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!"
Friday, December 30, 2011
Friday, December 23, 2011
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.
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.
Thursday, December 1, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, November 6, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
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?!?
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?!?
Monday, August 22, 2011
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...
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...
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