Tyler had his one year check-up today. You're probably saying to yourself, "But Sarah, isn't today July 21st? And wasn't Tyler's birthday almost a month ago?" Yes and yes. The doctor's office rescheduled his appointment twice, and then I had to push the appointment back even farther as to not interrupt our glorious vacation. Regardless, today was the day albeit one month late. Tyler's newest stats are as follows:
Height: 32 inches (95-97th percentile)
Weight: 26.4 pounds (90th percentile)
His ears and tubes look good and clear. (Instant weight removed from my shoulders)
Developmentally, exactly where he should be.
Oh, and he still has both of his testicles. Really, is it normal for the doctor to check EVERY SINGLE time we go? Do boys typically lose one or both of them? And if they did, would it really be that big of a deal? If I wasn't so tired, I'd google it. But it was either that or you getting this lovely post. Bravo for you.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Running Diary: Days 1 and 2
In case you don't happen to be in the know, and basically you're probably not, I've started "training" for a marathon.... *ahem* a half marathon. No, you're not at the wrong site. Yes, I'll give you time to wrap your brain around what I just said.
I've started and stopped several work-out programs in the past year to attempt to lose the baby fat and regain my formal self. All have failed miserably. Boredom, lack of energy, sleepless nights (read: Tyler), crazy nap schedules... the list of excuses is a mile long. Then one day several weeks ago I dusted a thick layer off of the treadmill and decided I'd start running/walking. Whoopee. I can't tell you how many times in the past I've done that. I was aimlessly running with no particular agenda. Probably why I get bored and quit. Then I found some article in a random magazine that had a walking "program" in which you walk fast for x number of seconds and then walk moderately for x number of seconds for a total of 20 minutes. It was fun, caught my attention. I quickly started tailoring it for walking and then for running. Before I knew it, I was running for about 20 minutes straight, and my total workout was 40 minutes long. I felt good about myself.
Then, I noticed that I was getting bored again. Yeesh... do I have a short attention span or what? In the back of my mind was a girl from my high school (translation: a now facebook friend. What? We've all got them.) who is training for a marathon. I thought to myself, "Self, if "Lacey" can do it, why can't I?". This is where I got Joe involved. I asked him to research a training schedule for me. He came through with flying colors, and in true Joe style, made me an awesome print out to follow. Sweet. What else did I need? Nothing. Just keep on training as I was, and my official training was scheduled to start on Monday, July 20th. I was a good as gold...
And then vacation came. I had every intention of running on vacation. I packed outfits, shoes, socks, sports bras.... and they all sat in my suitcase, untouched. Damn.
Anyway, my official start date was yesterday. Here's what I had to do:
Day 1: REST.
SWEET, this is my kind of exercise program. Although I didn't. I totally took the dogs for 2 walks. So I'm doing good, right?
Day 2: 1) Warm-up ~5 minutes
2) 30 minutes: Run 3, walk 2; repeat 6 times. PRE (perceived rate of exertion) 7-8 (read: kick your own ass)
3) Cool-down ~5-10 minutes
Oh, how I paid for not running on vacation. It was hard. I wanted to quit. Plus I took the dogs for a walk this morning and I have a blister on my right littlest toe. Sob. But I did it. I had to. Joe made me that nice little work sheet. AND I just knew that he'd ask me about my run when he got home from work, because I asked him to keep me accountable, so I had to do it.
What it boils down to is this: I don't want to fail again. I'm hoping by putting this out into the internet, I have to stay accountable to myself and actually finish this training program.
I've started and stopped several work-out programs in the past year to attempt to lose the baby fat and regain my formal self. All have failed miserably. Boredom, lack of energy, sleepless nights (read: Tyler), crazy nap schedules... the list of excuses is a mile long. Then one day several weeks ago I dusted a thick layer off of the treadmill and decided I'd start running/walking. Whoopee. I can't tell you how many times in the past I've done that. I was aimlessly running with no particular agenda. Probably why I get bored and quit. Then I found some article in a random magazine that had a walking "program" in which you walk fast for x number of seconds and then walk moderately for x number of seconds for a total of 20 minutes. It was fun, caught my attention. I quickly started tailoring it for walking and then for running. Before I knew it, I was running for about 20 minutes straight, and my total workout was 40 minutes long. I felt good about myself.
Then, I noticed that I was getting bored again. Yeesh... do I have a short attention span or what? In the back of my mind was a girl from my high school (translation: a now facebook friend. What? We've all got them.) who is training for a marathon. I thought to myself, "Self, if "Lacey" can do it, why can't I?". This is where I got Joe involved. I asked him to research a training schedule for me. He came through with flying colors, and in true Joe style, made me an awesome print out to follow. Sweet. What else did I need? Nothing. Just keep on training as I was, and my official training was scheduled to start on Monday, July 20th. I was a good as gold...
And then vacation came. I had every intention of running on vacation. I packed outfits, shoes, socks, sports bras.... and they all sat in my suitcase, untouched. Damn.
Anyway, my official start date was yesterday. Here's what I had to do:
Day 1: REST.
SWEET, this is my kind of exercise program. Although I didn't. I totally took the dogs for 2 walks. So I'm doing good, right?
Day 2: 1) Warm-up ~5 minutes
2) 30 minutes: Run 3, walk 2; repeat 6 times. PRE (perceived rate of exertion) 7-8 (read: kick your own ass)
3) Cool-down ~5-10 minutes
Oh, how I paid for not running on vacation. It was hard. I wanted to quit. Plus I took the dogs for a walk this morning and I have a blister on my right littlest toe. Sob. But I did it. I had to. Joe made me that nice little work sheet. AND I just knew that he'd ask me about my run when he got home from work, because I asked him to keep me accountable, so I had to do it.
What it boils down to is this: I don't want to fail again. I'm hoping by putting this out into the internet, I have to stay accountable to myself and actually finish this training program.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Pain in My...Gums
Tyler's been teething like crazy. That's right, I said teething, not drooling, although he's been doing a lot of that too. My beautiful baby boy has gotten 3 teeth in the last 15 days, two of which are upper molars!!! So as of yesterday Tyler has a total of 10 teeth, for any of you who have been keeping track. Needless to say, we've boarded the train to grumpy town, and it's full speed ahead.
Last night, I put Tyler to bed. Less than 5 minutes later he was crying. This is very unusual for him, normally he falls right to sleep. Joe and I each took a turn trying to comfort him, after allowing him to cry intermittently. On my second trip up the stairs, I decided to administer Tyler my (patent pending) "Pain In My Gums" Cocktail. It's a special blend consisting of a dose of Motrin, a dollop of Orajel on the offending area(s), and a kiss on the lips. Oh, the cocktail isn't complete without the follow-up of reinserting the pacifier. Works like a charm I'm telling you. Tyler took the Motrin like a champ, must be a good flavor. After I put Orajel on his gums by the upper molars he looked at me, smacked his lips, and said "ahhhhhhh". Are you freaking kidding me??? I couldn't help it, I smiled and laughed out loud. How was I blessed with such a cute kid?
Last night, I put Tyler to bed. Less than 5 minutes later he was crying. This is very unusual for him, normally he falls right to sleep. Joe and I each took a turn trying to comfort him, after allowing him to cry intermittently. On my second trip up the stairs, I decided to administer Tyler my (patent pending) "Pain In My Gums" Cocktail. It's a special blend consisting of a dose of Motrin, a dollop of Orajel on the offending area(s), and a kiss on the lips. Oh, the cocktail isn't complete without the follow-up of reinserting the pacifier. Works like a charm I'm telling you. Tyler took the Motrin like a champ, must be a good flavor. After I put Orajel on his gums by the upper molars he looked at me, smacked his lips, and said "ahhhhhhh". Are you freaking kidding me??? I couldn't help it, I smiled and laughed out loud. How was I blessed with such a cute kid?
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
2nd Place Is The 1st Loser
Friday night Tyler did the thing that makes all the poopy diapers, all the late nights, all the screams and tears from teething, and any other hair-pulling mother-son moments I may have forgotten seem worthwhile; he said MaMa!!!! I swear my heart swelled at least 3 sizes. Actually I shrieked so loudly that Joe heard me at the neighbors... from our kitchen.
Now, I realize that the above statement sounds like Tyler is a bad kid. In fact, he's not. It's just that I've had the green eyes of envy equipped with the horns and fangs for the last several weeks. 62 days, to be exact. See, Tyler, like most kids, decided that "dada" was going to be his first word. He's been "dadadadadada"ing everything in sight since that fateful day in March. Da has now warped into "dat" when he points at something, wanting it's name, it's function, it's color, or any other bit of knowledge you want to impart. All this, before he graced me with my (well-deserving) "mama" recognition. Can you blame me for my jealousy?
Yesterday, Tyler attempted crawling up my leg while saying "mum mum ma". Awh. He wanted me. He needed me. He wanted me to pick him up. How could I deny that? I couldn't. I HAD to stop fixing his lunch and pick him up, just so I could bathe in that one glorious moment.
I'm not stupid. At some point I know I will long for the silence before Tyler's first mama, ala Stewie and Lois, but for now, I'm loving every single "mama" I get.
Now, I realize that the above statement sounds like Tyler is a bad kid. In fact, he's not. It's just that I've had the green eyes of envy equipped with the horns and fangs for the last several weeks. 62 days, to be exact. See, Tyler, like most kids, decided that "dada" was going to be his first word. He's been "dadadadadada"ing everything in sight since that fateful day in March. Da has now warped into "dat" when he points at something, wanting it's name, it's function, it's color, or any other bit of knowledge you want to impart. All this, before he graced me with my (well-deserving) "mama" recognition. Can you blame me for my jealousy?
Yesterday, Tyler attempted crawling up my leg while saying "mum mum ma". Awh. He wanted me. He needed me. He wanted me to pick him up. How could I deny that? I couldn't. I HAD to stop fixing his lunch and pick him up, just so I could bathe in that one glorious moment.
I'm not stupid. At some point I know I will long for the silence before Tyler's first mama, ala Stewie and Lois, but for now, I'm loving every single "mama" I get.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
It's Never To Early
Joe and I are big time football fans (read: American football, not international football/soccer). Weekends during the fall and winter are spent watching any number of games, while cheering, jeering (we all have teams we hate... Dallas Cowboys, I'm looking right at you!), and of course snacking. We both grew up in Michigan, so we are, despite our better judgment, fans of the Detroit Lions. Since we moved to Indiana, we've also become Colts fans (when in Rome). However, it is nice to watch a team that actually wins games instead of relying on field goals, defensive points, and dumb-luck (sorry Detroit but, you know it's true).
With that being said, Joe and I were ecstatic when we found out that Tyler was going to be a boy. We almost immediately started dreaming dreams of him becoming a professional football player, and us having season tickets to his NFL team of choice to cheer him on. Glorious, glorious dreams that were intensified with the strength that Tyler used to kick me whilst in utero. I used to put my hands on my ginormous belly and (using my best Adam Sandler impression voice) say, "He's gonna be a soccer player". But, really I meant that he was going to be a football player, duh.
After much deliberation, and taking into consideration his natural kicking talents, we decided that Tyler should be a kicker, a la Jason Hanson. Our reasoning being that the position offers a certain amount of implied safety (read: won't be getting tackled), while still allowing us to attend NFL games and cheer. Hoorah!
And then Tyler was born. In case you don't know, or don't remember, his stats at birth were 10# 2oz and 22" long. Yikes. He has since been appropriately nicknamed Tank, and we've been considering line backer positions for him.
Today, however, Tyler told me that he's been preparing for a much more dramatic and media attention grabbing football position. He said that he was thinking he wanted to be a wide receiver. I questioned his line of thinking, not really believing that someone so big and heavy could move quick enough to out run and out maneuver the defense. As usual, he proved me wrong and showed me that he has added speed and agility to his football resume.
This morning Tyler and I went to the laundry room to fold a load of laundry while Delilah was eating her morning scoops. I've found that it is important to remove Tyler from the kitchen while Delilah is eating, otherwise he will "assist" her in eating her scoops. He can sense that I don't want him to eat/play with Delilah's food, and therefore is drawn to it like a moth to a flame, like a defensive lineman to a quarterback. It's nature I suppose. At first he was content to help me sort the socks; then, when the moment was just right, he escaped. The moment consisted of me picking up a pair of jeans, shaking them out, folding them in half, and hanging them up on a hanger. Less than 20 seconds. In that time, Tyler made a mad dash for the kitchen and Delilah's dish, some 30-40 feet away. When I looked and he was gone, I knew right where he was. I walked into the kitchen to find him sitting next to Delilah and her bowl, with his right hand full of dog food and his left hand in her dish grasping for more.
Look out Larry Fitzgerald, Tyler is gunning for your spot.
With that being said, Joe and I were ecstatic when we found out that Tyler was going to be a boy. We almost immediately started dreaming dreams of him becoming a professional football player, and us having season tickets to his NFL team of choice to cheer him on. Glorious, glorious dreams that were intensified with the strength that Tyler used to kick me whilst in utero. I used to put my hands on my ginormous belly and (using my best Adam Sandler impression voice) say, "He's gonna be a soccer player". But, really I meant that he was going to be a football player, duh.
After much deliberation, and taking into consideration his natural kicking talents, we decided that Tyler should be a kicker, a la Jason Hanson. Our reasoning being that the position offers a certain amount of implied safety (read: won't be getting tackled), while still allowing us to attend NFL games and cheer. Hoorah!And then Tyler was born. In case you don't know, or don't remember, his stats at birth were 10# 2oz and 22" long. Yikes. He has since been appropriately nicknamed Tank, and we've been considering line backer positions for him.
Today, however, Tyler told me that he's been preparing for a much more dramatic and media attention grabbing football position. He said that he was thinking he wanted to be a wide receiver. I questioned his line of thinking, not really believing that someone so big and heavy could move quick enough to out run and out maneuver the defense. As usual, he proved me wrong and showed me that he has added speed and agility to his football resume.
This morning Tyler and I went to the laundry room to fold a load of laundry while Delilah was eating her morning scoops. I've found that it is important to remove Tyler from the kitchen while Delilah is eating, otherwise he will "assist" her in eating her scoops. He can sense that I don't want him to eat/play with Delilah's food, and therefore is drawn to it like a moth to a flame, like a defensive lineman to a quarterback. It's nature I suppose. At first he was content to help me sort the socks; then, when the moment was just right, he escaped. The moment consisted of me picking up a pair of jeans, shaking them out, folding them in half, and hanging them up on a hanger. Less than 20 seconds. In that time, Tyler made a mad dash for the kitchen and Delilah's dish, some 30-40 feet away. When I looked and he was gone, I knew right where he was. I walked into the kitchen to find him sitting next to Delilah and her bowl, with his right hand full of dog food and his left hand in her dish grasping for more.
Look out Larry Fitzgerald, Tyler is gunning for your spot.
Victory
I'm going to take this opportunity to totally brag. Today I totally reaped the benefit of weeks of Joe's hard work, and it was glorious!
I have to be completely honest with you all right now, when Joe is gone at work during the day, I use the bathroom with the door open. I don't do this because I have a fear of enclosed spaces, or because I am an exhibitionist. I do this because Tyler gets upset when he can't see me or find me. Hello, I'd love to use the bathroom by myself, but that just isn't in the cards right now.
Onward with my bragging... erm... story. This morning Tyler and I were playing in the living room, I stood up and said, "Mommy needs to go make her peeps come." (yes, I ACTUALLY said that).
Tyler: -ignores me and continues to play with his Sesame Street toy-
Me: -exit stage right, towards the bathroom-
Tyler: -realizes he's alone after 90 seconds- "Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh" (translation, "where are you Mommy?") and then starts crawling aimlessly in search of me.
Me: -peek my head through the door way of the bathroom- "Hi Tyler, here I am." -I wave and smile-
Tyler: -sits up, bursts into a cheek-splitting, melt-my-heart grin of recognition and relief, raises his right arm and WAVES AT ME!-
In order for you to realize how freaking cool this is, you must first know that 1) this was Tyler's very first wave ever, and 2) Joe has been working on waving with Tyler for weeks. In fact, Joe has even been correcting me ("wave to him when you say hi"). I realized that Joe was right (that's right, I said it), and have been incorporating the hand motion along with the words for the past couple days. I was super geeked when I got to witness Tyler's first wave. I felt so special... and just the teensiest little bit guilty. All of Joe's hard work, and I get the reward. Oh yeah, Mommy rules!
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