and want to spend our time on the weekends working.

Today was weekend day #1 since we purchased the house. And of course Riley (and the dogs) have to be with us at the new house while we are working on it. I was convinced that this was going to be a disaster. After all, it is extremely difficult to keep a 2 year old occupied for any length of time. As it turns out, Riley is a natural. He loves the roller, the scraper, anything which allows him to mimic what Casey and I are doing. His favorite thing, however, is the broom. He has "swept" every room in the house by now, I am certain. The broom can entertain him for very long stretches of time. When he gets bored, the empty cabinets are the source of much amusement.

I can't say that the progress we've made on the house has been monumental so far, and I'm sure at some point we'll get sick and tired of spending all of our "free" time working, but for now, it is really fun working on this house together. And when it is done and we can see what we can only call "potential" right now, there is a very large part of me that thinks it will be pretty amazing to look at our dining room and know that Riley helped paint it. I think I will forever have etched in my memory the sight of Casey standing on the ladder and Riley standing on the floor below him, both of them with rollers in hand, Riley trying so hard to be just like his daddy and looking just like a miniature version of him.

Hiring someone to do this would certainly be easier, but the memories we will make doing the things which we are (somewhat) capable of doing ourselves are irreplaceable.

Coffee and Muffins

In honor of Mother's Day, Riley's school had some coffee and muffins waiting for us when we arrived to drop the children off at school today. Riley was so excited to see the food when we entered the door and immediately grabbed a few muffins. He then pointed at the coffee and said, "Mommy coffee" and insisted that I get some to drink. He took his muffins over to a tiny little table with tiny little chairs, and we proceeded to have a very sweet Mother's Day breakfast together. As we sat together, each of us in one of those tiny little chairs, I watched (really watched) him as I so rarely take the time to do. And I was so proud to see the little boy that he has become. Simultaneously sweet and energetic. Always taking the time to give the dogs an extra kiss goodbye in the morning and to give his little friends at school a hug before he leaves. Giving high fives and knuckles to the wait staff at the Club. Smiling and saying hi to neighbors as they walk past our house. Flirting with little girls and older women (which, thanks to his father, is sometimes accompanied with an exuberant "Hi ladies"). Reading books. Saying "sorry" (pronounced "saw wee") when he knows he's done something wrong and following it up with a hug or kiss, as if he might actually understand what it means to be sorry.

It strikes me at times like this that maybe we have done something right as parents, but then I wonder if he's just a sweet little guy at heart. Either way, I am proud to be Riley's mommy.

Short

This entry will be short, but so is the subject matter. It has been quite warm here for the past week and Riley has been wearing shorts to school every day. This morning we woke up to cooler weather and some rain and it was time to bring the jeans back out. Much to my horror, the pair that I put on him had shrunk considerably in the wash. Or so I thought until the second and then third pair (which had not been washed recently) also were a good inch and a half too short as well. So I grabbed a pair of 2T jeans that had been much too long a few weeks ago when I tried them on him only to find that they were not too long at all now.

I wonder who growing pains hurt more -- the children whose bodies are stretching or the parents who are suddenly startled to realize that their little baby has grown into a little boy literally overnight.

Riley's friend Wally

I cannot remember if I have posted about this in the past, but Riley has a mobile with a bunch of Wallys (Boston Red Sox mascot) and a baseball hanging from the ceiling fan over his crib. He has loved Wally from the minute his eyes could see far enough to notice him. (I have some adorable pictures of him smiling and reaching towards Wally from when he was an infant.) Well, now he has begun to understand that Wally has a particular song that goes along with him. Each morning he will point to Wally and say "Wally's song". At which point you absolutely MUST sing "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" on repeat until he (or you) grows tired of it. It was during one of these delightful renditions of the song that we discovered that Riley understood what "1-2-3" meant. Turns out that he can count to 10 (although it often takes some prodding). Who knew?!?

We also discovered that they must work on their ABCs at school too. When we first started singing the alphabet song to him at home, he could usually repeat it up to c or d. About a week later when I was singing it to him again to distract him long enough to change his diaper, he made it to h. Then he'd say a few unintelligable things and come to "elmo p", which I'm pretty sure is l m n o p. A few weeks later and he can make it through the whole alphabet (well, at least on some days). It's amazing how quickly they seem to be able to learn at this age.

Guess it's time to really pay attention to what we are saying in front of him.

Bittersweet

Today marks a very important day in the life of the Otis family. Today we closed on the purchase of a new house. We are extremely excited on the one hand (after all, it's a really neat old home in Buena Vista, a neighborhood which we have always aspired to live in), but on the other, we are very sad to be leaving our current house and street and neighborhood (Ardmore) and park (Miller Park) and all of the amazing and kind and fun and thoughtful neighbors that we have met over the 8 and 1/2 years that we've lived here. I doubt there could ever be a better street than Elizabeth Avenue. In fact, just last week while Riley, the dogs and I were walking back from the park, we encountered a film crew preparing to film a commercial on our street because they felt that it was a perfect example of an "All American" street. It is.

But the new house and street and neighborhood are going to be wonderful as well. After the papers were all signed, the deed was recorded and the house became officially ours, Casey and I left the office and went in different directions. Casey went to the grocery store to pick up a bottle of champagne and then home to pick up the dogs. I went to pick up Riley from school. We all arrived at the new house at essentially the same time and explored together. The dogs were delighted to find a golden retriever and yellow lab next door. Riley was excited to have a house with absolutely nothing in it so he could run back and forth from wall to wall for about 10 minutes straight without anything interrupting his progress. Casey opened the bottle of champagne (he even had the foresight to place in an ice bucket with a bunch of ice and bring two champagne flutes - wow, I love this man), poured a glass for each of us and then all three of us "cheersed" -- Riley with his plastic cup full of water and Casey and I with our champagne.

Eventually we wandered outside to check out the yard and it was there that we encountered our first group of new neighbors. I immediately felt we had made the right decision when we discovered that the next door neighbors have three little boys under the age of 5 who Riley promptly abandoned us for. The sounds of their little squeals while running around the yard was a perfect way to end the very long process of buying a new home.

Driving Mr. Riley

Driving Riley to school has become one of my favorite times of day. There is no shortness of entertainment. After he is buckled into his seat and I am safely buckled into mine, he will point to the stereo and say "Usic" (as in "music"). When the music has been turned on, he will put his hands in the air and wave them around and clap and chair dance until he grows tired of it. Usually this is right about the time that he notices a bird. Then he tucks one little hand into his armpit and flaps his arm around and says "tweet tweet". Shortly after that, he usually spots a garbage truck, school bus, bicycle or some other delightful mode of transportation as we are still driving through our neighborhood. He is obsessed with all such items and will point to it, tell you what it is, and then either tell you that it goes "round and round" or "beep beep". He would do this all five minutes of our drive to school if we didn't happen to pass the Ronald McDonald House on the way. But we do, so he has to point out each and every morning that Ronald, in fact, is still sitting on the bench out front. "Hi Ronald" is what I hear from the backseat. (I swear I only told him once who Ronald was, but they apparently became very close friends quickly.) He continues to talk about either Ronald or the flags that we've passed until we spot another exciting vehicle -- the ambulance. There is a parking lot full of them on our way to school, and he shouts "am-boo-lance" from the backseat before he can even see them. He then proceeds to tell me how they say "whe ooo". Luckily, we come across a stop light shortly thereafter and then he repeats "light" over and over and over until we arrive at school.

I suspect there will be a day when I find his constant chatter and enthusiasm from the back seat a bit irritating, but for now, I couldn't think of a better way to spend 5 minutes in the car.

May has arrived!

I feel like I blinked and all of a sudden May has arrived again. It has been an interesting spring to say the least, and with all of the business and exhaustion, this blog has been one of the things I had to let slide. It strikes me, however, that documenting our doings for future reflections on days gone by is one of the things I most enjoy doing and it's a pity that I have let it go because I have been "too busy" with work and worrying about other things I cannot control.

So, as I did last year, in honor of Riley's birthday month, it is my intention to write an entry for every single day of the month leading up to my little man's second birthday. Some may be short, others may be long, but all of them will hopefully showcase the little guy he's becoming -- so full of life and energy and personality.

With the exception of when he is sleeping, there really are not many moments that Riley is truly still. Unfortunately, some days he can still be a bit clumsy and falls and scrapes and bumps are a common occurrence in his life. Unless it is hurts a lot or is very scary for some reason, he rarely cries after a tumble or bump. And as much as I hate that he hurts himself in even some minor way, I have to say that I find these "injuries" to be the source of much sweetness and hilarity to me. Pretty much each and every time he finds himself with an "injury", after he has recovered from fright of it all, he will point to the injured limb or head and say, "Mommy kiss." After I kiss the spot (and believe me, he lets me know if I have kissed the wrong place), he will point at the offending object or surface, wag his finger at it, and say "Bad boy" to it. The things he comes up with...

Question has been answered

In spite of the fact that most of the time Riley really doesn't look much like either one of us, after this morning, I can say with certainty that he is, in fact, our child.

Clue #1: While putting on his lightweight jacket (thank goodness Spring weather has arrived), he became very interested in something on it and made me take the jacket off and show it to him. He found what he was looking for -- the big "B" on the front. He pointed and said, "Red Sox." He was correct, the "B" was most definitely the Red Sox logo.

Clue #2: Shortly after putting on his Red Sox jacket, we exited the house out the back door to leave for school. Upon further thought, he turned around and went back into the house, promptly gave each dog a kiss and exited again. He repeated this another time before we could get in the car.

Elmo

Riley has a confession to make: he is absolutely obsessed with Elmo.

I like to think that it is somehow related to the obsession with Elmo that my late grandmother (Grandma Joan - my dad's mom) developed during her terminal battle with cancer. I vividly remember one year at Christmastime: she wanted nothing else but the "Tickle Me Elmo" that was on every child's wish list and was virtually impossible to get. But my dad had connections - one of his best friends (Henry) was a store manager at Toys 'R Us at the time - and he managed to score a Tickle Me Elmo and gave it to my grandma at Christmas. It has been many, many years since that Christmas, but I can still remember how delighted she was, how she hugged and hugged him and screamed "Elmo", how she got tears in her eyes (right along with the rest of us). I don't know what it was about Elmo, but it brought her such joy.

And now Riley is equally obsessed. If he sees Elmo or hears Elmo, he will say "Melmo" and his face lights up. Before Riley was even born, my parents gave him a baby Elmo with a pacifier that sings a song ("Guess who lives on Sesame Street, guess who is a monster, guess who has two red furry feet, that's right it's Elmo!" - couldn't forget those lyrics if I tried) and says "Elmo wants to sleepy now". He loves that baby Elmo. When he started being interested in Casey and me using the bathroom, we got him an Elmo potty. He has Elmo spoons, Elmo forks, Elmo books. Like I said, obsessed.

Most recently, he has discovered that Elmo also lives on our computer and on my iPhone. Every time he sees the computer or the phone, he will point and say "Melmo". This means that he would like to listen to (or if he's been good, watch) the video of "Elmo's Song" where Elmo is playing his new song for Big Bird and Mr. Snufalufagus (sp???) and then let's them borrow it to create "Big Bird's Song" and "Snuffy's Song". Once the lyrics start, Riley will start dancing. It is adorable.

Now, sometimes, at completely random time you will hear him say, "La la la la" and a little while later, "Melmo". It is quite obvious that he's singing. I really need to get this on video...

Ducks

Not sure if I should laugh hysterically or if this is a sign that I am slowly losing my mind, but right now Casey is reading "Elmo's Ducky Day" to Riley. I keep hearing Casey shouting, "MAKE WAY FOR ELMO AND HIS DUCKIES!!!" In the background, is the very loud "quack quack quack" of Winston's pet duck. It's the small things...

Hmmmmm....

As I sit down to write this post, I have had the benefit of a full week to process the news I received from my doctor at what I thought was a routine follow-up visit. I am writing this particular post with no intention of ever actually "posting" it to the blog for everyone to see. It is extremely personal, but I know writing will help me to wrap my hands around the significance of the news in a way that will allow me to more productively process what it means.

My first response after receiving the news was... well, nothing, really. I guess this is what they call shock. All I could do was sit perfectly still, stare blankly at the doctor as his mouth continued to move with what undoubtedly was important information that I needed to understand, and just breathe.

After some amount of time, I was able to focus slightly on what the doctor was saying and caught snippets like "triploidy", "molar pregnancy", "partial", "genetic defect", "malignancy", "cancer".

I left the doctor's office with an understanding of five things: (1) I had had a miscarriage (mercifully) because the fetus had a rare genetic defect called "triploidy", (2) this led to a partial molar pregnancy, (3) one possible outcome of a molar pregnancy is continued growth of the abnormal cells leading to a form of uterine cancer, (4) under no set of circumstances could we even think about (let alone attempt) to get pregnant again for about a year, and (5) I had to somehow find a way explain all of this to Casey.

After a considerable amount of research over the past week, I at least have a basic understanding of what these unknown terms mean.

"Triploidy" is an extremely rare and lethal chromosome abnormality caused by the presence of an entire extra set of chromosomes. A fetus with triploidy has 69 chromosomes, rather than 46 (23 from each parent). Very few infants with triploidy survive to term. Of those that do, most are stillborn and those that are born alive have severe defects and die shortly after birth (the longest life span of record is 10 months). By its very nature, triploidy is incompatible with life. This is why I say that mercifully my pregnancy resulted in a miscarriage. If it hadn't, the chromosomal abnormalities would have been found in the early screening tests that Casey and I would have opted to do, and then we would have been faced with the decision of whether the pregnancy should be terminated or if I should continue to carry the baby knowing full well that the baby had been given a death sentence before it even had a chance at life.

The good news is that triploidy is a sporadic and accidental (random) event, does not signify that there is anything wrong with the genetic make-up of the parents, and there is no increased recurrence risk in future pregnancies.

The bad news is that in my case, the triploidy resulted in a molar pregnancy. Molar pregnancy (also called a hydatidiform mole), a form of gestational trophoblastic disease (GTD), is caused by an abnormally fertilized egg. The fertilized egg does not grow as it should and a genetic error causes abnormal cells to grow and form a mass of abnormal placental tissue in the uterus. There are two types of hydatidiform moles: complete and partial. In my case, it was a partial hydatidiform mole, meaning that a fetus (albeit an abnormal one with fatal defects) existed but the placenta developed into an abnormal mass of cysts.

In reading up about molar pregnancies, I have found that some common symptoms include extreme exhaustion (I had been very tired), severe nausea (which explains why I thought I was experiencing morning sickness this time around unlike when I was pregnant with Riley), cysts (one had been discovered in my 8-week ultrasound, but at the time was thought to be a common ovarian cyst since the fetus had a very strong heartbeat), vaginal bleeding (had this but was minimal and again, since the fetus had a heartbeat, was thought to be no big deal), and a growth-restricted fetus (which explains why my due date was moved back by 8 days after the ultrasound indicated the fetus was smaller than expected based on the first day of my last period, which is the normal indicator of due date).

The thing that makes all of this particularly confusing to me is that most of the "symptoms" also occur in normal pregnancies. So if I ever DO get pregnant again, I believe I will live in a constant state of paranoia. But let's not get ahead of ourselves...

The suggested form of "treatment" for a molar pregnancy (either complete or partial) is a D&C (outpatient surgery, the details of which are too sad to even delve into). This is also the "treatment" for an incomplete miscarriage, also called a missed abortion (where fetal and/or placental tissue remains in the uterus - as has been the case in both of my miscarriages). The good news, again, is that I/we did not find out about the triploidy or molar pregnancy until AFTER the D&C had already been performed (this was all medically discovered in the pathology examination of the tissue taken during the D&C), so we did not have to make any decisions about what to do. This may very well be the one time in its attempts at pregnancy that my body did me a service, and that it really did all "happen for a reason" and "was for the best" as many well-meaning people have told me. But truthfully that doesn't make the news any easier to swallow or any less painful.

As if the miscarriage, the resultant diagnosis, and the insane medical bill we received for a surgery that I never even wanted weren't bad enough, the truly horrifying thing is that all of this could have very serious future implications. And that's where we get to the "C" word that I referenced hearing the doctor speak of above.

You see, hydatidiform moles are not cancerous. They can, however, develop into cancerous GTDs. Typically, the D&C removes the molar tissue. However, it is possible for some of the abnormal cells to remain. This is called persistent gestational trophoblastic disease (persistent GTD), and it occurs in as many of 10% of women after a molar pregnancy. There seem to be 3 types of persistent GTD: (1) invasive moles (a hydatidiform mole that grows into the muscle layer of the uterus and can metastasize to other parts of the body, typically the lungs), (2) choriocarcinoma (a malignant form of GTD that grows quickly and spreads to organs away from the uterus) and (3) placental site trophoblastic tumor (PSTT, a very rare form of GTD that develops where the placenta attaches to the uterus, but that typically does not spread to other sites of the body).

The relatively good news about all of this is that the cure rate for this type of cancer is very high (virtually 100% if the cancer hasn't spread beyond the uterus and 80-90% when it has spread to other organs). Those are odds I can live with, although to save my life I may have to undergo chemotherapy (typical course of treatment) or a hysterectomy (much more rare), neither of which excite me much. I am 33 years old, living the kind of life that most people dream about with a husband I love, a son that I adore and dogs that can always bring a smile to my face. I have always been healthy, I have faced very little adversity, I grew up in a home with amazing parents and a sister who has turned into my best friend. I have traveled a lot. I have had a lot of fun. I am surrounded by good friends.

Under no circumstances am I prepared to die young.

And yet, even though the odds of survival are very good, I can't help but let my mind drift to ugly places where I start thinking about Riley being left without a mother, Casey remarrying (which I have already come to terms with and absolutely know I would want him to do), Winston sleeping on my empty pillow. I know these thoughts are unproductive, and fortunately they are fleeting, but they are still there and I'd be lying if I said they weren't.

The best indicator of persistent GTD is an hCG (human chorionic gonadotropin) level that remains high after the mole has been removed. The hCG hormone is produced by the placenta during pregnancy, and if the level remains high or does not decline, it is a sign that molar tissue remains and continues to grow (persistent GTD).

The way hCG levels are monitored is through a routine blood test. The levels are monitored once a week to make sure they are declining, as this is an indication that no molar tissue remains. Once the levels go down to zero for three weeks in a row, they are then monitored monthly for anywhere from 3 months to a year. Once the levels have consistently remained at zero for that amount of time, you are given a clean bill of health and can move on with life.

Because hCG levels are also present with a normal pregnancy, you are very firmly instructed to not get pregnant until you've had the requisite number of tests with negative hCG levels so that persistent GTD cannot be missed. hCG levels would naturally increase with a normal pregnancy, and as such, persistent GTD would go undiagnosed. Since long-term survival rates with persistent GTD are completely dependent upon early diagnosis and treatment, it is imperative that nothing get in the way of strictly monitoring the presence of molar tissue.

So, not only did we have the sadness and stress of a miscarriage, but then we get to face the reality that we created a genetically mutant baby, and then we get to live with the threat of cancer and unpleasant treatments, but now you are telling me that we can't even try to conceive another child for at least a year if we can at all (which would only happen, I think, if I had to have a hysterectomy; otherwise, from what I've read, it seems that you can get pregnant again and that your chances of a future molar pregnancy are no greater than that of the general population: 1 out of every 1,000 pregnancies)? In addition to being sad and scared, you can now add angry to the list of emotions that dance across my mind each day.

Thankfully, these negative emotions are short-lived. All it takes to get me out of my funk is time spent with Casey, a smile or a dance or a giggle or a new development from Riley, Winston sitting on my lap, throwing a ball for Wrigley, surrounding myself with good friends, or making good memories with those that I love and treasure. All things I love anyway, but that I should take the time to do with new-found enjoyment and purpose every day... just in case.

Hopefully in future, brighter days, this blog will include tales and pictures of our second child living life to the fullest right along side Riley and the dogs (and me). I want that just as much for them as I do for Casey and myself, and perhaps that's what makes the present time and uncertainty that much more difficult.

This is my honest take on the current events our family is facing. I have not tried to sugarcoat it, but have tried to talk about much of it medically because it is easier to stay emotionally detached that way. If I ever do decide to make this post available to others, I hope that you will not view this as a pessimistic account of things or that we are living each second in fear and sadness. Quite to the contrary, life is good and happy and full. Sometimes a little (or a lot) of adversity makes you appreciate the blessings you do have, and I'd like to think that for the most part, that's exactly what we are doing.

In the meantime, we will hope for good numbers each week. The starting point as of last week's test was an hGC level of 161. In two hours, I will have my second test, the results of which will indicate the course of our future.

[NOTE: I wrote this post originally on February 22, 2011.  It has taken me until April 29, 2014 to work up the courage to post it.  As you will see from all of the entries between those two dates, this blog does include tales and pictures of our second child, Chase, living life to the fullest right along side Riley and the dogs and me.  That said, my pregnancy with Chase was the most stressful nine months of my life, and the six to twelve months that followed his birth were agonizing as well, as I kept waiting for something to be wrong, either with him or with me.  He is a healthy, thriving almost two-year-old with boundless energy and charm like you wouldn't believe.  I wouldn't trade him for anything and so although the sadness and anger and fear expressed in this post was very difficult, it turns out it was worth it.  Thank you, Chase, for being who you are and for all the joy and amusement you bring to all of our lives each day.]

Results of Week 2 hGC test

This week's hGC level: 57. Number has decreased from initial level of 161. Still needs to go down to 0 in order to formally indicate that the molar tissue is gone, but this is definitely a start and is definitely a trend in the right direction.

Need three consecutive weeks of a negative level (0) before the tests will switch to monthly.

Need three to six months of monthly tests showing a negative level before we can even consider trying to get pregnant again.

Am eager for the clock to start ticking those months away.

Savoring the Sound of Silence

We have hit the age, I think, where our days of silence are numbered. Not that Riley has really been "silent" ever - he has babbled incoherently, used various sounds for words before he knew how to call things the right thing, used shortened versions of the words that he knew, and then finally progressed into pronouncing things he knew well (mommy, daddy, doggie, moon, Wrigley, Winston, ball, Krispies (the little guy loves him some Rice Krispies)...). But just in the past few days I have noticed a change in his speech. When he is using words, I am fairly confident that even a stranger would be able to understand the word he is saying (where as before he would say something that Casey and I could recognize but which we would have to translate to other people). When he isn't saying words, instead of being silent, he just babbles non-stop in a way that makes me think he thinks he is talking (in other words, I think he thinks we're having a conversation, but I just can't make out what he's trying to say). The most significant change, however, is that since last Friday (so just shy of 21 months) our little guy has started to string together two words to form "sentences". "Mommy jacket" was the first thing I remember him saying as I left the room to go put on my jacket which was on a chair in the dining room.

Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love the sound of his little voice. And I love that he is really learning how to talk and communicate with us and with others. But part of me knows that soon two things are going to happen: (1) he is going to ask me questions to which I do not know the answer and (2) he is going to learn to talk back. I already catch glimpses of the latter - his favorite response to any question right now is "no" ("Riley, do you want to help feed the doggies?" "No." (Incidentally, he LOVES to feed the dogs and insists on taking the top off their food container, scooping out the dog food with the cup, pouring the food into the bowl, and placing the lid back on each food container for each meal for each dog - a process that is so insanely cute, but that also requires quite a bit of time and a fair amount of spilling.) Our favorite question, "Riley, do you want a million dollars?" Response: "No.")

More disturbing to me than the talking back is the matter of him asking questions to which I do not know the answer. It is bad enough that I do not know most of the answers to the questions on that dreadful show "Are You Smarter Than a Fifth Grader", but truly it'll be more than I can take when I'm not even smarter than a two-year-old. Big sigh.

So You Think You Can Dance?

As you can imagine from the last post, the past few weeks have been... interesting. Thankfully, with the exception of the first day or two, Riley didn't really seem to notice that anything had changed or that Casey and I were quieter than usual. The kid rarely slows down, which during emotionally difficult times, turns out to be a good thing.

One of my favorite things about Riley right now is his propensity to dance under pretty much any set of circumstances. He will dance in the kitchen if we play some tunes on the iPod while cooking dinner, he will dance next to his train set if someone (usually himself) makes the bouncy zebra located right next to it play its crazy music (this is almost always accompanied by hilariously wild shaking of the tambourine we got him at the Dollar Store for Christmas - who said you have to buy expensive toys for a 20-month-old?), he will dance in the car, he will dance in his high chair. If standing, his dancing includes funny leg movements and wild bouncing (although he still hasn't figured out how to bounce in a way that involves his feet leaving the ground). If seated, he sways back and forth. Either way, his arms are flapping every which way (unfortunately, I believe this is a product of him copying the way Casey and I dance - neither of us being terribly coordinated in this department).

On a somewhat related topic, Riley just seems to love music in general. He loves listening to our music, he loves listening to children's music, he (which I will never understand because it is horribly off tune) loves to listen to us sing, he loves to play the keyboard that Casey has kept for like a million years which weighs about a million pounds and is so large that the only place we can store it is underneath Riley's crib, he loved playing the drums at a friend's house the other day(uh oh), and he seemed to think that playing the maracas at his school's Valentine's Day dance was a great idea.

I wonder if all that singing Casey did to Riley when he was a itty bitty baby has rubbed off and we now have the future Bruce Springsteen on our hands...