Chocolate Riley

What is this stuff?

I think I like it!

I do! I do like it!

Denise and Kevin: Thirty-Five Years

To celebrate our 35th birthdays, we did what most responsible, mature adults would do. We ditched the kids at the grandparents and drank ourselves silly.

To mark the occasion, we traveled to lovely Temecula, Calif. In recent years, with the addition of a ginormous Indian casino and a burgeoning wine industry, the inland valley has become a draw for many in Southern California. We wanted to see what the hype was about. And being less than two hours away, we liked that we could get away, without having to spend hours in the car. We arrived Friday and gave our "donation" to the Indians via the blackjack table before taking a stroll around Old Town, where we hit two antique shops before remembering we don't like antiques. We found a cheese shop that offered a bag o' yummy cheese scraps that I took back to the hotel and paired with some crackers and some bad late afternoon television.

It was all about doing things we can't normally do, like relaxing during the day and reading trashy magazines (well, one of us anyway). We had a scrumptious Irish dinner, but were too full for desert, so we bought birthday cupcakes at the grocery store and had them back at the room with some wine and two games of Rummy 500.

The next day was our wine tasting tour. For $100 each, we got a ride to the wineries, VIP treatment at four wineries, tastings, lunch and discounts on whatever we bought. It was a fun, wonderful, drunken day.





Our tour guide was Vicki. This is her third job that she does on the weekends. We could see why. After securing us the best places at the wine tasting bars, she bellied-up alongside. She was a lot of fun.

There were about 12 people on our tour bus, including a group of girls celebrating one of their 35th birthdays, too. They gave new meaning to the word "trashed." They invited us out to karaoke that night, but we passed. I can't imagine they made it out. We were only able to venture as far as the Chili's across from our hotel.

These people weren't on our tour, but the man's naked calves and black socks couldn't go un-noted.

We mostly hung out with this lovely couple, Rachel and Brandon, from Orange County. They were celebrating their two year anniversary of dating. It was funny to hear them talk about college and roommates. We might have scared them a bit with our talk of houses and kids.

Riley: One Year, Four Months

Riley sees, Riley does. His capacity to learn everything from words to mundane tasks, like brushing his teeth and putting his shirt in the hamper, seems infinite. What's amazing is how much of this stuff he picks up on simply by watching and listening to others, then repeating their actions or sounds.

Not only does he brush his teeth, but he pretends to spit in the sink, too, with a little lean in and a "tooey" noise. Unfortunately, we're entering the "do it myself" phase. We know he can do it, it's just not very good when he does. This is the source of many knock-down, drag-out bathroom floor battles as we try to pry the toothbrush from his little grip and get it in his mouth, as he flails about, cries and pushes it out with his tongue. There's nothing better than that before you've showered or had any caffeine.

As we watch Riley grow and learn, we're once again amazed at how the human develops. Riley's got some words, where as just a few short weeks ago, he had no ability to communicate except crying, pointing and grunting (and smiling, too!). But now, his mouth and throat are working together to crudely expunge sounds that we know are words because we recognize them and the context, but to everyone else, we're sure they all sound something like: "BBLLAAAYYAAAHHH!"
Here, for your reading pleasure, we present Dictionary of Riley, Vol. I

"ffffff" = woof

"uh-oh" = self explanatory (and said often)

"BU!" = BUS! (and yes, it's THAT! exciting)

"YEAH!" = anything he's keyed-up about, especially airplanes, trucks, et.

"Ra Ra!" = 1. Trash truck 2. Riley's newest nickname

"Allo? Allo?" = Hello, usually to something he's pretending is a telephone. He's apparently British.

"Baaaayyyyy" = Bye bye (with a little wave from his fingers)

"Ni Ni" = Night Night

"Wuah Wuah" = Quack Quack (We only know this because he's always holding a stuffed duck or pointing to the duck tub spout cover when he says it)

"Lello" = Yellow

"Iye" = Eye, usually as he jabs his finger into your eyeball

"Niiiii" = Nice, which is what he says whenever he's petting the cat (who, consequently, says "fffff.")

"Huuuuh" = Not sure what it means, but it's the noise he makes as he points to things he wants you to see, like the koala bear in his crib or the cars outside.

"Mmmmmm" = That's yummy!

"Ahhhh" = I was thirsty, that hit the spot!

"Mo Mo" = More (and he uses sign language for this one, too)


Then there are the things he doesn't learn, as much as he seems to inherently know. We don't push the kids to "boy" activities or toys. We have no problem with them playing with baby dolls, asking for nail polish or trying on jewelry. Yet, somehow, that Y chromosome has some magical power that makes those who have it really, really, really enthralled by anything involving engines or pain.

Besides his passions for transportation machines, Riley seems to derive the most pleasure from mixing it up with us and his friends in wrestling matches. And he's STRONG. Not just, "Whoa, he's strong," but I'm pretty sure he'd beat me at arm wrestling if he had the strategy. Those toothbrushing battles? Did I mention he often wins? There's nothing mean in Riley's take-down attempts. He just purely loves to crawl over people, body slam them and give 'em the ol' head butt to the chin. Where did he learn this? Is he sneaking out of his crib late at night to catch reruns of WWE on TBS?
Of course, this all points to a much deeper nature vs. nurture discussion - which I'll delve into some other time when I'm not nursing Riley-inflicted wounds or racing to pry him off his older brother's back, as his older brother cries out for help. Luckily, there's one more thing he does, and does well. Whether he's blowing one at you or laying a slippery, open-mouthed one on your face, his kisses are the type you can't learn to give. They are from within, an inherent part of his little loving heart.

Holden: Three Years, Eight Months

There are many advantages to being the big brother: You get a one-man fan club, someone to laugh at all your jokes and a built-in playmate. But Holden discovered one more plus - Mom and Dad are often distracted keeping the toddling tot of destruction safe, fed and away from the pricey electronics. This leaves the door wide open for Holden to get away with a myriad of things undetected. During dinner at a Mexican food restaurant, you can find him shoving tortilla chips quickly into his pie hole while we try to simultaneously cut food up into Riley-sized pieces and have some semblance of a conversation. This is even though he's told sternly several times no more chips until he eats some of his real food. Upon being caught, be prepared for some wide-eyes of innocence accompanied by a string of explanations. "But, but, but" he stutters.Another great example of the things that happen while Mom and Dad are distracted is hereto known as The Pumpkin Pie Incident. For their Thanksgiving re-enactment and feast at daycare, we were assigned to bring pumpkin pie and whipped cream. My first instinct was to go buy a pre-made pie and be done with it. Having never made a pumpkin pie, and not really a fan of them, I didn't know what baking one entailed. But once I learned how easy it was, I decided to do it from scratch and have Holden help.

We spent the Sunday afternoon diligently measuring, scooping and stirring. Holden was delighted to try new things like condensed milk (yum!) and pumpkin pie filling raw licked right off the spatula. We worked very hard on those pies, and we could tell they were gonna be good. We baked them, and they were beautiful. That is, until tragedy (aka Holden) struck.
As the pies cooled on the counter, we warned Holden many, many, many, many times: "Back off." "They're hot." "Stop messing around near those pies." "Be careful." "Stop swinging that oven mitt near the pies." But his little heart was so excited and so proud he couldn't keep himself away. And then, when Mom and Dad were distracted, the oven mitt slipped from his hands and landed on one of the still warm, not-yet-set pies. A shallow layer of the pie was now on the oven mitt.
I was on the telephone outside, so I didn't witness this. But I certainly heard it. Kevin yelled. Holden screamed and cried. I came back in to find pie on the mitt, Kevin pissed and Holden hysterical in his room. We let him stew in it for a bit, and then I went in. He was crying so hard, he couldn't even talk. As he gasped for air, he tried to explain what happened, but it was only coming out in little spurts. We sat there in the dark for a few minutes so he could calm down, and I could figure out how to handle this. There had to be punishment. There had to be a lesson. I had to get through to him. Where did I leave my book that explains how to do all that stuff? Oh wait, it doesn't exist.
Once he calmed down, he recounted for me what happened. He added, "But me and my friends can still eat it." Then it was my turn. I explained that he and I worked very hard to make these delicious and beautiful pies, but because he didn't listen to us and didn't stay in control of himself, they aren't as perfect as they were. They were ruined. And it doesn't matter that you can still eat it, which you can. What matters is that our hard work was tarnished a bit. I was so proud of both of us for making such wonderful pies, and now, I was disappointed. I wasn't sure he understood, so I asked him how he would feel if he spent a long time building a tall Lego castle, only to have Riley come along and pull a Lego off. The castle would still be standing, but it just wouldn't be the same. With a fresh round of tears, Holden said that would make him sad. And I knew then that he got it.
It was about a half-hour before bedtime, so we decided his punishment would be he'd have to go to bed early. He had calmed down, apologized to Dad and made it into the bathroom to brush his teeth. But then, he saw himself in the mirror. His eyes were swollen and glassy and his face kind of puffy and red. He looked like he didn't recognize himself. I said, "There's what Sad Holden looks like." He didn't like that at all, and started to cry real hard. There were a lot of tough lessons for Holden in The Pumpkin Pie Incident.
And that apparently is what growing up is all about. Experiencing, learning and moving on to the next thing. For as dramatic as he can be, Holden bounces back pretty fast, and it isn't long before he can talk about what happened with the pie "last time ago" or offer unsolicited apologies and "I love yous." For as much as he's getting away with things, he's also becoming more self-sufficient. He doesn't need us hovering over him every second ensuring he gets dressed and eats his dinner. We trust he'll do these things with minimal intervention, even if it takes a long time or it's not done quite right. But he continues to learn with every mistake, taking him one more tiny step toward independence. We can only hope that he takes with him on this journey these hard lessons: stay in control, listen to others, it never hurts to try and, above all, rifts are easily mended with a sincere apology and lots and lots of hugs.

Sick Holden

Holden was sent home from daycare yesterday. He had a bit of a fever but recovered quickly and was back to racing his scooter around daycare today. He did milk it for all he could while he had a chance.

Thanksgiving

Left to our own devices this past Turkey Day, we decided to still go all out with a Thanksgiving feast. We invited some strays, and our friend Andrea (co-worker and babysitter extraordinaire) joined us.
Modern technology told us in many ways our turkey was done - and early! So we stepped up the side dishes and, with 10 minutes to feast time, started to carve the turkey ... only to find it's underside was raw. It was like a big, 12-pound sack of salmonella. We stuck it back in the oven, and tried to wait patiently for more than an hour while it cooked. It was worth the wait!
Holden was a good sport and sported his pilgrim costume from his daycare Thanksgiving celebration. He and the other fair-haired child, Katelyn, were pilgrims - while the rest of his class, the brunette-headed kids, were the Indians. This was their teacher's idea. They reinacted the pilgrims sailing in the Mayflower to find land, where they met the Indians. Apparently, Holden was told: "Some of the Indians were killed, and they went to heaven." So many things wrong with that lesson, I don't even know where to begin. Thank God most of that stuff doesn't stick.
After dinner, Andrea did a turkey craft project with Holden where she wrote for him on little colorful feathers things that he was thankful for. On his own, he came up with his Mommy and Daddy. He only needed a little prompting before he said Riley. Then he just looked around and came up with gems like "walls," "high-chair" and "candles."

The New Tattoo

Riley takes his plane spotting very, very, VERY seriously.

Zoom

Daphne Chugs to Two

Daphne turned 2, and so we got to celebrate at the best kid place ever - Travel Town.

In a rare occurrence, we actually missed singing Happy Birthday and Daphne blowing out the candles - THAT'S how much fun Holden, Avery and Riley were having exploring the trains.


Everyone got to ride the little choo-choo-train around the park, which was a fun adventure.
Then it was Daphne's turn, and Holden and Avery enthusiastically waved to the train engineer and the birthday girl as she chugged by.

Happy birthday, Daphne!