Jack Jack's Birthday Bash

Or bashes, I should say. Lucky for him, we were in Utah where most of his extended families live. Unlucky for him, because of "Prime's" surgery, none of his immediate family got to see him on his birthday. Lucky for him, we made up for it big time. The first party was with Rich's family: Grandma Coralie, Grandpa Bill, Kayla, Tony, Joe, Julia and his cousins Jeffery, Aspen, Gabe, and Miri.


Aunt Julia made him a tie-dye colored cake. He sauntered towards it, timidly at first. Next came the tiny probing fingers and finally, a face plant into the cake. Well done Jack Riley.





Party #2 took place last Sunday night at Grandma Kathi's house with Great Grandparents Karen, Evva Jean and Tom, Aunt Karen and Uncle Wayne and my cousins Jared, Ashley, Kyle, Celeste, Sharli and Mariah. What a party! Rocky was there for both, but the second one seemed louder to him with his new super hearing. Jack, now an experienced birthday boy knew how to perform. Stripped down to the diaper, he toddled his way to his giant portion of chocolate cake and ice cream, veering at the last second and reaching for Aunt Karen, who proudly exclaimed, "I'm better than cake!" No one disagreed. Jack was also quite taken with my mom and has been since we arrived. Jack relished in all the attention and gifts, but he threw us a skeptical look when we sang Happy Birthday. I guess it would seem odd witnessing it for the first time. It was as if he was wondering what all the fuss was about. So happy birthday Jack! One year and two parties. Yea for family! Congrats my tough and cuddly one! Say goodbye to the baby days and hello to independence, which Jack is already vigorously working towards.

Happy Father's Day Rich!

Rich, check out the Spiderman David drew all by himself. He said that Spiderman (aka: him today) loves you. (click on it to see larger version)

As an aside, David asked if the word "father" was "dad" in spanish.

Rocky road to recovery

Our Rocky is finally on the mend after MONTHS of infection-infested illness. Where can you find a competent doc? Not Chico, CA apparently. Fed up with Dr.******* , the worst pediatrician ever (more details on that to come), and after 4 hours on the phone trying to find a new one, we journeyed all the way to Utah, where in two days and one visit to an ear, nose and throat specialist revealed that I am (direct quote from Dr. Bennion) "not a crazy mom." What a relief. Apparently there was a reason Rocky was suffering so. His tonsils were ginormous and infected, almost blocking his airway, his adenoids were ridiculously enflamed and his left ear has been filled with infectious junk for so long that a hearing test resulted in no tympanic vibration whatsoever. So for Jack's 1st birthday, June 11, we commemorated the occasion by returning to a hospital for surgery and shipping Jack down to SLC to spend the day with his step-grandpa Bill. Rocky was a trooper, sporting his new Transformer shoes from Grandma C, he marched into the hospital in a robotic fashion announcing to all that he was to be called "Prime," then requesting the Transformer mask that would slip him into blissful sedation and transform him into a healthy boy. We forgot to mention the recovery to him though and it has been rough. Grandma K was there for moral support and then took the reigns on his care and medication administration as five consecutive sleepless nights had rendered me useless. In 20 minutes, Dr. Bennion expertly removed Rocky's tonsils, adenoids and put tubes in both ears. Now that he no longer needs Loritab, the semi-psychotic episodes have ceased and we are seeing a remarkable difference in his confidence and activity level. For the first time ever, he is walking stairs by himself and jumping on the trampoline. Today, in the middle of a conversation with him, he suddenly announced, "Hey, I can hear!" It brought tears to my eyes and much anger towards our inept pediatrician, who is really going to get it from me when I get home. Rich better hold me back! Rich is home, missing us almost as much as we miss him. Today Jack was wandering around Grandma's house yelling, "Da da!" I asked Rocky if he missed Dad and he said, "Of course I do! I love my daddy!" Hang in there Rich. We will be here monitoring Rocky's recovery and returning to the only doc we trust right now for a follow-up appt. and will return home in a few weeks. That's enough for today. I'll share the T****** tales at a later time, maybe while I'm compiling the law suit.

Parenthood - the Ultimate Adrenaline Rush

It didn't feel this way until I had two boys, and more accurately, until both of them were cruising independently on two feet. I have learned the meaning of "busy" on an entirely new level. We go to the gym daily for one reason: my survival. Not just for an hour or two of quiet, reflective time to myself - usually spent exercising myself to death with upbeat music pumping at full volume - but to build the muscles and stamina necessary to survive the daily demands of two little boys. With Jack's fearless, ambitious activity and the unstable nature of his toddling legs, it's not unusual for that solid noggin' to be flailing towards hard, sharp objects, such as coffee tables and bed frames. Not a day has gone by since those first steps were taken that Jack hasn't sported at least one cherry colored bruise to the head. I must be on my toes at all times ready to spring across the distance of the room to his rescue. There is much squatting to retrieve the never-ending supply of bite-size inedible objects that Jack is in constant search for, not to mention the bending and scooping of the contents of all drawers and de-shelved books. Then you have the heavy lifting, since both children demand to be carried simultaneously whenever in public, and you find yourself doing nearly anything to avoid a scene. Then you have the sick days when they both want to be carried around at home too, and you have to use your remaining limbs (toes) to straighten up the floor. Then there are the Yoga postures you assume to search for binkies under the bed and other tight, oddly strategic places that your child chooses to hide them. Pushing yourself in aerobics class helps you pull that last bit of energy after the house cleaning to crawl around on the floor wrestling and playing monster trucks with the kids and later to carry them both home from the park because the stroller no longer cuts it for the exhausted ones. Every day, from the time that Rocky bursts into our room loudly announcing "It's morning time!" when the lack of sunlight proves otherwise until the kid are tucked in at night, and I achingly crawl back into bed, I feel that life is moving in fast motion - like "The Christmas Story" montage where the kids run back and forth from school with overly bundled "lay there like a slug" Randy lumbering behind - glimpses of the day's activities, complete with rapid, high-pitched squeaky voices. My heart pounds constantly, the adrenaline rushing up to my ears in the attempt to complete all the tasks I've assigned myself for the day, all while preventing the kids' utter destruction of our home and each other, gearing up for Jack's two brief naps and the only time many tasks can be completed such as all housework and David's preschool lessons. Nothing riles Jack up more than not being included in a preschool lesson. He literally flings himself at the lesson materials and yells unintelligible sounds whenever I ask David a question. We've resorted to taking him out of the equation completely. Needless to say, time since the addition of Jack to the family has flown. I have blinked and the baby days are over. How did this happen? This next year of his young life I hope to loosen my grip on the daily task list and spend more time in the "cat/cow" posture playing with the kids because when all is said and done, that's what really matters to them, right?