Oct 12, 2015

Simon's first time to the beach and 2nd child problems

Well, there was that condo we rented memorial weekend this year that a case of meningitis prevented us from going to. The owner "gracefully" let us reschedule (keeping our deposit made it much easier for her) and we were able to go last month. We had literally just gotten back from Ryan's dad's funeral and Simon had been sick that whole week. The idea of leaving again two days later seemed miserable, but I'm still glad we went--- not to say it wasn't partially miserable, because it was. We slept like garbage the two nights we were there and Simon was really struggling. He's actually just getting back to normal after getting on a second dose of antibiotics. This poor kid has been through the ringer (and subsequently putting me through the ringer and SUB-subsequently me putting Ryan through the ringer with my stress).
I would take Lincoln to the beach early in the morning and we got to have some one-on-one time. We ran around, we buried the car in sand, we chased birds and let the tide chase us. Ryan usually stayed back at the condo while Simon was sleeping after being up most of the night. They would occasionally make a few short appearances, but Simon just wasn't having it and his first time at the beach left us with about 2 pictures on Ryan's phone. This only confirms the "2nd child problems" when you compare the number of pictures we took of Lincoln the first time he was at the beach. It was practically a full-blown photo shoot. Sorry Simon. We'll have your photo shoot at your second time to the beach, okay?
And this is how we feel whenever we go out to a sit down place to eat that requires waiting for food and keeping Lincoln from terrorizing the place or Simon from getting fussy. When you join the parenthood club, you develop a talent that becomes very useful, almost a necessity. You learn to  inhale your food. Seriously. You don't do much talking or visiting with your spouse and you wait until you're paying the bill to ask if they liked their meal. 
And one of Simon's few pictures from the whole trip. We still love you, Simon... even if we don't have the pictures to prove it.

Oct 11, 2015

all about a sore foot

When Ryan and I were dating and living in Idaho, we would go over to my grandparents' house to visit them. My Grandpa had passed away shortly after we were married, so some of my last memories with him were from those little visits. This is what those memories consist of...

I remember a particular time when Grandpa was sitting in his usually spot on the couch in his usual clothing attire, a plaid shirt.  Ryan and I were talking with Grandpa when Grandma came whipping into the living room on her electric scooter. I believe the chair was fairly new because her steering was still a little erratic. Anyway, as she came ripping across the living room, we heard Grandpa let out a big painful yell. He hunched over to rub his foot that Grandma blindly ran over. He told her to come over and to stick out her hand. He gave her a tiny swat on her hand. I'm not sure what was funnier, him scolding her, or her barely pausing in her tracks to let mumble a half-hearted apology.

On another occasion, we were over to their house for dinner. We were all sitting down and Grandpa had just taken a sip of his favorite drink, root beer. He smacked his lips and said "aaaaaaah, that's the good stuff". Unfortunately, his moment of enjoyment was painfully interrupted as Grandma came wheelin' up to the table to join us... and then, another yelp of pain. Grandma, once again, ran over his foot with her scooter. Someone buy that man some steel-toed shoes, will ya?

That poor foot of his. It must have been so painful. Why am I sharing this story? Well, I've experienced a similar pain since I've become a mom of a toddler. My experience isn't exactly the same, but to be honest, I think it's equally as painful if not more. I don't know what goes through my toddler's head to think it's okay to come over to me when I'm sitting down, and stand on my bare foot. That thin layer of skin on top, gets twisted by that wide, husky foot of his and it KILLS!!!! And apparently me yelling "OFF! OFF! OFF!" doesn't get 30lbs off my delicate dainty foot any faster. It's one of the worst physical pains having a toddler has ever inflicted upon me. (First being the time I stepped on his tiny hot wheels helicopter in the middle of the night. I cried.)

I guess it's been a learning experience and as much as I like to think of Grandpa and me as a victim, there is some fault on our side. Grandpa, you should never have been anywhere near grandma's path while she was in her scooter. And for myself? Well, I shouldn't be sitting around the house unless I'm wearing steel-toed shoes.

My little Simon turned 8 months two weeks ago. Seriously, the second baby grows up faster. It's really not fair. Simon is by far my cuddle-bug and I just relish every time he lays his head on my chest and just sits while I rub his back. He's so content in my lap, in fact, that he is still holding out on crawling. That's okay; just one less child to chase after and one less child to be tearing the flesh off the top of my feet.
And I can't fail to mention how  extremely observant Simon is. He's always keeping an eye on Lincoln... probably keeping a close watch so his feet don't get stepped on, as well. Man, I love these boys...